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Title: The Palace of Pleasure - Volume 3
Author: Jacobs, Joseph, 1854-1916 [Editor], Painter, William, 1540?-1594 [Translator], Haslewood, Joseph, 1769-1833 [Editor]
Language: English
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* * * * *
* * * *
* * * * *
THE
PALACE OF PLEASURE
VOL. III.
* * * * *
*Ballantyne Press*
Ballantyne, Hanson and Co.
Edinburgh and London
* * * * *
The
*PALACE OF PLEASURE*
_Elizabethan Versions of Italian and French Novels_
_from Boccaccio, Bandello, Cinthio, Straparola,_
_Queen Margaret of Navarre,_
_and Others_
Done Into English
By WILLIAM PAINTER
_Now Again Edited For The Fourth Time_
By JOSEPH JACOBS
VOL. III.
[Illustration (Publisher’s Device):
IN NUCE LIBELLUS]
_London: Published by David Nutt in the Strand_
MDCCCXC
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
VOLUME III.
TOME II.--_Continued._
Page
Title Page (Edition 1580) 1
Novel
XXIII. Duchess of Malfy 3
XXIV. Countess of Celant 44
XXV. Romeo and Juliet 80
XXVI. Ladies of Venice 125
XXVII. Lord of Virle 157
XXVIII. Lady of Bohemia 195
XXIX. Diego and Ginevra 222
XXX. Salimbene and Angelica 288
XXXI. Helena of Florence 329
XXXII. Camiola and Roland 354
XXXIII. Lords of Nocera 363
XXXIV. Sultan Solyman 395
XXXV. King of Morocco 416
Conclusion 431
The ſecond Tome
of the Palace of Pleaſure,
*conteyning store of goodly Hiſtories,*
Tragicall matters, and other Mo-
*rall argument, very re-*
_quiſite for delighte_
*and profit.*
_Choſen and selected out of
diuers good and commen-
dable Authors:_
and now once agayn corrected and
encreaſed
By William Painter, Clerke of the
Ordinance and Armarie.
Imprinted at London, in
Fleat ſtrete, by Thomas
Marſhe.
*The Palace of Pleasure.*
THE TWENTY-THIRD NOUELL.
_The infortunate mariage of a Gentleman, called Antonio
Bologna, wyth the Duchesse of Malfi, and the pitifull death
of them both._
The great Honor and authority men haue in thys World, and the
greater their estimation is, the more sensible and notorious are
the faultes by theim committed, and the greater is their
slaunder. In lyke manner more difficult it is for that man to
tolerate and sustayne Fortune, which al the dayes of his life
hath lyued at his ease, if by chaunce he fall into any great
necessity than for hym whych neuer felt but woe, mishap, and
aduersity. Dyonisius the Tyraunt of Scicilia, felt greater payne
when hee was expelled his Kyngdome, than Milo did, beinge
banished from Rome: for so mutch as the one was a Soueraygne
Lorde, the sonne of a Kynge, a Iusticiary on Earth, and the
other but a simple Citizen of a Citty, wherein the People had
Lawes, and the Lawes of Magistrates were had in reuerence.
So lykewyse the fall of a high and lofty Tree, maketh greater
noyse, than that whych is low and little. Hygh Towers, and
stately Palaces of Prynces bee seene further of, than the poore
Cabans, and homely Sheepeheardes Sheepecotes: the Walles of
lofty Cittyes more a loofe doe Salute the Viewers of the same,
than the simple Caues, which the Poore doe digge belowe the
Mountayne Rockes. Wherefore it behooueth the Noble, and sutch as
haue charge of Common wealth, to lyue an honest Lyfe, and beare
their port vpright, that none haue cause to discourse vppon
their wicked deedes and naughty life. And aboue all modesty
ought to be kept by Women, whom as their race, Noble birth,
aucthority and name, maketh them more famous, euen so their
vertue, honesty, chastity, and continencie more prayse worthy.
And behoueful it is, that like as they wishe to be honoured
aboue all other, so their life do make them worthy of that
honour, without disgracing their name by deed or worde, or
blemishing that brightnesse which may commend the same.
I greatly feare that all the Princely factes, the exploytes and
conquests done by the Babylonian Queene Semyramis, neuer was
recommended wyth sutch prayse, as hir vice had shame in records
by those which left remembrance of auncient acts. Thus I say,
because a woman being as it were the Image of sweetnesse,
curtesie and shamefastnesse, so soone as she steppeth out of the
right tract, and abandoneth the sweete smel of hir duety and
modesty, besides the denigration of hir honour, thrusteth her
selfe into infinite Troubles, causeth ruine os sutch whych
should bee honoured and praysed, if Womens Allurementes
solicited theym not to Folly. I wyll not heere Indeuour my selfe
to seeke for examples of Samson, Salomon or other, which suffred
themselues fondly to be abused by Women: and who by meane of
them be tumbled into great faults, and haue incurred greater
perils: contentinge my selfe to recyte a ryght pitifull History
done almost in our tyme, when the French vnder leadinge of that
notable Capitayne Gaston de Foix, vanquished the force of Spayne
and Naples at the Iourney of Rauenna in the time of the French
Kynge called Lewes the twelfth, who married the Lady Mary,
Daughter to Kynge Henry the seuenth, and Sister to the
Victorious Prynce of worthy memory kynge Henry the eyght, Wyfe
(after the death of the sayd Lewes) to the puissaunt Gentleman
Charles, late Duke of Suffolke. In the very tyme then lyued a
Gentleman of Naples called Antonio Bologna, who hauing bin
master of Household to Fredericke of Aragon, somtime king of
Naples, after the French had expelled those of Aragon out of
that Citty, the sayde Bologna retyred into Fraunce, and thereby
recouered the goods, which hee possessed in his countrey. The
Gentleman besides that he was valiant of his persone, a good man
of Warre, and wel esteemed amongs the best, had a passing numbre
of good graces, which made him to be loued and cherished of
euery wight: and for riding and managing of greate horse, he had
not his fellow in Italy: he could also play exceedynge well and
trim vpon the Lute, whose fayning voyce so wel agreed therevnto,
that the moste melancholike persons would forget their
heauinesse, vpon hearing of his heauenly noyse: and besides
these qualyties, he was of personage comely, and of good
proportion. To be short: nature hauing trauayled and dispoyled
hir Treasure House for inriching of him, he had by Arte gotten
that, which made him most happy and worthy of prayse, which was,
the knowledge of good letters, wherein he was so well trayned,
as by talke and dispute thereof, he made those to blush that
were of that state and profession. Antonio Bologna hauing left
Fredericke of Aragon in Fraunce, who expulsed out of Naples was
retired to king Lewes, went home to his house to lyue at rest
and to auoyd trouble, forgetting the delicates of Courtes and
houses of great men, to bee the only husband of his owne
reueneue. But what? it is impossible to eschue that which the
heauens haue determined vpon vs: or to shunne the vnhappe which
seemeth to follow vs, as it were naturally proceeding from our
mother’s Wombe: in sutch wyse as many times, he which seemeth
the wisest man, guided by misfortune, hasteth himself with
stouping head to fall headlonge into hys death and ruine. Euen
so it chaunced to this Neapolitane Gentleman: for in the very
same place where he attained his aduauncement, he receiued also
his diminution and decay, and by that house which preferred hym
to what he had, he was depryued, both of his estate and life:
the discourse whereof you shall vnderstande. I haue tolde you
already, that this Gentleman was Mayster of the kinge of Naples
household, and beyng a gentle person, a good Courtier, wel
trained vp, and wyse for gouernment of himself in the Courte and
in the seruice of Princes, the Duchesse of Malfi thought to
intreate him that he would serue hir, in that office which he
serued the King. This Duchesse was of the house of Aragon, and
sister to the Cardinall of Aragon, which then was a rych and
puissant personage. Being resolued, and persuaded, that Bologna
was deuoutly affected to the house of Aragon, as one brought vp
there from a Chylde: shee sent for him home to his House, and
vpon hys repaire vsed vnto him these, or like Woordes: “Mayster
Bologna, sith your ill fortune, nay rather the vnhap of our
whole House is sutch, as your good Lord and Mayster hath forgon
his state and dignity, and that you therwithall haue lost a good
Maister, without other recompence but the prayse which euery man
giueth you for your good seruice, I haue thought good to intreat
you to doe me the honor, as to take charge of the gouernment of
my House, and to vse the same, as you did that of the King your
maister. I know well that the office is to vnworthy for your
calling; notwithstanding you be not ignorant what I am, and how
neare to him in bloud, to whom you haue bene a Seruaunte so
faythfull and Louing; and albeit that I am no Queene, endued
with greatest reuenue, yet with that little portyon I haue,
I beare a Pryncely heart: and sutch as you by experience do
knowe what I haue done, and dayly do to those which depart my
seruice, recompensing them according to theyr paine and
trauaile: magnificence is obserued as well in the Courts of
poore Princes, as in the stately Palaces of great Kings and
monarches. I do remembre that I haue read of a certain noble
gentleman, a Persian borne, called Ariobarzanes, who vsed great
examples of curtesie and stoutnesse towards King Artaxerxes,
wherewith the king wondred at his magnificence, and confessed
himself to be vanquished: you shal take aduise of this request,
and in the meane time do think you will not refuse the same,
aswell for that my demaund is iust, as also being assured, that
our House and race is so well imprinted in your heart, as it is
impossible that the memory thereof can be defaced.” The
gentleman hearynge that curteous demaund of the Duchesse,
knowing himselfe how deepely bound he was to the name of Aragon,
and led by some vnknowen prouocation to his great il luck,
answered hir in this wise: “I would to God, Madame, that with so
good reason and equity I were able to make denyall of your
commaundment, as iustly you maye require the same: wherfore for
the bounden duety which I owe to the name and memorie of the
house of Aragon, I make promise that I shall not only sustaine
the trauell, but also the daunger of my Lyfe, dayly to be offred
for your seruice: but I feele in mynde I know not what, which
commaundeth me to withdraw my selfe to lyue alone at home within
my lyttle house, and to be content with that I haue, forgoing
the sumptuous charge of Prynces houses, which Lyfe would be wel
liked of my self, were it not for the feare that you Madame
should be discontented with my refusall, and that you should
conceiue, that I disdained your offred charge, or contempne your
Court for respect of the great Office I bare in the Courte of
the Kyng, my Lord and Mayster: for I cannot receiue more honour,
than to serue hir, which is the paragon of that stock and royal
race. Therfore at all aduentures I am resolued to obey your
will, and humbly to satisfy the duety of the charge wherein it
pleaseth you to imploy me, more to pleasure you for auoiding of
displeasure, then for desire I haue to lyue an honorable lyfe in
the greatest Princes house of the world, sith I am discharged
from him in whose name resteth my comfort and only stay,
thinking to haue liued a solitarye life, and to passe my yeres
in rest, except it were in the pore abilitye of my seruice to
that house, wherunto I am bound continually to be a faithfull
seruaunt. Thus Madame, you see me to be the readiest man of the
world, to fulfil the request, and accomplishe sutch other
seruice wherein it shall please you to imploy me.” The Duchesse
thanked him very heartily, and gaue him charge of all hir
housholde traine, commaunding ech person to do him sutch
reuerence as to hir self, and to obey him as the chief of al hir
family. This Lady was a widow, but a passing faire Gentlewoman,
fine and very yong, hauing a yong sonne vnder hir guard and
keping, left by the deceased Duke hir husband, togither with the
Duchy, the inheritaunce of hir child. Now consider hir personage
being sutch, her easy life and delycate bringing vp, and hir
daily view of the youthly trade and manner of Courtiers lyfe,
whether she felt hir self pryckt wyth any desire, which burned
hir heart the more incessantly, as the flames were hidden and
couert: from the outward shew whereof shee stayed hir self so
well as shee coulde. But shee followinge beste aduice, rather
esteemed the proofe of Maryage, than to burne wyth so lyttle
fire, or to incurre the exchange of louers, as many vnshamefaste
strumpets do, which be rather giuen ouer, than satisfied with
pleasure of loue. And to say the truthe, they be not guided by
wisedom’s lore, which suffer a maiden ripe for mariage to be
long vnwedded, or yong wife long to liue in widowe’s state, what
assurance so euer they make of their chaste and stayed lyfe. For
bookes be to full of sutch enterpryses, and houses stored with
examples of sutch stolne and secrete practises, as there neede
no further proofe for assurance of our cause, the daily
experience maketh plaine and manifest. And a great folly it is
to build the fantasies of chastitye amid the follies of worldly
pleasures. I will not goe about to make those matters
impossible, ne yet will iudge at large, but that there be som
maydens and Wyues, which wiselye can conteine themselues amongs
the troupe of amorous suters. But what? the experience is very
hard, and the proofe no lesse daungerous, and perchaunce in a
moment the mind of some peruerted, which all their lyuyinge
dayes haue closed theyr Eares from the Sute of those that haue
made offer of louyng seruice. And hereof we neede not run to
forrayne Hystories, ne yet to seeke records that be auncient,
sith wee may see the daily effects of the lyke, practised in
Noble houses, and Courtes of Kyngs and Prynces. That this is
true, example of this fayre Duchesse, who was moued wyth that
desyre which pricketh others that be of Flesh and Bone. Thys
Lady waxed very weary of lying alone, and gryeued hir Hearte to
be wythoute a match, specially in the Nyght, when the secrete
silence and darkenesse of the same presented beefore the eyes of
hir mind, the Image of the pleasure which she felt in the lyfe
tyme of hir deceased Lord and Husband, whereof now feelyng hir
selfe despoyled, she felt a contynuall Combat, and durst not
attempte that which she desyred most, but eschued the thyng
wherof hir Mind lyked best. “Alas (sayd shee) is it possyble
after the taste of the Value of honest obedyence whych the Wyfe
oweth vnto hir Husband, that I should desyre to suffer the Heat
whych burneth and altereth the martyred mynds of those that
subdue themselues to loue? Can sutch attempt pierce the heart of
me to become amorous by forgetting and straying from the
limmetts of honest life? But what desire is this? I haue a
certayne vnacquaynted lust, and yet very well know not what it
is that moueth me, and to whom I shall vow the spoyle thereof.
I am truely more fond and foolyshe than euer Narcissus was, for
there is neyther shadow nor voyce, vpon which I can well stay my
sight, nor yet simple Imagination of any worldly man, whereuppon
I can arrest the conceypt of my vnstayed heart, and the desires
which prouoke my mynde. Pygmalion loued once a Marble Piller,
and I haue but one desire, the colour whereof is more pale than
death. There is nothyng which can geue the same so mutch as one
spot of vermilion rud. If I doe discouer these appetites to any
wight, perhaps they will mock me for my labor, and for all the
beauty and Noble byrth that is in me, they will make no
conscience to deeme me for their iesting stock, and to solace
themselues with rehersall of my fond conceits. But sith there is
no enemy in the field, and that but simple suspicion doth
assayle me, why breake I not the same, and deface the entier
remembraunce of the lightnesse of my brayne? It appertayneth
vnto mee to shewe my selfe, as issued from the Noble house of
Aragon: to me it doeth belonge to take heede how I erre or
degenerate from the royall bloud whereof I came.” In this sort
that fayre Wydow and young Princesse fantasied in the night
vppon the discourse of hir appetites. But when the day was come,
seeing the great multitude of the Neapolitan Lords and Gentlemen
that marched vp and downe the Citty, eyinge and beholdinge their
best beloued, or vsing talke of loue with them whose seruaunts
they were, all that which she thought vpon in the night,
vanished so sone as the flame of burned Straw, or the Pouder of
Cannon shot, and purposed for any respect to liue no longer in
that sort, but promised the conquest of some frend that was
lusty and discreete. But the difficulty rested in that she knew
not vpon whom to fixe hir loue, fearing to bee slaundered, and
also that the light disposition and maner of most part of youth
were to be suspected, in sutch wise as giuing ouer al them which
vauted vpon their Gennets, Turkey Palfreis, and other Coursers
alonge the Citty of Naples, shee purposed to take repast of
other Venison, than of that fond and wanton troupe. So hir
mishap began already to spin the threede which choked the Ayre
and Breath of hir vnhappy life. Yee haue heard before that
Mayster Bologna was one of the wisest and most perfect Gentlemen
that the land of Naples that tyme brought forth, and for his
Beauty, Proportion, Galantnesse, Valiaunce, and good grace,
without comparison. His fauour was so sweete and pleasant, as
they which kept him company, had somwhat to do to abstayne their
affection. Who then could blame thys fayre Princesse, if
(pressed wyth desire of match, to remoue the ticklish
instigations of her wanton flesh, and hauing in hir presence a
man so wise) shee did set hir minde on hym, or fantasy to mary
him? Would not that party for calming of his thirst and hunger,
being set at a table before sundry sorts of delicate viands,
ease his hunger? Me thinke the person doth greatly forget
himselfe, which hauing handfast vpon occasion, suffreth the same
to vanish and fly away, sith it is wel known that she being bald
behinde, hath no place to sease vpon when desire moueth vs to
lay hold vpon hir. Which was the cause that the Duchesse became
extremely in loue with the mayster of hir house. In sutch wyse
as before al men, she spared not to prayse the great perfections
of him whom she desired to be altogether hirs. And so she was
inamored, that it was as possible to see the night to be voide
of darknesse, as the Duchesse without the presence of hir
Bologna, or els by talke of words to set forth his prayse,
the continuall remembrance of who (for that shee loued him as
hirselfe) was hir onely minde’s repast. The Gentleman that was
full wyse, and had at other times felt the great force of the
passion which proceedeth from extreeme loue, immediatly did mark
the countenaunce of the Duchesse, and perceyued the same so
neere, as vnfaynedly hee knew that very ardently the Lady was in
loue with him: and albeit he sawe the inequality and difference
betweene them both, she being sorted out of the royall bloud,
and himself of meaner calling, yet knowing loue to haue no
respect to state or dignity, determined to folow his fortune,
and to serue hir which so louingly shewed hir selfe to him. Then
sodaynely reprouing his fonde conceit, he sayd vnto himself:
“What folly is that I enterprise, to the preiudice and peril of
mine honor and life? Ought the wisedome of a Gentleman to stray
and wandre through the assaults of an appetite rising of
sensuality, and that reason gieue place to that which doeth
participate with brute beasts depriued of all reason by
subduinge the minde to the affections of the body? No, no,
a vertuous man ought to let shine in him selfe the force of the
generosity of his minde. This is not to liue according to the
spirite, when pleasure shall make vs forget our duty and
sauegard of our Conscience. The reputation of a wise Gentleman
resteth not only to be valiant, and skilfull in feates of armes,
or in seruice of the Noble: but needefull it is for him by
discreation to make himselfe prayse worthy, and by vanquishinge
of himselfe to open the gate to fame, whereby he may
euerlastingly make himselfe glorious to all posterity. Loue
pricketh and prouoketh the spirite to do well, I do confesse,
but that affection ought to be addressed to some vertuous end,
tending to mariage, for otherwise that vnspotted Image shall be
soyled wyth the villany of Beastly pleasure. Alas,” sayd he,
“how easie it is to dispute, when the thyng is absent, which can
both force and violently assayle the Bulwarks of most constant
hearts. I full well doe see the troth, and doe feele the thing
that is good, and knowe what behoueth mee to follow: but when I
view the pereles beauty of my Lady, hir graces, wisedome,
behauiour and curtesie, when I see hir to cast so louinge an eye
vpon me, that she vseth so great familiarity, that she
forgetteth the greatnesse of hir house to abase hirselfe for my
respect: how is it possible that I should be so foolish to
dispise a duety so rare and precious, and to set light by that
which the Noblest would pursue wyth all reuerence and deuoyre?
Shall I be so voyde of wisdome to suffer the yonge Princesse to
see hirselfe contempned of mee, thereby to conuert hir loue to
teares, by setting hir mynde upon an other, that shall seek mine
ouerthrow? Who knoweth not the fury of a woman: specially the
Noble dame, by seeing hirselfe despised? No, no, she loueth me,
and I will be hir seruaunt, and vse the fortune proffred. Shal I
be the first simple Gentleman that hath married or loued a
Princesse? Is it not more honourable for mee to settle my mind
vpon a place so high, than vppon some simple wench by whom I
shall neyther attayne profit, or aduancement? Baldouine of
Flaunders, did not he a Noble enterprise when he carried away
Iudith the daughter of the French kynge, as she was passing vpon
the Seas into England, to be married to the kynge of that
Countrey? I am neither Pirat nor Aduenturer, for the Lady loueth
me. What wrong doe I then to any person by rendringe loue
agayne? Is not she at liberty? To whom ought shee to make
accoumpt of hir deedes and doinges, but to God alone and to hir
owne Conscience? I wyll loue hir, and cary lyke affection for
the loue which I know and see that she beareth vnto me, beinge
assured that the same is directed to good ende, and that a Woman
so wyse as she is, will not hazard the bleamish of hir honor.”
Thus Bologna framed the plot for intertaynment of the Duchesse
(albeit hir loue already was fully bent vpon him) and fortified
hym selfe agaynst all perillous myshap and chaunce that might
succeede, as ordinarily you see that Louers conceyue all things
for their aduauntage, and fantasie dreames agreeable to their
most desire, resemblinge the Mad and Bedlem persons which haue
before their eyes, the figured Fansies whych cause the conceipt
of their fury, and stay themselues vpon the vision of that which
most troubleth their offended Brayne. On the other side, the
Duchesse was in no lesse care of hir Louer, the will of whom was
hid and secret, whych more did vexe and torment hir, than the
fire of loue that burned hir feruently. She could not tell what
way to hold, to do him vnderstand hir heart and affection. She
feared to discouer the same vnto hym, doubtinge eyther that some
fond and rigorous aunswere, or the reueylinge of hir mynde to
hym, whose presence pleased hir more than all of the men of the
World. “Alas,” sayd shee, “am I happed into so straunge misery,
that with mine owne mouth I must make request to him, which with
all humility ought to offer mee hys service? Shall a Lady of
sutch bloud as I am, be constrayned to sue, where all other be
required by importunate instance of their Suters? Ah loue, loue,
what so euer he was that clothed thee wyth sutch puissaunce,
I dare say he was the cruell ennimy of man’s freedom. It is
impossible that thou hadst thy being in heauen, sith the
clemency and curteous influence of the same, inuesteth man with
better benefits, than to suffer hir nourse children to be
intreated with sutch rigor. He lieth which sayth that Venus is
thy mother, for the swetenes and good grace that resteth in that
pitifull Goddesse, who taketh no pleasure to see louers perced
with so egre trauayles as that which afflicteth my heart. It was
some fierce cogitation of Saturne, that brought thee forth, and
sent thee into the worlde to breake the ease of them which liue
at rest without any passion or griefe. Pardon me Loue, if I
blaspheme thy maiesty, for the stresse and endlesse grief
wherein I am plunged, maketh me thus to roue at large, and the
doubts, which I conceyue, do take away the health and soundnesse
of my mynde, the little experience in thy schole causeth this
amaze in me, to be solicited with desire that countersayeth the
duty, honor, and reputation of my state: the party whom I loue,
is a Gentleman, vertuous, valiant, sage, and of good grace. In
this there is no cause to blame Loue of blindnesse, for all the
inequality of our houses, apparant vpon the first sight and shew
of the same. But from whence Issue Monarchs, Prynces and great
Lords, but from the naturall and common Masse of Earth, whereof
other men do come? what maketh these differences betwene those
that loue ech other, if not the sottish opinion which we
conceiue of greatnesse, and preheminence: as though naturall
affections bee like to that ordayned by the fantasie of men in
their lawes extreme. And what greater right haue Princes to
ioyne wyth a simple Gentlewoman, than the Princesse to mary a
Gentleman, and sutch as Anthonio Bologna is, in whom Heauen and
Nature haue forgotten nothinge to make him equall with them
which march amongs the greatest. I thinke we be the dayly slaues
of the fond and cruell fantasie of those Tyraunts, which say
they haue puissance ouer vs: and that straininge our will to
their tiranny, we be still bound to the chaine like the Galley
slaue. No, no, Bologna shall be my Husband, for of a freend I
purpose to make my loyall and lawful Husband, meaning therby not
to offend God and men together, and pretend to liue without
offence of conscience, wherby my soule shal not be hindred for
any thyng I do, by marying him whom I so straungely loue. I am
sure not to be deceyued in loue. He loueth me so mutch or more
as I do him, but he dareth not disclose the same, fearing to be
refused and cast of with shame. Thus 2 vnited wils, and 2 hearts
tied togethers with equal knot cannot chose but bryng forth
fruites worthy of sutch society. Let men say what they list,
I will doe none otherwyse than my heade and mynd haue already
framed. Semblably I neede not make accompt to any persone for my
fact, my body, and reputation beynge in full liberty and
freedome. The bond of mariage made, shall couer the faulte whych
men woulde fynde, and leauyng myne estate, I shall do no wrong
but to the greatnesse of my house, which maketh me amongs men
right honorable. But these honors be nothyng worth, where the
Mynd is voyd of contentation, and wher the hearte pryckte
forwarde by desire leaueth the Bodye and Mynde restlesse wythout
quiet.” Thus the Duchesse founded hir enterpryse, determining to
mary hir houshold Mayster, seeking for occasion and time, meete
for disclosing of the same, and albeit that a certaine naturall
shamefastnesse, which of custome accompanieth Ladies, did close
hir mouth, and made hir to deferre (for a certain time) the
effect of hir resolued minde: yet in the ende vanquished with
loue and impacience, she was forced to breake of silence, and to
assure hir self in him, reiecting feare conceiued of shame, to
make hir waye to pleasure, which she lusted more than mariage,
the same seruyng hir, but for a Maske and couerture to hide hir
follies and shamelesse lusts, for which she did the penaunce
that hir folly deserued. For no colorable dede or deceytful
trompery can serue the excuse of any notable wyckednesse. She
then throughly persuaded in her intent, dreamyng and thinking of
nought else, but vpon the imbracement of hir Bologna, ended and
determined hir conceits and pretended follies: and vpon a time
sent for him vp into hir chamber, as commonly she did for the
affaires and matters of hir house, and taking him a side vnto a
window, hauing prospect into a garden, she knew not how to begin
hir talk: (for the heart being seased, the mind troubled, and
the witts out of course, the tongue fayled to do his office,) in
sutch wise, as of long time she was vnable to speake one onely
woord. He surprised with like affection, was more astonied by
seeing the alteration of his Ladie. So the two Louers stoode
still like Images beholding one another, without any mouing at
all, vntill the Lady the hardiest of them bothe, as feelinge the
most vehement and greatest gryef, tooke Bologna by the hand, and
dissembling what she thought, vsed this or sutch language: “If
any other besides your selfe (Gentleman) should vnderstand the
secret which now I purpose to dysclose, I doubt what speeach
were necessary to colour, what I shall speake: but being assured
of your discretion and wisdom, and with what perfection nature
hath indued you, and Arte, hauing accomplished that in you,
which nature did begin to worke, as one bred and brought vp in
the royal court of the seconde Alphonse, of Ferdinando, and
Frederick of Aragon my cousins, I wil make no doubt at all to
manifest to you the hidden secretes of my heart, being well
persuaded that when you shall both heare and sauor my reasons,
and tast the light which I bring forth for me, easily you may
iudge that mine aduice cannot be other than iust and reasonable.
But if your conceits shall straye from that whych I determine,
I shal he forced to thinke and saye that they which esteeme you
wise and sage, and to be a man of good and ready wytte, be
maruelously deceiued. Notwithstanding my heart foretelleth that
it is impossible for mayster Bologna, to wandre so farre from
equitie, but that by and by he wil enter the lystes and dyscerne
the White from Blacke, and the Wronge fro that whych is Iust and
Ryghte: for so mutch as hitherto I neuer saw thinge done by you,
which Preposterated or peruerted the good iudgement that all the
world esteemeth to shine in you, the same well manifested and
declared by your tongue, the right iudge of the Mynde, you knowe
and see how I am a Wydow through the Death of that Noble
Gentleman of good remembrance, the Duke my Lord and husbande:
you be not ignoraunt also, that I haue lyued and gouerned my
self in sutch wise in my Widow state, as there is no man so hard
and seuere of iudgement, that can blason reproch of mee in that
whych appertayneth to the honestye and reputation of sutch a
Lady as I am, bearyng my port so righte, as my conscience
yeldeth no remorse, supposinge that no Man hathe wherewith to
byte and accuse me. Touchyng the order of the goods of the Duke
my Sonne, I have vsed them with diligence and discretion, as
besides the Dettes, whych I haue dyscharged sithens the death of
my Lord: I haue purchased a goodly Manor in Calabria, and haue
annexed the same to the Dukedome of his heire: and at this day
doe not owe one peny to any creditor that lent money to the
Duke, which he toke vp to furnish the charges in the warres,
which he sustayned in the seruice of the Kinges our soueraine
Lords in the late warres for the Kyngdome of Naples. I haue as I
suppose by this meanes stopped the slaunderous mouth and giuen
cause vnto my sonne, during his life to accompt himself bound
vnto his mother: now hauing till thys time liued for other,
and made my selfe subiect more than nature could beare, I am
entended to chaunge both my lyfe and condition. I haue tyll thys
time run, trauayled, and remoued to the Castels and Lordeships
of the Dukedome, to Naples and other places, being in mind to
tary as I am a widow. But what new affayres and new councel hath
possest my mynd? I haue trauayled and payned my self inoughe:
I haue to long abidden a widowe’s lyfe: I am determined
therefore to prouyde a Husbande, who by louing me, shall honor
and cherysh me according to the loue which I shall beare hym,
and my desert. For to loue a man without mariage, God defend my
hearte should euer think, and shal rather dye a hundred thousand
deathes, than a desire so wicked should soyle my conscience,
knowyng well that a woman which setteth hir honor to sale, is
lesse than nothing, and deserueth not the common ayre should
breathe vpon hir, for all the reuerence that men do beare vnto
them. I accuse no person, albeit that many noble women haue
their forheds marked, with the blame of dishonest lyfe, and
being honored of some, bee neuerthelesse the common Fable of the
Worlde. To the intente then that sutch myshappe happen not to
me, and perceyuyng my selfe vnable styll thus to lyue, beyng
younge as I am, and (God bee thanked) neyther deformed nor yet
paynted, I had rather bee the louyng Wyfe of a symple feere,
than the Concubyne of a kynge or greate Prynce. And what? is the
myghty Monarche able to washe away the faulte of hys Wyfe whych
hath abandoned him contrary to the duety and honesty whych the
vndefyled bed requyreth? no lesse then Pryncesses that whilom
trespassed with those whych were of baser stuffe than
themselues. Messalina with hir imperiall robe could not so wel
couer hir faults, but that the Historians, do defame hir with
the name and title of a common woman. Faustina the Wyfe of the
sage Monarch Marcus Aurelius, gayned lyke reporte by rendringe
hir selfe to others pleasure, bysides hir lawfull Spouse. To
mary my selfe to one that is myne equall, it is impossible, for
so mutch as there is no Lorde in all this Countrey meete for my
degree, but is to olde of age, the rest being dead in these
later Warres. To mary a husband that yet is but a childe, is
folly extreeme, for the inconueniences which daily chaunce
thereby, and the euil intreaty that Ladies do receyue when they
come to age, when their nature waxeth cold, by reason whereof,
imbracements be not so fauourable, and their husbandes glutted
with ordinary meate, vse to run in exchange: wherefore I am
resolued without respite or delay, to choose some well qualified
and renoumed Gentleman, that hath more vertue than richesse,
that is of better Fame and brute, then of wealth and reuenue, to
the entent I may make him my Lord, Espouse, and Husbande. For I
cannot imploy my loue vpon treasure, which may bee taken away
from him, in whom richesse of the minde doth fayle, and shall
bee better content to see an honest Gentleman with little
liuing, to be praysed and commended of ech Degree for his good
Deedes, than a rich Carle curssed and detested of all the World.
Thus mutch I say, and it is the summe of all my secretes,
wherein I pray your councel and aduice. I know that some wil be
offended with my choise, and the Lords my Brothers, specially
the Cardinall will thincke it straunge, and receyue the same
with ill Digesture, that mutch a do shall I haue to bee agreed
with them and to remoue the griefe they shall conceyue against
mee for this myne attempt: wherefore I would the same should
secretly be kept, until without peril and daunger eyther of my
self or him, whome I pretende to marry, I may publish and
manyfest, not my loue but the mariage which I hope in God shall
soone bee consummate and accomplished wyth one, whome I doe loue
better than my self, and who as I ful well do know, doeth loue
me better than his owne propre lyfe.” Mayster Bologna, which
tyll then hearkned to the oration of the Duchesse without
mouing, feeling himselfe touched so neare, and hearinge that his
Lady had made hir approche for mariage, stode still astonnied,
hys tongue not able to frame one word, onely fantasied a
thousand chimeraes in the Ayre, and formed like number of
imaginations in his minde, not able to coniecture what hee was,
to whom the duchesse had vowed hir loue, and the possession of
hir beauty. He could not thinke that this ioy was prepared for
hymselfe, for that his Lady spake no word of him, and he lesse
durst open his mouth, and yet was wel assured that she loued him
beyond measure. Notwithstanding knowing the ficklenesse and
vnstable heart of women, he sayd vnto himselfe that she would
change hir mynde, for seeing him to be so great a Coward, as not
to offer his seruice to a Lady by whom hee saw himselfe so many
times both wantonly looked vppon, and intertayned wyth some
secresie more than familiar. The Duchesse which was a fine and
subtile dame, seeinge hir friend rapt with the passion, and
standing still vnmooueable through feare, pale and amazed, as if
hee had bene accused and condempned to dy, knew by that
Countenaunce and astonishment of Bologna, that she was perfectly
beloued of him: and so meaning not to suffer him any longer to
contynue in that amaze, ne yet to further feare hym, wyth
dissembled and fayned mariage of any other but wyth hym, she
tooke hym by the hand, and beholdinge him with a wanton and
luring eye, (in sutch sort as the curious Philosophers
themselues would awake, if sutch a Lampe and Torche did burne
wythin theyr studies,) she sayde thus vnto hym: “Seignor
Anthonio, I pray you be of good cheere, and torment not your
selfe for any thing that I haue sayd: I know well, and of long
time haue perceyued what good and faythful lone you beare mee,
and with what affection you haue serued me, sithens you first
came into my company. Thinke me not to bee so ignorant, but that
I know ful wel by outward signes, what secret thoughts be hid in
the inner heart: and that coniectures many times do geue me true
and certayne knowledge of concealed things: and am not so
foolish to thinke you to be so vndiscrete but that you haue
marked my Countenaunce and maner, and thereby haue knowen that I
haue bene more affectioned to you, than to any other: for that
cause (sayde shee, strayninge hym by the hand very louingly, and
wyth cheerefull colour in hir face) I sware vnto you, and doe
promise that if you thinke meete, it shalbe none other but your
self whom I wil haue, and desire to take to husband and lawful
spouse, beynge assured so much of you, as the loue which so
longe time hath ben hidden and couered in our hartes, shall
appeare by so euident proofe, as onely death shal end and vndo
the same.” The Gentleman hearing sutch sodain talke, and the
assurance of that which he most wished for, albeit he saw the
daunger extreme wherunto he launched himself by espousing this
great Ladie, and the ennimies he should get by entring sutch
aliaunce: notwythstandynge building vpon vaine hope, and
thinking at length that the choler of the Aragon brother would
passe away if they vnderstoode the maryage, determined to pursue
the purpose, and not to refuse that greate preferment, being so
prodigally offred: for which cause hee answered his Lady in this
manner: “If it were in my power madame, to bryng to passe that,
which I desire for your seruice by acknowledging the benefits
and fauors which you depart vnto me, as my mind presenteth
thanks for the same, I would think my self the happyest
Gentleman that lyueth, and you the beste serued Pryncesse of the
world. For one beter beloued (I dare presume to say, and so long
as I liue wil affirme) is not to be found. If tyll thys time I
delayed to open that which now I discouer vnto you, I beseeche
you madame to impute it to the greatnesse of your estate, and to
the duty of my calling and office in your house, being not
seemelye for a seruaunte to talk of sutch secrets with his Lady
and Mistresse. And truely the payne which I haue indured to hold
my peace, and to hyde my grief, hath ben more noysom to me than
one hundred thousand like sorrowes together, although it had
bene lawfull to haue reuealed them to some trusty friend: I doe
not denye madame, but of long time you did perceiue my follie
and presumption, by addressing my minde so high, as to the
Aragon bloud, and to sutch a princesse as you be. And who can
beguile the Eye of a louer, specially of hir, whose Paragon for
good minde, wisedome and gentlenesse is not? And I confesse to
you besides, that I haue most euidentlye perceiued how a certain
loue hath lodged in your gracious hearte, wherwith you bare me
greater affection, than you dyd to anye other within the
compasse of your family. But what? great Ladyes heartes be
fraught with secretes and conceites of other effects than the
Minds of Symple Women, which caused me to hope for none other
guerdon of my loyal and faithful affection, than Deathe, and the
same very short, and sith that little hope accompanyed wyth
great, nay, rather extreme passion, is not able to giue
sufficient force, both to suffer and to stablish my heart with
constancye. Nowe for so mutch as of your motion, grace, curtesie
and liberality the same is offred, and that it pleaseth you to
accept me for yours, I humblye beseche you to dispose of me not
as husband, but of one whych is, and shalbe your Seruaunt for
euer, and sutch as is more ready to obey, than you to commaund.
It resteth now Madame, to consyder how, and in what wise our
affayres are to be directed, that thynges being in assurance,
you may so liue without perill and bruite of slaunderous
tongues, as your good fame and honest report may continue
without spot or blemish.” Beholde the first Acte of this
Tragedy, and the prouision of the fare which afterwardes sent
them bothe to their graue, who immediatly gaue their mutual
faith: and the houre was assigned the next day, that the faire
Princesse should be in hir chamber alone, attended vpon with one
onely Gentlewoman which had ben brought vp with her from the
cradle, and was made priuy to the heauy mariage of those two
louers which was consummate in hir presence. And for the present
time they passed the same in words: for ratification whereof
they went to bed togither: but the pain in the end was greater
than the pleasure, and had hen better for them bothe, yea and
also for the third, that they had shewed themselues so wyse in
the deede, as discrete in keeping silence of that which was don:
for albeit theyr mariage was secrete, and therby politikely
gouerned themselues in their stelthes and robberyes of Loue, and
that Bologna more ofte helde the state of the Stewarde of the
House by Daye, than of Lorde of the same, and by Nyghte supplyed
that Place, yet in the ende, the thynge was perceyued whych they
desyred to bee closely kepte. And as it is impossyble to tyll
and culture a fertyle Grounde, but that the same muste yelde
some Fruycte, euen so the Duchesse after many pleasures (being
ripe and plentiful) became with childe, which at the firste
astonned the maried couple: neuerthelesse the same so well was
prouided for, as the first Childbed was kept secret, and none
did know thereof: the Childe was nourced in the Towne, and the
father desired to haue him named Frederick, for remembraunce of
the parents of hys Wyfe. Nowe fortune whych lieth in dayly wayte
and ambushment, and lyketh not that men should longe Loyter in
Pleasure, and Passetime, being enuious of sutch prosperity,
cramped so the Legges of our two Louers, as they must needes
chaunge their Game, and learne some other practise: for so mutch
as the Duchesse beinge great with Childe agayne, and deliuered
of a Girle, the businesse of the same was not so secretly done,
but that it was discouered. And it sufficed not that the brute
was noysed through Naples, but that the sound flew further of:
As eche man doth know that Rumor hath many mouthes, who wyth the
multitude of hys Tongues, and Trumps, Proclaymeth in diuers and
sundry places, the things which chaunce in al the Regions of the
Earth: euen so that bablinge foole, caried the newes of that
second Childbed to the eares of the Cardinall of Aragon the
Duchesse brother, being then at Rome. Think what Ioy, and
Pleasure the Aragon brothers had, by hearinge the report of
their Sister’s fact: I dare presume to say, that albeit they
were extremely wroth wyth this happened Slaunder, and wyth that
dishonest fame which the Duchesse had gotten throughout Italy,
yet farre greater was their sorrow and griefe for that they did
not know what hee was, that so curteously was allied to their
house, and in their loue had increased their Ligneage: and
therefore swelling wyth despite, and rapt with fury to see
themselues so defamed by one of their Bloude, they purposed by
all meanes whatsoeuer it cost them, to know the lucky Louer that
had so wel tilled the Duchesse their Sister’s field. Thus
desirous to remoue that shame from before their eyes, and to bee
reuenged of a wrong so notable, they sent Espials round about,
and scouts to Naples, to view and spy the behauiour and talke of
the Duchesse, to settle some certayne Iudgement of him, which
stealingly was become their Brother in lawe. The Duchesse Courte
beinge in thys trouble, she dyd contynually perceiue in hir
house, hir brothers men to marke hir countenance, and to note
those that came thither to visite hir, and to whom she vsed
greatest familiaritie, bicause it is impossible but that the
fire, although it be raked vnder the ashes, must giue some heat:
and albeit the two Louers vsed eche others company, without
shewing any Sygne of their affection, yet they purposed to
chaung theyr estate for a tyme, by yelding truce to their
pleasures: yea, and although Bologna was a wise and prouident
personage, fearing to be surprised vpon the facte, or that the
Gentlewoman of the chamber corrupted with money, or forced by
feare, should pronounce any matter to his hinderance or
disaduantage, determined to absent himself from Naples, yet not
so sodainly but that he made the Duchesse his faithfull Lady and
companion priuy of his intent: and as they were secretly in
their chamber together, he vsed these or sutch like words:
“Madame, albeit the right good intent and vnstained conscience,
is free from faulte, yet the iudgement of men hath further
relation to the exterior apparance, than to vertue’s force and
innocence it self, as ignoraunt of the secrets of the thought:
and so in things that be well done, wee must of necessity fall
into the sentence of those, whom beastly affection rauisheth
more, than ruled reason. You see the solempne watch and guarde
whych the Seruaunts of the Lordes your Brothers do within your
house, and the suspition which they haue conceiued by reason of
your second Childbed, and by what meanes they labor truely to
know how your affayres procede, and things do passe. I feare not
death where your seruice may be aduaunced, but ys herein the
Maiden of your Cbamber be not secrete, if she bee corrupted, and
if she keepe not close that which shee ought to doe, it is not
ignoraunt to you that it is the losse of my lyfe, and shall dye
suspected to bee a Whoremonger and varlot, euen I, (I say) shal
incurre that Peryll, whych am your true and Lawfull Husband.
Thys separation chaunceth not by iustyce or desert, sith the
cause is to ryghteous for vs: but rather your brethren will
procure my death, when I shall thinke the same in greatest
assurance. If I had to do but wyth one or two, I would not
chaunge the place, ne march one step from Naples, but be
assured, that a great band, and the same well armed will set
vppon me: I pray you, madame, suffer me to retire for a time,
for I am assured that when I am absent, they will neuer soile
their hands or imbrue their sweardes in your Bloud. If I doubted
any thing at all of Peryll touchyng your owne person, I had
rather a hundred hundred tymes die in your Company, than lyue to
see you no more: but out of doubt I am, that if our affaires
were discouered, and they knew you to be begotten with Chyld by
me, your safety would be prouided for wher I should sustain the
penaunce of the fact, committed without fault or sinne: and
therfore I am determined to goe from Naples, to order mine
affaires, and to cause my Reuenue to be brought to the place of
mine abode, and from thence to Ancona, vntyl it pleaseth God to
mitigate the rage of your brethren, and recouer their good wills
for consent to our mariage. But I meane not to do or conclude
any thing without your aduise, and if thys intente doe not like
you, gyue me Councell Madame, what I were beste to doe, that
both in Lyfe and Death you may knowe your faythfull seruaunt and
louing Husband is ready to obey and please you.” This good Lady
hearing hir husband’s discourse, vncertayne what to do, wept
bitterly, as well for grief to lose his presence, as for that
she felt her self with child the third time: the sighes and
teares, the sobbes and heauy lookes, which she threwe forth
vppon hir sorrowful husband, gaue sufficient witnesse of hir
payne and Gryef: and if none had hard hir, I thynke her playntes
would haue well expressed hir inwarde smarte of mynde. But like
a wise Ladye seing the alleaged reasons of hir husbande,
licensed him although agaynste hir minde, not wythout vtterance
of these fewe Words, before hee went out of hir Chamber: “Deare
husbande, if I were so well assured of the affectyon of my
Brethren, as I am of my mayde’s fidelity, I would entreat you
not to leaue me alone: specially in the case I am, beynge wyth
Chylde: but knowyng that to be iust and true whych you haue
sayde, I am content to force my wyll for a certayne tyme, that
hereafter we may lyue at rest together, ioyning our selues in
the companye of our Chyldren and Famylye, voyde of those
troubles, whych greate Courts ordinarily beare within the
compasse of their Palaces. Of one thing I must intreat you, that
so often as you can by trusty messenger, you send me word and
intelligence of your health and state, bicause the same shall
bring vnto me greater pleasure and contentation, than the
welfare of mine owne: and bicause also, vpon sutch occurrentes
as shall chaunce, I may prouyde for myne owne affaires, the
surety of my self, and of our Children.” In saying so, she
embraced him very amorously, and he kissed hir with so greate
sorrow and grief of heart, as the soule was ready out of his
Body to take hir flight, sorowful beyond measure so to leaue hir
whome he loued, for the great curtesies and honor which hee had
receiued at hir hands. In the end, fearing that the Aragon
espials woulde come and discrie them in those priuities, Bologna
tooke his leaue, and bad his Lady and spouse Farewell. And this
was the second Acte of this Tragicall Historie, to see a
fugitife husband, secretly to mary, especially hir, vpon whome
hee ought not so mutch as to loke but with feare and reuerence.
Behold here (O ye folish louers) a Glasse of your lightnesse,
and yee Women, the course of your fond behauyor. It behoueth not
the wise sodainly to execute their first motions and desyres of
their heart for so mutch as they may be assured that pleasure is
pursued so neare with a repentaunce so sharp to be suffred,
and hard to be digested, as their voluptuousnesse shall vtterly
discontent them. True it is, that mariages be don in heauen and
performed in earth, but that saying may not be applied to
fooles, which gouerne them selues by carnall desires, whose
scope is but pleasure, and the reward many times equall to their
follie. Shall I be of opinion that a houshold seruaunt oughte to
sollicite, nay rather suborne the Daughter of his Lorde without
punyshment, or that a vyle and abiect person dare to mount vpon
a Prynces Bed? No, no, pollicye requyreth order in all, and eche
wight ought to bee matched according to theyr qualytye, wythout
makynge a Pastyme of it to couer theyr Follyes, and knowe not of
what Force Loue and Desteny be, except the same be resysted.
A goodly thinge it is to Loue, but where reason looseth Place,
Loue is wythoute his effecte, and the sequele rage and Madnesse:
leaue we to discourse of those which beleue that they be
constrayned to folowe the Force of theyr Mynde, and may easilye
subdue themselues to the Lawes of Vertue and Honesty, lyke one
that thrusteth hys Heade into a Sack, and thynkes he can not get
out: sutch people do please themselues in theyr losse, and
thinke all well that is noysome to their Health, daily folowyng
theyr owne delyghtes. Come wee againe then to sir Bologna, who
after he had left hys Wyfe in hir Castell, went to Naples, and
hauing sessed a rent vpon hir lands, and leuyed a good summe of
Money, he repayred to Ancona a city of the patrimonye of the
Romane church, whither hee caryed the two Chyldren, which he
had of the Duchesse, causyng them to be brought vp with suche
Dyligence and care, as it is to be thought a Father well
affectyoned to hys Wyfe would doe, and who delyghted to see a
Braunch of the Tree, that to hym was the best beloued Fruyct of
the World. There he hyred a house for hys trayne, and for those
that wayted vppon hys Wyfe, who in the meane tyme was in great
care, and could not tell of what Woode to make hir arrowes,
perceyuing that hir Belly began to swell, and grow to the tyme
of hir deliuery, seeing that from Day to Day, hir Brothers
seruaunts were at hir back, voide of Counsel and aduise, if one
euenyng she had not spoken to the Gentlewoman of her chamber,
touchyng the doubts and peryl wherein she was, not knowing how
she might be deliuered from the same. That maiden was gentle and
of a good mind and stomake, and loued hir mistresse very derely,
and seeing hir so amazed and tormenting hir self to death,
mindyng to fray hir no further, ne to reproue hir of hir fault
which could not be amended, but rather to prouyde for the
daunger wherunto she had hedlong cast hir selfe, gaue hir this
aduyse: “How now, Madame” (sayd shee,) “is that wysdom whych
from your Chyldhode hath ben so famyliar in you, dislodged from
your brest in time when it ought chiefly to rest for incountryng
of those mishaps that are comming vpon vs? think you to auoid
the dangers, by thus tormentyng your self, except you set your
hands to the work therby to gyue the repulse to aduerse fortune?
I haue heard you many tymes speake of the Constancye and Force
of Mynde, whych ought to shine in the deedes of Princesses, more
clerely than amongs those dames of baser house, and whych ought
to make them appeare like the sunne and the little starres: and
yet I see you nowe astonned, as though you had neuer forseene,
that aduersity chaunceth so wel to catch the great within his
clouches, as the base and simple sort. It is but now that you
haue called to remembraunce that which might insue your mariage
with sir Bologna? Did hys onely presence assure you against the
waits of fortune, and was it the thought of paines, feares and
frights, which now turmoileth your dolorous mind? Ought you thus
to vexe your selfe, when nede it is to thinke how to saue both
your honor, and the fruicte wythin your intrailes? If your
sorrow be so great ouer sir Bologna, and if you feare your
childbed wil be descried, why seeke you not meanes to attempt
some voyage, for couering of the fact, to beguile the eyes of
them whych so diligently do watch you? Doth your hearte faile
you in that matter? whereof do you dreame? why sweat and freat
you before you make me answer?” “Ah sweete hearte,” (answered
the Duchesse,) “if thou feltest the payne which I do suffer, thy
tongue would not be so mutch at wyll, as thou shewest it now to
bee for reproofe of my small Constancie. I do sorrow specially
for the causes which thou alleagest, and aboue all, for that I
know well, that if my Brethren had neuer so litle intelligence
of my beynge with Chyld, I were vndone and my Lyfe at an end,
and peraduenture poore Wench, thou shouldest beare the penaunce
for my sinne. But what way can I take, that stil these Candels
may not giue light, and I voided of the Trayne whych ought to
wayghte vpon my Brethren? I thinke if I should descend into
Hell, they would know, whither any shadowe there were in loue
with me. Now gesse if I should trauayle the Realme, or retire to
any other place, whither they would let me liue in peace?
Nothing lesse, for suspect they would, that the cause of my
departure proceeded of desyre to liue at liberty, to dallye wyth
hym, whom they Iudge to be other than my lawfull husbande: and
it may so be, that as they bee Wicked and suspicious, so will
they doubte of my beynge wyth Chylde and thereby shall I bee
farre more infortunate by trauaylyng, than here in miserie
amidde myne anguishe: and you the reste that be keepers of my
Councell, fall into greater Daunger, vppon whome no doubte they
will bee reuenged: and fleshe themselues for your vnhappy
waiting and attendance vpon vs.” “Madame,” sayd the bolde
Maiden, “be not afraide, and followe mine aduise, for I hope
that it shall be the meanes both to see your spouse, and to rid
those troublesome verlets out of your house, and in like maner
safely to deliuer you into good assuraunce.” “Say your mind,”
quod the Ladye, “for it may bee, that I wyll gouerne my self
according to the same.” “Mine aduise is then,” sayd the
Gentlewoman, “to let your houshold vnderstand, that you made a
Vowe to visite the Holy Temple of our Lady of Loretto, (a Famous
Pilgrimage in Italy) and that you commaund your Trayn to make
themselues ready to wayt vpon you for accomplyshment of your
deuotion, and from thence you shall take your Iourney to
soiourne at Ancona, whither before you goe hence, you shall send
your Moueables and Plate, wyth sutch Moneye as you thynke
necessarye for furnyshing of your Charges: and afterwards God
will performe the rest, and through his holy mercy will guyde
and direct al your affaires.” The Duchesse hearing the mayden
speake her good aduise and amazed of her sodayne inuention,
could not forbear to imbrace and kysse hir, blessing the houre
wherein she was borne, and that euer she chaunced into hir
Companye, to whome afterwards shee sayd: “My Wenche, I had well
determined to gyue ouer myne estate and Noble porte, ioyfully to
lyue a simple Gentlewoman with my deare and welbeloued Husband,
but I could not deuyse how I should conuenyently departe thys
countrey without suspition of some folly: and sith that thou
hast so well instructed mee for brynging that same to passe,
I promyse thee that so diligentlye thy counsel shal be
performed, as I see the same to be right good and necessary:
for rather had I see my husband, beynge alone without title of
Duchesse or great Lady, than to liue without him beautified with
the graces and Names of Honor and preheminence.” This deuised
plot was no soner grounded, but she gaue order for execution of
the same, and brought it to passe with sutch dexterity as the
Ladye in lesse than VIII. Dayes had conueyed and sente
the most part of hir Moueables, and specially the chyefest and
beste to Ancona, taking in the meane time hir way towards
Loretto after she had bruted hir solempne vow made for that
Pilgrimage. It was not sufficient for this folysh Woman to take
a Husband more to glut hir libidinous appetite, than for other
occasion, except shee added to hir sinne another excreable
impietie, making holy places and dueties of deuotion, to be as
it were the shadowes of hir folly. But let vs consider the force
of Louers rage, which so soone as it hath seased vpon the minds
of men, we see how maruellous be the effects thereof, and with
what straint and puissaunce that madnesse subdueth the wise and
strongest worldlings: who woulde thinke that a great Lady
besides the abandoning hir estate, hir goodes and Chyld, would
haue misprysed hir honor and reputation, to follow like a
vagabond, a pore and simple Gentleman, and him besides that was
the household seruaunt of hir Courte? and yet you see this great
and mighty Duchesse trot and run after the Male, like a female
Wolfe or Lionesse (when they goe to sault,) and forget the Noble
bloud of Aragon whereof she was descended, to couple hir self
almost with the simplest person of all the trimmest Gentlemen of
Naples. But turne we not the example of follies to be a matter
of consequence: for if one or two become bankrupt of theyr
honor, it followeth not, good Ladyes, that theyr fact should
serue for a matche to your deserts, and mutch lesse a patron for
you to folow. These Hystories be not wryten to trayne and trap
you to pursue the thousand thousand slippery sleightes of Loue’s
gallantise, but rather carefully to warne you to behold the
semblable faultes, and to serue for a drugge to dyscharge the
Poyson which gnaweth and fretteth the integrytie and soundnesse
of the soule. The wyse and skilfull Apothecary or compositor of
drugges, dresseth Vipers flesh to purge the patyent from hote
corrupted bloud which conceyueth and engendreth Leprosie within
hys Body. In lyke manner, the fonde loue and wycked rybauldry of
Semiramis, Pasiphae, Messalina, Faustina, and Romilda is shewed
in wryt, that euery of you maye feare to be numbred and recorded
amongs sutch common and dishonourable women. You Princes and
great Lords read the follies of Paris, the adulteries of
Hercules, the dainty and effeminate life of Sardanapalus, the
tiranny of Phalaris, Busiris, or Dyonisius of Sicile, and see
the history of Tiberius, Nero, Caligula, Domitian, and
Heliogabalus, and spare not to recompte them amongs our wanton
youthes which soile themselues villaines more filthily than the
swine do in the durt: al this intendeth it an instruction for
your youth to follow the infection and whoredome of those
Monsters? Better it were all those bokes were drenched in
bottomlesse depth of seas, than Christian life by their meanes
should be corrupted: but the example of the wicked is induced
for to eschue and auoid them, as the life of the good and honest
is remembred to frame and addresse our behauior in this world to
be praise worthy and commended: otherwyse the holinesse of
sacred writ should serue for an argument to the vnthrifty and
luxurious to confirm and approue their beastly and licencious
wickednesse. Come we againe then to our purpose: the good
Pilgrime of Loretto went forth hir voyage to atchieue hir
deuotions, by visiting the Saint for whose Reliques she was
departed the country of the Duke hir Sonne: when she had done
hir suffrages at Loretto, hir people thought hir voiage to be at
an end, and that she would haue returned again into hir
Countrey: but she said vnto them, that forsomutch as she was so
neare Ancona, being but XV. myles of, she would not
retyre but she had seen that auncient and goodlye city, which
diuers Hystories do greatly recommend, as wel for the
antiquitie, as for the pleasant seat therof. Al were of hir
aduise, and went forward to see the antiquities of Ancona, and
she to renue the pleasures whych she had before begon with hir
Bologna, who was aduertised of all hir determination, restyng
now like a God, possessed with the Iewels and rychesse of the
Duchesse, and had taken a fayre palace in the great Streat of
the City, by the gate wherof the traine of hys Lady must passe.
The Harbinger of the Duchesse posted before to take vp lodging
for the train, but Bologna offred vnto hym hys Palace for the
Ladye. So Bologna whych was already welbeloued in Ancona, and
newely entred Amytye and greate Aquayntaunce wyth the Gentlemen
of the Cytye, wyth a goodlye troupe of them, wente forthe to
meete hys Wyfe, to whom he presented his house, and besought hir
that shee and hir trayne would vouchsafe to lodge there. She
receiued the same very thankfully, and withdrew hir selfe vnto
his house, who conducted hir thither, not as a husband, but like
him that was hir humble and affectionate seruaunte. But what
needeth greate dyscourse of Woordes? The duchesse knowing that
it was impossible but eche man must be priuy to hir facte, and
know what secretes hath passed betweene hir and hir Husband,
to the ende that no other opynyon of hir Childebed should be
conceyued, but that whych was good and Honest, and done synce
the accomplyshment of the Maryage, the morrow after hir arryuall
to Ancona, assembled all her Trayne in the Hall, of purpose no
longer to keepe cloase that sir Bologna was hir Husbande, and
that alreadye shee had had two Chyldren by him, and agayne was
great with childe, with a third. And when they were come
togither after dynner, in that presence of hir husbande, shee
vsed vnto them these woordes: “Gentlemen, and al ye my trusty
and louyng seruaunts, hyghe tyme it is to manyfest to euery of
you, the thing which hath ben done before the Face, and in the
presence of hym who knoweth the most obscure and hydden secrets
of our thoughts. And needefull it is not to keepe silente that
which is neyther euyll done ne hurtfull to any person: If things
myght be kept secrete and styl remaine vnknowen, except they
were declared by the doers of them, yet would not I commit the
wrong in concealyng that, which to dyscouer vnto you doth
greatly delite me, and deliuereth my mind from exceeding grief,
in sutch wise as if the flames of my desire could break out with
sutch violence, as the fire hath taken heate within my mind, ye
should see the smoke mount vp with greater smoulder than that
which the mount Gibel doeth vomit forth at certayne seasons of
the yeare. And to the intent I may not keepe you long in this
suspect, this secret fire wythin my Heart, and that which I shal
cause to flame in open ayre, is a certain opinion which I
conceiue for a mariage by me made certain yeares past, at what
time I chose and wedded a husband to my fantasie and liking,
desirous no longer to liue in Widow state, being vnwilling to do
the thing that should preiudice and hurt my conscience. The same
is done, and yet in one thing I haue offended, which is by long
keepyng secrete the performed mariage: for the wycked brute
dispearsed through the realme by reason of my childbed, one
yeare paste, hath displeased some: howbeit my conscience
receiueth comforte, for that the same is free from fault or
blot. Now shall ye know therefore what he is, whom I acknowledg
for my Lord and spouse, and who it is that lawfully hath me
espoused in the presence of this Gentlewoman here present, which
is the witnesse of our Nuptials and accorde of mariage. This
gentleman also Antonio Bologna, is he to whom I haue sworn and
giuen my faith, and hee againe to mee hath ingaged his. He it is
whom I accompt for my spouse and husband, (and with whome
henceforth) I meane to rest and contynue. In consideration
whereof, if there be any heere amongs you all, that shal mislike
of my choyse, and is willing to wayt vppon my sonne the Duke,
I meane not to let them of their intent, prayinge them
faithfully to serue him, and to be careful of his person, and to
be vnto him so honest and loyall, as they haue bene to me so
longe as I was their mistresse. But if any of you desire stil to
make your abode wyth me, to be partakers of my Wealth and woe,
I will so entertayne them as they shall haue good cause to be
contented, if not let them departe hence to Malfi, and the
steward shal prouide for them according to their degre: for
touching my self I do mind no more to be termed an infamous
Duchesse: rather would I be honored wyth the Tytle of a symple
Gentlewoman, or wyth that estate whych shee can haue that hath
an honest husband, and wyth whom she holdeth faithfull and
loyall company, than reuerenced with the glory of a Pryncesse,
subiect to the despite of slaunderous tongues. Ye know” (said
she to Bologna) “what hath passed betwene vs, and God is the
witnesse of the integrity of my Conscyence, wherfore I pray you
bryng forth our Chyldren, that eche Man may beholde the Fruyctes
raysed of our allyance.” Hauynge spoken those Woordes, and the
Chyldren broughte forthe into the Hall, all the companye stoode
styll so astonned wyth that newe successe and tale, as though
hornes sodainly had started forth their heads, and rested
vnmoueable and amazed, like the great marble piller of Rome
called Pasquile, for so mutch as they neuer thought, ne
coniectured that Bologna was the successor of the duke of Malfi
in his mariage bed. This was the preparatiue of the catastrophe
and bloudy end of this tragedie. For of all the Duchesse
seruaunts, there was not one that was willing to continue wyth
theyr auncient mistresse, who with the faithfull maiden of hir
chamber remained at Ancona, enioying the ioyful embracements of
hir Husbande, in all sutch Pleasure and Delyghts as they doe,
whych hauyng lyued in fear, be set at liberty, and out of al
suspition, plunged in a sea of ioy, and fleting in the quiet
calme of al passetime, where Bologna had none other care, but
how to please his best beloued, and she studied nothing else but
how to loue and obey him, as the wyfe ought to doe hir husband.
But thys fayre Weather lasted not long, for as the ioyes of men
do not long endure but wast in lyttle time, so bee the delights
of louers lesse firme and stedefast and passe away almost in one
moment of an houre. Now the seruaunts of the Duchesse which wer
retired, and durst tary no longer with hir, fearing the fury of
the cardinal of Aragon brother to the Lady, the verye Day they
departed from Ancona, deuised amongs themselues that one of them
should ride in post to Rome, to aduertise the cardinal of the
ladye’s maryage, to the intente that the Aragon brethren myght
conceiue no cause to seke reuenge of theyr disloyalty. That
determination spedily was accomplished, one posting towardes
Rome, and the rest galloping to the countrey Castles of the
duke. These newes reported to the Cardinal and his brother, it
may be coniectured how gryeuously they toke the same, and that
they were not able to digest them wyth modestye, the yongest of
the brethren, yalped forth a Thousand Cursses and despytes,
agaynste the symple sexe of womankind. “Ha,” said the Prince
(transported with choler, and driuen into deadly furie) “what
law is able to punish or restrayne the folysh indiscretion of a
Woman, that yeldeth hir self to hir own desires? What shame is
able to brydle and withdrawe a Woman from hir mind and madnesse?
Or with what fear is it possible to snaffle them from execution
of theyr filthinesse? Ther is no beast be he neuer so wilde,
but man sometime may tame, and bring to his lure and order. The
force and diligence of Man is able to Make mylde the stronge and
Proude, and to ouertake the swyftest Beaste and Foule, or
otherwyse to attayne the hyghest and deepest things of the
world: but this incarnate diuelish beaste the Woman, no force
can subdue hir, no swiftnesse can approch hir mobylity, no good
mind is able to preuent hir sleightes and deceites, they seem to
be procreated and borne againste all order of Nature, and to
liue withoute Lawe, whych gouerneth al other things indued with
some reason and vnderstanding. But howe great abhomination is
this, that a Gentlewoman of sutch a house as ours is, hath
forgotten hir estate, and the greatnesse of hir deceased
husband, with the hope of the toward youthe of the Duke hir
sonne and our Nephew. Ah, false and vile bytch, I sweare by the
Almighty God and by his blessed wounds, that if I can catch
thee, and that wicked knaue thy chosen mate, I wil pype ye both
sutch a wofull galiard, as in your imbracements ye neuer felt
like ioy and mirthe. I wil make ye daunce sutch a bloudy
bargenet, as your whorish heate for euer shall be cooled. What
abuse haue they committed vnder title of mariage, whych was so
secretly don, as their children do witnesse their lecherous
loue, but theyr promise of faith was made in open aire, and
serueth for a cloke and visarde of their moste filthy whoredom.
And what if mariage was concluded, be we of so little respect,
as the carion beast could not vouchsafe to aduertise vs of hir
entent? Or is Bologna a man worthy to be allied or mingled with
the roial bloud of Aragon and Castille? No, no, be he neuer so
good a gentleman, his race agreeth not with kingly state. But I
make to God a vow, that neuer wyll I take one sound and restful
slepe, vntill I haue dispatched that infamous fact from our
bloud, and that the caitif whoremonger be vsed according to his
desert.” The cardinal also was out of quiet, grinding his teeth
togither, chattering forth of his Spanish mosel Jack an Apes
Pater-noster, promising no better vsage to their Bologna than
hys yonger brother did. And the better to intrap them both
(without further sturre for that time) they sent to the Lord
Gismondo Gonsago the Cardinal of Mantua, than Legate for pope
Iulius the second at Ancona, at whose hands they enioyed sutch
friendship, as Bologna and all his family were commaunded
spedily to auoid the city. But for al that the Legat was able to
do, of long time he could not preuail, Bologna had so greate
intelligence wythin Ancona. Neuerthelesse whiles hee differred
his departure, he caused the most part of his trayne, his
Children and goods to be conueyed to Siena, an auncient Citty of
Thoscane, which for the state and liberties, had long time bin
at warres with the Florentines, in sutch wyse as the very same
day that newes came to Bologna that hee should depart the Citty
within XV. daies, hee was ready, and mounted on horseback to
take hys flight to Siena, whych brake for sorrow the hearts of
the Aragon brethren, seeinge that they were deceiued, and
frustrate of their intent, bicause they purposed by the way to
apprehend Bologna, and to cut him in peeces. But what? The tyme
of his hard lucke was not yet expired, and so the marche from
Ancona, serued not for the Theatre of those two infortunate
louers ouerthrow, who certaine moneths liued in peace in
Thoscane. The Cardinall night nor day did sleepe, and his
brother still did wayt to performe hys othe of reuenge. And
seeinge their ennimy out of feare, they dispatched a post to
Alfonso Castruccio, the cardinall of Siena, to entreat the lord
Borgliese, cheyfe of the Seigniory there, that their Syster, and
Bologna should be banished the Countrey, and limits of that
Citty, which wyth small suite was brought to passe. These two
infortunate, Husband and Wyfe, were chasid from all places, and
so vnlucky as whilom Achastus was when he was accursed, or
Oedipus, after his father’s death, and incestious mariage wyth
his mother, vncertayne to what Sainct to vow themselues, and to
what place to take their flight. In the ende they determined to
goe to Venice, but first to Ramagna, there to imbarke themselues
for to retyre in saulfty to the citty enuironned wyth the Sea
Adriaticum, the richest in Europa. But the poore soules made
their reconinge there wythout their hoaste, faylinge halfe the
price of their banket. For being vppon the territory of Forly,
one of the trayne a farre of, did see a troupe of horsemen
galloping towardes their company, which by their countenaunce
shewed no signe of peace or amity at all, which made them
consider that it was some ambush of theyr Enimyes. The
Neapolitan gentleman seeing the onset bendinge vppon them, began
to feare death, not for that hee cared at al for his mishap, and
ruine, but his heart began to cleaue for heauinesse to see his
Wyfe and little Children ready to be murdered, and serue for the
passetime of the Aragon Brethren’s eyes, for whose sakes he knew
himselfe already predestinate to dy, and that for despite of
him, and to accelerate his death by the ouerthrow of hys Wyfe
and Children, he was assured that they would dispatch them all
before his face and presence. But what is there to be done,
where counsell and meanes to escape do fayle? Full of teares
therefore, astonishment and feare, he expected death so cruell
as man could deuise, and was already determined to suffer the
same with good courage, for any thing that the Duchesse could
say vnto him. He might well haue saued himself and his eldest
sonne by flight, being both wel mounted vpon two good Turkey
horsses, whiche ran so fast, as the quarrel out of a Crosbow.
But he loued to mutch his wife and children, and woulde kepe
them company both in lyfe and death. In th’ende the good Lady
sayd vnto him: “Sir, for all the ioyes and pleasures which you
can do me, for God’s sake saue your selfe and the litle infant
next you, who can well indure the galloping of the horse. For
sure I am, that you being out of our company, we shall not neede
to feare any hurt: but if you do tary, you wil be the cause of
the ruine and ouerthrow of vs all, and we shal receiue thereby
no profit or aduauntage: take this purse therefore, and saue
yourself, attending better fortune in time to come.” The poore
Gentleman Bologna knowing that his wife had pronounced reason,
and fearing that it was impossible from that time forth that she
or hir Traine could escape their hands, taking leaue of hir, and
kissing his chyldren not forgetting the money which she offred
vnto him, willed his seruants to saue themselues by sutch meanes
as they thought best. So gieuing spurs vnto his horse, he began
to fly amayne, and his eldest sonne seeing his father gone,
began to followe in like sorte: and so for that time they two
were saued by breaking of the intended ill luck lyke to light
vpon them. And where he thought to rescue himselfe at Venice, he
turned another way, and by great Iourneys arriued at Millan. In
the meane time the horsemen were approched neere the Duchesse,
who seeing that Bologna had saued himselfe, very courteously
began to speake vnto the lady, were it that the Aragon brethren
had geuen theym that charge, or feared that the Lady would
trouble them with hir importunate Cries, and Lamentations. One
therefore amongs the Troupe sayde thus vnto hir: “Madam, we be
commaunded by the Lordes your brethren, to conduct you home vnto
your house, that you may receiue agayne the Gouernment of the
Duchy, and the order of the Duke your sonne, and do maruell very
mutch at your folly, for giuing your selfe thus to wander the
Countrey after a man of so smal reputation as Bologna is, who
when he had glutted his lusting lecherrous minde with the
comelines of your noble Personage, wil despoyle you of your
goods and honour, and then take his Legs into som straung
countrey.” The simple Lady, albeit greeuous it was vnto hir to
heare sutch speech of hir husband, yet helde hir peace and
dissembled what she thought, glad and wel contented with the
curtesy done vnto hir, fearinge before that they came to kyll
hir and thought hirselfe already discharged, hopinge vppon their
courteous Dealinges, that shee, and hir Chyldren from that tyme
forth should lyue in good assuraunce. But she was greatly
deceyued, and knew within shorte space after, the good will that
hir Brethren bare hir: for so soone as these Gallants had
conducted hir into the kyngdome of Naples, to one of the Castels
of hir sonne, she was committed to pryson wyth hir chyldren, and
she also that was the secretary of hir infortunate mariage. Til
this time Fortune was contented to proceede with indifferent
quiet against those Louers, but henceforth yee shall heare the
Issue of theyr little prosperous loue, and how pleasure hauing
blinded them, neuer forsooke them vntil it had giuen them the
ouerthrow. It booteth not heere to recite any Fables or
Hystories, contenting my self that Ladies do reade wythout to
many weping teares, the pitifull end of that myserable
princesse, who seeing hir selfe a Prisoner in the company of hir
litle chyldren and welbeloued Mayden, paciently liued in hope to
see hir Brethren appaysed, comforting hir selfe for the escape
of hir husband out of the hands of his mortal foes. But hir
assurance was changed into an horrible feare and hir hope to no
expectation of surety, when certayne dayes after hir
imprisonment, hir gaoler came in, and sayde vnto hir: “Madame,
I do aduise you henceforth to consider and examine your
Conscience, for so mutch as I suppose that euen thys very day
your Lyfe shall be taken from you.” I leaue for you to thinke
what horrour, and traunce assayled the feeble heart of this
poore Lady, and wyth what eares she receyued that cruell
message, but hir cryes, and moanes together with hir sighes and
lamentations declared with what chere she receyued the
aduertisement. “Alas” (sayd she) “is it possible that my
brethren should so far forget themselues, as for a fact nothing
preiudicial vnto them, cruelly to put to death their innocent
Sister, and to imbrue the memory of their fact, in the bloud of
one which neuer did offend them? Must I against al right and
equity be put to death before the Iudge or Maiestrate haue made
triall of my lyfe, and knowne the righteousnesse of my cause? Ah
God, most rightfull and bountifull father, beholde the mallice
of my Brethren, and the Tyrannous cruelty of those which
wrongfully doe seeke my bloud. Is it a sinne to marry? Is it a
fault to fly, and auoide the sinne of Whoredome? What Lawes be
these, where marriage bed, and ioyned matrimony is pursued wyth
lyke seuerity, that Murder, Theft, and Aduoutry are? And what
Christianity in a Cardinall, to shed the bloud which hee ought
to defend? What profession is thys, to assayle the innocent by
the hygh way side, and to reue them of lyfe in place to punish
Theeues and Murderers? O Lord God thou art iust, and dost al
things in equity, I see wel that I haue trespassed against thy
maiesty in some more notoryous crime than in marriage: I most
humbly therefore beseech thee to haue compassion on mee, and to
pardon myne offences, accepting the confession, and repentaunce
of mee thine humble seruaunt for satisfaction of my sinnes,
which it pleased thee to washe away in the precious bloud of thy
sonne our Sauiour, that being so purified, I may appeare at the
holy banket in thy glorious kingdome.” When shee had thus
finished hir prayer, two or three of the ministers which had
taken hir besides Forly, came in, and said vnto hir: “Now Madame
make ready your selfe to goe to God, for beholde your houre is
come.” “Praysed be that God” (sayd she) “for the wealth and woe
that it pleaseth hym to send vs. But I beseech you my friendes
to haue pitty vppon these lyttle Babes and innocent creatures:
let them not feele the smarte whych I am assured my Brethren
beare agaynste their Poore vnhappy Father.” “Well well, madame,”
sayd they, “we wil conuey them to sutch place as they shal not
want.” “I also recommend vnto you” (quod she) “this pore
imprisoned mayden, and entreate hir well, in consideration of
hir good service done to the infortunate Duchesse of Malfi.” As
she had ended those words, the two Ruffians did put a coarde
about her neck, and strangled hir. The mayden seeing the pitious
Tragedy commensed vpon hir maystresse, cried out a maine,
cursing the cruell malice of those tormenters, and besought God
to be witnesse of the same, and crying out vpon his diuine
Maiesty, she humbly praied unto him to bend hys iudgement
agaynst them which causelesse (being no Magistrates,) had killed
so innocent creatures. “Reason it is” (sayd one of the Tyrants)
“that thou be partaker of thy maystresse innocency, sith thou
hast bene so faythfull a Minister, and messenger of hir fleshly
follies.” And sodaynly caught hir by the hayre of the head, and
in steade of a Carcanet placed a roape about her necke. “How
nowe” (quoth shee,) “is this the promised fayth you made vnto my
lady?” But those words flew into the Ayre wyth hir Soule, in
company of the myserable Duchesse. And now hearken the most
sorowfull scene of all the Tragedy. The little Chyldren which
had seene all this furious game executed vpon their mother and
hir mayde, as nature prouoked them, or as some presage of their
myshap might leade them thereunto, kneeled vpon their knees
before those Tyrants, and embracinge their Legges, wayled in
sutch wyse, as I thinke that any other, except a pitilesse heart
spoyled of all humanity, would haue had compassion. And
impossible it was for them, to vnfolde the embracementes of
those innocent creatures, whych seemed to foreiudge their death
by Sauage lookes and Countenaunce of those Roysters: whereby I
think that needes it must be confessed, that nature hath in hir
selfe, and in vs imprinted some signe of diuination, and
specially at the Houre and tyme of death, so as the very beastes
doe feele some forewarninges, although they see neyther Sworde,
nor Staffe, and indeuoure to auoyde the cruell Passage of a
thynge so Fearefull, as the separation of two thynges so neerely
vnyted, euen the Body, and Soule, which for the motion that
chaunceth at the very instant, sheweth how narure is constrained
in that monstrous diuision, and more than horrible ouerthrow.
But who can appease a heart determined to worke mischief, and
hath sworne the death of another forced thereunto by some
special commaundment? The Aragon brethren ment hereby nothing
else, but to roote out the whole name and race of Bologna. And
therfore the two ministers of iniquity did like murder and
slaughter vpon those two tender babes, as they had done before
vpon their mother not without some motion of horror, for an act
so detestable. Behold here how far the cruelty of man extendeth,
when it coueteth nothing else but vengeance, and marke what
excessyue choler the mind of them produceth, whych suffer
themselues to be forced and ouerwhelmed with fury. Leaue we
apart the cruelty of Euchrates, the Sonne of the kinge of
Bactria, and of Phraates the Sonne of the Persian Prynce, of
Timon of Athenes, and of an infinit number of those which were
rulers and gouernors of the Empyre of Rome: and let vs match
with these Aragon brethren, one Vitoldus Duke of Lituania, the
cruelty of whom, constrained his own subiects to hang themselues
for feare leaste they should fall into his furious and bloudy
hands. We may confesse also these brutall brethren to be more
butcherly than euer Otho Erle of Monferrato, and prince of Vrbin
was, who caused a yeoman of his chamber to be wrapped in a
sheete poudred with sulpher and brimstone, and afterwards
kindled with a Candle, was scalded and consumed to death,
bicause he waked not at an hour by him appointed: let vs not
excuse them also from some affinity with Manfredus the sonne of
Henry the second emperor, who smoldered hys own father, being an
old man, between two Couerlets. These former furies might haue
some excuse to couer their cruelty, but these had no other color
but a certain beastly madnesse which moued them to kil those
litle Children their nephews, who by no means could preiudice or
anoy the Duke of Malfi or his title, in the succession of his
Duchie, the mother hauing withdrawen hir goods, and had her
dowrie assigned hir: but a wicked hart wrapt in malice must
nedes bring forth semblable workes. In the time of these murders
the infortunate Louer kept himself at Millan with his sonne
Frederick, and vowed himself to the Lord Siluio Sauello, who
that tyme besieged the Castell of Millan, in the behalf of
Maximilian Sforcia, which in the end he conquered and recouered
by composition wyth the French within. But that charge being
atchieued, the general Sauello marched from thence to Cremona
with hys Campe, whyther Bologna durst not folow, but repayred to
the Marquize of Britone, in whych tyme the Aragon brethren so
wroughte as hys goods were confiscate at Naples, and he dryuen
to hys shiftes to vse the Golden Duckates which the Duchesse
gaue him to relieue himselfe at Millan, whose Death althoughe it
were aduertised by many, yet hee could not be persuaded to
beleue the same, for that diuers which went about to betray him,
and feared he shoulde flie from Millan, kept his beake vnder the
water, (as the Prouerb is,) and assured him both of the Lyfe and
welfare of his Spouse, and that shortly his Brethren in law
would be reconciled because many Noble men fauored hym well, and
desired his returne home to hys countrey. Fed and filled with
that vaine hope, he remayned more than a yeare at Millan,
frequentyng good company, who was well entertayned of the
rychest marchaunts and best Gentlemen of the Cytye: and aboue
all other, he had famyliar accesse to the house of the Ladye
Hippolita Bentiuoglia, where vppon a Daye after Dynner, takyng
hys lute in hand, whereon he could exceedyngly well play, he
began to sing a sonnet, whych he had composed vppon the
discourse of hys mysfortune, the tenor whereof insueth.
_The Song of Antonio Bologna, the husband of the Duchesse of
Malfi._
If loue, the death, or tract of tyme, haue measured my distresse,
Or if my beatinge sorrowes may my languor well expresse:
Then loue come soone to visit me, which most my heart desires,
And so my dolor findes some ease, through flames of fansies fires.
The time runnes out his rollinge course, for to prolong myne ease,
To th’ end I shall enioy my loue, and heart himselfe appease,
A cruell darte brings happy death, my soule then rest shall find:
And sleepinge body vnder Toumbe, shall dreame time out of mynde,
And yet the Loue, the Time, nor Death, lookes not how I decreace:
Nor geueth eare to any thinge, of this my wofull peace.
Full farre I am from my good hap, or halfe the ioye I craue,
Whereby I chaung my state wyth teares, and draw full neere my graue.
The courteous Gods that giues me lyfe, now mooues the Planets all:
For to arrest my groning ghost, and hence my sprite to call.
Yet from them still I am separd, by thinges vnequall heere,
Not ment the Gods may be vniust, that breedes my chaunging cheere.
For they prouide by their foresight, that none shall doe me harme:
But she whose blasing beauty bright, hath brought me in a charme.
My mistresse hath the powre alone, to rid me from this woe:
Whose thrall I am, for whom I die, to whom my sprite shall goe.
Away my soule, goe from the griefs, that thee oppresseth still,
And let thy dolor witnesse beare, how mutch I want my will.
For since that loue and death himselfe, delights in guiltlesse bloud,
Let time transport my troubled sprite, where destny seemeth good.
This song ended, the poor Gentleman could not forbeare from
pouring forth his luke warme Tears, which abundantly ran downe
his heauy Face, and his pantinge Sighes truly discouered the
alteration of his mynde, whych mooued ech wight of that assembly
to pitty his mournful State: and one specially of no
acquaintance, and yet knew the deuises that the Aragon Brethren
had trayned and contriued against hym: that vnacquaynted
gentleman his name was Delio, one very well learned, and of trim
inuention, who very excellently hath endited in the Italian
vulgar tongue. This Delio knowing the Gentleman to be husband to
the deceased Duchesse of Malfi, came vnto him, and taking him
aside, said: “Sir, albeit I haue no great acquaintance with you,
this being the first time that euer I saw you, to my
remembrance, so it is, that vertue hath sutch force, and maketh
gentle myndes so amorous of their like, as when they doe beholde
ech other, they feele themselues coupled as it were in a bande
of mindes, that impossible it is to diuide the same: now
knowinge what you be, and the good and commendable qualities in
you, I coumpt it my duty to reueale that which may chaunce to
breede you damage. Know you then, that I of late was in company
with a Noble man of Naples, whych is in this Citty, banded with
a certaine company of horsemen, who tolde mee that he had a
speciall charge to kill you, and therefore prayed me (as it
seemed) to require you not to come in his sight, to the intent
he might not be constrayned to doe that which should offend his
Conscience, and grieue the same all the dayes of his life:
moreouer I haue worse Tidinges to tell you: the Duchesse your
Wyfe deade by violent hand in prison, and the most part of them
that were in hir company: besides this assure your selfe, that
if you doe not take heede to that which this Neapolitane
Capitnyne hath differred, other wyll doe and execute the same.
This mutch I haue thought good to tell you, bicause it would
very mutch grieue me, that a Gentleman so excellent as you be,
should be murdered in that myserable wyse, and I should deeme my
selfe vnworthy of lyfe, if knowing these practises I should
dissemble the same.” Whereunto Bologna aunswered: “Syr Delio,
I am greatly bound vnto you, and geue you hearty thankes for the
good will you beare me. But in the conspiracy of the brethren of
Aragon, and of the death of my lady, you be deceyued, and some
haue giuen you wrong intelligence: for within these two dayes I
receyued letters from Naples, wherein I am aduertised, that the
right honorable and reuerend Cardinal and his Brother be almost
appeased, and that my goods shall bee rendred agayne, and my
dear Wyfe restored.” “Ah syr,” sayde Delio, “how you be beguiled
and Fedde wyth Follyes, and nourished with sleights of Court:
assure your selfe that they which write these trifles, make
sutch shamefull sale of your lyfe, as the Butcher doth of his
flesh in the Shambles, and so wickedly betray you, as impossible
it is to inuent a treason more detestable: but bethinke you well
thereof.” When he had sayd so, he tooke hys leaue, and ioyned
hymselfe in company of fine and pregnaunt Wyttes, there
assembled together. In the meane tyme, the cruell Spirite of the
Aragon Brethren were not yet appeased with the former murders,
but needes must finish the last act of Bologna hys Tragedy by
losse of hys Lyfe, to keepe hys Wyfe and Chyldren company, so
well in an other Worlde as he was vnited with them in Loue in
this frayle and transitory passage. The Neapolitan gentleman
before spoken of by Delio, whych had taken this enterprise to
satissie the barbarous Cardinall to berieue his Countreyman of
lyfe, hauinge chaunged his mynde, and differring from day to day
to sorte the same to effect, it chaunced that a Lombarde of
larger Conscience than the other, inueigled with Couetousnesse,
and hired for ready Money, practised the death of the Duchesse
poore husband: this bloudy beaste was called Daniel de Bozola
that had charge of a certayne bande of footemen in Millan. Thys
newe Iudas and pestilent manqueller, who wythin certayne dayes
after knowinge that Bologna oftentymes Repayred to heare Seruice
at the Church and conuent of S. Fraunces, secretly conueyed
himself in ambush, hard besides the church of S. Iames, (being
accompanied wyth a certayne troupe of Souldiers) to assayle
infortunate Bologna, who was sooner slayne than hee was able to
thinke vpon defence, and whose mishap was sutch, as hee whych
kylled hym had good leysure to saue himselfe by reason of the
little pursuite made after hym. Beholde heere the Noble fact of
a Cardinall, and what sauer it hath of Christian purity, to
commit a slaughter for a fact done many yeares past vpon a poore
Gentleman which neuer thought him hurt. Is thys the sweete
obseruation of the Apostles, of whom they vaunt themselues to be
the Successours and followers? And yet we cannot finde nor
reade, that the Apostles, or those that stept in their trade of
lyfe, hyred Ruffians, and Murderers to cut the Throates of them
which did them hurt. But what? it was in the tyme of Iulius the
second, who was more martiall than Christian, and loued better
to shed bloud than giue blessing to the people. Sutch ende had
the infortunate mariage of him, whych ought to haue contented
himselfe wyth that degree and honor that he had acquired by the
deedes and glory of his vertues, so mutch by ech wight
recommended: we ought neuer to climb higher than our force
permitteth, ne yet surmount the bounds of duty, and lesse suffer
our selues to be haled fondly forth with desire of brutal
sensuality. Which sinne is of sutch nature, that he neuer giueth
ouer the party whom he maystereth, vntil he hath brought him to
the shame of some Notable Folly. You see the miserable discourse
of a Princesse loue, that was not very wyse, and of a Gentleman
that had forgotten his estate, which ought to serue for a
lookinge Glasse to them which bee ouer hardy in makinge
Enterprises, and doe not measure their Ability wyth the
greatnesse of their Attemptes: where they ought to mayntayne
themselues in reputation, and beare the title of well aduised:
foreseeing their ruine to be example for all posterity, as may
bee seene by the death of Bologna, and by all them which sprang
of him, and of his infortunate Spouse his Lady and Maistresse.
But we haue discoursed inough hereof, sith diuersity of other
hystories do call vs to bring the same in place, which were not
mutch more happy than the bloudy end of those, whose Hystory ye
haue already heard.
THE TWENTY-FOURTH NOUELL.
_The disordered Lyfe of the Countesse of Celant, and how shee
(causinge the County of Masino to be murdered,) was beheaded
at Millan._
Not wythout good cause of long tyme haue the wyse, and discrete,
Prudently gouerned their Children, and taken great heede ouer
their Daughters, and those also whom they haue chosen to bee
their Wyues, not in vsing them lyke Bondwomen, and Slaues, to
beereiue them of all Liberty, but rather to auoyde the murmur,
and secrete slaunderous Speach of the common people, and
occasions offred for infection, and marrying of Youth, specially
circumspect of the assaultes bent agaynst Maydens, being yet in
the firste flames of fire, kindled by nature in the hearts, yea
of those that be the wysest, and best brought vp. Some doe deeme
it very straunge, that solempne Guard bee obserued ouer those
which ought to lyue at lyberty, and doe consider how lyberty and
the bridle of Lycence let slip vnto Youth, they breede vnto the
same most strong and tedious Bondage, that better it had bene
for youth to haue beene chayned, and closed in obscure Pryson,
than marked wyth those blottes of infamy, which Sutch Lycence
and Lyberty doe conduce. If England doe not by experience see
Maydens of Noble Houses Infamed through to mutch vnbrideled,
and frank maner of Lyfe, and their Parents desolate for sutch
villanyes, and the name of their houses become Fabulous and
Ridiculous to the people: surely that manner of Espiall and
watch ouer Children, may be noted in Nations not very farre
conuening from vs, where men be Ielous of the very Fantasie of
them, whom they think to be indued with great vertues, and of
those that dare with their very Lookes geue attaynt, to behold
their Daughters: but where examples be euident, where all the
World is assured of that which they see by daily experience,
that the fruicts of the disordered, breake out into light,
it behooueth no more to attend the daungerous customes of
Countreyes, to condescend to the sottish Opinions of those,
whych say that youth to narrowly looked vnto, is trayned vp in
sutch grosenesse, and blockishnesse of spyrite, as impossible it
is afterwardes the same shoulde do any thinge prayse worthy.
The Romayne maydens whilom were Cloystered within their Fathers
Pallaces, still at their Mothers Elbowes, and notwithstanding
were so wel brought vp, that those of best ciuility and finest
trained vp in our age, shall not be the seconde to one of the
least perfect in the Citty. But who can learne ciuility and
vertue in these our dayes? our Daughters nousled in companies,
whose mouthes run ouer with Whorish and filthy talke, wyth
behauiour full of Ribauldry, and many fraughted wyth facts lesse
honest than Speach is able to expresse. I doe not pretend
heereby to depriue that sexe of honest and seemely talke, and
company, and leste of exercise amonges the Noble Gentlemen of
our Englyshe Soyle, ne yet of the Liberty receyued from our
Auncestours, only (me thyncke) that requisite it were to
contemplate the manners and inclination of wils, and refrayne
those that be prone to wantonnesse, and by lyke meanes to
reioyce the mindes of them that be bent to heauinesse, deuided
from curtefie and Ciuility, by attendinge of whych choyse, and
considering of that difference, impossible it is but vertue must
shyne more bright in Noble houses than homelynesse in Cabanes of
Pesauntes, and Countrey Carles: who oftentymes better obserue
the Discipline of our Predecessours in education of their
Chyldren, than they which presume to prayse themselues for good
skil in vse and gouernment of that age, more troublesome and
payneful to rule, than any other wythin the compasse of man’s
lyfe. Therefore the good and wise Emperour Marcus Aurelius would
not haue his Daughters to be trayned vp in Courts. “For
(quod he) what profit shall the Nurse receyue by learning hir
mayden honesty and vertue, when our workes intice them to
daliaunce and vice, apprehending the folly of those that bee
amorous?” I make this discourse, not that I am so rigorous a
Iudge for our maydens of England, but that I wish them so
reformed, as to see and be seene should be forbidden, as assured
that vertue in what place so euer she be, cannot but open things
that shall fauor of hir excellency. And now to talke of an
Italian Dame, who so long as hir first husband (knowing hir
inclination) kept hir subiect, liued in reputation of a modest
and sober wyfe. Nothing was seene in hir that could defame hir
renoume. But so soone as the shadow of that free captiuity was
made free by the death of hir husband, God knoweth what pageant
she played, and how shee soyled both hir owne reputation, and
the honour of hir second Mate, as yee shall vnderstande if with
pacience yee vouchsafe to reade the discourse of thys present
Hystory. Casal, (as it is not vnknowen) is a Citty of Piedmont,
and subiect to the Marquize of Montferrato, where dwelled one
that was very rich, although of base birth, named Giachomo
Scappardone, who being growne wealthy, more by wicked art, and
vsury, to mutch manifest, than by his owne diligence, toke to
Wife a yong Greeke mayden, which the Marchiones of Montferrato
mother of Marquize Guglielmo, had brought home wyth hir from the
voyage that shee made into Grætia wyth hir husbande, when the
Turkes ouerran the countrey of Macedonia, and seased vpon the
Citty of Modena which is in Morea. Of that mayden Scapperdone
had a Daughter indifferent fayre, and of behauiour liuely and
pleasaunt, called Bianca Maria. The Father dyed wythin a while
after hir birth, as one that was of good yeares, and had bin
greatly turmoyled in getting of riches, whose value amounted
about one Hundred Thousand Crownes. Bianca Maria arriued to the
age of sixteene, or seuenteene yeares, was required of many,
aswell for hir Beauty, Gentlenes, and good grace, as for her
goods, and riches. In the ende she was maried to the Vicecount
Hermes, the Sonne of one of the chiefest Houses in Millan, who
incontinently after the mariage, conueyed hir home to hys house,
leauing his Greeke mother to gouerne the vsuries gotten by hir
dead husband. The Gentleman which amongs two greene, knew one
that was ripe, hauing for a certayne tyme well knowen, and
learned the maners of hys Wyfe, saw that it behooued hym rather
to deale wyth the Bit and brydle than the spur, for that she was
wanton, full of desire, and coueted nothing so mutch as fond and
disordered liberty, and therefore without cruell dealing,
disquiet, or trouble, hee vsed by little and little to keepe hir
in, and cherished hir more than his nature willingly would
suffer, of purpose to holde hir wythin the boundes of duty. And
although the Millan Dames haue almost like lyberties that ours
haue, yet the Lord Hermes kept hir wythin Dores, and suffred hir
to frequent none other house and company, but the Lady Hippolita
Sforcia, who vppon a day demaunded of him wherefore hee kept in
his wyfe so short, and persuaded hym to geue her somewhat more
the Brydle, bicause diuers already murmured of this order, as to
strayte and Frowarde, esteeming hym eyther to be to mutch fond
ouer hir, or else to Jealous. “Madame,” sayde the Millanoise,
“they whych at pleasure so speake of me, know not yet the nature
of my Wyfe, who I had rather should be somewhat restrayned, than
run at Rouers to hir dishonour, and my shame. I remember wel
madame the proper saying of Paulus Emilius that notable Romane:
who being demauned wherefore he had put away his Wyfe being a
Gentlewoman so fayre and beautifull. ‘O,’ quod he and lifted vp
his leg {(}whereupon was a new payre of Buskins) ‘yee see this
fayre Buskin, meete and seemely for this Leg to outward
apparance not greeuous or noysome, but in what place it hurteth
me, or where it wringeth yee doe neyther see nor yet feele.{’}
So I, madame, do feele in what place my Hoase doeth hurt and
wring my Legge. I know madame what it is to graunt to so wanton
a dame as my Wyfe is, hir will, and how farre I ought to slip
the rayne: iealous I am not vpon the fayth I beare vnto God,
but I feare what may chaunce vnto me. And by my trouth, madame,
I geeue her Lycence to repayre to you both Day and Nyght,
at whatsoeuer hour you please, being assured of the vertuous
company that haunteth your house: otherwyse my Pallace shall
suffyce hir pleasure for the common ioy of vs both, and
therefore I wish no more talk hereof, least too importunate
suites do offend my nature, and make me thinke that to be true
whych of good will I am loth to suspect, contenting my selfe
with hir Chastity, for feare least to mutch liberty do corrupt
hir.” These words were not spoken wythout cause, for the wyse
husband saw wel that sutch beasts, albeit rudely they ought not
to be vsed, yet stifly to be holden short, and not suffred too
mutch to wander at will. And verily his prophecy was to true for
respect of that which followed: who had not bene maried full
VI. yeares, but the Vicecount Hermes departed thys
World, whereof she was very sory bycause she loued him derely,
hauing as yet not tasted the licorous baites of sutch liberty,
as afterwards she drank in gluttonous draughts, when after hir
husband’s obsequies, she retired to Montferrato, and then to
Casal to hir Father’s house, hir mother being also dead, and she
a lone woman to ioy at pleasure the fruict of hir desires,
bendinge hir only study to gay and trimme Apparell, and imployed
the mornings with the vermilion rud to colour hir cheekes by
greater curiosity than the most shamelesse Curtisan of Rome,
fixing hir eyes vppon ech man, gyring, and laughing with open
mouth, and pleasantly disposed to talk and reason with euery
Gentleman that passed by the streate. This was the way to
attayne the glorious feast of hir triumphant filthines, who wan
the prise aboue the most famous women whych in hir tyme made
profession of those armes, wherewith Venus once dispoyled Mars,
and toke from him the strongest and best steeled armure of all
his furniture. Thinck not fayre maydes, that talk and clattering
with youth is of small regarde. For a Citty is halfe won when
they within demaunde for parle, as loth to indure the Canon
shot. So when the eare of yong Wyfe or mayde is pliant to
lasciuious talk, and deliteth in wanton words, albeit hir
chastity receyue no damage, yet occasion of speach is ministred
to the people, and perchaunce wyth sutch disaduantage, as neuer
after hir good name is recouered. Wherefore needefull it is,
not only to auoyde the effect of euill, but also the least
suspition: for good fame is requisite for the Woman, as honest
lyfe. The great Captain Iulius Cæsar, (which first of al reduced
the common wealth of Rome in fourme of monarchie) beinge once
demaunded wherefore hee hadde refused hys Wyfe before it was
proued that she had offended with Clodius, the night of the
sacrifices done to the Goddesse Bona, answered so wysely as
truely, that the house of Cæsar ought not onely to be voyde of
whordome but of suspition therof. Behold therfore what I haue
sayd, and yet doe say againe, that ye oughte to take greate
heede to youre selues, and to laugh in tyme, not reclinyng your
eares to vncomely talke, but rather to follow the nature of the
Serpent, that stoppeth his eare with his tayle, to auoide the
charms and sorceries of the Enchaunter. Now this Bianca Maria
was sued vnto, and pursued of many at Casall that desired hir to
Wyfe, and amonges the rest two did profer themselues, which were
the Lord Gismondo Gonzaga, the neere kinsman of the Duke of
Mantua, and the Counte of Celant, a great Baron of Sauoy, whose
landes lie in the vale of Agosta. A great pastyme it was to thys
fyne Gentlewoman to feede hir self wyth the Orations of those
two Lordes and a ioye it was to hir, to vse her owne discourse
and aunswers expressinge with right good grace sundry amorous
countenances, intermingling therwithall sighes, sobbes, and
alteration of cheere, that full well it might haue bene sayde,
of loue trickes that shee was the only dame and mistresse. The
Marchyonesse of Montferrato desirous to gratify the Lord of
Mantua his sonne in law, endeuored to induce this wanton Lady to
take for spouse Gismondo Gonzaga, and the sute so well
proceeded, as almost the mariage had bene concluded if the Sauoy
Earle had not come betwixte, and shewed forth his Noblenesse of
minde, when he vnderstode how things did passe, and that another
was ready to beare away the pryse, and recouer his mistresse.
For that cause he came to visit the Lady, who intertayned him
wel, as of custom she did al other. And for that he would not
employe hys tyme in vayne, when he founde hir alone and at
conuenyent leysure, began to preache vnto hir in thys wyse with
sutch countenaunce, as she perceyued the Counte to be far in
loue with hir.
_The Oration of the Counte of Celant to his Ladye._
“I am in doubt Madame, of whome chiefly I ought to make
complaynt, whether of you, or of my selfe, or rather of fortune
which guideth and bryngeth us together. I see wel that you
receiue some wrong, and that my cause is not very iust, you
taking no regarde vnto my passion which is outragious, and lesse
hearkeninge vnto my request that so many times I haue giuen you
to vnderstand onely grounded vpon the Honest loue I beare you.
But I am besides this more to be accused for suffering an other
to marche so far over my game and soyle, as I haue almost lost
the tracte of the pray after which I most desire, and specially
doe condemne my Fortune, for that I am in daunger to lose the
thyng which I deserue, and you in peryll to passe into that
place where your captiuity shalbe worse than the slaues by the
Portugales condemned to the mines of India. Doeth it not suffise
you that the Lord Hermes closed you vp the space of V.
or VI. yeares in his Chamber, but wil you nedes attempt
the rest of your youthly daies amid the Mantuanes, whose
suspicious heads are ful of hammers working in the same? Better
it were madame, that we approchynge neerer the gallante guise of
Fraunce, should live after the lyberty of that Countrey, than
bee captiue to an Italian house, whych wyll restrain you with
like bondage, as at other tymes you have felt the experience.
Moreover ye see what opinion is like to be conceiued of you,
when it shalbe bruted that for the Marquize feare, you haue
maried the Mantuan Lord. And I know well that you like not to be
esteemed as a pupil, your nature cannot abyde compulsion, you be
free from hir authority, it were no reason you should be
constrained. And not to stay in framing of orations, or stand
vpon discourse of Words, I humbly beseche you to behold the
constant loue I beare you, and being a Gentleman so Wealthy as I
am, none other cause induceth me to make this sute, but your
good grace and bryngynge vp, whych force me to loue you aboue
any other Gentlewoman that liueth. And althoughe I myghte
alleage other reasons to proue my saying, yet referre I my self
to the experience and bounty of youre mynd, and to the equity of
your Iudgement. If my passion were not vehement, and my torment
without comparison, I would wish my fained griefs to be laughed
to scorne, and my dissembled payne rewarded with flouts. But my
loue being sincere and pure, my trauail continuall, and my
griefs endlesse, for pity sake I beseche you madame to consider
my faithfull deserts with your duetiful curtesie, and then shall
you see how mutch I ought to be preferred before them, which
vnder the shadow of other mens puissance, do seke to purchase
power to commaund you: where I do faithfully bynd and tye my
word and deede continually to loue and serue you, wyth promyse
al the dayes of my Lyfe to accomplish your commaundements.
Beholde if it please you what I am, and with what affection I
make mine humble playnt, regard the Messanger, loue it is
himself that holdeth me within your snares, and maketh mee
captyue to your beauty and gallant graces, which haue no piere.
But if you refuse my sute, and cause me breath my words into the
aire, you shalbe accused of cruelty, ye shall see the entier
defaict of a gentleman which loueth you better than loue
himselfe is able to yelde flame and fire to force any wight to
loue mortal creature. But, verily, I beleue the heauens haue
departed in me sutch aboundance, to the intent in louyng you
with vehemence so greate, you may also thinke that it is I which
ought to be the Friend and spouse of that gentle and curteous
Lady Bianca Maria, which alone may cal her self the mistresse of
my Heart.” The Ladye whych before was mocked and flouted wyth
the Counte his demaunds, hearing thys laste discourse, and
remembring his first mariage, and the natural iealosie of
Italyans, half wonne, without making other countenance, answered
the Counte in thys manner: “Syr counte, albeyt that I am
obedyente to the wyll and commaundemente of madame the
Marchyonesse, and am loth to dysplease hir, yet wil I not so
farre gage my lybertye, but still reserue one poynt to saye what
reasteth in my thoughte. And what shoulde lette me to chose
sutch one, to whome I shalbe both his life and death? And
whereof beinge once possed, it is impossyble to be rid and
acquited? I assure you, if I feared not the speach and suspition
of malycious mindes, and the venime of slaunderous Tongues,
neuer husband should bryng me more to bondage. And if I thought
that he whom I pretend to chose, would be so cruel to me, as
others whom I know, I would presently refuse mariage for euer.
I thanke you neuerthelesse, both of your aduertisements giuen
me, and of the honor you doe me, your self desiryng to
accomplish that honor by maryage to be celebrated betweene vs.
For the fidelity of which your talke, and the little
dissimulation I see to be in you, I promise you that there is no
gentleman in this countrey to whom I giue more puissance ouer
me, than to you, if I chaunce to mary, and thereof make you so
good assurance, as if it were already done.” The Counte seeing
so good an entry would not suffer the tyme to slip, but beating
the Bushes vntill the praye was ready to spryng, replyed: “And
sith you know (madame) what thing is profitable, and what is
hurtfull, and that the benefite of lyberty is so mutch
recommended, why doe you not performe the thinge that may
redounde to your honor? Assure mee then of your word, and
promise me the faith and loyaltie of maryage, then let me alone
to deale wyth the rest, for I hope to attayn the effect without
offense and displeasure of any.” And seeing hir to remaine in a
muse without speaking word, he toke hir by the hand and kissing
the same a million of tymes, added these Words: “How now,
madame, be you appalled for so pleasaunt an assault, wherin your
aduersary confesseth himselfe to be vanquished? Courage, madame,
I say courage, and beholde him heere which humbly praieth you to
receiue him for your lawfull husband, and who sweareth vnto you
all sutch amitye and reuerence that husband oweth to hys loyall
spouse.” “Ah, syr Counte,” sayd she, “and what wyll the Marquize
say, vnto whom I haue wholly referred my self for mariage? shal
not she haue iust occasion to frowne vppon mee, and frowardly to
vse me for little respect I beare vnto hir? God be my witnesse
if I would not that Gonzaga had neuer come into this countrey:
for although I loue him not, yet I haue almost made him a
promyse, which I can not kepe.” “And sith there is nothing don,”
(said the Sauoy Lord) “what nede you to torment your selfe? wyl
the Marquize wrecke hir tyrannie ouer the will of hir subiectes,
and force Ladyes of hir Lande to marie againste their luste?
I thinke that so wyse a princesse, and so well nurtured, will
not so far forget hir self, as to straine that which God hath
left at lyberty to euerye wight: promise me onely maryage and
leaue me to deale wyth the rest: other thynges shalbe wel
prouided for.” Bianca Maria vanquished with that importunity,
and fearing againe to fal into seruytude, hoping that the Counte
would mainteine sutch liberty as he had assured, agreed vnto hym
and plyghted vnto him her faithe, and for the tyme vsed mutuall
promises by wordes respectiuely one to another: and the better
to confirme the fact, and to let the knotte from breakyng, they
bedded themselues togethers. The Counte very ioyfull for that
encountre, yelded sutch good beginning by his countenance, and
by Famyliar and continuall haunte with Bianca Maria, as shortly
after the matter was knowen and came to the Marquesse eares,
that the Daughter of Scappardone had maryed the Counte of
Celant. The good lady albeit that shee was wroth beyond measure,
and willingly would haue ben reuenged vpon the bride, yet hauing
respect to the Counte, which was a noble man of great authority,
swallowed down that pille wythout chewing, and prayed the Lord
Gonzaga not to be offended, who seing the light behauiour of the
Ladie, laughed at the matter, and praysed God for that the thing
was so wel broken off: and he did foresee already what issue
that Comedye would haue, beynge very famylyar for certayne Dayes
in the House of Bianca Maria. Thys maryage then was publyshed,
and the solempnity of the Nuptyals were done very pryncely,
accordyng to the Nobylity of hym whych had maryed hir: but the
augurie and presage was heauy, and the melancholike face of the
season (which was obscured and darkened about the time they
should go to church) declared that the mirth and ioy should not
long continue in the house of the counte, according to the
common saying: _He that loketh not before he leapeth, may
chaunce to stumble before he sleepeth_. For the lord of Celant
being retird home to his valeys of the Sauoy mountains, began to
loke about his businesse, and perceiued that his wife surpassed
al others in light behauiour and vnbrideled desires, whereuppon
hee resolued to take order and stop hir passage before she had
won the field, and that frankly she should goe seke hir ventures
where shee list, if she would not be ruled by his aduise. The
foolish Countesse seeing that hir husband well espied hir fond
and foolysh behauior, and that wisely he went about to remedy
the same, was no whit astonied, or regarded his aduise, but
rather by forging complaints did cast him in the teeth sometymes
with hir riches that she brought him, sometime with those whom
she had refused for his sake, and with whom farre of she liued
lyke a sauage creature amid the mountaine deserts and baren
dales of Sauoy, and tolde him that by no meanes she minded to be
closed and shut vp like a tamelesse beast. The Counte which was
wyse, and would not breake the Ele vppon his knee, prouidently
admonished hir in what wise a Ladye ought to esteeme hir honor,
and how the lightest faults of Noble sorts appeare mortal sinnes
before the world: and that it was not sufficient for a
Gentlewoman to haue hir body chast, if hir speach were not
according, and the minde correspondent to that outward
semblance, and the conseruation agreable to the secret
conceiptes of Mynd: “And I shall be ful sory swete Wife” (sayd
the Counte) “to giue you cause of discontent: for wher you
shalbe vexed and molested, I shall receiue no ioy or pleasure,
you being [such one as ought to be the second my self,
determining] by God’s grace to keepe my promise, and vse you
like a wyfe, if so be you regard me with duety semblable: for
reason will not that the head obey the members, if they shew not
themselues to be sutch as depend vpon the health and life of it.
The husband being the Wyue’s chiefe, ought to be obeyd in that
which reason forbiddeth: and shee referring hir selfe to the
pleasure of hir head, forceth him to whom she is adioyned, to do
and assay all trauayle and payne for hir sake. Of one thinge I
must needes accuse you, which is, that for trifles you frame
complaynt: for the mynde occupied in folly, lusteth for nothinge
more than vayne things, and those that be of little profite,
specially where the pleasure of the Bodye is onely considered:
where if it follow reason, it dissembleth his griefes with
wordes of wysedome, and in knowing mutch, fayneth
notwithstanding a subtile and honest ignoraunce: but I may bee
mutch deceyued herein, by thinking that a Woman fraught with
fickle Opinions may recline her eares to what so euer thing,
except to that whych deliteth hir mynde, and pleaseth the
desires framed wyth in hir foolyshe fantasie. Let not thys
speach be straunge vnto you, for your woordes vttered without
discretion, make me vse thys language: finally (good madame) you
shall shew your selfe a Wyse and louing wyfe, if by takinge
heede to my requests, you faythfully follow the advise thereof.”
The Countesse whych was so fine and malicious as the Earle was
good and wyse, dissembling her griefe, and coueringe the venome
hidden in hir mynde, began so well to play the hypocrite before
hir husbande, and to counterfayte the simple Dame, as albeit he
was right politike, yet he was within hir Snare intrapt, who
flattered him wyth so fayre Wordes, as she won him to goe to
Casal, to visite the lands of hir Inheritaunce. We see whereunto
the intent of this false Woman tended, and what checkmate she
ment to geue both to hir husband, and hir honour: whereby we
know that when a woman is disposed to giue hir selfe to
wickednesse, hir mynde is voyd of no malyce or inuention to sort
to ende any daunger or perill offered vnto hir. The factes of
one Medea (if credite may be gieuen to Poets) and of Phædra, the
Woman of Theseus, wel declare with what beastly zeale they began
and finished their attempts: the eagles flight is not so high,
as the Foolyshe desires, and Conceiptes of a Woman that trusteth
in hir owne opinion, and treadeth out of the tract of duety, and
way of Wysedome. Pardon me, good Ladies, if I speake so largely,
and yet think not that I mean to display any other but sutch, as
forget the degree wherin their Auncestours haue placed them,
and whych digresse from the true path of those that haue
immortalized the memory of themselues, of their husbands, and of
the houses also whereof they came. I am very lothe to take vppon
mee the office of a slaunderer, and no lesse do mean to flatter
those, whom I see to their great shame, offende openly in the
sight of the worlde: but why should I dyssemble that which I
know your selues would not conceyle, yf in conscyence yee were
requyred? It were extreame follye to decke and clothe vice wyth
the holy garment of Vertue, and to call that Curtesie and
Ciuylity, whych is manyfest whoredom and Trechery: let vs terme
ech thyng by his due Name, and not deface that whych of it selfe
is faire and pure: let vs not also staine the renoume of those,
whom their own Vertue do recommende. This gentle Countesse
beeing at Casal, making mutch of hir husbande, and kissing him
with the kisse of treason, and of him being vnfainedly beloued
and cherished, not able to forget his sermons, and mutch lesse
hir own filthy lyfe, seeyng that with hir Counte it was
impossyble for hir to liue and glut her lecherous lust,
determined to runne away and seeke hir aduenture: for the
brynging to passe wherof she had already taken order for money,
the interest wherof growing to hir daily profite at Millan:
and hauynge leuied a good summe of Ducates in hande, vntyll hir
other rents were ready, she fled away in the night in companye
of certayne of hir men which were priuie to her doeings. Hir
retire was to Pauie, a City subiecte to the state and Duchy of
Millan, where she hired a pryncely pallace, and apparelled the
same according to hir estate and Trayne of hir husband, and as
her owne reuenue was able to beare. I leaue for you to thinke
what buzzings entred the Counte’s head, by the sodayne flight of
his wife, who would haue sent and gone him selfe after to seke
hir out, and bryng hir home againe, had he not well considered
and wayed his owne profite and aduantage, who knowing that hir
absence would rid out of his head a fardell of suspitions which
he before conceiued, was in the ende resolued to lette hir
alone, and suffer hir remaine in what place so euer she was
retired, and whence hee neuer minded to cal hir home agayne.
“I were a very foole,” (said he) “to keepe in my House so
pernicious and fearfull an enimy, as that arrant whore is, who
one day before I beware will cause some of hir ruffians to cut
my throte, besides the Vyolatyon of hir holye Maryage Bed: God
defende that sutch a Strumpet by hir presence should any longer
profane the house of the Lord of Celant, who is well rewarded
and punished for the exessiue loue whych he bare hir: let hir
goe whether shee list, and lyue a God’s name at hir ease, I do
content my self in knowing what Women be able to do, wythout
further attempt of fortune or other proofe of hir wycked Lyfe.”
He added further, that the honor of so Noble a personage as he
was, depended not upon a woman’s mischief: and assure your selfe
the whole race of woman kind was not spared by the Counte,
against whom he then inueyed more through rage than reason,
he considered not the honest sort of women, which deface the
vyllany of those that giue themselues ouer to theyr own lusts,
wythout regarde of modesty and shame, which oughte to be
Famylyar, as it were by a certain Naturall inclynatyon in all
degrees of Women and Maydens. But come we again to Bianca Maria,
holding now hir Courte and open house at Pauie, wher she got so
holy a fame, as mistresse Lais of Corinth did, whose trumprie
was neuer more common in Asia than that of this fayre dame,
almost in euery corner of Italy, and whose conuersation was
sutch as hir frank liberty and famyliar demeanor to ech wyghte,
well witnessed hir horryble Lyfe. True it was that her
reputatyon ther was very smal, and she hired not hir selfe,
ne yet toke pains by setting hir body to sale, but for some
resonable gayne and earnest pain: howbeit she (of whom somtimes
the famous Greke orator would not buy repentaunce for so high a
pryce) was more excessiue in Sale of hir Merchaundyse, but not
more wanton: for she no sooner espyed a comely Gentleman that
was youthly, and well made, but would presently shew him so good
countenance, as he had ben a very foole, that knewe not what
prouender this Colt did neigh: whose shamelesse Gesture
Massalina the Romane princesse dyd neuer surmount, except it
were in that shee visited and haunted common houses: and this
dame vsed hir disports wythin hir owne, the other also receiued
indyfferently Carters, Galleye slaues, and Porters: and thys
halfe Greeke did hir pastyme wyth Noble Men that were braue and
lustye: but in one thing shee well resembled hir, whych was,
that Messalina was soner wearye with trauayle, than she
satisfied with pleasure and the filthy vse of hir body, like
vnto a sink that receyueth al filth, wythout disgorgyng any
throwne into the same: this was the chaste lyfe which that good
Lady led, after she had taken flight from hir husband. Marke now
whether the Milanois that was hir first husbande, were a grosse
headed person or a foole, and whither hee were not learned and
skilful in the science of Phisiognomy, and time for him to make
ready the rods to make hir know hir duety, therwith to correct
hir wanton youth, and to cut of the lusty twigs and proud
sciences that soked the moisture and hart of the stock and
braunches. It chaunced whiles she liued at Pauie, in this good
and honorable port, the Counte of Massino called Ardizzino
Valperga came to the Emperour’s service, and therby made hys
abode at Pauie with one of his brothers: the Counte being a
goodly Gentleman young and gallant in apparel, giuen to many
good quallities had but one onely fault, which was a mayme in
one of his legges, by reason of a certain aduenture and blow
receiued in the warres, although the same toke away no part of
his comelinesse and fyne behauyor. The Counte I say, remaining
certayne days at Pauie beheld the beauty and singularity of the
Countesse of Celant, and stayed with sutch deuotion to view and
gaze vpon hir, as manye times he romed vp and down the streate
wherein she dwelt to find meanes to speak vnto hir. His first
talke was but a _Bon iour_: and simple salutation, sutch as
gentlemen commonly vse in company of Ladies, and at the firste
brunte Valperga coulde settle none other iudgement vpon that
Goddesse, but that she was a wise and honest dame, and yet sutch
one as needed not the Emperor’s camp to force the place, which
as he thought was not so well flanked and rampired but that a
good man of Armes myght easily winne, and the breache so liuely
and sautable, as any souldier might passe the same: he became so
famyliar with the Lady, and talked with hir so secretly, as vpon
a day being with hir alone, hee courted in this wise: “Were not
I of all men moste blame worthy, and of greatest folly to be
reproued, so long time to be acquainted with a Lady so faire and
curteous as you be, and not to offre my seruice life and goodes
to be disposed where you pleased? I speake not thys, Madame, for
any euil and sinister iudgement that I conceyue of you, for that
I prayse and esteeme you aboue any Gentlewoman that euer I knew
til this day, but rather for that I am so wonderfully attached
with your good graces, as wrong I should doe vnto your honor and
my loyal seruice towards you, if I continued dumbe, and did
conceyle that whych incessantly would consume my heart with
infynyte numbre of ardent desyres, and wast myne intrailes for
the extreame and burning loue I beare you. I do require you to
put no credite in me, if I refuse what it shall please you to
commaund me: wherfore Madame, I humbly besech you to accepte me
for your owne, and to fauor me as sutch one, whych with all
fidelity hopeth to passe hys time in your company.” The
Countesse although she knew ful wel that the fire was not so
liuely kindled in the stomacke of the Counte as hee wente aboute
to make hir beleue, and that his wordes were to eloquent, and
countenance to ioyfull for so earnest a louer as hee semed to
be, at thys first incountry: yet for that he was a valiant
Gentleman, yong, lusty, and strongly made, minded to retaine
him, and for a tyme to staye hir stomacke by appeasying hir
gluttonous appetite in matters of loue, with a morsell so
dainty, as was thys Mynion and lustye young Lorde: and when the
Courage of hym began to coole, another shoulde enter the listes.
And therefore she aunswered hym in thys wise: “Although I
(knowying the vse and manners of men, and with what Baits they
Hoke for Ladies, if they take not heede, hauing proued their
malice and little loue,) determined neuer to loue other than
mine affection, ne yet to fauoure Man excepte it bee by shewyng
some Familiar manner to heare theyr talke, and for pastime to
hearken the braue requests of those which say they burne for
loue, in the mids of some delyghtsome brooke. And albeit I think
you no better than other bee, ne more fayhfully, more
affectyonate, or otherwyse moued than the rest, yet I am
contente for respecte of youre honoure, somewhat to beeleue you
and to accepte you for myne owne, sith your dyscretyon is sutch
(I truste) as so Noble a Gentleman as you bee, wyll hym selfe
declare in those Affayres, and when I see the effecte of my hope
succeede, I cannot be so vnkynde, but wyth all honesty shall
assaye to satisfy that your loue.” The Countee seeing hir alone,
and receyuing the Ladie’s language for his aduantage, and that
hir countenance by alteration of hir minde did ad a certayne
beauty to hir face, and perceyuing a desire in hir that he
should not vse delay, or be to squeimish, she demaunding naught
else but execucion, tooke the present offred time, forgetting
all ceremonies, and reuerence, he embraced hir and kissed hir a
Hundred Thousande tymes. And albeit shee made a certayne simple
and prouoking resistance, yet the louer notinge them to be but
preparatiues for the sport of loue, he strayed from the bounds
of honesty, and threw her vppon a fielde Bed wythin the Chambre,
where hee solaced hymselfe wyth hys long desired suite. And
finding hir worthy to be beloued, and she him a curteous
gentleman, consulted together for continuaunce of their amity,
in sutch wise as the Lorde Ardizzino spake no more but by the
mouth of Bianca Maria, and dyd nothynge but what she commaunded,
being so bewrapped wyth the heauy Mantell of hir Beastly Loue,
as hee still abode nyght and day in the house of his beloued:
whereby the brute was noysed throughout the Citty, and the
songes of their Loue more common in ech Citizen’s mouth, than
Stanze or Sonnettes of Petrarch, Played and Fayned vpon the
Gittrone, Lute, or Lyra, more fine and witty than those vnsauery
Ballets that be tuned and chaunted in the mouthes of the common
sort. Beholde an Earle well serued, and dressed by enioying so
false a Woman, which had already falsified the fayth betrouthed
to hir husband, who was more honest, milde, and vertuous than
she deserued. Beholde also, yee Noble Gentlemen, the simplicity
of this good Earle, how it was deceyued by a false and filthy
strumpet, whose stincking lyfe and common vse of body woulde
haue withdrawen ech simple creature from mixture of their owne
wyth sutch a Carrion. A lesson to learne al youth to refrayne
the Whoorishe lookes of lighte conditioned Dames, a number (the
more to be pittied) shewinge foorth themselues to the Portsale
of euery Cheapener, that list demaunde the pryce, the grozenes
whereof before considered, were worthy to be defied and loathed.
This Ladye seeinge her Louer nousled in hir lust, dandled him
with a thousand trumperyes, and made hym holde the Mule, while
other enioyed the secrete sporte which earst hee vsed hymself.
This acquayntance was so dangerous to the Counte, as she hir
selfe was shamelesse to the Counte of Celant: for the one bare
the armes of Cornwall, and became a seconde Acteon, and the
other wickedly led his lyfe, and lost the chiefest of that hee
loked for by the seruice of great Princes, throughe the treason
of an arrante common queane. Whiles this Loue contynued in al
Pleasure and lyke contentation of either parts: fortune that was
ready to mounte the stage, and shew in sight that her mobylytye
was no more stable than a woman’s wyll: for vnder sutch habite
and sexe Painters and Poets describe hir) made Ardizzino
suspecte what desire she had of chaunge: and within a while
after, sawe himselfe so farre misliked of his Lady, as though he
had neuer bene acquainted. The cause of which recoile was, for
that the Countesse was not contented with one kind of fare,
whose Eyes were more greedy than hir stomake able to digest, and
aboue al desired chaunge, not seking meanes to finde him that
was worthy to be beloued and intertayned of so great a Lady, as
she esteemed hir selfe to be, and as sutch of their owne opinion
thinke themselues, who counterfaicte more grauitie and
reputation than they doe, whome Nature and vertue for theyr
maiesty and holynes of lyfe make Noble and praise worthy. That
desire deceiued hir nothing at all, for a certaine time after
that Ardizzino possessed the forte of this fayre Countesse,
there came to Pauia, one Roberto Sanseuerino earle of Gaiazzo,
a yong and valiaunte gentleman, whose Countreye lyeth on this
side the Mountaines, and was verye famylyar with the Earle of
Massino. This vnfaythful Alcina and cruel Medea had no soner
cast hir Eye vppon Signor di Gaiazzo, but was pierced with loue
in sutch wise, as if forthwith shee had not attayned hir
desyres, she would haue run mad, bycause that Gentleman bare a
certayne statelye representatyon in hys Face, and promysed sutch
dexteritie in hys deedes, as sodaynly she thought him to be the
man that was able to staunch hir filthy thurst. And therfore so
gently as she could, gave ouer hir Ardizzino, with whom she
vtterly refused to speake, and shunned hys company when she saw
him, and by shutting the gates agaynst him: the Noble man was
notable to forbeare from throwing forth some words of choler,
wherby she tooke occasion both to expell him, and also to beare
hym sutch displeasure, as then she conspired his death, as
afterwards you shall perceyue. This greate hatred was the cause
that she fell in loue as you haue harde wyth the Counte of
Gaiazzo, who shewed vnto him all signe of Amitye, and seeing
that hee made no greate sute vnto hir, she wrote vnto him in
this manner.
_The Letter of Bianca Marie, to the Counte of Gaiazzo._
Sir, I doubt not by knowing the state of my degree, but that ye
blush to see the violence of my mynd, which passing the limites
of modesty, that ought to guard sutch a Lady as I am, forceth me
(vncertayn of the cause) to doe you vnderstand the gryef that
doeth torment me, which is of sutch constraynt, as if of
curtesie ye do not vouchsafe to come vnto me, you shall commyt
two faults, the one leauing the thing worthy for you to loue and
regard, and which deserueth not to be cast of, the other in
causing the Death of hir, that for Loue of you, is bereft of
rest: wherby loue hath uery little in me to sease vpon, either
of heart or liberty. The ease of which gryef proceedeth from
your only grace, which is able to vanquyshe hir, whose
victorious hap hath conquered all other, and who attending your
resolut aunswer, shal rest vnder the mercifull refuge of hope,
whych deceiuing hir, shal se by that very meanes the wretched
end of hir that is al your owne.
Bianca Maria Countesse of Celant.
The yong Lorde mutch maruelled at this message, were it for that
already hee was in loue with hir, and that for loue of his
friend Ardizzino, durst not be known therof, or for that he
feared she wold be straught of wits, if she were despised, he
determined to goe vnto hir, and yet stayed thinking it not to be
the part of a faythfull companyon to deceiue his Friend: but in
the end pleasure surmounting reason, and the beauty ioyned wyth
the good grace of the Lady hauing blinded him, and bewitched his
wits so wel as Ardizzino, he toke his way towards hir house,
who waited for him wyth good deuotion, whither being arriued, he
failed not to vse like spech that Valperga did, either of them
(after certain reuerences and other fewe words) minding and
desyringe one kinde of intertaynement. This practize dured
certayn months, and the Countesse was so farre rapt with her new
louer, as she only employed hir self to please him, and he
shewed himself so affected as therby she thought to rule and
gouerne him in all things: wherof she was afterwards deceiued as
you shall vnderstand the maner. Ardizzino seing himself wholly
abandoned the presence and loue of his Lady, knowing that she
railed vpon him in al places where she came, departed Pauia
halfe out of his wittes for Anger, and so strayed from comely
ordyr by reason of his rage, as hee displayed the Countesse thre
times more liuely in hir colours, than she could be paynted,
and reproued hir wyth the termes of the vilest and moste common
strumpet that euer ran at rouers, or shot at random. Bianca
Maria vnderstode hereof, and was aduertised of the vile report
that Ardizzino spread of hir, throughout Lombardie, which
chaffed hir in sutch wyse as she fared like the Bedlem fury,
ceasing night nor day to playne the vnkindnes and folly of hir
reiected louer: somtimes saying, that she had iust cause so to
do, then flattering hir selfe, alledged, that men were made of
purpose to suffer sutch follyes as were wroughte by hir, and
where they termed themselues to bee Women’s Seruauntes, they
ought at theyr Mystresse Handes to endure what pleased them.
In the end, not able any longer to restrayne hir choler, ne
vanquish the appetite of reuenge, purposed at all aduenture to
prouide for the death of her auncient Enimy, and that by meanes
of him whom she had now tangled in her Nettes. See the
vnshamefastnesse of this mastife bitche, and the rage of that
Female Tiger, howe shee goeth about to arme one friend against
an other, and was not content onely to abuse the Counte Gaiazzo,
but deuised how to make him the manqueller. And as one night
they were in the middest of their embracements, she began
pitifully to weepe and sigh, in sutch wise as a man would haue
thought (by the vexation of hir hearte) that the soule and body
would haue parted. The younge Lorde louingly enquired the cause
of hir heauinesse: and sayd vnto hir, that if any had done hir
displeasure, hee would reuenge hir cause to hir contentment.
She hearing him say so, (then in studie vpon the deuice of hir
Enimie’s death) spake to the Counte in this manner: “You know
sir, that the thing whych moste tormenteth the Gentle heart and
minde that can abide no wronge, is defamation of honoure and
infamous reporte. Thus mutch I say for that the Lord of Massino,
(who to say the trouth, was fauoured of me in like sorte as you
be now) hath not been ashamed to publishe open slaunders agaynst
me, as thoughe I were the arrantest Whore that euer had giuen
her self ouer to the Galley slaues alongs the shore of Scicile.
If he had vaunted the fauour which I haue done him but to
certayne of his privat Friendes, I had incurred no slaunder at
all, mutch lesse any lyttle suspition, but hearyng the common
reportes, the wrongfull Woordes and wycked brutes that he hath
raysed on me: I beseech you syr, to do me reason that he may
feele his offence and the smart for his committed fault against
hir that is al yours.” The Lord Sanseuerino hearyng this
discourse, promised hir to do hys best, and to teache Valperga
to talke more soberly of hir, whom he was not worthy for to
serue, but in thought. Notwithstandyng, he sayde more than he
ment to do, for he knew Ardizzino to be so honest, sage and
curteous a personage, as hee would neyther doe nor say any thing
without good cause, and that Ardizzino had iuster quarell
agaynst him, by takyng that from hym whych hee loued (althoughe
it was after his discontinuance from that place, and vpon the
onely request of hir.) Thus he concluded in mind styl to remayne
the fryend of Ardizzino, and yet to spend his time with the
Countesse, which he did the space of certayn months without
quarelling with Valperga, that was retired to Pauie, with whom
he was conuersant, and liued familiarly, and most commonly vsed
one table and bed togither. Bianca Maria seeing that the Lord of
Gaiazzo cared not mutch for hir, but onely for his pleasure,
determined to vse like practise against him, as she did to hir
former louer, and to banish him from hir House. So that when he
came to see hir, either she was sicke, or hir affaires were
sutch, as she could not kepe hym company: or else hir gate was
shut vpon him. In the end (playing double or quit) she prayed
the sayd Lord to shewe hir sutch pleasure and friendship, as to
come no more vnto hir, bicause she was in termes to goe home to
hir husband the Counte of Celant, who had sent for hir, and
feared least his seruaunts shoulde finde her house ful of
suters, alleaging that she had liued long inoughe in that most
sinful life, the lighest faultes whereof were to heynous for
dames of hir port and calling, concluding that so long as she
lyued she would beare him good affection for the Honest Company
and conuersation had betwene them, and for hys curtesie towards
hir. The yong Earle, were it that he gaue creadit vnto hir tale
or not, made as though he did beleue the same, and without
longer dyscourse, forbare approche vnto hir house, and droue out
of his heade al the Amorous affection which he caried to the
Piedmont Circes. And to the ende he might haue no cause to
thinke vpon hir, or that his presence should make hym slaue
againe to hir that first pursued him, he retired in good time to
Millan: by which retire hee avoided that mishap, wherwith at
length this Pestilent women would haue cut him ouer the shinnes,
euen when his mind was least theron. Such was the malice and
mischief of hir heart, who ceasing to play the whore, applied
hir whole pastime to murder. Gaiazzo being departed from Pauie,
thys Venus once agayne assayed the embracements of hir
Ardizzino, and knew not wel how to recouer hym agayne, bycause
she feared that the other had discouered the Enterpryse of his
Murder. But what dare not shee attempte whose mynde is slaue to
sinne? The first assayes be harde, and the minde doubtfull, and
conscience gnaweth vpon the worme of repentaunce, but the same
once nousled in vice, and rooted in the heart, it is more
pleasaunte, and gladsome for the wicked to execute, than vertue
is familiar to those that follow hir: So that shame separate
from before the eyes of youth, riper age noursed in impudency,
their sight is so daseled, as they can see nothing that eyther
shame or feare can make them blush, which was the cause that
this Lady, continuinge still in hir mischiefe, so mutch
practised the freendes of hym whom she desired to kill, and made
sutch fit excuse by hir Ambassades, as hee was content to speake
to hir, and to here hir Iustifications, whych were easy inough
to doe, the Iudge being not very guilty. Shee promised and swore
that if the fault were proued not to be in him, neuer man should
see Bianca Maria, (so long as she lyued) to be other than a
friend and slaue to the Lord Ardizzino, wholly submitting
hirselfe vnto his will and pleasure. See how peace was
capitulated betweene the two reconciled Louers, and what were
the articles of the same, the Lorde of Massino entringe
Possession agayne of the fort that was reuolted, and was long
tyme in the power of another. But when he was seazed agayne, the
Lady saw full wel, that hir recouered friend was not so hard to
please, as the other was, and that wyth him she liued at greater
liberty. Continuing then their amorous Daunce, and Ardizzino
hauing no more care but to reioyce himselfe, nor hys Lady, but
to cherishe and make mutch of hir friend, beholde eftsoones the
desire of Bloud and wyll of murder, newly reuiued in that new
Megera, who incited (I knowe not with what rage,) fansied to
haue him slayne, whych refused to kill hym, whom at this present
shee loued as hirselfe. And he that had inquired the cause
thereof, I thyncke none other reason coulde he rendred, but that
a braynelesse heade and reasonlesse minde, doe thincke most
notable murders, and myschiefe be easie to be brought to passe,
who so strangely proceeded in disordred Lustes, which in fine
caused their myserable shame, and ruine, wyth the death of
hirselfe and hym, whom she had stirred to the fact, boldeninge
him by persuasion, to make him beleue Vyce to bee Vertue, and
Gloriously commended hym in hys follies, whych you shall heare
by readinge at lengthe the discourse of thys Hystory. Bianca
Maria, seeing hirselfe in full possession of hir Ardizzino,
purposed to make hym chiefe executioner of the murder, by hir
intended, vpon Gaiazzo, for the doing whereof one night holdinge
hym betwene hir armes, after shee had long time dalyed with hym,
like a cunninge Maistresse of hir Art, in the ende weauinge and
trayning hir treason at large, she sayd thus vnto him: “Syr, of
long time I haue bene desirous to require a good turne at your
hands, but fearing to trouble you, and thereupon to be denied,
I thought not to be importunate: and albeit the matter toucheth
you, yet did I rather holde my peace then to here refusall of a
thinge, which your selfe ought to profer, the same concerning
you.” “Madame,” sayd hir Louer, “you know the matter neede to be
haynous and of great importaunce, that I should deny you,
specially if it concerne the bleamish of your honor. But you say
the same doth touch mee somewhat neerely, and therefore if
ability be in me, spare not to vtter it, and I wyll assay your
satisfaction to the vttermost of my power.” “Syr,” sayd she,
“is the Counte of Gaiazzo one of your very frends?” “I thinke”
(aunswered Valperga) “that he is one of the surest freends I
haue, and in respect of whose frendship, I will hazarde my selfe
for him no lesse than for my Brother, being certaine that if I
have neede of him, he will not fayle to do the like for me. But
wherefore doe you aske me that question?” “I will then tel you,”
sayd the Traytresse (kissing him so sweetely as euer he felt the
like of any Woman,) “for somutch as you be so deceyued of your
opinion in him who is wicked in dissembling of that, which
maliciously lieth hidden in hys heart. And briefly to say the
effect: assure your selfe hee is the greatest and most mortall
Ennimy that you haue in the Worlde. And to the intent that you
do not think this to be some forged Tale, of light inuention, or
that I heard the report of some not worthy of credit, I will say
nothinge but that whych hymselfe did tell me, when in your
absence he vsed my company. He sware vnto me, without
declaration of the cause, that hee coulde neuer bee mery, nor
hys mynde in rest, before hee saw you cut in pieces, and shortly
woulde giue you sutch assaulte, as al the dayes of our lyfe,
you shoulde neuer haue lust or mynde on Ladies loue. And albeit
then, I was in choler agaynst you, and that you had ministred
some cause, and reason of hatred, yet our first loue had taken
sutch force in my hart, and I besought him not to do that
enterprise so long as I was in place where you did remayne,
because I cannot abide (wythout present death) to see your
finger ake, mutch lesse your lyfe berieued from you. Vnto which
my sute his Eare was deafe, swearing still and protesting that
either he would be slayne himselfe, or else dispatch the Countee
Ardizzino. I durst not” (quod she) “ne wel could as then
aduertise you thereof, for the smal accesse that my seruants had
vnto your lodging, but now I pray you to take good heede by
preuenting his diuelishe purpose: For better it were for you to
take his lyfe, than he to kill and murder you, or otherwyse work
you mischiefe, and you shal be esteemed the wiser man, and he
pronounced a traytor to seeke the death of him, that bare him
sutch good will. Doe then accordinge to myne aduice, and before
he begin, doe you kill hym, by the which you shall saue your
selfe, and doe the part of a valyaunt knight, bisides, the
satisfying of the mynde of hir that aboue al pleasures of the
World doth chiefly desire the same. Experience now will let me
proue whether you loue me or not, and what you will do for hir
that loueth you so dearly, who openeth this conspired murder,
aswell for your safety, as for lengthening of the lyfe of hir,
which wythout yours cannot endure: graunt this my sute (O friend
most deare) and suffer me not in sorrowfull plight to be
despoyled of thy presence: and wilt thou suffer that I shoulde
dy, and that yonder Proude, Trayterous, and vnfaythfull varlet
should liue to laugh mee to scorne?” If the Lady had not added
those last words to hir foolish sermon, perchaunce she might
haue prouoked Ardizzino to folow hir Counsell: but seeing hir so
obstinately continue hir request, and to prosecute the same with
sutch violence, concluding vpon hir owne quarrel, his conscience
throbbed, and his minde measured the malice of that Woman, with
the honesty of him, against whom that tale was told, who knew
his frend to be so sound and trusty, as willingly he would not
do the thinge that should offend him, and therefore would geue
no credit to false report without good, and apparant proofe:
for which cause hee was persuaded that it was a malicious tale
deuised by some that went about to sowe debate betweene those
two friendly earles. Notwithstanding, vpon further pause, and
not to make hir chafe, or force hir into rage, he promised the
execution of hir cursed wil, thanking hir for hir aduertisement,
and that he would prouide for hys defence and surety: and to the
intent that shee might thyncke he went about to performe his
promise, he tooke his leaue of hir to goe to Millan, which hee
did, not to follow the abhominable will of that rauenous
Mastife, but to reueale the matter to his companion, and direct
the same as it deserued. Being arriued at Millan, the chiefe
Citty of Lombardy, he imparted to Gaiazzo from poynct to poynct
the discourse of the Countesse, and the peticion shee made vnto
hym, vppon the conclusion of hir Tale: “O God” (sayd the lord
Sanseuerino,) “who can beware the traps of Whoores, if by thy
grace our hands be not forbidden, and our hearts and thoughts
guided by thy goodnes? Is it possible that the Earth can breede
a Monster more pernicious than this most Pestilent Beast? Thys
is truely the grift of hir Father’s vsury, and the stench of all
hir Predecessours villanyes: it is impossible of a Kyte or
Cormerant to make a good Sparhauk, or Tercle gentle. This carion
no doubt is the Daughter of a Vilayne, sprong of the basest race
amongs the common people, whose mother was more fine than
chaste, more subtile than sober: this minion hath forsaken hir
husband, to erect bloudy Skaffoldes of murder amid the Nobles of
Italy: and were it not for the dishonour which I should get to
soyle my hands in the bloude of a Beast so corrupt, I woulde
teare hir with my Teeth in a hundreth Thousand peeces: how many
times hath she entreated mee before: in how many sundry sortes
with ioyned handes hath she besought mee to kill the Lorde
Ardizzino? Ah, my Companion, and right well beloued Freende, can
you thincke mee to bee so Trayterous, and Cowarde a Knaue, as
that I dare not tell to them to whome I beare displeasure what
mallice lurketh in my heart?” “By the fayth of a Gentleman,”
(sayd Ardizzino,) “I would be sory my mynd should seaze on sutch
Folly, but I am come to reueale thys vnto you, that the Song
might sound no more wythin myne eares. It behoueth vs then, sith
God hath kept vs hytherto, to avoyde the ayre of that infection,
that our braynes be not putrified, and from henceforth to fly
those Bloudsuckers, the Schollers of Venus: and truely great
dishonour would redound to vs, to kill one an other for the
onely pastime and sottish fansie of that mynion: I haue repented
me an hundred times when she first mooued mee of the deuice to
kill you, that I did not geeue a hundred Poignaladoes wyth my
Dagger, to stop the way by that example for all other to attempt
sutch Butcheries: for I am well assured that the mallyce whych
shee beareth you, proceedeth but of the delay you made for
satisfaction of hir murderous desire, whereof I thancke you, and
yelde my selfe in all causes to imploy my lyfe, and that I haue,
to do you seruice.” “Leaue we of that talk” (sayd Gaiazzo) “for
I haue done but my duety, and that which ech Noble heart ought
to euery wight, doing wrong to none, but prone to help, and doe
good to all: whych is the true marke and Badge of Nobility.
Touching that malignant Strumpet, hir owne lyfe shall reuenge
the wrongs which she hath gone about to venge on vs. In meane
while let vs reioyce, and thincke the goods, and richesse shee
hath gotten of vs, wil not cause hir Bagges mutch to Strout and
Swel. To be short, she hath nothing whereby she may greatly
laugh vs to scorne, except our good entertainment of hir night
and day do prouoke hir: let other coyne the pence henceforth to
fill her Coafers, for of vs (so farre as I see) she is
deceyued.” Thus the two Lordes passed forth their tyme, and in
all Companies where they came, they spent their Talke, and
Communication of the disordered lyfe of the Countesse of Celant.
The whole Citty also rang of the sleights and meanes she vsed to
trappe the Noblemen, and of her pollicies to be rid of them when
her thirst was stanched, or diet grew lothesome for want of
chaunge. And that whych greued hir most, an Italyan Epigram
blased forth hir prowes to hir great dishonour, whereof the Copy
I cannot get, and some say that Ardizzino was the author: for it
was composed, when he was dispossessed of pacience: and if shee
coulde haue wreked hir will on the knights, I beleeue in hir
rage she would haue made an Anathomy of their Bones. Of whych
hir two enimies, Ardizzino was the greatest, agaynst whom hir
displeasure was the more, for that he was the first with whom
she entred skirmish. Nothing was more frequent in Pauy, than
villanous Iests, and Playes vppon the filthy Behauiour of the
Countesse, which made hir ashamed to goe out of hir Gates. In
the ende shee purposed to chaunge the Ayre and place, hoping by
that alteration to stay the Infamous Brute, and Slaunder: so she
came to Millan, where first she was inuested wyth state of
honour, in honest Fame of Chaste lyfe so longe as Vicount Hermes
liued, and then was not pursued to staunch the thirst of those
that did ordinarily draw at hir Fountayne. About the tyme that
she departed from Pauy, Dom Pietro de Cardone a Scicilian, the
Bastard Brother of the Counte of Colisano, whose Lieuetenaunt he
was, and their father slayn at the Battayle of Bicocca wyth a
band of horsemen arriued at Milan. This Scicilian was about the
age of one or two and twenty yeres, somwhat black of face,
but well made and sterne of countenance: whiles the Countesse
soiorned at Milan, this gentleman fell in loue with hir, and
searched all meanes he coulde to make hir hys friende, and to
enioy hir: who perceyuing him to be young, and a Nouice in
Skirmishes of Loue, lyke a Pigeon of the first coate, determined
to lure him, and to serue hir turne in that which shee purposed
to doe on those agaynst whom shee was outragiously offended. Now
the better to entice thys younge Lorde vnto her Fantasye, and to
catch hym wyth hir bayte, when hee passed through the Streate,
and saluted hir, and when he Syghed after the manner of the
Spaniard, rominge before hys Lady, shee shewed him an
indifferent mery Countenaunce, and sodaynely restrayned that
Cheere, to make hym taste the pleasure mingled with the soure of
one desire, which he could not tel how to accomplish: and the
more faynt was his hardines for that he was neuer practised in
the daliance and seruice of Lady of noble house or calling,
who thincking that the Gentlewoman was one of the Principall of
Millan, he was straungely vexed, and tormented for hir loue, in
sutch wyse as in the night he could not rest for fantasing, and
thynking vpon hir, and in the Day passed up and downe before the
Doore of her lodging. One eueninge for his disport hee went
forth to walke in company of another Gentleman, which well could
play vppon the Lute, and desired him to gieue awake vnto hys
Lady, that then for iealousie was harkeninge at hir window, both
of the sounde of the Instrument, and the Ditty of hir amorous
Knight, where the Gentleman song thys Sonet.
The death with trenchant dart, doth brede in brest sutch il,
As I cannot forget the smart, that thereby riseth stil.
Yet neerthelesse I am, the ill it selfe in deede,
That death with daily dolours deepe, within my breast doth breede.
I am my Mistresse thrall, and yet I doe not kno,
If she beare me good will at all, or if she loue or no.
My wound is made so large, with bitter wo in brest,
That still my heart prepares a place to lodge a carefull guest.
O dame that hath my lyfe and death at thy desire.
Come ease my mind, wher fancies flames doth burne like Ethna fire,
For wanting thee my life is death and doleful cheere,
And finding fauor in thy sight, my dayes are happy heere.
Then he began to sigh so terribly, as if already she had geuen
sentence, and difinitiue Iudgement of his farewell, and disputed
with his fellow in sutch sort, and wyth Opinion so assured of
hys contempt, as if he had bene in loue with some one of the
Infants of Spayne: for which cause he began very pitifully to
sing these verses.
That God that made my soule, and knows what I haue felt,
Who causeth sighes and sorows oft, the sely soule to swelt,
Doth see my torments now, and what I suffer still,
And vnderstands I tast mo griefs, than I can shew by skill.
Hee doth consent I wot, to my ill hap and woe,
And hath accorded with the dame that is my pleasaunt foe,
To make my boyling brest abound in bitter blisse,
And so bereue me of my rest, when heart his hope shall misse.
O what are not the songs, and sighs that louers haue,
When night and day with sweete desires, they draw vnto their graue,
Their grief by frendship growes, where ruth nor pity raynes,
And so like snow against the Sun, they melt away with pains.
My dayes must finish so, my destny hath it set,
And as the candle out I goe, before hir grace I get.
Before my sute be heard, my seruice throughly knowne,
I shalbe layd in Toumbe ful low, so colde as Marble stone.
To thee fayre Dame I cry, that makes my senses arre,
And plantest peace within my brest and then makes sodain war:
Yet at thy pleasure still, thou must my sowre make sweete,
In graunting me the fauour due, for faythfull Louers meete.
Which fauor geue me now, and to thy Noble mynde,
I doe remayne a Galley slaue, as thou by proofe shall finde.
And so thou shalt release my heart from cruell bandes,
And haue his fredome at thy wil that yelds into thy handes.
So rendring all to thee, the gods may ioyne vs both
Within one lawe and league of loue, through force of constant troth.
Then shalt thou mistresse be, of lyfe, of Limme and all,
My goods, my golde, and honour, loe! shall so be at thy call.
Thys gentle order of loue greatly pleased the Lady, and
therefore opened hir gate to let the Scicilian lorde, who seeing
hymselfe fauoured (beyond all hope) of his Lady, and cheerefully
intertayned, and welcommed with great curtesie stoode so still
astonnied, as if hee had beene fallen from the Cloudes: but she
which coulde teache hym good manner, to make hym the minister of
hir myschiefe, takynge hym by the hande, made hym sit downe vpon
a greene Bed besydes hir, and seeing that he was not yet
imboldened, for all hee was a Souldiour, shee shewed hir selfe
more hardy than hee, and firste assayled hym wyth talke,
sayinge: “Syr, I praye you thinke it not straunge, if at thys
houre of the nyght, I am bolde to cause you enter my house,
beinge of no great acquayntaunce wyth you, but by hearinge your
curteous salutations: and wee of thys Countrey bee somewhat more
at liberty than they in those partes from whence you come:
besides it lyketh mee well (as I am able) to honour straunge
gentlemen, and to retayne theym with right good willinge heart,
sith it pleaseth theym to honour mee wyth repayre vnto my house:
so shall you be welcome styll when you please to knocke at my
Gate, whych at all tymes I wyll to be opened for you, wyth no
lesse good wyll than if yee were my naturall Brother, the same
wyth all the thinges therein, it may please you to dispose as if
they were your own.” Dom Pietro of Cardonne well satisfied, and
contented wyth thys vnlooked for kyndnesse, thanked her very
Curteously, humbly praying hir besides to dayne it in good
parte, if he were so bolde to make requeste of loue, and that it
was the onelye thynge which hee aboue all other desyred moste,
so that if shee would receiue him for hir friende and Seruaunt,
shee shoulde vnderstande him to be a Gentleman, which lightly
woulde promise nothing excepte the accomplishment did followe:
she that sawe a greater onset than she loked for, answered hym
smilyng with a very good grace: “Sir, I haue knowne very many
that haue vouched slipperie promyses, and proffered lordly
seruices vnto Ladies, the effect wherof if I myght once see,
I would not thinke that they coulde vanishe so soone, and
consume like smoake.” “Madame” (sayde the Scicilian) “yf I fayle
in any thing which you commaunde mee, I praye to God neuer to
receiue any fauor or grace of those Curtesies whych I craue.”
“If then” (quod shee) “you wyl promise to employ your selfe
aboute a businesse that I haue to do when I make request, I wyll
also to accept you for a friende, and graunt sutch secrecie as a
faithful louer can desyre of his Lady.” Dom Pietro which would
have offred hym selfe in Sacrifice for hir, not knowyng hir
demaunde, tooke an othe, and promysed hir so lyghtly as madly
afterwardes he did put the same in proofe. Beholde the
preparatiues of the obsequies of their first loue, and the
guages of a bloudie Bed: the one was prodigall of hir honoure,
the other the tormente of his reputation, and neglected the
duety and honor of his state, which the house wherof he came,
commaunded hym to kepe. Thus all the nyght he remained with
Bianca Maria, who made him so wel to like hir good entertaynment
and imbracementes, as he neuer was out of her Company. And the
warie Circes fayned her self so fare in loue wyth hym, and vsed
so many toyes and gametricks of her filthy science, as he not
onelye esteemed hym selfe the happiest Gentleman of Scicilia,
but the most fortunate wight of all the Worlde, and by bibbing
of hir Wyne was so straungely charmed with the Pleasures of his
fayre Mystresse, as for hir sake he would haue taken vpon him
the whole ouerthrowe of Milan, so well as Blose of Cumes to
sette the Cittye of Rome on fire, if Tyberius Gracchus the
sedicious, woulde haue giuen it him in charge. Sutch is the
manner of wilde and foolish youth, whych suffreth it selfe to be
caried beyonde the boundes of reason. The same in time past did
ouerthrow many Realmes, and caused the chaunge of diuers
Monarchies: and truely vnseemely it is for a man to be subdued
to the will of a common strumpet. And as it is vncomly to submit
him selfe to sutch one, so not requisite to an honest and
vertuous Dame, his maried Wyfe. Which vnmanly deedes, be
occasions that diuers Foolishe Women commit sutch filthy factes,
with their inspekable trumperies begiling the simple man, and
perchance through to mutch losing the Bridle raynes to the
lawfull Wyfe, the poore man is strangely deceyued by some
adulterous varlet, whych at the Wyue’s commaundment, when she
seeth oportunity, wil not shrinke to hazarde the honour of them
both, in sutch wise as they serue for an example vppon a common
Scaffold to a whole generation and Posterity. I wyll not seeke
farre of for examples, being satisfied with the folly of the
Bastard Cardonne, to please the cruelty and malice of that
infernall fury the Countesse, who hauinge lulled, flattered,
and bewitched with hir louetricks (and peraduenture with some
charmed drinke) her new Pigeon, seeinge it time to solicite his
promise, to be reuenged of those, whych thought no more of hir
conspiracies and trayterous deuises, and also when the time was
come for punishinge of hir whoredome, and chastising of the
breach of fayth made to hir husbande, and of hir intended
murders, and some of them put in execution, she I say, desirous
to see the ende of that, which in thought she had contryued,
vppon a day tooke Dom Pietro aside, and secretly began this
Oration: “I take God to witnes (sir) that the request which I
pretend presently to make, proceedeth of desire rather that the
Worlde may know how iustly I seeke meanes to mayntayne myne
honour, than for desire of reuenge, knowinge very well, that
there is nothing so precious, and deere vnto a woman, as the
preseruation of that inestimable Iewell, specially in a Lady of
that honourable degre whych I mayntayne amonge the best. And to
the intent I seeme not tedious with prolixity of words, or vse
other than direct circumstances before him that hath offred iust
reuenge for the wrongs I haue receyued: knowe you sir, that for
a certain tyme I continued at Pauie, kepynge a house and Trayne
so honest, as the best Lords were contented wyth myne ordinarye.
It chaunced that two honest Gentlemen of Noble House haunted my
Palace in lyke sort, and with the same intertainment whych as
you see, I doe receiue ech Gentleman, who beyng well intreated
and honoured of me, in the ende forgat themselues so farre, as
without respect of my state and callinge, wythout regard of the
race and family wherof they come, haue attempted the slaunder of
my good name, and vtter subuersion of my renoume: and sufficient
it was not for them thus to deale with mee poore Gentlewoman,
without desert (excepte it were for admyttyng them to haue
accesse vnto my house) but also to continue their Blasphemies,
to myne extreame reproach and shame: and howe true the same is,
they that know me can well declare, by reason whereof, the
vulgar people prone and ready to wycked reportes, haue conceiued
sutch opynion of me, as for that they see me braue and fine in
Apparell, and specyally throughe the slaunderous speache of
those gallantes, do deeme and repute me for a common Whoore,
wherof I craue none other wytnesse than your selfe and my
conscience. And I sweare vnto you, that sith I came to Milan, it
is you alone that hath vanquished, and made the Triumphe of my
Chastytye: and yf you were absent from this Citye, I assure you
on my fayth that I would not tarry heere XXIIII. houres. These
infamous ruffians I say, these persecuters and termagantes of my
good name, haue chased mee out of all good Cityes, and made me
to be abhorred of ech honest company, that weary I am of my
lyfe, and lothe to lyue any longer except spedye redresse bee
had for reuengement of thys wronge: wherefore except I finde
some Noble Champion and Valyaunte Personage to requyte these
Vyllains for their spitefull Speach blased on me in euerye
Corner of Towne and Countreye, and to paye them theyr rewarde
and hire that I may lyue at Lybertye and quyet, Sorrowe wyll
eyther consume mee or myne owne handes shall hasten spedye
Death.” And in speakyng those Woordes, shee beganne to weepe
with sutch abundance of teares streaming downe hir Cheekes and
Necke of Alabaster hewe, as the Scicilian whych almost had none
other God but the Countesse, sayd vnto hir: “And what is he,
that dare molest and slaunder hir that hath in hir puissaunce so
many Souldiers and men of Warre? I make a vow to God, that if I
know the names of those two arrant villaynes, the which haue so
defamed my Mystresse name, the whole worlde shall not saue their
liues, whose carrion Bodies I will hew into so many gobbets, as
they haue members vpon the same: wherefore Madame” (sayd he,
imbracing her) “I pray you to grieue your selfe no more, commit
your wronges to me, only tell me the names of those Gallaunts,
and afterwards you shall vnderstande what difference I make of
woorde and deede, and if I doe not trimme and dresse theym so
finely, as hereafter they shall haue no neede of Barber, neuer
trust me any more.” Shee, as reuiued from death to lyfe, kyssed
and embraced him a thousand tymes, thankinge hym for his good
will, and offering him all that she had. In the ende she tolde
him that hir enimies were the counties of Massino and Gaiazzo,
which but by theyr deaths alone were not able to amend and
repayre hir honour. “Care not you” (sayde hee) “for before that
the Sunne shall spreade his Beames twice 24 houres vpon the
earth, you shall heare newes, and know what I am able to do for
the chastisement of those deuils.” As he promised, hee fayled
not to do: for wythin a whyle after as Ardizzino was goinge to
supper into the Citty, he was espyed by hym, that had in company
attendaunt vppon hym fyue and twenty men of Armes, which waited
for Ardizzino, in a Lane on the left hand of the Streate called
Merauegli, leading towards the church of Sainct Iames, through
which the Countee must needes passe. Who as he was going very
pleasantly disposed with his brother, and 5 or 6 of his men, was
immediately assayled on euery side, and not knowinge what it
ment, would haue fled, but the Wayes, and Passages were stopped
rounde aboute: to defende himselfe it auayled not hauing but
their single Swords, and amid the troupe of sutch a bande that
were throughly armed, which in a moment had murdred, and cut in
peeces all that company. And although it was late, yet the
Countie Ardizzino many times named Dom Pietro, which caused hym
to be taken, and imprisoned by the Duke of Bourbon, that was
fled out of Fraunce, and then was Lieutenaunt for the Emperour
Charles the fifth in Milan. Whosoeuer was astonned and amazed
with that Imprisonment, it is to bee thoughte that the Scicilan
was not greatly at his ease and quiet, who needed no torments to
force him confesse the fact, for of his owne accorde voluntarily
he dysclosed the same, but he sayde he was prouoked thervnto by
the persuasion of Bianca Maria telling the whole discourse as
you haue heard before. She had already intelligence of this
chaunce, and might haue fled and saued hir selfe before the fact
(by the confession of Dom Pietro) had ben discouered, and
attended in some secrete place till that stormie time had bene
calmed and appeased. But God which is a rightfull iudge woulde
not suffer hir wickednesse stretch any further, sith she hauing
found out sutch a nimble and wilful executioner, the Countee of
Gaiazzo could not long haue remained aliue, who then in good
time and happy houre was absent out of the City. So soone as Dom
Pietro had accused the Countesse, the Lord of Bourbon sente her
to pryson, and being examined, confessed the whole matter,
trustinge that hir infinite numbre of Crownes woulde haue
corrupted the Duke, or those that represented his person. But
hir Crownes and Lyfe passed all one way. For the day after hir
imprisonment shee was condempned to lose hir heade: and in the
meane time Dom Pietro was saued, by the diligence and suite of
the Captaynes, and was employed in other Warres, to whom the
Duke gaue him, for that he was lothe to lose so notable a
Souldiour, the very right hand of his Brother the Countee of
Colisano. The Countesse hauing sentence pronounced vppon hir,
but trusting for pardon, would not prepare hir selfe to dy, ne
yet by any meanes craue forgiuenes of hir faults at the hands of
God, vntil she was conueyed out of the Castell, and ledde to the
common place of execution, where a Scaffolde was prepared for
hir to play the last Acte of thys Tragedy. Then the miserable
Lady began to know hirselfe, and to confesse hir faults before
the people, deuoutly praying God, not to haue regard to hir
demerites, ne yet to determine his wrath agaynst hir, or enter
with hir in iudgement, for so mutch as if the same were decreed
accordinge to hir iniquity, no saluation was to be looked for.
She besought the people to pray for hir, and the countee of
Gaiazzo that was absent, to pardon hir malice, and treason which
she had deuised agaynst him. Thus miserably and repentantly dyed
the Countesse, which in hir lyfe refused not to imbrace and
follow any wickednes, no mischiefe shee accompted euill done, so
the same were imployed for hir pleasure and pastime. A goodly
example truely for the youth of our present time, sith the most
part indifferently do launch into the gulfe of disordred lyfe,
suffring themselues to bee plunged in the puddles of their owne
vayne conceiptes, without consideration of the mischieues that
may ensue. If the Lord of Cardonne had not bene beloued of his
generall, into what calamity had he fallen for yeldinge himselfe
a pray to that bloudy Woman who had more regarde to the light,
and wilfull fansie of hir, whom he serued like a slaue, than to
his duety and estimation? And truely all sutch be voyde of their
right wits, which thincke themselues beloued of a Whoore. For
their amity endureth no longer than they sucke from their
pursses and bodies any profit or pleasure. And because almost
euery day semblable examples be seene, I will leaue of this
discourse, to take me to a matter, not farre more pleasaunt than
this, although founded vpon better grounde, and stablished upon
loue, the first onset of lawfull mariage, the successe whereof
chaunced to murderous ende, and yet the same intended by neyther
of the beloued: as you shall be iudge by the continuance of
reading of the history ensuing. Beare with me good Ladyes (for
of you alone I craue this pardon) for introducing the Whoorish
lyfe of the Countesse, and hir bloudy enterprise: bicause I know
right wel, that recitall of murders, and bloudy facts wearieth
the mindes of those that loue to lyue at rest, and wish for
fayre weather after the troublesome stormes of raging Seas, no
lesse than the Pilote and wise Mariner, hauing long time endured
and cut the perillous straicts of the Ocean Sea. And albeit the
corruption of our nature be so great, as follies delighte vs
more than ernest matters fraught wyth reason and wisedome, yet I
thinke not that our mindes be so peruerted and diuided from
trouth, but sometimes wee care and seeke to speake more grauely
than the countrey Hynde, or more soberly than they, whose lyues
do beare the marke of infamy, and be to euery wight notorious
for the onely name of their vocation. Suffiseth vs that an
Hystory, be it neuer so full of sporte and pleasure, do bring
with it instruction of our lyfe, and amendement of our maners.
And wee ought not to be so curious or scrupulous, to reiect
merry and pleasant deuises that be voide of harmeful talke, or
wythout sutch glee as may hynder the education of Youth
procliue, and ready to choose that is corrupt, and naught. The
very bookes of holy scriptures doe describe vnto vs persons that
bee vicious, and so detestable as nothing more, whose factes
vnto the simple may seeme vnseemely, vpon the least recitall of
the same. And shall wee therefore reiect the readinge, and
eschue those holy bookes? God forbid, but with diligence to
beware, that we do not resemble those that be remembred there
for example, forsomutch as speedely after sinne, ensueth
grieuous, and as sodayne punishment. For which cause I haue
selected these Historyes, of purpose to aduertise Youth, how
they that follow the way of damnable iniquity, fayle not shortly
after their great offences, and execution of their outragious
vices, to feele the iust and mighty hand of God, who guerdoneth
the good for their good works and deedes, and rewardeth the euil
for their wickednes and mischiefe. Now turne we then to the
Hystory of two, the rarest Louers that euer were, the
performaunce, and finishinge whereof, had it bene so prosperous
as the beginning, they had ioyed ioyfully the Fruicts of their
intent, and two noble houses of one City reconciled to
perpetuall frendship.
THE TWENTY-FIFTH NOUELL.
_The goodly Hystory of the true, and constant Loue between
Rhomeo and Ivlietta, the one of whom died of Poyson, and the
other of sorrow, and heuinesse: wherein be comprysed many
aduentures of Loue, and other deuises touchinge the same._
I am sure that they which measure the Greatnesse of Goddes
worked accordinge to the capacity of their Rude, and simple
vnderstandinge, wyll not lightly adhibite credite vnto thys
History, so wel for the variety of straunge Accidents which be
therein described, as for the nouelty of so rare, and perfect
amity. But they that haue read Plinie, Valerius Maximus,
Plutarche, and diuers other Writers, do finde, that in olde time
a great number of Men and Women haue died, some of excessiue
ioy, some of ouermutch sorrow, and some of other passions: and
amongs the same, Loue is not the least, whych when it seazeth
vppon any kynde and gentle subiect, and findeth no resistaunce
to serue for a rampart to stay the violence of his course, by
little and little vndermineth, melteth and consumeth the vertues
of naturall powers in sutch wyse as the spyrite yealdinge to the
burden, abandoneth the place of lyfe: which is verified by the
pitifull, and infortunate death of two Louers that surrendered
their last Breath in one Toumbe at Verona a Citty of Italy,
wherein repose yet to thys day (with great maruell) the Bones,
and remnauntes of their late louing bodies: an hystory no lesse
wonderfull than true. If then perticular affection which of good
right euery man ought to beare to the place where he was borne,
doe not deceyue those that trauayle, I thincke they will
confesse wyth me, that few Citties in Italy, can surpasse the
sayd Citty of Verona, aswell for the Nauigable riuer called
Adissa, which passeth almost through the midst of the same, and
thereby a great trafique into Almayne, as also for the prospect
towards the Fertile Mountaynes, and pleasant valeys whych do
enuiron the same, with a great number of very clere and lyuely
fountaynes, that serue for the ease and commodity of the place.
Omittinge (bisides many other singularities) foure Bridges,
and an infinite number of other honourable Antiquities dayly
apparaunt vnto those, that be to curious to viewe and looke vpon
them. Which places I haue somewhat touched, bicause thys most
true History which I purpose hereafter to recite, dependeth
thereupon, the memory whereof to thys day is so wel known at
Verona, as vnneths their blubbred Eyes be yet dry, that saw and
beheld that lamentable sight. When the Senior Escala was Lord of
Verona, there were two families in the Citty, of farre greater
fame than the rest, aswell for riches as Nobility: the one
called the Montesches, and the other the Capellets: but lyke as
most commonly there is discorde amongs theym which be of
semblable degree in honour, euen so there hapned a certayne
enmity betweene them: and for so mutch as the beginning thereof
was vnlawfull, and of ill foundation, so lykewyse in processe of
time it kindled to sutch flame, as by diuers and sundry deuyses
practised on both sides, many lost their lyues. The Lord
Bartholmew of Escala, (of whom we haue already spoken) being
Lord of Verona, and seeing sutch disorder in his common weale,
assayed diuers and sundry waies to reconcile those two houses,
but all in vayne: for their hatred had taken sutch roote, as the
same could not be moderated by any wyse counsell or good aduice:
betweene whom no other thing could be accorded, but geuing ouer
Armour, and Weapon for the time, attending some other season
more conuenient, and wyth better leysure to appease the rest.
In the time that these thinges were adoing, one of the family of
Montesches called Rhomeo, of the age of 20 or 21. yeares, the
comliest and best conditioned Gentleman that was amonges the
Veronian youth, fell in loue with a yong Gentlewoman of Verona,
and in few dayes was attached with hir Beauty, and good
behauiour, as he abandoned all other affaires and busines, to
serue and honour hir: and after many Letters, Ambassades, and
presents, he determined in the ende to speake vnto hir, and to
disclose hys passions, which he did without any other practise.
But she which was vertuously brought vp, knew how to make him so
good answer to cut of his amorous affections, as he had no lust
after that time to returne any more, and shewed hir self so
austere, and sharpe of Speach, as she vouchsafed not with one
looke to behold him. But how mutch the young Gentleman saw hir
whist, and silent, the more he was inflamed: and after he had
continued certayne months in that seruice wythout remedy of his
griefe, he determined in the ende to depart Verona, for proofe
if by chaunge of the place he might alter his affection, saying
to himselfe: “What do I meane to loue one that is so vnkinde,
and thus doth disdayn me: I am all hir owne, and yet she flieth
from me. I can no longer liue, except hir presence I doe enioy:
and she hath no contented mynde, but when she is furthest from
me: I will then from henceforth Estraunge my selfe from hir, for
it may so come to passe by not beholding hir, that thys fire in
me which taketh increase and nourishment by hir fayre Eyes,
by little and little may dy and quench.” But minding to put in
proose what he thought, at one instant hee was reduced to the
contrary, who not knowing whereupon to resolue, passed dayes and
nights in marueilous Playnts, and Lamentations: for Loue vexed
him so neare, and had so well fixed the Gentlewoman’s Beauty
within the Bowels of his heart, and mynde, as not able to
resist, hee faynted with the charge, and consumed by little and
little as the Snow agaynst the Sunne: whereof hys parenttes,
and kinred did maruayle greatly, bewaylinge hys misfortune, but
aboue all other one of hys Companyons of riper Age, and Counsell
than hee, began sharpely to rebuke him: for the loue that he
bare him was so great as hee felt hys Martirdome, and was
pertaker of hys passion: which caused him by ofte viewyng his
friend’s disquietnesse in amorous panges, to say thus vnto him:
“Rhomeo, I maruell mutch that thou spendest the best time of
thine age, in pursute of a thing, from which thou seest thy self
despised and banished, wythout respecte either to thy prodigall
dispense, to thine honor, to thy teares, or to thy myserable
lyfe, which be able to moue the most constant to pity: wherefore
I pray thee for the Loue of our auncient amity, and for thyne
health sake, that thou wilt learn to be thine owne man, and not
to alyenat thy lyberty to any so ingrate as she is: for so farre
as I coniecture by things that are passed betwene you, either
she is in loue wyth some other, or else determineth neuer to
loue any. Thou arte yong, rich in goods and fortune, and more
excellent in beauty than any Gentleman in thys Cyty: thou art
well learned, and the onely sonne of the house wherof thou
commest: what gryef would it bee to thy poore olde Father and
other thy parentes, to see the so drowned in this dongeon of
Vyce, specially at that age wherein thou oughtest rather to put
them in some Hope of thy Vertue? begyn then from henceforth to
acknowledge thyne error, wherein thou hast hitherto lyued, doe
away that amorous vaile or couerture whych blyndeth thyne Eyes
and letteth thee to folow the ryghte path, wherein thine
auncestors haue walked: or else if thou do feele thy self so
subiect to thyne owne wyll, yelde thy hearte to some other
place, and chose some Mistresse accordyng to thy worthynesse,
and henceforth doe not sow thy Paynes in a Soyle so barrayne
whereof thou reapest no Fruycte: the tyme approcheth when al the
Dames of the Cyty shal assemble, where thou mayst behold sutch
one as shall make thee forget thy former gryefs.” Thys younge
Gentleman attentyuely hearyng all the persuadyng reasons of hys
fryend, began somewhat to moderate that heate and to acknowledge
all the exhortatyons which hee had made to be directed to good
purpose: and then determined to put them in proofe, and to be
present indifferently at al the feasts and assemblies of the
City, without bearing affection more to one Woman than to an
other: and continued in thys manner of Lyfe, II. or III.
monthes, thinking by that meanes to quench the sparks of
auncient flames. It chaunced then within few dayes after, about
the feast of Chrystmasse, when feasts and bankets most commonly
be vsed, and maskes accordinge to the custome frequented, that
Anthonie Capellet being the Chief of that Familye, and one of
the principall Lords of the City too, made a banket, and for the
better Solempnization thereof, inuited all the Noble men and
dames, to which Feast resorted the most part of the youth of
Verona. The family of the Capellets (as we haue declared in the
beginninge of thys Hystory) was at variance with the Montesches,
which was the cause that none of that family repaired to that
Banket, but onelye the yong Gentleman Rhomeo, who came in a
maske after supper with certaine other yong Gentlemen: and after
they had remained a certayne space with their visards on, at
length they did put of the same, and Rhomeo very shamefast,
withdrew himself into a Corner of the Hall: but by reason of the
light of the Torches which burned very bright, he was by and by
knowen and loked vpon of the whole Company, but specially of the
Ladies, for besides his Natiue Beauty wherewyth Nature had
adorned him, they maruelled at his audacity how hee durst
presume to enter so secretly into the House of that Famyllye
which had litle cause to do him any good. Notwithstanding, the
Capellets dissembling their mallice, either for the honor of the
company, or else for respect of his Age, did not misuse him
eyther in Worde or Deede: by meanes whereof wyth free liberty he
behelde and viewed the Ladies at hys Pleasure, which hee dyd so
well, and wyth grace so good, as there was none but did very
well lyke the presence of his person: and after he had
particularly giuen Iudgement vppon the excellency of each one,
according to his affection, hee sawe one Gentlewoman amonges the
reste of surpassinge Beautye who (althoughe hee had neuer seene
hir tofore) pleased him aboue the rest, and attributed vnto hir
in heart the Chyefest place for all perfection in Beautye: and
feastyng hir incessantlye with piteous lookes, the Loue whych
hee bare to his first Gentlewoman, was ouercomen with this newe
fire, that toke sutch norishment and vigor in his hart, as he
was not able neuer to quench the same but by Death onely: as you
may vnderstande by one of the strangest discourses, that euer
any mortal man deuised. The yong Rhomeo then felying himselfe
thus tossed wyth thys newe Tempest, could not tell what
countenaunce to vse, but was so surprised and chaunged with
these last flames, as he had almost forgotten himselfe, in sutch
wise as he had not audacity to enquyre what she was, and wholly
bente himself to feede hys Eyes with hir sighte, wherewyth he
moystened the sweete amorous venome, which dyd so empoyson him,
as hee ended hys Dayes with a kinde of most cruell death. The
Gentlewoman that dydde put Rhomeo to sutch payne was called
Iulietta, and was the Daughter of Capellet, the mayster of the
house wher that assembly was, who as hir Eyes did rolle and
wander too and fro, by chaunce espied Rhomeo, which vnto hir
seemed to be the goodliest personage that euer shee sawe: and
Loue (which lay in wayte neuer vntill that time,) assayling the
tender heart of that yong Gentlewoman, touched hir so at the
quicke, as for any resistance she coulde make, was not able to
defende his forces, and then began to set at naught the
royalties of the feast, and felt no pleasure in hir heart, but
when she had a glimpse by throwing or receiuing some sight or
looke of Rhomeo. And after they had contented eche others
troubled heart with millions of amorous lookes which oftentimes
interchangeably encountred and met together, the burning Beames
gaue sufficient testimony of loue’s priuy onsettes. Loue hauing
made the heartes breache of those two louers, as they two sought
meanes to speake together, Fortune offered them a very meete and
apt occasion. A certayne Lord of that troupe and companye tooke
Iulietta by the Hande to Daunce, wherein shee behaued hir selfe
so well, and wyth so excellent grace, as shee wanne that Daye
the prise of Honour from all the Damosels of Verona. Rhomeo
hauynge foreseene the place wherevnto shee mynded to retire,
approched the same, and so dyscretelye vsed the matter, as hee
founde the meanes at hir returne to sit beside hir: Iulietta
when the daunce was finished, returned to the very place where
she was set before, and was placed betwene Rhomeo and an other
gentleman called Mercutio, which was a courtlyke Gentleman, very
well be loued of all men, and by reason of his pleasaunt and
curteous behauior was in euery company wel intertayned. Mercutio
that was of audacity among Maydens, as a Lyon is among Lambes,
seazed incontynently vpon the hande of Iulietta, whose hands
wontedly were so cold both in Wynter and Sommer as the Mountayne
yce, although the fire’s heat did warm the same. Rhomeo whych
sat vppon the left side of Iulietta, seynge that Mercutio held
hir by the right hand, toke hir by the other that he myght not
be deceiued of his purpose, and strayning the same a little, he
felt himself so prest wyth that newe fauor, as he remayned mute,
not able to aunswer: but she perceyuyng by his chaunge of color,
that the fault proceded of the vehemence of loue, desyryng to
speake vnto hym, turned hir selfe towards hym, and wyth
tremblyng voyce ioyned with virginal shamefastnesse, intermedled
with a certayn bashfulnesse, sayd to hym: “Blessed be the houre
of your neare approche:” but mynding to procede in further
talke, loue had so closed vp hir mouth, as she was not able to
end hir Tale. Wherunto the yong Gentleman all rauished with ioy
and contentation, sighing, asked hir what was the cause of that
ryght fortunate blessing: Iulietta, somwhat more emboldened with
pytyful loke and smyling countenance, said vnto him: “Syr, do
not maruell yf I do blesse your comminge hither, bicause sir
Mercutio a good tyme wyth frosty hand hath wholly frosen mine,
and you of your curtesy haue warmed the same agayne.” Wherunto
immediatly Rhomeo replyed: “Madame, if the heauens haue ben so
fauorable to employe me to do you some agreeable seruice, being
repaired hither by chance amongs other Gentlemen, I esteeme the
same well bestowed, crauying no greater benefite for
satisfaction of all my contentations receiued in this World,
than to serue obey and honor you so long as my lyfe doth last,
as experience shall yeld more ample proofe when it shall please
you to geue further assaye: moreouer, if you haue receiued any
Heat by touche of my Hand, you may be well assured that those
flames be dead in respect of the lyuely Sparkes and violent fire
which sorteth from you fayre Eyes, which fire hath so fiercely
inflamed all the most sensible parts of my body, as if I be not
succored by the fauoure of your good graces, I do attend the
time to be consumed to dust.” Scarse had he made an ende of
those last words but the daunce of the Torche was at an end:
whereby Iulietta, which wholly burnt in loue, straightly
claspyng her Hand with hys, had no leysure to make other
aunswer, but softly thus to say: “My deare frend, I know not
what other assured wytnesse you desire of loue, but that I let
you vnderstand that you be no more your own, than I am yours,
beying ready and dysposed to obey you so farre as honour shal
permyt, beseechying you for the present tyme to content your
selfe wyth thys aunswere, vntyll some other season meeter to
Commvnicate more secretly of our affaires.” Rhomeo seeing
himselfe pressed to part of the Company, and for that hee knew
not by what meanes he myght see hir agayne that was hys Life and
Death, demaunded of one of his friends what shee was, who made
aunswer that she was the Daughter of Capellet, the Lord of the
house, and Mayster of that daye’s feast (who wroth beyonde
measure that Fortune had sent him to so daungerous a place,
thought it impossible to bring to end his enterprise begon.)
Iulietta couetous on the other side, to know what yong Gentleman
he was which had so curteously intertayned hir that Nyght, and
of whome shee felt the new wound in hir heart, called an olde
Gentlewoman of honor which had nursed hir and brought her vp,
vnto whom she sayd leaning vpon hir shoulder: “Mother, what two
young Gentlemen be they which first goe forth with the two
Torches before them.” Vnto whome the old Gentlewoman told the
name of the houses wherof they came. Then she asked hir againe,
what young gentleman that was which holdeth the visarde in his
hand, wyth the damaske cloke about him. “It is” (quod she)
“Romeo Montesche, the sonne of youre Father’s capytall Enimye
and deadly foe to all your kinne.” But the Mayden at the onely
Name of Montesche was altogyther amazed, despayrynge for euer to
attayne to husband hir great affectyoned fryend Rhomeo, for the
auncyent hatreds betweene those two Families. Neuerthelesse she
knewe so well how to dissemble hir grief and discontented Minde,
as the olde Gentlewoman perceiued nothing, who then began to
persuade hir to retire into hir Chamber: whom she obeyed, and
being in bed, thinking to take hir wonted rest, a great tempest
of diuers thoughtes began to enuiron and trouble hir Mynde, in
sutch wyse as shee was not able to close hir Eyes, but turninge
heere and there, fantasied diuers things in hir thought,
sometimes purposed to cut of the whole attempte of that amorous
practise, sometimes to continue the same. Thus was the poor
pucell vexed with two contraries, the one comforted hir to
pursue hir intent, the other proposed the immynente Perill
wherevnto vndyscretly she headlong threwe hir self: and after
she had wandred of long time in this amorous Laberinth, she knew
not whereuppon to resolue, but wept incessantly, and accused hir
selfe, saying: “Ah, Caitife and myserable Creature, from whence
do rise these vnaccustomed Trauayles which I feele in Mynde,
prouokynge mee to loose my reste: but infortunate wretch, what
doe I know if that yong Gentleman doe loue mee as hee sayeth.
It may be vnder the vaile of sugred woordes he goeth about to
steale away mine honore, to be reuenged of my Parentes whych
haue offended his, and by that meanes to my euerlastinge
reproche to make me the fable of the Verona people.” Afterwardes
sodainly as she condempned that which she suspected in the
beginning, sayd: “Is it possible that vnder sutch beautye and
rare comelynesse, dysloyaltye and treason may haue theyr Syedge
and Lodgynge? If it bee true that the Face is the faythfull
Messanger of the Mynde’s Conceypte, I may bee assured that hee
doeth loue mee: for I marked so many chaunged Colours in his
Face in time of his talke with me, and sawe him so transported
and besides himselfe, as I cannot wyshe any other more certayne
lucke of Loue, wherein I wyll persyst immutable to the laste
gaspe of Lyfe, to the intente I may haue hym to bee my husband:
for it maye so come to passe, as this newe aliaunce shall
engender a perpetuall peace and Amity betweene hys House and
mine.” Arrestinge then vppon this determynation styll, as she
saw Rhomeo passinge before hir Father’s Gate, she shewed hir
selfe with merry countenance, and followed him so with loke of
Eye, vntill she had lost his sight. And continuing this manner
of Lyfe for certaine Dayes, Rhomeo not able to content himself
with lookes, daily did behold and marke the situation of the
house, and one day amongs others hee espied Iulietta at hir
Chamber Window, bounding vpon a narrow Lane, ryght ouer against
which Chamber he had a Gardein which was the cause that Rhomeo
fearing discouery of their loue, began the day time to passe no
more before the Gate, but so soone as the Night with his browne
Mantell had couered the Earth, hee walked alone vp and downe
that little streat: and after he had bene there many times,
missing the chiefest cause of his comming, Iulietta impacient of
hir euill, one night repaired to hir window, and perceiued
throughe the bryghtnesse of the Moone hir friend Rhomeo vnder
hir window, no lesse attended for, than hee hymselfe was
waighting. Then she secretly with Teares in hir Eyes, and wyth
voyce interrupted by sighes, sayd: “Signior Rhomeo, me thinke
that you hazarde your person to mutch, and commyt the same into
great Daunger at thys time of the Nyght, to protrude your self
to the Mercy of them which meane you little good. Who yf they
had taken would haue cut you in pieces, and mine honor (which I
esteme dearer than my lyfe,) hindred and suspected for euer”
“Madame” aunswered Rhomeo, “my Lyfe is in the Hand of God, who
only can dispose the same: howbeyt yf any Man had soughte menes
to beryeue mee of my Lyfe, I should (in the presence of you)
haue made him knowen what mine ability had ben to defend the
same. Notwythstandyng Lyfe is not so deare, and of sutch
estimation wyth me, but that I coulde vouchsafe to sacryfice the
same for your sake: and althoughe my myshappe had bene so
greate, as to bee dyspatched in that Place, yet had I no cause
to be sorrye therefore, excepte it had bene by losynge the
meanes, and way how to make you vnderstande the good wyll and
duety which I beare you, desyrynge not to conserue the same for
anye commodytye that I hope to haue thereby, nor for anye other
respecte, but onelye to Loue, Serue, and Honor you, so long as
breath shal remaine in me.” So soone as he had made an end of
his talke, loue and pity began to seaze vpon the heart of
Iulietta, and leaning hir head vpon hir hand, hauing hir face
all besprent wyth teares, she said vnto Rhomeo: “Syr Rhomeo,
I pray you not to renue that grief agayne: for the onely Memory
of sutch inconuenyence, maketh me to counterpoyse betwene death
and Lyfe, my heart being so vnited with yours, as you cannot
receyue the least Iniury in this world, wherein I shall not be
so great a Partaker as your self: beseechyng you for conclusion,
that if you desire your owne health and mine, to declare vnto me
in fewe Wordes what youre determynation is to attaine: for if
you couetany other secrete thing at my Handes, more than myne
Honoure can well allowe, you are maruelously deceiued: but if
your desire be godly, and that the frendship which you protest
to beare mee, be founded vppon Vertue, and to bee concluded by
Maryage, receiuing me for your wyfe and lawfull Spouse, you
shall haue sutch part in me, as whereof without any regard to
the obedience and reuerence that I owe to my Parentes, or to the
auncient Enimity of oure Famylyes, I wyll make you the onely
Lord and Mayster [ouer me], and of all the thyngys that I
possesse, being prest and ready in all poyntes to folow your
commaundement: but if your intent be otherwyse, and thinke to
reape the Fruycte of my Virginity, vnder pretense of wanton
Amity, you be greatly deceiued, and doe pray you to auoide and
suffer me from henceforth to lyue and rest amongs myne equals.”
Rhomeo whych looked for none other thyng, holding vp his Handes
to the Heauens, wyth incredible ioy and contentation, aunswered:
“Madame, for so mutch as it hath pleased you to doe me that
honour to accepte me for sutch a one, I accorde and consent to
your request, and doe offer vnto you the best part of my heart,
which shall remayn with you for guage and sure testimony of my
saying, vntill sutch tyme as God shall giue me leaue to make you
the entier owner and possessor of the same. And to the intent I
may begyn myn enterpryse, to morrow I will to the Frier Laurence
for counsell in the same, who besides that he is my ghostly
father is accustomed to giue me instruction in al my other
secret affaires, and fayle not (if you please) to meete me
agayne in this place at this very hour, to the intent I may giue
you to vnderstand the deuice betwene him and me.” Which she
lyked very well, and ended their talke for that time. Rhomeo
receyuing none other fauour at hir hands for that night, but
only Wordes. Thys Fryer Laurence, of whom hereafter wee shall
make more ample mention, was an auncient Doctor of Diuinity, of
the order of the Fryers Minors, who besides the happy profession
which he had made in study of holy writ, was very skilful in
Philosophy, and a great searcher of nature’s Secrets, and
exceeding famous in Magike knowledge, and other hidden and
secret sciences, which nothing diminished his reputation,
bicause hee did not abuse the same. And this Frier through his
vertue and piety, had so well won the citizens hearts of Verona,
as he was almost the Confessor to them all, and of all men
generally reuerenced and beloued: and many tymes for his great
prudence was called by the lords of the Citty, to the hearing of
their weighty causes. And amonges other he was greatly fauored
by the Lorde of Escale, that tyme the principall gouernor of
Verona, and of all the Family of Montesches, and of the
Capellets, and of many other. The young Rhomeo (as we haue
already declared) from his tender age, bare a certayne
particuler amity to Frier Laurence, and departed to him his
secrets, by meanes whereof so soone as he was gone from
Iulietta, went strayght to the Fryers Franciscians, where from
poinct to poinct he discoursed the successe of his loue to that
good father, and the conclusion of mariage betwene him and
Iulietta, adding vpon the ende of talke, that hee woulde rather
choose shamefull death, than to fayle hir of his promise. To
whom the good Frier after he had debated diuers matters, and
proposed al the inconueniences of that secret mariage, exhorted
hym to more mature deliberation of the same: notwithstandinge,
all the alleged persuasions were not able to reuoke his promyse.
Wherefore the Frier vanquished with his stubbornesse, and also
forecasting in his mynde that the mariage might be some meanes
of reconciliation of those two houses, in th’end agreed to his
request, intreating him, that he myght haue one dayes respit for
leysure to excogitate what was best to be done. But if Rhomeo
for his part was carefull to prouide for his affayres, Iulietta
lykewise did her indeuour. For seeing that shee had none about
her to whom she might discouer her passions, shee deuised to
impart the whole to hir Nurse which lay in her Chamber,
appoyncted to wayte vppon hir, to whom she committed the intier
secrets of the loue between Rhomeo and hir. And although the
olde Woman in the beginninge resisted Iulietta hir intent, yet
in the ende she knew so wel how to persuade and win hir, that
she promised in all that she was able to do, to be at hir
commaundement. And then she sent hir with all diligence to
speake to Rhomeo, and to know of him by what meanes they might
be maried, and that he would do hir to vnderstand the
determination betwene Fryer Laurence and him. Whom Rhomeo
aunswered, how the first day wherein he had informed Fryer
Laurence of the matter, the sayde Fryer deferred aunswere vntil
the next, which was the very same, and that it was not past one
houre sithens he returned with finall resolution, and that Frier
Laurence and he had deuised, that she the Saterday following,
should craue leaue of hir mother to go to confession, and to
repayre to the Church of Saynct Francis, where in a certayne
Chappell secretly they should be maried, praying hir in any wyse
not to fayle to be there. Which thinge she brought to passe with
sutch discretion, as hir mother agreed to hir request: and
accompanied onely wyth hir gouernesse, and a young mayden, she
repayred thither at the determined day and tyme. And so soone as
she was entred the Church, she called for the good Doctor Fryer
Laurence, vnto whom answere was made that he was in the shriuing
Chappell, and forthwith aduertisement was gieuen him of hir
comming. So soone as Fryer Laurence was certified of Iulietta,
hee went into the body of the Church, and willed the olde Woman
and yong mayden to go heare seruice, and that when hee had heard
the confession of Iulietta, he would send for them agayn.
Iulietta beinge entred a little Cell wyth Frier Laurence, he
shut fast the dore as he was wont to do, where Rhomeo and he had
bin together shut fast in, the space of one whole hour before.
Then Frier Laurence after that he had shriued them, sayd to
Iulietta: “Daughter, as Rhomeo here present hath certified me,
you be agreed, and contented to take him to husband, and he
likewise you for his Espouse and Wyfe. Do you now still persist
and continue in that mynde?” The Louers aunswered that they
desired none other thing. The Fryer seeing theyr conformed and
agreeable willes, after he had discoursed somewhat vppon the
commendation of mariage dignity, pronounced the vsuall woordes
of the Church, and she hauing receyued the Ring from Rhomeo,
they rose vp before the Fryer, who sayd vnto them: “If you haue
any other thing to conferre together, do the same wyth speede:
for I purpose that Rhomeo shall goe from hence so secretly as he
can.” Rhomeo sory to goe from Iulietta sayde secretly vnto hir,
that shee should send vnto hym after diner the old Woman, and
that he would cause to be made a corded Ladder the same euening,
thereby to climbe vp to her Chamber window, where at more
leisure they would deuise of their affaires. Things determined
betwene them, either of them retyred to their house with
incredible contentation, attendinge the happy houre for
consummation of their mariage. When Rhomeo was come home to his
house, he declared wholly what had passed betwen him and
Iulietta, vnto a Seruaunt of his called Pietro, whose fidelity
he had so greatly tryed, as he durst haue trusted him with hys
life, and commaunded hym wyth expedition to prouide a Ladder of
Cordes wyth 2 strong Hookes of Iron fastned to both endes, which
he easily did, because they were mutch vsed in Italy. Iulietta
did not forget in the Euening about fiue of the Clocke, to send
the olde Woman to Rhomeo, who hauing prepared all things
necessary, caused the Ladder to be deliuered vnto her, and
prayed hir to require Iulietta the same euening not to fayle to
bee at the accustomed place. But if this Iorney seemed long to
these two passioned Louers, let other Iudge, that haue at other
tymes assayed the lyke: for euery minute of an houre seemed to
them a Thousande yeares, so that if they had power to commaund
the Heauens (as Iosua did the Sunne) the Earth had incontinently
bene shadowed wyth darkest Cloudes. The apoyncted houre come,
Rhomeo put on the most sumptuous apparell hee had, and conducted
by good fortune neere to the place where his heart tooke lyfe,
was so fully determined of hys purpose, as easily hee clymed vp
the Garden wall. Beinge arriued hard to the wyndow, he perceyued
Iulietta, who had already so well fastned the Ladder to draw him
vp, as without any daunger at all, he entred hir chambre, which
was so clere as the day, by reason of the Tapers of virgin Wax,
which Iulietta had caused to be lighted, that she might the
better beholde hir Rhomeo. Iulietta for hir part, was but in hir
night kerchief: who so soon as she perceyued him colled him
about the Neck, and after shee had kissed and rekissed hym a
million of times, began to imbrace hym betwene hir armes, hauing
no power to speake vnto him, but by Sighes onely, holding hir
mouth close against his, and being in this traunce beheld him
with pitifull eye, which made him to liue and die together.
And afterwards somewhat come to hir selfe, she sayd with sighes
deepely fetched from the bottom of hir heart. “Ah Rhomeo, the
exampler of al vertue and gentlenes, most hartely welcome to
this place, wherein for your lacke, and absence, and for feare
of your person, I haue gushed forth so many Teares as the spring
is almost dry: but now that I hold you betwen my armes, let
death and fortune doe what they list. For I count my selfe more
than satisfied of all my sorrowes past, by the fauour alone of
your presence.” Whom Rhomeo with weeping eye, giuing ouer
silence aunswered: “Madame, for somutch as I neuer receyued so
mutch of fortune’s grace, as to make you feele by liuely
experience what power you had ouer me, and the torment euery
minute of the day sustained for your occasion, I do assure you
the least grief that vexeth me for your absence, is a thousand
times more paynefull than death, which long time or this had cut
of the threede of my lyfe, if the hope of this happy Iourney had
not bene, which paying mee now the iust Tribute of my weepings
past, maketh me better content, and more glad, than if the whole
Worlde were at my commaundement, beseeching you (without further
memory of auncient griefe) to take aduice in tyme to come how we
may content our passionate hearts, and to sort our affayres with
sutch Wysedome and discretion, as our enimies without aduantage
may let vs continue the remnant of our dayes in rest and quiet.”
And as Iulietta was about to make answere, the Olde woman came
in the meane time, and sayd vnto them: “He that wasteth time in
talke, recouereth the same to late. But for so mutch as eyther
of you hath endured sutch mutuall paynes, behold (quoth shee)
a campe which I haue made ready:” (shewing them the Fielde bed
which shee had prepared and furnished,) whereunto they easily
agreed, and being then betwene the Sheets in priuy bed, after
they had gladded and cherished themselues with al kinde of
delicate embracements which loue was able to deuise, Rhomeo
vnloosing the holy lines of virginity, tooke possession of the
place, which was not yet besieged with sutch ioy and
contentation as they can iudge which haue assayed like delites.
Their marriage thus consummate, Rhomeo perceyuing the morning
make to hasty approch, tooke his leaue, making promise that he
would not fayle wythin a day or two to resort agayne to the
place by lyke meanes, and semblable time, vntil Fortune had
prouided sure occasion vnfearfully to manyfest their marriage to
the whole Worlde. And thus a month or twayne, they continued
their ioyful mindes to their incredible satisfaction, vntil lady
Fortune enuious of their prosperity, turned hir Wheele to tumble
them into such a bottomlesse pit, as they payed hir vsury for
their pleasures past, by a certaine most cruell and pitifull
death, as you shal vnderstand hereafter by the discourse that
followeth. Now as we haue before declared, the Capellets and the
Montesches were not so well reconciled by the Lord of Verona,
but that there rested in them sutch sparks of auncient
displeasures, as either partes waited but for some light
occasion to draw togethers, which they did in the Easter holy
dayes, (as bloudy men commonly be most willingly disposed after
a good time to commit some nefarious deede) besides the Gate of
Boursarie leading to the olde castel of Verona, a troupe of
Capellets rencountred with certayne of the Montesches, and
without other woordes began to set vpon them. And the Capellets
had for Chiefe of their glorious enterprise one called Thibault,
cosin Germayne to Iulietta, a yong man strongly made, and of
good experience of armes, who exhorted his Companions with stout
Stomakes to represse the boldnes of the Montesches, that ther
might from that time forth no memory of them be left at all. The
rumoure of this fray was disperssed throughout al the corners of
Verona, that succour might come from all partes of the Citty to
depart the same. Whereof Rhomeo aduertized, who walked alonges
the Citty with certayne of his Companions, hasted him speadily
to the place where the slaughter of his Parents and alies were
committed: and after he had well aduised and beholden many
wounded and hurt on both sides, he sayd to hys Companions:
“My frends let vs part them, for they be so flesht one vpon an
other, as will all be hewed to pieces before the game be done.”
And saying so, he thrust himselfe amids the troupe, and did no
more but part the blowes on eyther side, crying vpon them aloud:
“My freends, no more, it is time henceforth that our quarel
cease. For besides the prouocation of God’s iust wrath, our two
families be slaunderous to the whole World, and are the cause
that this common wealth doth grow vnto disorder.” But they were
so egre and furious one agaynst the other, as they gaue no
audience to Rhomeo his councel, and bent theymselues too kyll,
dysmember and teare eche other in pieces. And the fyght was so
cruell and outragious betweene them as they which looked on,
were amased to see theym endure those blowes, for the grounde
was all couered with armes, legges, thighes, and bloude, wherein
no signe of cowardnes appeared, and mayntayned their feyghte so
longe, that none was able to iudge who hadde the better, vntill
that Thibault Cousin to Iulietta inflamed with ire and rage,
turned towardes Rhomeo thinkinge with a pricke to runne him
through. But he was so wel armed and defended with a priuye coat
whiche he wore ordinarily for the doubt he had of the Capellets,
as the pricke rebounded: vnto whom Rhomeo made answeare:
“Thibault thou maiest know by the pacience which I haue had
vntill this present tyme, that I came not hether to fyght with
thee or thyne, but to seeke peace and attonemente betweene vs,
and if thou thinkest that for defaulte of courage I haue fayled
myne endeuor, thou doest greate wronge to my reputacion. And
impute thys my suffrance to some other perticular respecte,
rather than to wante of stomacke. Wherfore abuse mee not but be
content with this greate effusion of Bloude and murders already
committed. And prouoke mee not I beseeche thee to passe the
boundes of my good will and mynde.” “Ah Traitor,” sayd
Thibaulte, “thou thinkeste to saue thy selfe by the plotte of
thy pleasaunt tounge, but see that thou defende thy selfe, els
presently I will make thee feele that thy tounge shal not gard
thy corps, nor yet be the Buckler to defende the same from
present death.” And saying so, he gaue him a blow with such
furye, as hadde not other warded the same hee had cutte of his
heade from his shoulders, and the one was no readyer to lende,
but the other incontinentlye was able to paye agayne, for hee
being not onelye wroth with the blowe that hee had receiued,
but offended with the iniury which the other had don, began to
pursue his ennemy with suche courage and viuacity, as at the
third blowe with his swerd hee caused him to fall backewarde
starke deade vppon the grounde with a pricke vehementlye thruste
into his throte, whiche hee followed till hys Sworde appeared
throughe the hynder parte of the same, by reason wherof the
conflicte ceassed. For besides that Thibault was the chiefe of
his companye he was also borne of one of the Noblest houses
within the Cittye, which caused the Potestate to assemble his
Souldiers with diligence for the apprehension and imprisonment
of Rhomeo, who seyeng yl fortune at hande, in secrete wise
conuayed him selfe to Fryer Laurence at the Friers Franciscanes.
And the Fryer vnderstandinge of his facte, kepte him in a
certayne secrete place of his couente vntil fortune did
otherwyse prouyde for his safe goinge abroade. The bruite spred
throughout the citty, of this chaunce don vpon the Lorde
Thibault, the Capellets in mourning weedes caused the deade
bodye to be caryed before the sygnory of Verona, so well to moue
them to pytty, as to demaunde iustice for the murder: before
whom came also the Montesches, declaryng the innocencye of
Rhomeo, and the wilfull assault of the other. The councell
assembled and witnesses heard on both partes a straight
commaundemente was geuen by the Lorde of the Cittye to geeue
ouer theire weapons, and touchinge the offence of Rhomeo,
because he hadde killed the other in his owne defence, he was
banished Verona for euer. This common misfortune published
throughout the Citty, was generally sorowed and lamented. Som
complayneth the death of the Lorde Thibault, so well for his
dexteritye in armes as for the hope of his great good seruice in
time to come, if hee hadde not bene preuented by sutch cruell
Death. Other bewailed (specially the Ladies and Gentlewomen) the
ouerthrow of yong Rhomeo, who besides his beauty and good grace
wherwith he was enriched, had a certayne naturall allurement, by
vertue whereof he drew vnto him the hearts of eche man, like as
the stony Adamante doth the cancred iron, in sutch wise as the
whole nation and people of Verona lamented his mischaunce: but
aboue all infortunate Iulietta, who aduertised both of the death
of hir cosin Thibault, and of the banishment of hir husband,
made the Ayre sound with infinite number of mornefull playnts
and miserable lamentations. Then feeling hirselfe to mutch
outraged with extreeme passion, she went into hir chamber, and
ouercome with sorrowe threwe hir selfe vpon hir bed, where she
began to reinforce hir dolor after so straunge fashion, as the
most constant would haue bene moued to pitty. Then like one out
of hir wits, she gazed heere and there, and by fortune beholding
the Window whereat Rhomeo was wont to enter into hir chamber,
cried out: “Oh vnhappy Windowe, oh entry most vnlucky, wherein
were wouen the bitter toyle of my former mishaps, if by thy
meanes I haue receyued at other tymes some light pleasure or
transitory contentation, thou now makest me pay a tribute so
rigorous and paynefull, as my tender body not able any longer to
support the same, shall henceforth open the Gate to that lyfe
where the ghost discharged from this mortal burden, shal seeke
in some place els more assured rest. Ah Rhomeo, Rhomeo, when
acquayntaunce first began betweene vs, and reclined myne eares
vnto thy suborned promisses, confirmed with so many othes,
I would neuer haue beleeued that in place of our continued
amyty, and in appeasing of the hatred of our houses, thou
wouldest haue sought occasion to breake the same by an acte so
shamefull, whereby thy fame shall be spotted for euer, and I
miserable wretch desolate of Spouse and Companion. But if thou
haddest beene so gready after the Cappelletts bloud, wherefore
didst thou spare the deare bloud of mine owne heart when so many
tymes, and in sutch secret place the same was at the mercy of
thy cruell handes? The victory which thou shouldest haue gotten
ouer me, had it not bene glorious inough for thine ambitious
minde, but for more triumphant solempnity to bee crowned wyth
the bloude of my dearest kinsman? Now get thee hence therefore
into some other place to deceiue some other, so vnhappy as my
selfe. Neuer come agayne in place where I am, for no excuse
shall heereafter take holde to asswage mine offended minde: in
the meane tyme I shall lament the rest of my heauy lyfe, with
sutch store of teares, as my body dried vp from all humidity,
shall shortly search reliefe in Earth.” And hauing made an ende
of those hir wordes, hir heart was so grieuously strayned, as
shee coulde neyther weepe nor speake, and stoode so immoueable,
as if she had bene in a traunce. Then being somewhat come agayne
vnto hirselfe, with feeble voyce shee sayd: “Ah, murderous
tongue of other men’s honor, how darest thou so infamously to
speake of him whom his very enimies doe commend and prayse?
How presumest thou to impute the blame vpon Rhomeo, whose
vnguiltines and innocent deede euery man alloweth? Where from
henceforth shall be hys refuge, sith she which ought to bee the
onely Bulwarke, and assured rampire of his distresse, doth
pursue and defame him? Receyue, receyue then Rhomeo the
satisfaction of mine ingratitude by the sacrifice which I shal
make of my proper lyfe, and so the faulte which I haue committed
agaynste thy loyaltye, shall bee made open to the Worlde, thou
being reuenged and my selfe punished.” And thinking to vse some
further talke, all the powers of hir body fayled hir wyth signes
of present death. But the good olde Woman whych could not
imagine the cause of Iulietta hir longe absence, doubted very
mutch that she suffred some passion, and sought hir vp and downe
in euery place wythin hir Father’s Pallace, vntill at length
shee founde hir lyinge a long vpon hir Bed, all the outwarde
parts of hir body so colde as Marble. But the goode Old woman
which thought hir to bee deade, began to cry like one out of hir
Wittes, saying: “Ah deare Daughter, and Noursechylde, howe mutch
doeth thy death now grieue mee at the very heart?” And as she
was feeling all the partes of hir body, shee perceyued some
sparke of Lyfe to bee yet within the same, whych caused hir to
call hir many tymes by her name, til at length she brought her
oute of her sounde, then sayde vnto her: “Why Iulietta, myne
owne deare darelyng, what meane you by this tormoylinge of your
selfe? I cannot tel from whence this youre behauiour and that
immoderate heauines doe proceede, but wel I wot that within this
houre I thought to haue accompanied you to the graue.” “Alas
good mother” (aunswered woful Iulietta) “do you not most
euidently perceiue and see what iust cause I haue too sorrow and
complayne, loosyng at one instante two persons of the world
which wer vnto mee most deare?” “Methinke,” aunsweared the good
woman, “that it is not seemely for a gentlewoman of your degree
to fall into such extremetye: for in tyme of tribulation
wysedome should most preuaile. And if the lord Thibault be deade
do you thinke to get him agayn by teares? What is he that doth
not accuse his ouermutch presumption: woulde you that Rhomeo
hadd done that wronge to him, and hys house, to suffer himselfe
outraged and assayled by one to whom in manhoode and prowesse he
is not inferioure? Sufficeth you that Rhomeo is alyue, and his
affayres in sutche estate whoe in tyme may be called home agayne
from banishmente, for he is a greate lorde, and as you know well
allied and fauored of all men, wherefore arme your selfe from
henceforth with pacyence: for albeit that Fortune doth estraunge
him from you for a tyme, yet sure I am, that hereafter shee will
restore him vnto you agayne wyth greater ioye and Contentatyon
than before. And to the Ende that wee bee better assured in
what state he is, yf you wyll promyse me to gyue ouer your
heauynesse, I wyll to Daye knowe of Fryer Laurence whether he is
gone.” To which request Iulietta agreed, and then the good woman
repayred to S. Frauncis, wher shee founde Fryer Laurence who
tolde her that the same nyghte Rhomeo would not fayle at hys
accustomed houre to visite Iulietta, and there to do hir to
vnderstande what he purposed to doe in tyme to come. This iorney
then fared like the voiages of mariners, who after they haue ben
tost by greate and troublous tempest seeyng some Sunne beame
pearce the heauens to lyghten the lande, assure themselues
agayne, and thinkinge to haue auoyded shipwracke, and sodaynlye
the seas begynne to swell, the waues do roare with sutch
vehemence and noyse, as if they were fallen agayne into greater
danger than before. The assigned hour come, Rhomeo fayled not
accordinge to hys promise to bee in his Garden, where he founde
his furniture prest to mount the Chamber of Iulietta, who with
displayed armes, began so strayghtly to imbrace hym, as it
seemed that the soule would haue abandoned hir body. And they
two more than a large quarter of an hour were in sutch agony, as
they were not able to pronounce one word, and wetting ech others
Face fast closed together, the teares trickeled downe in sutch
abundance as they seemed to be throughly bathed therein, which
Rhomeo perceyuing, thinking to stay those immoderate teares,
sayd vnto hir: “Myne owne dearest freend Iulietta, I am not now
determined to recite the particulars of the straung happes of
frayle and inconstaunte Fortune, who in a moment hoisteth a man
vp to the hyghest degree of hir wheele, and by and by, in lesse
space than in the twynckeling of an eye, she throweth hym downe
agayne so lowe, as more misery is prepared for him in one day,
than fauour in one hundred yeares: whych I now proue, and haue
experience in my selfe, which haue bene nourished delicately
amonges my frends, and maynteyned in sutch prosperous state,
as you doe little know, (hoping for the full perfection of my
felicity) by meanes of our mariage to haue reconciled our
Parents, and frends, and to conduct the residue of my lyfe,
according to the scope and lot determined by Almighty God: and
neuerthelesse all myne enterprises be put backe, and my purposes
tourned cleane contrary, in sutch wise as from henceforth I must
wander lyke a vagabonde through diuers Prouinces, and
sequestrate my selfe from my Frends, wythout assured place of
myne abode, whych I desire to let you weete, to the intent you
may be exhorted in tyme to come, paciently to beare so well myne
absence, as that whych it shal please God to appoint.” But
Iulietta, al affrighted wyth teares and mortal agonies, would
not suffer hym to passe any further, but interruptinge his
purpose, sayd vnto hym: “Rhomeo, how canst thou be so harde
hearted and voyde of all pity, to leaue mee heere lone, besieged
with so manye deadlye myseries? There is neyther houre nor
Minute, wherein death doth not appeare a thousand tymes before
mee, and yet my missehappe is sutch, as I can not dye, and
therefore doe manyfestlye perceyue, that the same death
preserueth my lyfe, of purpose to delight in my gryefes, and
tryumphe ouer my euyls. And thou lyke the mynister and tyrante
of hir cruelty, doest make no conscience (for ought that I can
see) hauing atchieued the Summe of thy desyres and pleasures on
me, to abandon and forsake me: whereby I well perceyue, that all
the lawes of Amity are deade and vtterly extinguyshed,
forsomutch as he in whom I had greatest hope and confidence, and
for whose sake I am become an enimy to my self, doth disdayne
and contemne me. No, no Rhomeo, thou must fully resolue thy
selfe vppon one of these II. points, either to see me
incontinently throwen down headlong from this high Window after
thee: or else to suffer me to accompany thee into that Countrey
or Place whither Fortune shall guide thee: for my heart is so
mutch transformed into thine, that so soone as I shall
vnderstande of thy departure, presently my lyfe will depart this
wofull body: the continuance whereof I doe not desire for any
other purpose, but only to delight my selfe in thy presence,
to bee pertaker of thy misfortunes: and therefore if euer there
lodged any pity in the heart of gentleman, I beseeche the Rhomeo
with al humility, that it may now finde place in thee, and that
thou wilt vouchsafe to receyue me for thy seruaunt, and the
faithful companion of thy mishaps: and if thou thinke that thou
canst not conueniently receyue me in the estate and habite of a
Wyfe, who shall let me to chaunge myne apparell? Shall I be the
first that haue vsed like shiftes to escape the tyranny of
parentes? Doste thou doubt that my seruice will not bee so good
vnto thee as that of Petre thy seruaunte? Wyll my loyaltye and
fidelity be lesse than his? My beauty which at other tymes thou
hast so greatly commended, it is not esteemed of thee? my
teares, my loue, and the aunciente pleasures and delights that
you haue taken in mee shal they be in obliuyon?” Rhomeo seing
hir in these alterations, fearing that worsse inconuenience
would chaunce, tooke hir agayne betweene hys armes, and kissing
her amorously, sayd: {“}Iulietta, the onely mistresse of my
heart, I pray thee in the Name of God, and for the feruent Loue
whych thou bearest vnto me, to doe away those vayne cogitations,
excepte thou meane to seeke and hazard the destruction of vs
both: for if thou perseuer in this purpose, there is no remedye
but wee muste both perish: for so soone as thyne absence shalbe
knowen, thy Father will make sutch earnest pursute after vs,
that we cannot choose but be discried and taken, and in the ende
cruelly punished, I as a theefe and stealer of thee, and thou as
a dysobedyent Daughter to thy Father: and so in stead of
pleasaunt and quiet Lyfe, our Dayes shalbe abridged by most
shamefull Death. But if thou wylt recline thy self to reason,
(the ryght rule of humane Lyfe,) and for the tyme abandon our
mutuall delyghts, I will take sutch order in the time of my
banishment, as within three or foure Months wythoute any delay,
I shalbe reuoked home agayne: but if it fall out otherwyse (as I
trust not,) howsoeuer it happen, I wyll come agayne vnto thee,
and with the helpe of my Fryendes wyll fetch the from Verona by
strong Hand, not in Counterfeit Apparell as a straunger, but
lyke my spouse and perpetuall companion: in the meane tyme quyet
your selfe, and be sure that nothing else but death shall deuide
and put vs a sunder.” The reasons of Rhomeo so mutch preuailed
with Iulietta, as shee made hym thys aunswere: “My deare fryend,
I wyll doe nothing contrary to your wyll and pleasure: and to
what place so euer you repayre, my hearte shall bee your owne,
in like sorte as you haue giuen yours to be mine: in the meane
while I pray you not to faile oftentimes to aduertise me by
Frier Laurence, in what state your affaires be, and specially of
the place of your abode.” Thus these two pore louers passed the
Night togither, vntil the day began to appeare which did dyuyde
them, to their extreame sorrow and gryef. Rhomeo hauiuge taken
leaue of Iulietta, went to S. Fraunces, and after he hadde
aduertysed Frier Laurence of his affaires, departed from Verona
in the habit of a Marchaunt straunger, and vsed sutch
expedytyon, as without hurt he arriued at Mantuona, (accompanied
onely wyth Petre his Seruaunt, whome hee hastily sente backe
agayne to Verona, to serue his Father) where he tooke a house:
and lyuying in honorable companye, assayed certayne Monthes to
put away the gryefe whych so tormented him. But duryng the tyme
of his absence, miserable Iulietta could not so cloke hir
sorrow, but that through the euyll colour of hir face, hir
inwarde passion was discryed: by reason whereof hir Mother,
who heard hir oftentimes sighing, and incessantly complayning,
coulde not forbeare to say vnto hir: “Daughter, if you continue
long after thys sort, you wyll hasten the Death of your good
Father and me, who loue you so dearely as our owne lyues:
wherefore henceforth moderate your heauinesse, and endeuor your
self to be mery: think no more vpon the Death of your cosin
Thibault, whome (sith it pleased God to cal away) do you thinke
to reuoke wyth Teares, and so withstande his Almightye will?”
But the pore Gentlewoman not able to dyssemble hir griefe, sayd
vnto hir: “Madame, long time it is sithens the last Teares for
Thibault were poured forth, and I beleue that the fountayne is
so well soked and dried vp, as no more will spryng in that
place.” The mother which could not tell to what effect those
Woords were spoken held hir peace, for feare she should trouble
hir Daughter: and certayne Dayes after seeing hir to continue in
heauinesse and continuall griefs, assaied by al meanes possible
to know, aswell of hir, as of other the housholde Seruauntes,
the occasion of their sorrow, but al in vayne: wherwith the pore
mother vexed beyonde measure, purposed to let the Lord Antonio
hir Husband to vnderstand the case of hir Daughter: and vppon a
day seeing him at conuenient leisure, she sayd vnto him: “My
Lord, if you haue marked the countenaunce of our daughter, and
hir kinde of behauior sithens the Death of the Lord Thibault hir
Cosyn, you shall perceiue so straunge mutation in hir, as it
will make you to maruell, for she is not onely contented to
forgoe meate, drinke and slepe, but she spendeth hir tyme in
nothinge else then in Weeping and Lamentatyon, delighting to
kepe hir self solytarye wythin hir Chamber, where she tormenteth
hir self so outragiously as yf wee take not heede, hir Lyfe is
to be doubted, and not able to knowe the Oryginall of hir Payne,
the more difficulte shall be the remedye: for albeit that I haue
sought meanes by all extremity, yet cannot I learne the cause of
hir sicknesse: and where I thought in the beginning, that it
proceded vpon the Death of hir Cosin, now I doe manifestly
perceiue the contrary, specially when she hir self did assure me
that she had already wept and shed the last teares for him that
she was mynded to doe: and vncertayne whereuppon to resolue,
I do thinke verily that she mourneth for some despite, to see
the most part of theyr companions maried, and she yet
vnprouyded, persuading with hir selfe (it may be) that wee hir
Parents do not care for hir: wherefore deare Husband, I heartely
beseech you for our rest and hir quiet, that hereafter ye be
carefull to prouyde for hir some maryage worthy of our state.”
Whereunto the Lord Antonio, willingly agreed, saying vnto hir:
“Wyfe, I haue many times thought vppon that whereof you speake,
notwythstandyng sith as yet shee is not attayned to the age of
XVIII. yeares, I thought to prouide a husband at leysure:
neuerthelesse things beinge come to these Termes, and knowing
the Virgins chastity is a dangerous Treasure, I wyll be mindfull
of the same to your contentation, and she matched in sutch wyse,
as she shall thynke the tyme hitherto well delayed. In the meane
while marke dylygently whyther she bee in loue wyth any, to the
end that we haue not so greate regarde to goodes, or the
Nobylity of the house wherein we meane to bestow hir, as to the
Lyfe and Health of our Daughter who is to me so deare as I had
rather die a Begger without Landes or goods, than to bestow hir
vpon one which shall vse and intreat hir il.” Certayne dayes
after that the Lorde Antonio had bruted the maryage of his
daughter, many Gentlemen were suters, so wel for the excellency
of hir Beauty, as for hir great Rychesse and reuenue. But aboue
all others the alyaunce of a young Earle named Paris, the Counte
of Lodronne, lyked the Lord Antonio: vnto whom lyberally he gaue
his consent, and told his Wyfe the party vppon whom he dyd mean
to bestow his Daughter. The mother very ioyful that they had
found so honest a Gentleman for theyr Daughter, caused hir
secretly to be called before hir, doyng hir to vnderstande what
things had passed betwen hir father and the Counte Paris,
discoursing vnto hir the beauty and good grace of the yong
Counte, the vertues for which he was commended of al men,
ioyning therevnto for conclusion the great richesse and fauor
which he had in the goods of fortune, by means whereof she and
hir Fryends should liue in eternal honor: but Iulietta which had
rather to haue ben torne in pieces than to agree to that
maryage, answered hir mother with a more than accustomed
stoutnesse: “Madame, I mutch maruel, and therewithal am astonned
that you being a Ladye discrete and honorable, wil be so liberal
ouer your Daughter as to commit hir to the pleasure and wil of
an other, before you do know how hir mind is bent: you may do as
it pleaseth you, but of one thing I do wel assure you, that if
you bring it to passe, it shal be against my wil: and touching
the regard and estimation of Counte Paris, I shal first lose my
Lyfe before he shal haue power to touch any part of my body:
which being done, it is you that shal be counted the murderer,
by deliueryng me into the handes of him, whome I neyther can,
wil, or know whiche way to loue: wherefore I praye you to suffer
me henceforth thus to lyue, wythout taking any further care of
me, for so mutche as my cruell fortune hath otherwyse disposed
of me.” The dolorous Mother which knewe not what Iudgement to
fixe vpon hir daughter’s aunswere, lyke a woman confused and
besides hir selfe went to seeke the Lord Antonio, vnto whom
without conceyling any part of hir Daughter’s aunswer, she dyd
him vnderstand the whole. The good olde man offended beyond
measure, commaunded her incontinently by Force to be brought
before him, if of hir own good will she would not come: so soone
as she came before hir Father, hir eyes full of teares, fel down
at his fete, which she bathed with the luke warme drops that
distilled from hir Eyes in great abundance, and thynkyng to open
hir mouth to crye him mercy, the sobbes and sighes many tymes
stopt hir speach, that shee remained dumbe not able to frame a
Woorde. But the olde man nothing moued with his Daughter’s
Teares, sayd vnto hir in great rage: “Come hither thou vnkynd
and dysobedient Daughter, hast thou forgotten how many tymes
thou hast hearde spoken at the Table, of the puissance and
authoryty our auncyente Romane Fathers had ouer their chyldren?
vnto whom it was not onelye lawfull to sell, guage, and
otherwyse dispose them (in theyr necessity) at their pleasure,
but also which is more, they had absolute power ouer their Death
and Lyfe? With what yrons, with what torments, with what racks
would those good Fathers chasten and correct thee if they were a
liue againe, to see that ingratitude, misbehauior and
disobedience which thou vsest towards thy Father, who with many
prayers and requestes hath prouided one of the greatest Lords of
this prouince to be thy husband, a Gentleman of best renoume,
and indued wyth all kynde of Vertues, of whom thou and I be
vnworthy, both for the notable masse of goods and substance
wherewith he is enriched, as also for the Honoure and
generositie of the house whereof hee is discended, and yet thou
playest the parte of an obstinate and rebellyous Chyld agaynst
thy Father’s will. I take the omnipotency of that Almightye God
to witnesse, which hath vouchsafed to bryng the forth into this
world, that if vpon Tuesday nexte thou failest to prepare thy
selfe to be at my Castell of Villafranco, where the Counte Paris
purposeth to meete vs, and there giue thy consent to that whych
thy Mother and I haue agreed vppon, I will not onely depriue
thee of my worldly goodes, but also will make the espouse and
marie a pryson so straight and sharpe, as a thousande times thou
shalt curse the Day and tyme wherein thou wast borne: wherfore
from henceforth take aduisement what thou doest, for excepte the
promise be kept which I haue made to the counte Paris, I will
make the feele how greate the iust choler of an offended Father
is against a Chylde vnkynde.” And without staying for other
answer of his Daughter, the olde man departed the Chamber, and
lefte hir vppon hir knees. Iulietta knowing the fury of hir
Father, fearing to incurre his indignation, or to prouoke his
further wrath, retired for the day into hir Chamber, and
contriued that whole Nyght more in weeping then slepyng. And the
next Morning fayning to goe heare seruice, she went forth with
the woman of hir Chamber to the Fryers, where she caused father
Laurence to be called vnto hir, and prayed him to heare hir
confession: and when she was vpon hir knees before hym, shee
began hir Confession wyth Teares, tellinge him the greate
mischyefe that was prepared for hir, by the maryage accorded
betweene hir Father and the Counte Paris: and for conclusion
sayd vnto him: “Sir, for so mutch as you know that I cannot by
God’s law bee maried twice, and that I haue but one God, one
husband and one faith, I am determined when I am from hence,
with these two hands which you see ioyned before you, this Day
to ende my sorowful lyfe, that my soule may beare wytnesse in
the Heauens, and my bloude vppon the Earth of my faith and
loyalty preserued.” Then hauyng ended hir talke, shee looked
about hir, and seemed by hir wylde countenaunce, as though she
had deuised some sinister purpose: wherefore Frier Laurence,
astonned beyonde measure, fearyng least she would haue executed
that which she was determyned, sayd vnto hir: “Mistresse
Iulietta, I pray you in the name of God by little and little to
moderate youre conceiued griefe, and to content your self whilst
you bee heere, vntill I haue prouided what is best for you to
doe, for before you part from hence, I will giue you sutch
consolation and remedy for your afflictions, as you shall
remaine satysfied and contented.” And resolued vppon thys good
minde, he speedily wente out of the Churche vnto his chamber,
where he began to consider of many things, his conscience beyng
moued to hinder the marriage betwene the Counte Paris and hir,
knowing by his meanes she had espoused an other, and callynge to
remembraunce what a daungerous enterprise he had begonne by
committyng hymself to the mercy of a symple damosell, and that
if shee fayled to bee wyse and secrete, all theyr doyngs should
be discried, he defamed, and Rhomeo hir spouse punished. Hee
then after he had well debated vpon infinite numbre of deuises,
was in the end ouercome with pity, and determined rather to
hazarde his honour, than to suffer the Adultery of the Counte
Paris with Iulietta: and being determined herevpon, opened his
closet, and takynge a vyall in his Hande, retourned agayne to
Iulietta, whom he found lyke one that was in a Traunce,
wayghtinge for newes, eyther of Lyfe or Death: of whome the good
olde Father demaunded vpon what Day hir maryage was appoynted.
“The firste daye of that appoyntment (quod shee) is vppon
Wednesdaye, whych is the Daye ordeyned for my Consente of
Maryage accorded betweene my father and Counte Paris, but the
Nuptiall solemnitye is not before the X. day of September.” “Wel
then” (quod the religious father) “be of good cheere daughter,
for our Lord God hathe opened a way vnto me both to deliuer you
and Rhomeo from the prepared thraldom. I haue knowne your
husband from his cradle, and hee hath daily committed vnto me
the greatest secretes of hys Conscience, and I haue so dearely
loued him agayne, as if hee had ben mine owne sonne: wherefore
my heart can not abide that anye man should do him wrong in that
specially wherein my Counsell may stande him in stede. And
forsomutch as you are his wyfe, I ought lykewyse to loue you,
and seke meanes to delyuer you from the martyrdome and Anguish
wherewyth I see your heart besieged: vnderstande then (good
Daughter) of a secrete which I purpose to manifest vnto you, and
take heede aboue all thinges that you declare it to no liuing
creature, for therein consisteth your life and Death. Ye be not
ignorant by the common report of the Cityzens of this City, and
by the same published of me, that I haue trauailed throughe all
the Prouinces of the habytable Earthe, wherby duryng the
continuall tyme of XX. yeres, I haue soughte no rest for my
wearied body, but rather haue many times protruded the same to
the mercy of brute beasts in the Wyldernesse, and many times
also to the mercilesse Waues of the Seas, and to the pity of
common Pirates together with a thousand other Daungers and
shipwracks vppon Sea and Land. So it is good Daughter that all
my wandring Voyages haue not bene altogethers vnprofitable. For
besides the incredible contentation receiued ordinarily in mind,
I haue gathered some particular fruyct, whereof by the grace of
God you shall shortly feele some experience. I haue proued the
secrete properties of Stones, of Plants, Metals, and other
thinges hydden within the Bowels of the Earth, wherewith I am
able to helpe my selfe againste the common Lawe of Men, when
necessity doth serue: specyally in thynges wherein I know mine
eternal God to be least offended. For as thou knowest I beynge
approched as it were, euen to the Brymme of my Graue, and that
the Tyme draweth neare for yeldynge of myne Accompte before the
Audytor of all Audytors, I oughte therefore to haue some deepe
knowledge and apprehension of God’s iudgement more than I had
when the heat of inconsidered youth did boyle within my lusty
body. Know you therefore good daughter, that with those graces,
and fauours which the heauens prodigally haue bestowed vpon me,
I haue learned and proued of long time the composition of a
certayne Paaste, which I make of diuers soporiferous simples,
which beaten afterwards to Pouder, and dronke wyth a quantyty of
Water, within a quarter of an houre after, bringeth the receiuer
into sutch a sleepe, and burieth so deepely the senses and other
sprites of life, that the cunningest Phisitian will iudge the
party dead: and besides that it hath a more marueillous effect,
for the person which vseth the same feeleth no kinde of griefe,
and according to the quantity of the dough, the pacient
remayneth in a sweete sleepe, but when the operation is wrought
and done, hee returneth into his first estate. Now then Iulietta
receiue myne instruction, put of all Feminine affection by
taking vppon you a manly stomacke for by the only courage of
your minde consisteth the hap or mishap of your affayres.
Beholde here I geue you a Vyale which you shall keepe as your
owne propre heart, and the night before your mariage, or in the
morninge before day, you shall fil the same vp with water, and
drink so mutch as is contayned therein. And then you shall feele
a certayne kynde of pleasaunt sleepe, which incrochinge by litle
and litle all the partes of your body, wil constrayne them in
sutch wyse, as vnmoueable they shal remayne: and by not doing
their accustomed dueties, shall loose their naturall feelinges,
and you abide in sutch extasie the space of 40 houres at the
least, without any beating of poulse or other perceptible
motion, which shall so astonne them that come to see you, as
they will iudge you to be deade, and according to the custome of
our Citty, you shal be caried to the Churchyarde hard by our
Church, where you shall be intoumbed in the common monument of
the Capellets your auncestors, and in the meane tyme we will
send word to lord Rhomeo by a speciall messanger of the effect
of our deuice, who now abideth at Mantua. And the night
following I am sure he will not fayle to be heere, then he and I
together will open the graue, and lift vp your body, and after
the operation of the Pouder is past, hee shall conuey you
secretly to Mantua, vnknowen to all your Parents and frends.
Afterwards (it may be) Tyme, the mother of Truth, shall cause
concord betwene the offended City of Verona, and Rhomeo. At
which time your common cause may be made open to the general
contentacion of all your frends.” The words of the good father
ended, new ioy surprised the heart of Iulietta, who was so
attentiue to his talke as she forgat no one poynct of hir
lesson. Then she sayd vnto him: “Father, doubt not at all that
my heart shall fayle in performaunce of your commaundement: for
were it the strongest Poyson, or most pestiferous Venome, rather
would I thrust it into my body, than to consent to fall in the
hands of him, whom I vtterly mislike: with a right strong reason
then may I fortifie my selfe, and offer my body to any kinde of
mortall daunger to approch and draw neare to him, vpon whom
wholly dependeth my Life and all the solace I haue in this
World.” “Go your wayes then my daughter” (quod the Frier) “the
mighty hand of God keepe you, and hys surpassing power defende
you, and confirme that will and good mynde of yours, for the
accomplishment of this worke.” Iulietta departed from frier
Laurence, and returned home to hir father’s Pallace about II. of
the clock, where she found hir mother at the Gate attending for
hir: And in good deuotion demaunded if shee continued still in
hir former follies? But Iulietta with more gladsome cheere than
she was wont to vse, not suffering hir mother to aske agayne,
sayd vnto hir: “Madame I come from S. Frauncis Church, where I
haue taried longer peraduenture than my duety requireth: how be
it not without fruict and great rest to my afflicted conscience,
by reason of the godly persuasions of our ghostly Father Frier
Laurence, vnto whom I haue made a large declaration of my life.
And chiefly haue communicated vnto him in confession, that which
hath past betwene my Lord my father and you, vpon the mariage of
Countee Paris and me. But the good man hath reconciled me by his
holy words, and commendable exhortations, that where I had minde
neuer to mary, now I am well disposed to obey your pleasure and
commaundement. Wherfore, madame, I beseech you to recouer the
fauor and good wyl of my father, aske pardon in my behalfe, and
say vnto him (if it please you) that by obeying his Fatherly
request, I am ready to meete the Countee Paris at Villafranco,
and there in your presence to accept him for my Lorde and
husband: In assuraunce whereof, by your pacience, I meane to
repayre into my Closet, to make choise of my most pretious
Iewels, that I being richly adorned, and decked, may appeare
before him more agreeable to his mynde, and pleasure.{”} The
good mother rapt with exceeding great ioy, was not able to
aunswere a word, but rather made speede to seeke out hir husband
the Lord Antonio, vnto whom she reported the good will of hir
daughter, and how by meanes of Frier Laurence hir minde was
chaunged. Whereof the good olde man maruellous ioyfull, praysed
God in heart, saying: “Wife this is not the firste good turne
which we haue receiued of that holy man, vnto whom euery
Cittizen of this Common wealth is dearely bounde. I would to God
that I had redeemed 20 of his yeares with the third parte of my
goods, so grieuous is to me his extreme old age.’ The selfe same
houre the Lord Antonio went to seeke the Countee Paris, whom hee
thought to perswade to goe to Villafranco. But the countee told
him agayne, that the charge would be to great, and that better
it were to reserue that cost to the mariage day, for the better
celebration of the same. Notwithstanding if it were his
pleasure, he would himselfe goe visite Iulietta: and so they
went together. The Mother aduertised of his comming, caused hir
daughter to make hir selfe ready, and to spare no costly Iewels
for adorning of hir beauty agaynst the Countee’s comming, which
she bestowed so well for garnishing of hir Personage, that
before the Countee parted from the house, shee had so stolne
away his heart, as he liued not from that time forth, but vpon
meditation of hir beauty, and slacked no time for acceleration
of the mariage day, ceasing not to be importunate vpon father
and mother for th’ende and consummation thereof. And thus with
ioy inough passed forth this day and many others vntil the day
before the mariage, against which time the mother of Iulietta
did so well prouide, that there wanted nothing to set forth the
magnificence and nobility of their house. Villafranco whereof we
haue made mention, was a place of pleasure, where the Lord
Antonio was wont many tymes to recreate himselfe a mile or two
from Verona, there the dynner was prepared, for so mutch as the
ordinary solemnity of necessity muste be done at Verona.
Iulietta perceyuing hir time to approache dyssembled the matter
so well as shee coulde: and when tyme forced hir to retire to
hir Chamber, hir Woman would have waited vppon hir, and haue
lyen in hir Chambre, as hir custome was: but Iulietta sayd vnto
hir: “Good and faithfull mother, you know that to morrow is my
maryage Day, and for that I would spend the most parte of the
Nyght in prayer, I pray you for this time to let me alone, and
to morrow in the Mornyng about VI. of the clocke come to me
agayne to helpe make mee readie.” The good olde woman willing to
follow hir minde, suffred hir alone, and doubted nothyng of that
which she did meane to do. Iulietta beinge within hir Chambre
hauing an eawer ful of Water standing vppon the Table filled the
viole which the Frier gaue her: and after she had made the
mixture, she set it by hir bed side, and went to Bed. And being
layde, new thoughtes began to assaile hir, with a conceipt of
grieuous Death, which brought hir into sutch case as she could
not tell what to doe, but playning incessantly sayd: “Am not I
the most vnhappy and desperat creature, that euer was borne of
Woman? For mee there is nothyng left in this wretched worlde but
mishap, misery, and mortall woe, my distresse hath brought me to
sutch extremity, as to saue mine honor and conscience, I am
forced to deuoure the drynke whereof I know not the vertue: but
what know I (sayd she) whether the Operatyon of thys Pouder will
be to soone or to late, or not correspondent to the due tyme,
and that my fault being discouered, I shall remayne a Fable to
the People? What know I moreouer, if the Serpents and other
venomous and crauling Wormes, whych commonly frequent the Graues
and pittes of the Earth wyll hurt me, thynkyng that I am deade.
But howe shall I indure the stynche of so many carions and Bones
of myne auncestors whych rest in the Graue, yf by fortune I do
awake before Rhomeo and Fryer Laurence doe come to help mee?”
And as shee was thus plunged in the deepe contemplatyon of
thynges, she thought that she saw a certayn vision or fansie of
hir Cousin Thibault, in the very same sort as shee sawe him
wounded and imbrued wyth Bloud, and musing how that she must be
buried quick amongs so many dead Carcases and deadly naked
bones, hir tender and delycate body began to shake and tremble,
and hir yelowe lockes to stare for feare, in sutch wyse as
fryghtned with terroure, a cold sweate beganne to pierce hir
heart and bedewe the reste of al hir membres, in sutch wise as
she thought that an hundred thousand Deathes did stande about
hir, haling hir on euery side, and plucking hir in pieces, and
feelyng that hir forces diminyshed by lyttle and lyttle, fearing
that through to great debilyty she was not able to do hir
enterpryse, like a furious and insensate Woman, with out further
care, gulped vp the Water wythin the Voyal, then crossing hir
armes vpon hir stomacke, she lost at that instante all the
powers of hir Body, restyng in a Traunce. And when the morning
lyght began to thrust his head out of his Oryent, hir Chaumber
Woman which had lockte hir in with the Key, did open the doore,
and thynkyng to awake hir, called hir many tymes, and sayd vnto
hir: “Mistresse, you sleepe to long, the Counte Paris will come
to raise you.” The poore olde Woman spake vnto the wall, and
sange a song vnto the deafe. For if all the horrible and
tempestuous soundes of the world had bene cannoned forth out of
the greatest bombardes and sounded through hir delycate Eares,
hir spyrites of Lyfe were so fast bounde and stopt, as she by no
meanes coulde awake, wherewith the pore olde Woman amazed, began
to shake hir by the armes and Handes, whych she found so colde
as marble stone. Then puttyng Hande vnto hir Mouthe, sodainely
perceyued that she was dead, for shee perceyued no breath in
hir. Wherefore lyke a Woman out of hir Wyttes, shee ranne to
tell hir mother, who so madde as a Tigre, berefte of hir Faunes
hied hir selfe into hir Daughter’s Chaumber, and in that pitiful
state beholdynge hir Daughter, thinkyng hir to be deade, cried
out: “Ah cruell Death, which hast ended all my ioye and Blysse,
vse the last scourge of thy wrathfull ire agaynst me, least by
sufferyng mee to liue the rest of my woefull Dayes, my Torment
doe increase.” Then she began to fetch sutch strayning sighes,
as hir heart did seeme to cleaue in pieces. And as hir cries
began to encrease, behold the Father, the County Paris, and a
great troupe of Gentlemen and Ladies, which were come to honour
the feaste, hearing no sooner tell of that which chaunced, were
stroke into sutch sorrowfull dumpes as he which had beheld their
Faces would easily haue iudged that the same had ben a day of
ire and pity, specially the Lord Antonio, whose heart was
frapped with sutch surpassing woe, as neither teare nor word
could issue forth, and knowing not what to doe, straight way
sent to seeke the most expert Phisitians of the towne, who after
they had inquired of the life past of Iulietta, deemed by common
reporte, that melancoly was the cause of that sodayne death, and
then their sorows began to renue a fresh. And if euer day was
Lamentable, Piteous, Vnhappy, and Fatall, truly it was that
wherein Iulietta hir death was published in Verona: for shee was
so bewayled of great and small, that by the common playnts, the
Common wealth seemed to be in daunger, and not without cause:
for besides hir naturall beauty (accompanied with many vertues
wherewith nature had enriched hir) she was else so humble, wise,
and debonaire, as for that humility and curtesie she had stollen
away the hearts of euery wight, and there was none but did
lament hir Misfortune. And whilest these thinges were in this
lamented state, Frier Laurence with diligence dispatched a Frier
of his Couent, named Frier Anselme, whom he trusted as himselfe,
and deliuered him a Letter written with hys owne hande,
commaunding him expressely not to giue the same to any other but
to Rhomeo, wherein was conteyned the chaunce which had passed
betwene him and Iulietta, specially the vertue of the Pouder,
and commaunded him the nexte ensuinge Nighte to speede himselfe
to Verona, for that the operation of the Pouder that time would
take ende, and that he should cary wyth him back agayne to
Mantua his beloued Iulietta, in dissembled apparell, vntill
Fortune had otherwise prouided for them. The frier made sutch
hast as (too late) hee arriued at Mantua, within a while after.
And bicause the maner of Italy is, that the Frier trauayling
abroade ought to take a companion of his couent to doe his
affaires wythin the City, the Fryer went into his couent, and
for that he was within, it was not lawfull for him to come oute
againe that Day, bicause that certain dayes before, one
relygious of that couent as it was sayd, dyd dye of the plague:
wherefore the Magistrates appoynted for the health and
visitation of the sick, commaunded the Warden of the House that
no Friers should wander abrode the city, or talke with any
Citizen, vntil they were licensed by the officers in that
behalfe appoynted, which was the cause of the great mishap which
you shal heare hereafter. The Friar being in this perplexitye,
not able to goe forth, and not knowyng what was contayned in the
Letter, deferred hys Jorney for that Day. Whilst things were in
thys plyght, preparation was made at Verona, to doe the
obsequies of Iulietta. There is a custome also (which is common
in Italy,) to laye all the best of one lignage and Familye in
one Tombe, wherevppon Iulietta was intoumbed, in the ordinary
Graue of the Capellettes, in a Churcheyarde, hard by the Churche
of the Fryers, where also the Lord Thibault was interred, whose
Obsequies honorably done, euery man returned: whereunto Pietro,
the seruaunt of Rhomeo, gaue hys assystance: for as we haue
before declared, hys mayster sente hym backe agayne from Mantua
to Verona, to do his father seruice, and to aduertise him of
that which should chaunce in his absence there: who seeyng the
Body of Iulietta, inclosed in Toumbe, thinkyng with the reste
that shee had bene dead in deede, incontinently tooke poste
horse, and with dylygence rode to Mantua, where he founde his
Mayster in his wonted house, to whom he sayde, wyth hys Eyes
full of Teares: “Syr, there is chaunced vnto you so straunge a
matter as if so be you do not arme your selfe with Constancye,
I am afrayed that I shall be the cruell minyster of your Death:
be it known vnto you sir, that yesterday morning my mistresse
Iulietta left hir Lyfe in thys Worlde to seeke rest in an other:
and wyth these Eyes I saw her buryed in the Churchyarde of S.
Frauncis.” At the sounde of whych heauye message, Rhomeo begann
woefullye to Lamente, as though hys spyrites gryeued wyth the
Tormente of his Passion at that instant would haue abandoned his
Bodye. But stronge Loue which woulde not permytte him to faynt
vntyl the extremity, framed a thoughte in hys fantesie, that if
it were possyble for him to dye besides hir his Death should be
more gloryous, and shee (as he thought) better contented: by
reason whereof, after he had washed his face for feare to
discouer his sorrowe, hee wente out of his Chamber, and
commaunded hys man to tarry behynd him, that he myght walke
through out all the Corners of the Citye, to finde propre
remedye (if it were possyble) for hys gryefe. And amonges
others, beholdynge an Apoticarye’s shop of lyttle furnyture and
lesse store of Boxes and other thinges requisite for that
scyence, thought that the verye pouerty of the mayster
Apothecarye would make hym wyllingle yeld to that which he
pretended to demaunde: and after he had taken hym aside,
secretly sayde vnto him: “Syr, if you be the Mayster of the
House, as I thynk you be, beholde here Fifty Ducates, whych I
gyue you to the intent you delyuer me some strong and vyolente
Poyson that within a quarter of an houre is able to procure
Death vnto hym that shall vse it.” The couetous Apothecarye
entysed by gayne, agreed to his request, and faynying to gyue
hym some other medycine before the People’s Face, he speedily
made ready a strong and cruell Poyson, afterwardes he sayd unto
him softly: “Syr, I guye you more than is needefull, for the one
halfe is able to destroy the strongest manne of the world:” who
after he hadde receyued the poyfon, retourned home, where he
commaunded his man to departe with diligence to Verona, and that
he should make prouision of candels, a tynder Boxe, and other
Instrumentes meete for the opening of the graue of Iulietta, and
that aboue all things hee shoulde not fayle to attende his
commynge besides the Churchyarde of S. Frauncis, and vppon Payne
of Life to keepe hys intente in silence. Which Pietro obeied in
order as hys maister had requyred, and made therin sutch
expedityon, as he arriued in good time to Verona, taking order
for al things that wer commaunded him. Rhomeo in the meane while
being solycyted wyth mortall thoughtes caused incke and paper to
be broughte vnto hym, and in few words put in wryting all the
discourse of his loue, the mariage of him and Iulietta, the
meane obserued for consummation of the same, the helpe that he
had of Frier Laurence, the buying of his Poyson, and last of all
his death. Afterwardes hauing finished his heauy tragedy, hee
closed the letters, and sealed the same with his seale, and
directed the Superscription thereof to hys Father: and puttyng
the letters into his pursse, he mounted on horsebacke, and vsed
sutch dylygence, as he arriued vppon darke Nyght at the Citye of
Verona, before the gates were shut, where he founde his
seruaunte tarying for him with a Lanterne and instrumentes as is
before sayd, meete for the opening of the graue, vnto whome hee
said: “Pietro, helpe mee to open this Tombe, and so soone as it
is open I commaunde thee vppon payne of thy life, not to come
neere mee, nor to stay me from the thing I purpose to doe.
Beholde, there is a letter which thou shalt present to morrow in
the mornyng to my Father at his vprysing, which peraduenture
shall please him better than thou thinkest.” Pietro, not able to
imagine what was his maister’s intent, stode somewhat aloofe to
beholde his maister’s gestes and Countenance. And when they had
opened the Vaulte, Rhomeo descended downe two steppes, holdyng
the candel in his hand and began to behold wyth pityfull Eye,
the body of hir, which was the organ of his Eyes, and kyst it
tenderly, holdyng it harde betwen his armes, and not able to
satisfie him selfe with hir sight, put hys fearefull handes
vppon the colde stomacke of Iulietta. And after he had touched
hir in many places, and not able to feele anye certayne
Iudgemente of Lyfe, he drewe the Poyson out of hys boxe, and
swallowyng downe a great quantytye of the same, cryed out: “O
Iulietta, of whome the Worlde was vnworthye, what Death is it
possyble my Hearte coulde choose oute more agreeable than that
whych yt suffereth harde by thee? what Graue more Gloryous, than
to bee buried in thy Toumbe? what more woorthy or excellent
Epytaphe can bee vowed for Memorye, than the mutuall and
pytyfull Sacryfice of our lyues?” And thinkinge to renue his
sorrowe, his hearte began to frette through the vyolence of the
Poyson, whiche by lyttle and lyttle assailed the same, and
lookyng about hym, espied the Bodye of the Lorde Thibault, lying
nexte vnto Iulietta, whych as yet was not al together putrified,
and speakyng to the bodye as though it hadde bene alyue, sayde:
“In what place so euer thou arte (O Cousyn Thibault) I most
heartely do crye the mercye for the offence whych I haue done by
depryuing of thy Lyfe: and yf thy Ghost doe wyshe and crye out
for Vengeaunce vppon mee, what greater or more cruell
satysfaction canste thou desyre to haue, or henceforth hope for,
than to see him whych murdered thee, to bee empoysoned with his
owne handes, and buryed by thy side?” Then endynge hys talke,
felyng by lyttle and lyttle that his lyfe began to fayle,
falling prostrate vppon his knees, wyth feeble voyce hee softely
sayd: “O my Lord God, which to redeeme me didest discend from
the bosom of thy Father, and tookest humane fleshe in the Wombe
of the Vyrgine, I acknowledge and confesse, that this body of
myne is nothing else but Earth and Dust.” Then seazed vppon wyth
desperate sorrow, he fell downe vppon the Body of Iulietta with
sutch vehemence, as the heart faint and attenuated with too
great torments, not able to beare so hard a vyolence, was
abandoned of all his sense and Naturall powers, in sutch sorte
as the siege of hys soule fayled him at that instant, and his
members stretched forthe, remayned stiffe and colde. Fryer
Laurence whych knew the certayne tyme of the pouder’s operation,
maruelled that he had no answere of the Letter which he sent to
Rhomeo by his fellowe Fryer Anselme, departed from S. Frauncis
and with Instruments for the purpose, determined to open the
Graue to let in aire to Iulietta, whych was ready to wake: and
approchyng the place, hee espied a lyght within, which made him
afraide vntyll that Pietro whych was hard by, had certyfied hym
that Rhomeo was with in, and had not ceased there to Lamente and
Complayne the space of halfe an Houre: and when they two were
entred the Graue and finding Rhomeo without Lyfe, made sutch
sorrowe as they can well coneyue whych Loue their deare Fryende
wyth lyke perfection. And as they were making theyr complaints,
Iulietta rising out of hir traunce, and beholding light within
the Toumbe, vncertayne wheather it were a dreame or fantasie
that appeared before his eyes, comming agayne to hir selfe, knew
Frier Laurence, vnto whom she said: “Father, I pray thee in the
name of God to perfourme thy promise, for I am almost deade.”
And then frier Laurence concealing nothing from hir, (bycause he
feared to be taken through his too long abode in that place)
faithfully rehearsed vnto hir, how he had sent frier Anselme to
Rhomeo at Mantua, from whom as yet hee had receiued no aunswere.
Notwithstanding he found Rhomeo dead in the graue, whose body he
poyncted vnto, lyinge hard by hir, praying hir sith it was so,
paciently to beare that sodayne misfortune, and that if it
pleased hir, he would conuey hir into some monastery of women
where she might in time moderate hir sorrow, and giue rest vnto
hir minde. Iulietta had no sooner cast eye vppon the deade corps
of Rhomeo, but began to breake the fountayne pipes of gushing
teares, which ran forth in sutch aboundance, as not able to
support the furor of hir griefe, she breathed without ceasing
vpon his mouth, and then throwen hir selfe vppon his body, and
embracing it very hard, seemed that by force of sighes and sobs,
she would haue reuiued, and brought him againe to life, and
after she had kissed and rekissed hym a million of times, she
cried out: “Ah the sweete reste of my cares, and the onely port
of all my pleasures and pastimes, hadst thou so sure a hearte to
choose thy Churchyarde in this place betwene the armes of thy
perfect Louer, and to ende the course of thy life for my sake in
the floure of thy Youth when lyfe to thee should have bene most
deare and delectable? how had this tender body power to resist
the furious Coumbat of death, very death it selfe here present?
how coulde thy tender and delicate youth willingly permit that
thou shouldest approch into this filthy and infected place,
where from henceforth thou shalt be the pasture of Worms
vnworthy of thee? Alas, alas, by what meanes shall I now renue
my playnts, which time and long pacience ought to haue buried
and clearely quenched? Ah I, miserable and Caitife wretch,
thinking to finde remedy for my griefs, haue sharpned the Knife
that hath gieuen me this cruell blow, whereof I receiue the
cause of mortall wound. Ah, happy and fortunate graue which
shalt serue in world to come for witnesse of the most perfect
aliaunce that euer was betwene two most infortunate louers,
receyue now the last sobbing sighes, and intertayment of the
most cruell of all the cruell subiects of ire and death.” And as
she thought to continue hir complaynts, Pietro aduertised Frier
Laurence that he heard a noyse besides the citadell, wherewyth
being afrayd, they speadily departed, fearing to be taken: and
then Iulietta seeing hir selfe alone, and in full Liberty, tooke
agayne Rhomeo betweene hir armes, kissing him with sutch
affection, as she seemed to be more attaynted with loue than
death, and drawing out the Dagger which Rhomeo ware by his side,
she pricked hir selfe with many blowes against the heart,
sayinge with feeble and pitiful voice: “Ah death the end of
sorrow, and beginning of felicity, thou art most hartely
welcome: feare not at this time to sharpen thy dart: giue no
longer delay of life, for feare that my sprite trauayle not to
finde Rhomeo’s ghost amongs sutch number of carion corpses: and
thou my deare Lord and loyall husband Rhomeo, if there rest in
thee any knowledge, receyue hir whom thou hast so faythfully
loued, the onely cause of thy violent death, which frankely
offreth vp hir soule that none but thou shalt ioy the loue
whereof thou hast made so lawfull conquest, and that our soules
passing from this light, may eternally liue together in the
place of euerlasting ioy.” And when she had ended those wordes
shee yelded vp hir ghost. While these thinges thus were done,
the garde and watch of the Citty by chaunce passed by, and
seeing light within the graue, suspected straight that there
were some Necromancers which had opened the Toumbe to abuse the
deade bodies for ayde of their arte: and desirous to knowe what
it ment, went downe into the vaut, where they found Rhomeo and
Iulietta, with their armes imbracing ech other’s neck, as though
there had bene some token of lyfe. And after they had well
viewed them at leysure, they perceyued in what case they were:
and then all amazed they sought for the theeues which (as they
thought) had done the murther, and in the ende founde the good
father Fryer Laurence, and Pietro the seruaunte of deade Rhomeo
(whych had hid themselues under a stall) whom they caryed to
Pryson, and aduertysed the Lord of Escala, and the magistrates
of Verona of that horrible murder, which by and by was published
throughoute the City. Then flocked together al the Citizens,
women and children leauyng their houses, to loke vppon that
pityful sighte, and to the Ende that in presence of the whole
Cytie, the murder should be knowne, the Magistrates ordayned
that the two deade Bodies should he erected vppon a stage to the
view and sight of the whole World, in sutch sorte and manner as
they were found withyn the Graue, and that Pietro and frier
Laurence should publikely bee examyned, that afterwardes there
myght be no murmure or other pretended cause of ignoraunce. And
thys good olde Frier beyinge vppon the Scaffold, hauinge a whyte
Bearde all wet and bathed with Teares, the Iudges commaunded him
to declare vnto them who were the Authors of that Murder, sith
at vntimely houre hee was apprehended with certayne Irons
besides the Graue. Fryer Laurence, a rounde and franke Man of
talke, nothyng moued with that accusation, answered them with
stoute and bolde voyce: “My maisters, there is none of you all
(if you haue respect vnto my forepassed Life, and to my aged
Yeres, and therewithall haue consideration of this heauy
spectacle, whereunto vnhappy fortune hathe presently brought me)
but doeth greatly maruell of so sodaine mutation and change
vnlooked for so mutch as these three score and Ten or twelue
Yeares sithens I came into this Worlde, and began to proue the
vanities thereof, I was neuer suspected, touched, or found
guilty of any crime which was able to make me blushe, or hide my
face, although (before God) I doe confesse my self to be the
greatest and most abhominable sinner of al the redeemed flocke
of Christ. So it is notwythstanding, that sith I am prest and
ready to render mine accompte, and that Death, the Graue and
wormes do dailye summon this wretched corps of myne to appeare
before the Iustyce seate of God, still wayghtyng and attending
to be carried to my hoped graue, this is the houre I say, as you
likewise may thinke wherein I am fallen to the greatest damage
and preiudice of my Lyfe and honest porte, and that which hath
ingendred thys synyster opynyon of mee, may peraduenture bee
these greate Teares which in abundaunce tryckle downe my Face as
though the holy scriptures do not witnesse, that Jesus Christ
moued with humayne pitty, and compassion, did weepe, and poure
forth teares, and that many times teares be the faythfull
messengers of a man’s innocency. Or else the most likely
euidence, and presumption, is the suspected hour, which (as the
magistrate doth say) doth make mee culpable of the murder, as
though all houres were not indifferently made equall by God
their Creator, who in his owne person declareth vnto vs that
there be twelue houres in the Day, shewing thereby that there is
no exception of houres nor of minutes, but that one may doe
eyther good or ill at all times indifferently, as the party is
guided or forsaken by the sprite of God: touching the Irons
which were founde about me, needefull it is not now to let you
vnderstand for what vse Iron was first made, and that of it
selfe it is not able to increase in man eyther good or euill, if
not by the mischieuous minde of hym which doth abuse it. Thus
mutch I haue thought good to tell you, to the intent that
neyther teares nor Iron, ne yet suspected houre, are able to
make me guilty of the murder, or make me otherwyse than I am,
but only the witnesse of mine owne conscience, which alone if I
were guilty should be the accuser, the witnesse, and the
hangman, whych, by reason of mine age and the reputation I haue
had amonges you, and the little time that I haue to liue in this
World shoulde more torment me within, than all the mortall
paynes that could be deuised: but (thankes be to myne eternall
God) I feele no worme that gnaweth, nor any remorse that
pricketh me touching that fact, for which I see you all troubled
and amazed: and to set your harts at rest, and to remoue the
doubts which hereafter may torment your consciences, I sweare
vnto you by all the heauenly parts wherein I hope to be, that
forthwith I will disclose from first to last the entire
discourse of this pitifull tragedy, whych peraduenture shall
driue you into no lesse wondre and amaze, than those two poore
passionate Louers were strong and pacient, to expone themselues
to the mercy of death, for the feruent and indissoluble loue
betwene then.” Then the Fatherly Frier began to repeate the
beginning of the loue betwene Iulietta, and Rhomeo, which by
certayne space of time confirmed, was prosecuted by wordes at
the first, then by mutual promise of mariage, vnknown to the
world. And as within few dayes after, the two Louers feelinge
themselues sharpned and incited with stronger onset, repaired
vnto him vnder colour of confession, protesting by othe that
they were both maried, and that if he woulde not solempnize that
mariage in the face of the Church, they should be constrayned to
offend God to liue in disordred lust: in consideration whereof,
and specially seeing their alliaunce to be good, and comfortable
in dignity, richesse and Nobility on both sides, hoping by that
meanes perchaunce to reconcile the Montesches, and Capellets,
and that by doing sutch an acceptable worke to God, he gaue them
the Churches blessingin a certayne Chappel of the friers church
whereof the night following they did consummate the mariage
fruicts in the Pallace of the Capellets. For testimony of which
copulation, the woman of Iuliettae’s Chamber was able to depose:
Adding moreouer, the murder of Thibault, which was Cousin to
Iulietta: by reason whereof the banishment of Rhomeo did
followe, and howe in the absence of the sayd Rhomeo, the mariage
being kept secret betwene them, a new Matrimony was intreated
wyth the Countee Paris, which misliked by Iulietta, she fell
prostrate at his feete in a Chappell of S. Frauncis church, with
full determination to haue killed hirself with hir owne hands,
if he gaue hir not councell how she should auoyde the mariage
agreed betwene hir father and the Countee Paris. For conclusion,
he sayd, that although he was resolued by reason of his age, and
nearenesse of death to abhorre all secrete Sciences, wherein in
his younger yeares he had delight, notwithstanding, pressed with
importunity, and moued with pitty, fearing least Iulietta should
do some cruelty agaynst hirselfe, he strayned his conscience,
and chose rather with some little fault to grieue his minde,
than to suffer the young gentlewoman to destroy hir body, and
hazarde the daunger of hir soule: and therefore he opened some
part of his auncient cunning, and gaue her a certayne Pouder to
make hir sleepe, by meanes whereof she was thought to be deade.
Then he tolde them how he had sent Frier Anselme to cary letters
to Rhomeo of their enterprise, whereof hitherto he had no
aunswere. Then briefly he concluded how he found Rhomeo dead
within the graue, who as it is most likely did impoyson
himselfe, or was otherwise smothered or suffocated with sorow by
findinge Iulietta in that state, thinking shee had bene dead.
Then he tolde them how Iulietta did kill hirselfe with the
Dagger of Rhomeo to beare him company after his death, and how
it was impossible for them to saue hir for the noyse of the
watch which forced theym to flee from thence. And for more ample
approbation of his saying, he humbly besought the Lord of Verona
and the Magistrats to send to Mantua for Frier Anselme to know
the cause of his slack returne, that the content of the letter
sent to Rhomeo might be seene: to examine the Woman of the
Chamber of Iulietta, and Pietro the seruaunt of Rhomeo, who not
attending for further request, sayd vnto them: “My Lordes, when
Rhomeo entred the graue, he gaue me this Pacquet, written as I
suppose with his owne hand, who gaue me expresse commaundement
to deliuer it to his father.” The pacquet opened, they found the
whole effect of this story, specially the Apothecarie’s name,
which sold him the Poyson, the price, and the cause wherefore he
vsed it, and all appeared to be so cleare and euident, as there
rested nothing for further verification of the same, but their
presence at the doing of the particulers thereof, for the whole
was so well declared in order, as they were out of doubt that
the same was true: and then the Lord Bartholomew of Escala,
after he had debated with the Magistrates of these euents,
decreed that the Woman of Iulietta hir chamber should bee
banished, because shee did conceale that priuy mariage from the
Father of Rhomeo, which if it had beene knowne in tyme, had bred
to the whole Citty an vniuersall benefit. Pietro because he
obeyed hys mayster’s commaundement, and kept close hys lawfull
secrets, according to the well conditioned nature of a trusty
seruaunt, was set at liberty. The Poticary taken, rackt, and
founde guilty, was hanged. The good olde man Frier Laurence, as
well for respect of his auncient seruice which he had done to
the common wealth of Verona, as also for his vertuous life (for
the which hee was specially recommended) was let goe in peace,
without any note of Infamy. Notwithstanding by reason of his
age, he voluntarily gaue ouer the World, and closed himselfe in
an Hermitage, two miles from Verona, where he liued 5 or 6
yeares, and spent hys tyme in continuall prayer, vntil he was
called out of this transitory worlde, into the blisful state of
euerlasting ioy. And for the compassion of so straunge an
infortune, the Montesches, and Capellets poured forth sutch
abundaunce of teares, as with the same they did euacuate their
auncient grudge and choler, whereby they were then reconciled:
and they which coulde not bee brought to attonement by any
wisedome or humayne councell, were in the ende vanquished and
made frends by pity: and to immortalizate the memory of so
intier and perfect amity, the Lord of Verona ordayned, that the
two bodies of those miraculous Louers should be fast intoumbed
in the graue where they ended their lyues, in which place was
erected a high marble Piller, honoured with an infinite number
of excellent Epytaphes, which to this day be apparaunt, with
sutch noble memory, as amongs all the rare excellencies,
wherewith that City is furnished, there is none more Famous than
the Monument of Rhomeo and Iulietta.
THE TWENTY-SIXTH NOUELL.
_Two gentlemen of Venice were honourably deceiued of their
Wyues, whose notable practises, and secret conference for
atchieuinge their desire, occasioned diuers accidentes, and
ingendred double benefit: wherein also is recited an eloquent
oration, made by one of them, pronounced before the Duke
and state of that Cittye: with other chaunces and actes
concerninge the same._
Heere haue I thought good to summon 2 Gentlewomen of Venice to
appeare in Place, and to mount on Stage amongs other Italian
Dames to shew cause of their bolde incountrey agaynst the Folly
of their two Husbands, that vncharitably without respect of
neyghbourhoode, went about to assayle the honesty of eyther’s
wyfe, and weening they had enioyed others felicity, by the
womens prudence, foresight and ware gouernment, were both
deceiued, and yet attayned the chiefest benefit that mariage
state doth looke for: so that if search bee made amonges
antiquities, it is to be doubted wheather greater chastity, and
better pollicy could be founde for accomplishment of an intended
purpose. Many deedes haue ben done by women for sauegard of
their Husbandes lyues, as that of the Minyæ, a sort of Women
whose husbandes were imprisoned at Lacedæmon, and for treason
condemned, who to saue their liues, entred into prison the night
before they should dy, and by exchange of apparell, deliuered
them, and remayned there to suffer for them. Of Hipsicratea also
the Queene and Wyfe of Mithridates king of Pontus, who spared
not hir Noble beauty and golden lockes to manure hir selfe in
the vse of armes, to keepe hir husband company in perils and
daungers: and being ouercome by Pompeius, and flying away, neuer
left him vnaccompanied, ne forsooke sutch trauayle as he
himselfe sustayned. The like also of Æmilia, Turia, Sulpitia,
Portia, and other Romane Dames. But that sutch haue preuented
their husband’s folly, seldome we reade, sauing of Queene Marie,
the Wife of Don Pietro king of Arragon, who marking the
insolency of hir husband, and sory for his disordred life,
honest iealousie opening hir continent eyes, forced hir to seeke
meanes to remoue his wanton acts, or at leastwise by pollicy and
wise foresight to make him husbande and culture his own soyle,
that for want of seasonable tillage was barren and voyde of
fruicte. Wherefore consulting with the Lord chamberlayne, who of
custome brought whom the king liked best, was in place of his
woman bestowed in his Bed, and of her that night begat the yong
Prynce Giacomo, that afterwardes proued a valiaunte, and wise
king. These passing good pollicies of women many times abolish
the frantik lecherous fits of husbands gieuen to superfluous
lusts, when first by their chast behauiour and womanly patience
they contayne that which they be loth to see or heare of, and
then demaunding counsell of sobriety and wisedome, excogitate
sleights to shun folly, and expell discurtesie, by husbande’s
carelesse vse. Sutch practises, and deuises, these two
Gentlewomen whom I now bringe forth, disclose in this discourse
ensuing. In the Citty of Venice, (which for riches and fayre
Women excelleth all other within the region of Italy) in the
time that Francesco Foscari, a very wyse Prynce, did gouerne the
state, there were two young Gentlemen, the one called Girolamo
Bembo, and the other Anselmo Barbadico, betwene whom as many
times chaunceth amongs other, grew sutch great hatred and cruel
hostility, as ech of them by secret and all possible meanes
deuised to doe other shame and displeasure, which kindled to
sutch outrage, as it was thought impossible to be pacified. It
chaunced that at one tyme both of them did mary two noble young
Gentlewomen, excellent and fayre, both brought vp vnder one
Nurse, and loued ech other lyke two Sisters, and as though they
had been both borne of one body. The Wyfe of Anselmo, called
Isotta, was the Daughter of Messer Marco Gradenigo, a man of
great estimation in that Citty, one of the procuratours of San
Marco, whereof there were not so great number in those dayes as
there bee now, because the Wysest men, and best Approued of Lyfe
were chosen to that great and Noble dignity, none allotted
thereunto by Bribes or Ambition. The Wyfe of Girolamo Bembo was
called Lucia, the Daughter of Messer Gian Francesco Valerio
Caualiere, a Gentleman very well learned, and many times sent by
the State, Ambassador into diuers Countreys, and after he had
bene Orator wyth the Pope, for his wisedome in the execution of
the same was in great estimation wyth the whole Citty. The two
Gentlewomen after they were maried, and heard of the hatred
betwene their Husbandes, were very sorrowfull and pensiue,
because they thought the Freendshyp and Loue betwene them
twayne, continued from their tender yeares, could not bee, but
with greate difficulty kept, or else altogither dissolued and
broken. Notwithstanding beyng discrete and wyse, for auoyding
occasion of eche Husbande’s offence, determined to cease their
accustomed conuersation and louinge Familiarity, and not to
frequent others company, but at Places and Tymes conuenient. To
whom Fortune was so fauourable, as not onely theyr Houses were
neere together but also adioyninge, in the Backsides whereof
theyr Gardeyns also Confined, seperated onely wyth a lyttle
Hedge, that euery day they myght see one another, and many tymes
talke together: moreouer the Seruauntes, and People of eyther
houses were freendly, and familiar, whych didde greately content
the two Louynge Gentlewomen, bicause they also in the absence of
theyr Husbandes, myghte at pleasure in their Gardens disport
themselues. And continuing this order the space of three yeares
neyther of them within that terme were with chylde. In which
space Anselmo many times viewing and casting his eyes vpon
Madonna Lucia, fell earnestly in loue with hir, and was not that
day well at ease, wherein he had not beholden hir excellent
beauty. She that was of Spirite, and Wit subtle, marked the
lookes and maner of Anselmo, who neyther for loue, ne other
cause did render like lookes on him, but to see to what ende his
louing cheere and Countenaunce would tend. Notwithstanding she
seemed rather desirous to behold him, than elswhere to imploye
hir lookes. On the other side the good behauiour, the wise order
and pleasaunt beauty of Madonna Isotta was so excellent and
plausible in the sight of mayster Girolamo, as no Louer in the
World was better pleased with his beloued than he with hir: who
not able to liue wythout the sweete sight of Isotta (that was a
crafty and wily Wench) was by hir quickly perceiued. She being
right honest and wise, and louing hir husband very dearely, did
beare that countenaunce to Girolamo, that she generally did to
any of the Citty, or to other straunger that she neuer saw
before. But hir husband more and more inflamed, hauing lost the
liberty of himselfe, wounded and pierced with the amorous arowes
of Loue, coulde not conuert his minde to any other but to
mistresse Lucia. These two women wonted to heare seruice euery
day ordinarily at the church of Sanfantino, bicause they lay
long a bed in the mornings, and commonly seruice in that church
was sayd somewhat late: their pewes also somwhat distant one
from an other. Whether their 2 amorous husbands continually vsed
to follow them a loofe of, and to place themselues where eyther
of them might best view his beloued: by which custome they
seemed to the common people to be iealous ouer their Wyues.
But they prosecuted the matter in sutch wyse, as eyther of them
without shipping, sought to send other into Cornouale. It came
to passe then, that these 2 beloued gentlewomen one knowing
nothing of another’s intent, determined to consider better of
this loue, because the great good will long time borne, should
not be interrupted. Vppon a certayne day when their husbands
were abrode, resorting together to talk at their Garden hedge
according to theyr wonted manner, they began to be pleasaunte
and merry: and after louynge salutations, Mistresse Lucia spake
these Woordes vnto hir Companyon: “Isotta my deare beloued
sister, I haue a tale to tell you of your husband, that
perchaunce will seeme straunger than anye newes that euer you
heard.” “And I” (answered mistresse Isotta) “I have a story to
tel you that wil make you no lesse to wonder than I at that
which you haue to say, and it may be will put you into some
choler and chafe.” “What is that?” quod the one and other.
In the ende eyther of them told what practizes and loue their
husbands went about. Whereat although they were in great rage
for theyr husbandes follye, yet for the time they laughed out
the matter, and thought that they were sufficient (as in very
deede they were, a thing not to be doubted) and able to satisfie
their husbands hunger and therewithall began to blame them and
to say that they deserued to learn to play of the Cornets, if
they had no greater feare of God, and care of honesty than their
husbands had. Then after mutch talke of this matter, concluded
that they should do wel to expect what their husbands would
demaund. Hauing taken order as they thought meete, they agreed
dailye to espye what shoulde chaunce, and purposed first with
sweete and pleasaunte lookes to bayte and lure eche other feere,
to put them in hope therby that they should satisfie their
desires, which done for that tyme they departed. And when at the
Church at Sanfantino or other place in Venice, they chanced to
meete their louers, they shewed vnto them cheareful and mery
Countenaunce: whych the Louers well notyng, were the gladdest
Men of the Worlde: and seeing that it was impossible in Speache
to vtter their Myndes, they purposed by Letters to signify the
same. And hauing found Purciuants to goe betwene parties
(whereof this City was wont to be ful) either of them wrote an
Amorous Letter, to his beloued, the content whereof was, that
they were verye desyrous secretly to talke with them, thereby to
expresse the burnynge affectyons that inwardly they bare them,
whych without declaration and vtterance by Mouthe in theyr owne
presence, woulde breede them Torments more bytter than Deathe.
And wythin fewe Dayes after (no greate difference of Tyme
betweene,) they wrote their Letters. But Girolamo Bembo hauing a
pregnant Wit, who coulde well Endite both in prose, and Rime,
wrote an excellent sonnet in the prayse of his Darling in
Italian Meeter, and wyth hys Letter sent the same vnto hir,
the effect whereof doth follow.
A liuely face and pearcing beauty bright
Hath linkt in loue my sely sences all:
A comely porte, a goodly shaped wight
Hath made me slide that neuer thought to fall:
Hir eyes, hir grace, hir deedes and maners milde,
So straines my heart that loue hath Wit begilde.
But not one dart of Cupide did me wounde,
A hundred shaftes lights all on me at ones:
As though dame kind some new deuise had founde,
To teare my flesh, and crash a two my bones:
And yet I feele sutch ioy in these my woes
That as I die my sprite to pleasure goes.
These new found fits sutch change in me doe breede,
I hate the day and draw to darknesse, lo!
Yet by the Lampe of beauty doe I feede
In dimmest dayes and darkest nights also,
Thus altring State and changing Diet still,
I feele and know the force of Venus will.
The best I finde, is that I doe confesse,
I loue you Dame whose beauty doth excell:
But yet a toy doth breede me some distresse,
For that I dread you will not loue me well,
Than loue yee wot shall rest in me alone:
And fleshly brest, shall beare a heart of stone.
O goddesse mine, yet heare my voyce of ruthe,
And pitie him that heart presents to thee:
And if thou want a witnesse for my truth
Let sighes and teares my iudge and record be,
Vnto the ende a day may come in hast,
To make me thinke I spend no time in waste.
For nought preuayles in loue to serue and sue
If full effect ioyne not with words at neede,
What is desire or any fansies newe
More than the winde? that spreades abroade in deede,
My words and works, shall both in one agree,
To pleasure hir, whose Seruaunt would I bee.
The subtill Dames receiuing those amorous letters and song,
disdanfully at the first seemed to take them at the bringers
hands, as they had determined, yet afterwardes they shewed
better countenaunce. These letters were tossed from one to an
other, whereat they made great pastime, and thought that the
same would come to very good successe, eyther of theym keepinge
styll their Husbande’s Letter, and agreed without iniury done
one to an other trimly to deceyue their husbands. The maner how
you shall perceyue anone. They deuised to send word to their
Louers, that they were ready at al times to satisfie their
sutes, if the same might be secretly done, and safely might make
repayre vnto their houses, when their Husbands were absent,
which in any wise they sayde, must be done in the night, for
feare least in the day tyme they were discried. Agayne these
prouident and subtill Women had taken order wyth their Maydes,
whom they made priuy to their practyse that through their
Gardens they should enter into other’s house, and bee shut in
their Chambers without Lyght, there to tary for their Husbands,
and by any meanes not to bee seene or knowne. This order
prescribed and giuen, Mistresse Lucia first did hir louer to
vnderstand, that the night insuing at foure of the Clock at the
Posterne dore, which should be left open, he should come into
hir house, where hir mayde should be ready to bring him vp to
hir Chaumbre, because hir husband Maister Girolamo woulde that
Night imbarke himselfe to goe to Padua. The like Mistresse
Isotta did to Maister Girolamo, appointing him at fiue of the
clock, whych she sayd was a very conuenient time, bicause
mayster Anselmo that night would sup and lye with certayne of
his Fryends at Murano, a place besides Venice. Vpon these newes,
the 2 Louers thought them selues the most valiaunt and fortunate
of the World, no Enterprise now there was but seemed easie for
them to bring to passe, yea if it were to expell the Saracens
out of Hierusalem, or to depriue the great Turke of his Kingdome
of Constantinople. Their ioy was sutch, as they coulde not tell
where they were, thinking euery houre a whole day till night.
At length the tyme was come so long desired, and the Husbandes
accordingly gaue diligent attendaunce, and let their Wyues to
vnderstande, (or at least wyse beleeued they had) that they
could not come home that night for matters of great importaunce.
The Women that were very wise, seeing their ship sayle wyth so
prosperous wynde, fayned themselues to credite all that they
offered. These young men tooke eyther of them his Gondola (or as
we tearm it theyr Barge) to disport themselues, and hauing
supped abroade, rowed in the Canali, which is the Water that
passeth through diuers Streates of the Citty, expecting their
appoyncted houre. The Women ready at three of the Clocke,
repayred into their Gardens, and after they had Talked, and
Laughed together a prety whyle, went one into an other’s house,
and were by the maydes brought vp to the Chaumbers. There eyther
of them the Candle being light, began diligently to view the
order and situation of the Place, and by little and little
marked the chiefest things they looked for, committing the same
to memory. Afterwards they put out the Candle, and both in
trembling maner expected the comming of their Husbandes. And
iust at four of the Clocke the Mayden of Madonna Lucia stoode at
the dore to wayte for the comminge of Maister Anselmo, who
within a while after came, and gladly was let in by the mayde,
and by hir conducted vp to hir Bed side. The place there, was so
dark as Hel, and impossible for him to know his Wyfe. The two
Wyues were so like of bignesse and Speach as by darke wythout
great difficulty they could be known: when Anselmo had put of
his clothes, he was of his Wyfe amorously intertayned, thinking
the Wyfe of Girolamo had receyued him betwene hir armes, who
aboue a Thousande times kissed hir very sweetely, and she for
hir parte sweetely rendred agayne to hym so many: what followed
it were Folly to describe. Girolamo lykewise at 5 of the clocke
appeared, and was by the mayde conueied vp to the Chamber, where
he lay with his own Wife, to their great contentations. Now
these 2 husbands thinking they had ben imbraced by their beloued
Ladies, to seeme braue, and valiaunt men of Warre, made greater
proofe of their Manhoode, than they were wont to do. At what
time their Wyues (as it pleased God to manifest by their
deliuery) were begotten with child of 2 fayre Sons, and they the
best contented Women of the World. This practise continued
betwene them many times, fewe weekes passing but in this sort
they lay together. Neither of them for all this perceiued
themselues to be deluded, or conceyued any suspition of
collusion for that the chamber was still without light, and in
the day the Women commonly fayled not to be together. The time
was not longe but their Bellies began to swell, whereat their
Husbandes were exceeding ioyfull, beleeuing verily that eyther
of them had fixed Hornes vpon the other’s head. Howbeit the
poore men for all their false Beliefe had bestowed theyr Laboure
vppon their owne Soyle, watred onely with the course of their
proper Fountayne. These two Iolly Wenches seeyng themselues by
thys amorous practize to be with Childe, beganne to deuise howe
they might break of the same, douting least some slaunder and
ill talke should rise: and thereby the hatred and malice betwene
theyr husbandes increase to greater fury. And as they were
aboute thys deuise, an occasion chaunced vtterly to dissolue
theyr accustomed meetynges, but not in that sorte as they woulde
haue had it. For the Women determined as merily they had begon
so iocundlye to ende: but Fortune the guide of Humane Lyfe,
disposeth all enterpryses after hir owne pleasure, who lyke a
puissant Lady caryeth with hir the successe of eche attempte.
The beginning she offereth freely to him that list, the Ende she
calleth for, as a ransome or trybute payable vnto hir. In the
same streate, or as they call it Rio, and Canale, not farre from
theyr Houses, there dwelled a young Woman very fayre and comely,
not fully twenty yeares of age, which then was a Widow, and a
lyttle before the wife of M. Niccolo Delphino, and the Daughter
of M. Giuoanni Moro, called Gismonda: she besides hir Father’s
Dowrye (which was more than a Thousand Pound) had left hir by
hir Husband, a great Porcyon of Money, Iewels, Plate, and
houshold Furnitures. Wyth hir fell in Loue Aloisio Foscari, the
Nephewe of the Duke, who making greate sute to haue hir to Wyfe,
consumed the time in beholding his Ladye, and at length had
brought the matter to so good passe, as one Nighte she was
contented, at one of the Wyndowes of hir House directly ouer
agaynste a little lane, to heare him speake. Aloisio maruellous
glad of those desired Newes, at the appoynted Nyght, about fyue
or sixe of the Clocke, with a Ladder made of Roapes (bicause the
Window was very high) went thyther alone. Beyng at the place and
making a signe concluded vppon betweene them, attended when the
gentlewoman should throw down hir cord to draw vp the Ladder
accordingly as was appointed, which not longe after was done.
Gismonda when shee had receiued the ende of the Ladder, tied it
fast to the iawme of the wyndow, and gaue a token to hir Louer
to mount. He by force of loue being very venturous, liuely and
lustely scaled the Wyndow: and when he was vppon the Top of the
same, desirous to caste himselfe in, to embrace his Lady, and
shee not readye to receiue him, or else vppon other occasion, he
fel downe backewarde, thinking as he fell to haue saued himselfe
twice or thryce by catchyng holde vppon the Ladder, but it would
not be. Notwithstanding, as God would haue it, the poise of his
Body fell not vppon the pauement of the streate fully, but was
stayed by some lets in the fall, whych had it not bene so, no
doubt he had bene slayne out of hande, but yet his bones were
sore brused and his heade deepely wounded. The infortunate Louer
seeing himselfe sore hurt wyth that pityfull fall, albeyt hee
thought that hee had receiued his Death’s Wounde, and impossyble
to liue any longer, yet the loue that he bare to the Widow,
did so far surmount hys payne and the gryefe of hys Body sore
crushed and broken, that so well as he could, hee rose vp, and
with his hands stayed the Bloud that ranne from hys Heade, to
the intente yt myghte not rayse some slaunder vppon the Widow
whom hee loued so wel: and went alonges the streate towarde the
houses of Girolamo and Anselmo aforesaid. Being come thither
wyth greate difficulty not able to goe anye further for verye
payne and gryefe, hee faynted and fell downe as deade, where the
Bloude issued in sutch aboundaunce, as the Grounde therewyth was
greatly imbrued, and euery one that saw him thought him to be
voide of Lyfe. Mistresse Gismonda exceeding sorrowful for this
mischaunce, doubted that he had broken his Necke, but when she
saw hym depart, she comforted him so well as she could, and
drewe vp the Ladder into hir Chamber. Sutch Chaunces happen to
earnest Louers, who when they think they haue scaled the top of
theyr Felicity, sodaynly tomble downe into the Pit of extreme
despayre, that better it had ben for them leysurely to expect
the grace of their Ladyes at conuenient place and houre, than
hardily without prouidence to aduenture lyke desperat souldiers
to clym the top of the vamure, without measurying the height of
the Wals, or viewynge the substaunce of theyr Ladders, do
receyue in the ende cruell repulse, and fal down headlonge
either by present Death or mortall Wounde, to receyue
euerlastyng reproche and shame. But turne we agayne now to this
disgraced Louer, who lay gasping betwene Lyfe and Death. And as
he was in this sorrowful state, one of the Captaynes, a Noble
man appointed to see orders obserued in the Nighte, wyth hys
bande (which they call Zaffi) came thither: and finding hym
lying vpon the ground, knew that it was Aloisio Foscari, and
causing him to be taken vp from the place wher he lay, (thinking
he had ben dead) commanded that he should be conueyed into the
Church adioyning whych immediately was done. And when he had wel
considered the place where hee was founde, hee doubted that
eyther Girolamo Bembo or Anselmo Barbadico, before whose Dores
hee thought the murder committed, had kylled him, which
afterwards he beleued to be true, bycause he heard a certayne
noyse of mennes Feete at one of their Doores: wherefore he
deuided his company, placyng some on the one side of their
houses, and some on the other, besieging the same so well as he
coulde. And as Fortune woulde he founde by Neglygence of the
mayds, the dores of the II. houses open. It chaunced
also that Nyght that the two Louers one in other’s House were
gone to lye with their Ladyes, who hearynge the hurly burly, and
sturre made in the house by the Sergeants, sodaynely the Women
lept out of their Beds, and bearyng their apparell vppon theyr
shoulders, went home to their houses throughe their Gardeins
vnseene of any, and in fearefull wyse did attende what should be
the End of the same. Girolamo, and Anselmo not knowing what
rumor and noise that was, although they made hast in the Darke
to cloth themselues, were by the Offycers without any field
fought, apprehended in ech other’s Chamber, and remained
Prysoners at theyr mercy: whereat the Captayne and hys Band did
greatly maruell, knowyng the Hatred betweene them. But when
Torches and Lyghts were brought, and the two Gentlemen caried
out of Doores, the wonder was the greater for that they
perceyued them almoste Naked, and prysoners taken in eche
other’s House. And besydes thys admiratyon, sutch murmur and
slaunder was bruted, as the quality of euerye Vulgar Heade
coulde secretlye deuyse or Imagyne, but specyally of the
innocente Women, who howe faultlesse they were, euery Man by
what is sayde before maye conceyue, and yet the cancred
Stomackes of that Troupe bare sutch Malyce agaynste them, as
they iarred and brawled agaynst them lyke curryshe Curres at
straunge Dogges whom they neuer sawe before. The Gentlemen
immediately were caried to pryson, ignorant vppon what occasion:
afterwards vnderstandinge that they were committed for the
murder of Aloisio Foscari, and imprysoned like theeues, albeit
they knew themselues guiltlesse of murder or Theft, yet their
gryef and sorrowe was very greate, beynge certayne that all
Venice should vnderstande howe they betweene whome had ben
mortall hatred, were nowe become copartners of that whych none
but the true possessours ought to enioy: and althoughe they
coulde not abyde to speake together, lyke those that deadely dyd
hate one another, yet both theyr myndes were fyxed vppon one
thought. In the ende, conceyuing Fury and despite agaynste theyr
Wyues, the place being so darke that no Lyght or Sunne coulde
pierce into the same, whereby wythout shame or disdayne one of
them began to speake to another, and with terrible Othes they
gaue theyr fayth to disclose the troth in what sort eyther of
them was taken in other’s Chamber, and frankely told the way and
meane howe eche of them enioyed hys Pleasure of other’s Wyfe:
whereupon the whole matter (according to their knowledge) was
altogether by little and little manifest and knowne. Then they
accompted theyr Wiues to be the most arrant strumpets within the
whole City, by dispraysing of whom theyr olde rancor was
forgotten, and they agreed together like two Fryends, who
thought that for shame they should neuer be able to looke Men in
the face, ne yet to shew themselues openlye within the Citye,
for sorrow whereof they deemed Death the greatest good turne and
best Benefit that could chance vnto them. To be short, seeing no
meanes or occasion to comfort and relieue theyr pensyue and
heauy states, they fell into extreeme despayre, who ashamed to
lyue any longer, deuised way to rid them selues of Lyfe,
concludyng to make themselues guilty of the murder of Aloiso
Foscari: and after mutch talke betweene them of that cruell
determination, styll approuing the same to be theyr best refuge,
they expected nothyng else, but when they should be examined
before the Magistrates. Foscari as is before declared was
carryed into the Churche for Deade, and the Pryest straightly
charged wyth the keepynge of hym, who caused hym to be conueyed
into the myddes of the Church, setting II. Torches a
Light, the one at his heade, and the other at his feete, and
when the Company was gone, he determined to goe to bed the
remnant of the Nyght to take his rest: but before he went,
seeing the Torches were but short, and could not last paste two
or three houres, he lighted two other, and set them in the
others place, for that it should seeme to his frends, if any
chaunced to come what care and worship he bestowed vpon him.
The Priest ready to depart, perceiued the Body somewhat to moue,
with that looking vppon his Face, espyed his eyes a little to
begin to open. Wherewithall somewhat afraide, he crying out, ran
awaye: notwithstanding his Courage began to come to him again,
and laying his hand vpon his breast, perceiued his heart to
beate, and then twas out of doubt that he was not dead, although
by reason of losse of his bloud he thought little life to
remaine in him: wherefore he with one of his fellow priests
which was a bed, and the Clerck of the Parish, caried maister
Foscari so tenderly as they could into the Priests Chamber,
which adioined next the Church. Then he sente for a surgeon that
dwelt hard by, and required him diligently to search the Wounde,
who so well as he could purged the same from the corrupt Bloud,
and perceiuyng it not to be mortall, so dressed it wyth Oyles
and other precious ointments, as Aloisio came agayn to hymselfe:
and when he had anoynted that recouered body wyth certayne
Precious and comfortable Oyles, he suffred him to take his rest:
the Priest also went to bed and slepte till it was Daye, who so
soone as he was vp, went to seeke the Captayne to tel him that
Maister Aloisio was recouered. The Captaine at that tyme was
gone to the pallace at San. Marco, to giue the Duke
aduertisement of thys Chaunce, after whom the Priest went and
was let in to the Duke’s Chamber: to whom he declared what he
had done to Aloisio. The Duke very glad to heare tell of his
Nephewe’s lyfe, although then very pensiue for the newes
broughte vnto him by the Captayne, intreated one of the Signor
de notte, to take with him two of the best surgions, and to call
him that had already dressed his Nephew, to goe to visite the
wounded Gentleman, that hee might be certified of the truth of
that Chaunce. All which together repaired to the Pryeste’s
Chaumber, where fyndinge hym not a sleepe, and the Wounde fayre
inoughe to heale, dyd therevnto what their cunning thoughte
meete: and then they began to inquire of hym, that was not yet
full recouered to perfecte speache, howe that chaunce happened,
telling hym that he might frankelye confesse vnto them the
trouthe. The more dilygent they were in this demaunde, bicause
the Surgeon that dressed him fyrst, alleaged, that the Wounde
was not made with Sworde, but receiued by some greate fall or
blowe with Mace or Clubbe, or rather seemed to come of some high
fall from a Wyndowe, by reason his Head was so gryevously
brused. Aloisio hearynge the Surgeons sodayne demaunde,
presentlye aunswered, that he fell downe from a Wyndowe, and
named also the House. And he had no sooner spoken those Woordes,
but he was very angry wyth him selfe and sorrye: and
wherewithall his dismayde Spyrites began to reuyue in sutch
wyse, as sodainlye he choyse rather to dye than to speake any
thynge to the dyshonoure of mystresse Gismonda. Then the Signior
di notte, asked hym what he dyd there aboute that Tyme of the
Nyght, and wherfore hee dyd clymb vp to the Wyndowe, beynge so
hyghe: whych hee coulde not keepe secrete, consyderyng the
Authorytye of the Magystrate that demaunded the questyon, albeyt
hee thoughte that yf his Tongue hadde runne at large, and
commytted a Faulte by rashe speakynge, hys Bodye should
therefore suffer the smart: wherefore before hee woulde in any
wyse gyue occasion to slaunder hir, whome hee loued better than
hys owne Lyfe, determined to hazarde hys Lyfe and Honoure, to
the mercye of Iustice, and sayde: “I declared euen nowe, whych I
cannot denye, that I fell downe from the wyndowe of Mystresse
Gismonda Mora. The cause thereof (beeynge now at state, wherein
I knowe not whether I shall Lyue or Dye) I will truelye
dysclose: Mystresse Gismonda beynge a Wydowe and a younge Woman,
wythoute anye Man in hir House, bycause by reporte shee is very
rych of Iewels and Money, I purposed to robbe and dyspoyle:
wherefore I deuysed a ladder to clymbe vp to hir Wyndowe, with
Mynde full bent to kill all those that should resiste me: but my
mishappe was sutch as the Ladder being not well fastened fell
downe, and I my selfe therwithall, and thinking to recouer home
to my lodging with my corded Ladder, my Spirites beganne to
fayle, and tombled downe I wotte not where.” The Signor de
notte, whose name was Domenico Mariperto hearing him say so,
maruelled greatly, and was very sorie, that all they in the
Chamber, which were a great number, (as at sutch chaunces
commonly be) dyd heare those Woordes: and bicause they were
spoken so openly, he was forced to saye vnto hym: “Aloisio,
it doth not a little grieue me that thou hast committed sutch
follye, but for so mutch as sorrowe now will not serue to
remedye the Trespasse, I muste needes shew my selfe both
faithfull to my countrey, and also carefull of mine honor,
withoute respect of persons: wherefore thou shalte remaine here
in sutch safe custody as I shal appoint, and when thou art
better amended, thou must according to desert be referred to the
Gaole.” Leauing him there vnder sure keeping, he went to the
counsell of the Dieci, (which magistrates in that City be of
greatest authority) and finding the Lords in Counsell, he opened
the whole matter vnto them: the presidentes of the Counsell
which had hearde a great numbre of complaynts of many Theftes
don in the Nyght wythin the Citye, tooke order that one of the
Captaynes that were appoynted to the dilygente Watche and
keepyng of Aloisio, remayning in the Pryeste’s House, should
cause him to be examined, and with tormentes forced to tell the
truth, for that they did verely beleeue that hee had committed
many Robberies besides, or at the least was priuy and accessarie
to the same, and knew where the Theues were become. Afterwardes
the sayd Counsell did sitte vppon the matter of Girolamo Bembo
and Anselmo Barbadico, found at myde Night naked in eche other’s
Chambre, and commytted to Pryson as is before remembred: and
bicause they had many matters besides of greater importaunce, to
consult vppon, amongs which the warres betwene them and Philippo
Maria Visconte, Duke of Milane, the aforesayde causes were
deferred tyll an other tyme, notwythstandyng in the meane while
they were examyned. The Duke himselfe that tyme being in
Counsell, spake most seuerely against his Nephew: neuerthelesse
he did hardly beleeue that his Nephew being very rich, and
indued with great honesty, would abase himselfe to a vice so
vile and abhominable as theft is, wherevppon he began to
consider of many thinges, and in the ende talked with hys Nephew
secretly alone, and by that meanes learned the trouth of the
whole matter. In like maner Anselmo and Girolamo were Examined
by Commissioners appoyncted by the state, what one of them did
in an other’s chamber, at that houre of the night, who confessed
that many tymes they had seene Aloisio Foscari, to passe vp and
down before their houses at times inconuenient, and that night
by chaunce one of them not knowing of another, espied Aloisio,
thinking that he lingered about their houses to abuse one of
their Wyues, for which cause they went out, and with their
Weapons sodenly killed him: which confession they openly
declared accordingly, as whereupon before they were agreed.
Afterwardes with further circumstaunce being examined vpon the
Article of being one in another’s Chaumber, it appeared that
their first tale was vtterly vntrue: of all which contradictions
the Duke was aduertised, and was driuen into extreeme
admiration, for that the truth of those disorders coulde not be
to the full vnderstanded and knowne. Whereuppon the Dieci, and
the assistauntes were agayne assembled in councell accordinge to
the maner, at what time after all things throughly were debated
and ended, the Duke being a very graue man, of excellent Witte,
aduaunced to the Dukedome by the consent of the whole State, as
euery of theym were about to rise vp, hee sayde vnto them:
“My Lordes, there resteth one thinge yet to be moued, which
peraduenture hitherto hath not bene thought vpon: there are
before vs two complaynts, the effect whereof in my iudgement is
not throughly conceyed in the Opinions of diuers. Anselmo
Barbadico, and Girolamo Bembo, betwene whom there hath bene euer
continuall hatred, left vnto them as a man may say euen by
Fathers Inheritance both of them in eyther of their Chaumbers,
were apprehended in a manner naked by our Sergeaunts, and
without Torments, or for feare to bee racked vpon the onely
interrogatories of oure ministers, they haue voluntarily
confessed that before their houses they killed Aloisio our
Nephew: and albeit that our sayde Nephew yet liueth, and was not
striken by them or any other as should appeare, yet they
confesse themselues guilty of murder. What shall be sayd then to
the matter, doth it not seeme doubtfull? Our Nephew again hath
declared, that in going about to rob the house of Mistresse
Gismonda Mora, whom he ment to haue slayne, he fel downe to the
Ground from the top of a window, wherefore by reason so many
robberies haue bene discouered within the Citty, it may be
presumed that hee was the theefe and malefactor, who ought to be
put to the torments, that the truth may be knowne, and being
found guilty, to feele the seuere punishment that he hath
deserued. Moreouer when he was found lying vpon the ground, he
had neither Ladder nor Weapon, whereupon may bee thought that
the fact was otherwise done, than hitherto is confessed. And
because amongs morall vertues, temperance is the chiefest and
worthy of greatest commendation, and that iustice not
righteously executed, is iniustice and wronge, it is meete and
conuenient for vs in these straunge accidents, rather to vse
temperaunce than the rigor of iustice: and that it may appeare
that I do not speake these words without good grounde, marke
what I shall saye vnto you. These two most mortall enimies doe
confesse that which is impossible to be true, for that our
Nephew (as is before declared) is a liue, and his wounde was not
made by Sworde, as hee himselfe hath confessed. Now who can tell
or say the contrary, but that shame for being taken in their
seuerall Chambers, and the dishonesty of both their Wyues, hath
caused them to despise life, and to desire death? we shall finde
if the matter be diligently inquired and searched, that it will
fall out otherwise than is already supposed by common opinion.
For the contrariety of examinations, vnlikelihoode of
circumstances, and the impossibility of the cause, rendreth the
matter doubtfull: wherefore it is very needeful diligently to
examine these attempts, and thereof to vse more aduised
consideration. On the other side, our Nephew accuseth himselfe
to be a theefe and which is more, that hee ment to kill
Mistresse Mora when hee brake into hir house. Vnder this Grasse,
my Lords, as I suppose, some other Serpent lieth hiden, that is
not yet thought of. The Gentleman yee know before this time was
neuer defamed of sutch outrage, ne suspected of the least
offence that may be obiected: besides that, all yee doe know,
(thanks therefore be geuen to almighty God) that he is a man of
great richesse, and possessions, and hath no neede to rob: for
what necessity should driue him to rob a widowe, that hath of
his owne liberally to bestow vpon the succour of Widowes? Were
there none els of substance in the Citty for him to geue attempt
but to a Wyddowe, a comfortlesse creature, contented with quiet
lyfe to lyue amonges hir family within the boundes of hir owne
house? What if hir richesse, Iewels and plate be great, hath not
Aloisio of his owne to redouble the same? but truly this Robbery
was done after some other manner than hee hath confessed: to vs
then my Lords it appertayneth, if it so stande with your
pleasures, to make further inquiry of the same, promisinge vnto
you vppon our Fayth, that wee shall imploy our whole diligence
in the true examination of thys matter, and hope to bring the
same to sutch good ende, as none shall haue cause to blame vs,
the finall sentence whereof shall bee reserued to youre
iudgement.” Thys graue request and wise talke of the Duke
pleased greatly the Lordes of the Counsayle, who referred not
onely the examination, but also the finall sentence vnto hym.
Whereuppon the wyse Prynce beinge fully enformed of the chaunce
happened to his Nephewe, attended onely to make search, if he
could vnderstand the occasion why Bembo and Barbadico so
foolishly had accused themselues of that which they neuer did.
And so after mutch counsayle, and great tyme contriued in their
seueral examinations, his Nephew then was well recouered, and
able to goe abroade, being set at liberty. The Duke then hauinge
bestowed hys trauayle with the other two prisoners, communicated
to the Lords of the aforesayd councel called Dieci the whole
trouth of the matter. Then he caused with great discretion,
proclamation to be made throughout Venice, that Anselmo and
Girolamo shold be beheded betwene the two Pyllers, and Aloisio
hanged, whereby he thought to know what sute the women would
make, eyther with or against their Husbandes, and what euidence
mistresse Gismonda woulde geue against Aloisio. The brute hereof
dispersed, diuers talke thereuppon was raysed, and no
communication of any thing els in open streats, and priuate
houses, but of the putting to death of those men. And bicause
all three were of honorable houses, their kinsmen, and Friendes
made sute by all possible meanes for theyr pardon. But their
Confessions published, the rumor was made worse, (as it dayly
chaunceth in like cases) than the matter was in deede, and the
same was noysed how Foscari had confessed so many theftes done
by him at diuers tymes, as none of his freends or Kin durst
speake for him. Mistresse Gismonda which bitterly lamented the
mischaunce of hir Louer, after she vnderstoode the confession
hee had made, and euidently knew that because hee woulde not
bleamish hir honour, he had rather willingly forgo his owne, and
therewithall his lyfe, felt hir selfe so oppressed with feruent
loue, as shee was ready presently to surrender hir ghost.
Wherefore shee sent him woorde that he should comfort himselfe,
because shee was determined to manifest the very trouth of the
matter, and hoped vppon hir declaration of true euidence,
sentence shoulde bee reuoked, for testimony whereof, shee had
his louinge letters yet to shewe, written to hir with his owne
handes, and would bring forth in the iudgement place, the corded
ladder, which she had kept stil in her chamber. Aloisio hearinge
these louing newes, and of the euidence which his Lady woulde
giue for his defence, was the gladdest man of the worlde, and
caused infinite thankes to be rendred vnto hir, wyth promise
that if hee might bee rid and discharged out of prison, he
woulde take hir for his louing spouse and wyfe. Whereof the
gentlewoman conceyued singuler solace, louing hir deere freende
with more entier affection than hir owne soule. Mistresse Lucia,
and mistresse Isotta, hearing the dispercled voyce of the death
of their husbands, and vnderstanding the case of mistresse
Gismonda by an other woman, layd their heads together likwise to
deuise meanes for sauing their husbandes liues: and entring into
their Barge, or Gondola, wente to seeke mistresse Gismonda and
when they had debated vppon the trouthe of these euents,
concluded with one assent to prouide for the safegarde and
deliuerye of theyr husbandes, wherein they shewed themselues
both wise and honest. For what state is more honorable and of
greater Comforte than the marryed Lyfe, if in deede they that
haue yoaked themselues therein be conformable to those
Delightes, and contentation which the same conduceth? Wealth and
Riches maketh the true vnyted couple to reioyce in the Benefits
of Fortune, graunted by the sender of the same, either of them
prouiding for disposing thereof, against the decripite time of
olde age, and for the bestowing of the same vppon the Fruicte
accrued of theyr Bodies. Pouerty in any wise dothe not offend
them, both of them glad to laboure and trauaile like one Body,
to sustaine theyr poore and neady Lyfe, eyther of them
Comfortably doth Minyster comforte in the cruell tyme of
Aduersity, rendring humble thankes to God for hys sharp Rodde
and Punyshment enflicted vppon them for their manyfolde sinnes
commytted againste hys maiestye, trauailinge by night and Daye
by sweatinge Browes to get browne Breade, and drynke ful thin to
cease the Cryes and pytifull crauinges of their tender Babes,
wrapt in Cradle and instant on their mother to fill their hungry
mouthes. Aduerse fortune maketh not one to forsake the other.
The louing Wyfe ceaseth not by paynfull sute to trot and go by
Night and day in heate and colde to relieue the miserye of hir
husband. He likewise spareth not his payne to get and gayne the
liuyng of them both. He abrode and at home according to his
called state, she at home to saue the Lucre of that Labor, and
to doe sutch necessary trauayle incident to the married kinde.
He carefull for to get, she heedeful for to saue, he by trafique
and Arte, shee by diligence and housholde toile. O the happy
state of married folke: O surpassing delights of mariage
bed: which maketh these II. poore Gentlewomen, that by
honorable pollicy saued the honor of themselues and honesty of
theyr husbandes, to make humble sute for their preseruation, who
were like to be berieued of their greatest comforts. But come we
again to declare the last act of this Comical discourse. These
maried Women, after this chaunce befell, vpon their husbandes
imprysonment, began to be abhorred of their Friendes and
Parentes, for that they were suspected to be dishoneste, by
reason whereof dolefully lamenting their Misfortune,
notwithstandynge their owne conscience voyde of faulte, dyd byd
them to be of good cheere and comfort. And when the daye of
execution came, they dyd theyr Friends and Parents to vnderstand
that their conceiued opinyon was vntrue, and prayed them to
forbeare their disdain and malice, till the truth should be
throughly manifested, assuring them that in the End their owne
innocencie and the guiltlesse cryme of their Husbands should
openly be reuealed to the Worlde. In the meane time they made
request vnto their Friendes, that one of the Lordes called
Auogadori might be admitted to vnderstande their case, the rest
to be referred to themselues, wherein they had no neede either
of Proctor or Aduocate. This request seemed verye straunge to
their friends, deeming their case to be shameful and
abhominable: neuertheles diligently they accomplyshed their
request and vnderstandyng that the Counsell of the Dieci had
commytted the matter wholy to the Duke, they made a supplicatyon
vnto hym in the name of the three Gentlewomen, wherein they
craued nothing else but theyr matter might be hearde. The Duke
perceiuying hys aduise like to take effect, assigned them a Day,
commaundinge them at that tyme before hym and the Lords of the
Councell and all the College of the estate to appeare. The Day
being come, all the Lordes assembled, desirous to see to what
issue this matter would grow. On the morning the three
Gentlewomen honestly accompanied with other Dames, went to the
Palace, and goynge along the streate of San Marco the people
began to vtter many raylyng words against them: some cried out
(as we see by vnstable order the vulgare people in like cases
vse to do) and doinge a certain curtisy by way of disdain and
mockery: “Behold the honest women, that without sending their
husbands out of Venice, haue placed them in the Castell of
Cornetto, and yet the arrante Whoores bee not ashamed to shewe
them selues abrode, as thoughe they hadde done a thynge that
were Honeste and prayse worthye.” Other shot forth theyr Boltes,
and wyth theyr Prouerbes proceedyng from their malicious Mouthes
thwited the pore Women at their pleasure. Other also seeyng
Mystresse Gismonda in their Company, thought that she went to
declame against maister Aloisio Foscari, and none of them all
hapned on the trouth. Arryued at the pallace, ascending the
marble staires or steps of the same, they were brought into the
great hal, wher the Duke appointed the matter to be heard.
Thither repaired the friends and those of nearest kin to the
three Gentlewomen, and before the matter did begin, the Duke
caused also the thre prisoners to be brought thither. Thither
also came many other Gentlemen, with great desire to see the end
of those euents. Silence being made the Duke turning his face to
the women, sayd vnto them: “Ye Gentlewomen haue made requeste by
supplycatyon to graunt you publike audyence accordyng to
Iustice, for that you do alleage that Law and order doth so
require, and that euery wel ordred common wealth condemneth no
subiecte withoute due answere by order of lawe. Beholde
therefore, that we desirous to do Iustice, bee ready in Place to
heare what ye can say.” The two husbands were very angrie and
wrathfull against their wiues, and the more their stomackes did
fret with choler and disdayne, by how mutch they saw their
impudente and shamelesse wiues wyth sutch audacity to appeare
before the maiesty of a counsel so honourable and dreadfull,
as though they had ben the most honeste and chast Women of the
World. The two honeste wiues perceyued the anger and displeasure
of their husbands, and for all that were not afrayde ne yet
dismayde, but smyling to themselues and somewhat mouing their
heads in decente wyse seemed vnto them as though they had mocked
them. Anselmo more angry and impacient then Girolamo, brake out
into sutch furie, as had it not ben for the maiesty of the
place, and the Companye of People to haue stayed him, woulde
haue kylled them: and seyng he was not able to hurt them, he
began to vtter the vylest Woords, that he possibly could deuise
agaynst them. Mistresse Isotta hearing hir husband so spytefully
to spit forth his poyson in the presence of that honourable
assemblye, conceiued courage, and crauinge licence of the Duke
to speake, with merrye countenance and good vttrance began thus
to say her mind: “Most excellent Prince, and yee right
honourable Lordes, I doe perceyue how my deare husbande vncomely
and very dishonestly doth vse himselfe agaynst me in this noble
company, thincking also that mayster Girolamo Bembo is affected
with like rage and minde agaynst this Gentlewoman mystresse
Lucia hys wyfe, although more temperate in words, he do not
expresse the same. Agaynst whom if no reply be made, it may
seeme that he doth well and hath spoken a truth, and that we by
silence do condemne our selues to be those most wicked women
whom hee alleageth vs to be. Wherefore by your gratious pardon
and licence (most honourable) in the behalfe of mistresse Lucia
and my selfe, for our defence I purpose to declare the effect of
my mynde, although my purpose be cleane altered from that I had
thought to say, being now iustly prouoked by the vnkinde
behauiour of him whom I loue better than my selfe, and whose
disloyalty, had hee beene silent and not so rashly runne to the
ouerthrow of me and my good name, coulde I haue concealed,
and onely touched that which had concerned the Purgation and
sauegard of them both, which was the onely intent and meaning of
vs, by making our humble supplication to your Maiesties.
Neuerthelesse, so farre as my feeble force shall stretch, I will
assay to do both the one and the other, although it be not
appropriate to our kinde in publike place to declayme, nor yet
to open sutch bold attempts, but that necessity of matter and
oportunity of time, and place dothe bolden vs to enter into
these termes, whereof we craue a thousand pardons for our
vnkindely dealings, and render double thanks to your honours,
for admitting vs to speake. Be it knowne therefore vnto you,
that our husbands agaynst duety of loue, lawes of mariage, and
against all reason, do make their heauy complaynts, which by and
by I will make playne and euident. I am right well assured, that
their extreme rage and bitter hearts sorrow do proceede of 2
occasions: The one, of the murder whereof they haue falsely
accused theymselues: the other of iealousie, which grieuously
doth gnawe their hearts, thinking vs to be vile, and abhominable
Women, because they were surprised in ech other’s Chaumber.
Concerning the murder, if they haue soyled their handes therein,
it appertayneth vnto you my Lords to render their desert. But
how can the same be layd to our charge, for somutch as they
(if it were done by them) committed the same without our
knowledge, our help and counsel? And truly I see no cause why
any of vs ought to be burdened with the outrage, and mutch lesse
cause haue they to laye the same to our charge: for meete it is
that he that doth any vnlawful act, or is accessary to the same,
should suffer the due penalty and seuere chastisement
accordingly as the sacred lawes do prescribe, to be an example
for other to abstayne from wicked facts. But hereof what neede I
to dispute, wherein the blind may see to bee none offence,
because (thankes bee to GOD) Mayster Aloisio liueth, which
declareth the fonde Confession of our vngentil husbandes to bee
contrary to trouth? And if so be our husbands in deede had done
sutch an abhominable enterprise, reason and duety had moued vs
to sorrowe and lament them, because they be borne of noble
bloud, and be gentlemen of this noble Citty, which like a pure
virgin inuiolably doth conserue hir lawes and customes. Great
cause I say, had we to lament them, if lyke homicides, and
murderers they had spotted their bloud with sutch fowle bleamish
thereby deseruing death, to leaue vs yong Women Widowes in
wofull plight. Nowe it behoueth me to speake of the Iealousie
they haue conceyued of vs, for that they were in ech other’s
Chamber, which truly is the doubtfull knot and scruple that
forceth all their disdaine and griefe. This I knowe well is the
Nayle that pierceth their heart: other cause of offence they
haue not: who like men not well aduised, without examination of
vs and our demeanour, bee fallen into despayre, and like men
desperate, haue wrongfully accused themselues: but because I may
not consume words in vayne, to stay you by my long discourse
from matters of greater importaunce, I humbly beseech you (right
excellent prince) to commaunde them to tell what thing it is,
which so bitterly doth torment them.” Then the Duke caused one
of the noble men assistaunt there, to demaund of them the
question: Who aunswered that the chiefest occasion was, bicause
they knew their Wyues to be Harlots, whom they supposed to be
very honest: and forsomutch as they knew them to be sutch, they
conceyued sorrow and griefe, which with sutch extremity did
gripe them at the heart, as not able to sustayne that great
Infamy, ashamed to be sene of men, were induced through desire
of death to confesse that they neuer did. Mistresse Isotta
hearing them say so, began to speak agayne, turning hir selfe
vnto them: “Were you offended then at a thynge which yee thought
inconuenient and not meete to be done? Wee then haue greatest
cause to complayne. Why then sweete Husband went you to the
Chaumber of mistresse Lucia at that time of the night? What had
you to do there? What thing thought you to finde there more than
was in your own house? And you Mayster Girolamo, what
constrayned you to forsake your Wyue’s Bed to come to my
Husband’s, where no man euer had, or at this present hath to do
but himselfe? Were not the Sheetes of the one so white, so fine,
neate, and sweete as the other? I am (most noble Prince) sory to
declare my Husbande’s folly, and ashamed that hee should forsake
my Bed to go to an other, that did accompt myselfe so well
worthy to entertayne hym in myne owne, as the best Wyfe in
Venice, and now through his abuse, I abstayne to shewe my selse
amonges the Beautifull, and noble Dames of this Citty. The lyke
misliking of hirselfe is in mistresse Lucia, who (as you see)
may be numbred amongs the fayrest. Eyther of you ought to haue
bene contented with your Wyues, and not (as wickedly you haue
done) to forsake them, to seeke for better breade than is made
of Wheate, or for purer Golde than whereof the Angell is made:
O worthy deede of yours, that haue the Face to leaue your owne
Wyues, that be comely, fayre, and honest, to seeke after
straunge Carrion. O beastly order of Men that cannot conteyne
their lust within the boundes of their owne House, but must goe
hunt after other Women as Beastes do after the nexte of their
kinde that they chaunce vppon. What vile affection possessed
your hearts to lust after others Wyfe? You make complaynte of
vs, but wee with you haue right good cause to be offended,
you ought to bee grieued with your owne disorder, and not with
others offence, and thys your affliction patiently to beare,
bycause you went about to beguile one an other’s Loue, lyke them
that be weary, and Glutted with their owne fare, seekinge after
other daynties more delicate if they were to be founde. But
praysed be GOD and our prouident discretion, if any hurt or
shame hath chaunced, the same doth light on you. Moreouer I know
no cause why men should haue more liberty to doe euill than we
Women haue: albeit through the weaknes and cowardise of our
Sexe, yee men will doe what ye list. But ye be now no Lords,
nor we Seruaunts, and husbands we do you call, bicause the holy
Lawes of Matrimony (which was the first Sacrament giuen by GOD
to Men after the creation of the Worlde) doe require equall
fayth, and so well is the husband bound to the Wyfe as she vnto
him. Go to then and make your complaynt: the next Asse or Beast
ye meete take hir to be your Wyfe. Why do yee not know that the
balance of iustice is equall, and wayeth downe no more of one
side than of other? But let vs nowe leaue of to reason of this
matter, and come to that for which we be come hither. Two things
(most ryghteous Prynce) haue moued vs to come before your
maiesty, and all this honourable assembly, which had they not
bene, we would haue bene ashamed to shewe our Faces, and lesse
presumed to speake or once to open our Lippes in this Noble
audience, which is a place only meete for them that be most
Expert, and eloquent Orators, and not for vs, to whom the
Needle, and Distaffe be more requisite. The first cause that
forced vs to come forth of our owne house, was to let you
understand that our Husbands be no murderers, as is supposed,
neyther of this Gentleman present maister Aloisio, ne yet of any
man els: and thereof we haue sufficient and worthy testimony.
But herein we neede not to trauaile mutch, or to vse many
wordes: for neyther maister Alosio is slayne, ne any other
murdred that is known or manifest hitherto. One thyng resteth,
which is that Madonna Lucia and I do humbly beseech youre
excellente Maiestye, that youre grace and the authoritye of the
right honourable Lords here present, will vouchsafe to reconcile
vs to our husbands, that we may obtayne pardon and fauor at
their handes, bicause we haue so manifestly made their acts to
appeare, and for that we be the offence, and they the
Offendours, and yet by their owne occasions, we haue committed
the Error (if it may be so termed.) And now to come to the
conclusion, I doe remember, sithens I was a Chylde, that I haue
heard the Gentlewoman my mother saye (whose soule God pardon)
many times vnto me, and other my sisters, and to mistresse
Lucia, that was brought vp with vs, being by hir instructed in
diuers good and vertuous Lessons, that all the honor a woman can
doe vnto hir husband, whereby she beautifieth him and his whole
race and family, consisteth in hir honest, chast, and vertuous
lyfe, without which, she oughte rather to die than liue. And
that a Gentleman’s Wyfe when she hath giuen hir body to the vse
of an other man, is the common marke for euery man to point at
in the streate where she goeth, hir husband therby incurring
reproche and shame, whych no doubt is the greatest iniury and
scorne that an honest Gentleman can receiue, and the moste
shamefull reproche that can deface his house. Which Lesson we so
well remembryng, desirous not to suffer the carelesse and
vnbrideled appetites of our husbandes to be vnrained, and runne
at large to some dishonest Ende, by a faithfull and commendable
pollicy, did prouide for the mischyefe that myghte ensue.
I neede not heere rehearse the enimytye and debate that manye
yeares did raigne betweene our husbandes Fathers, bicause it is
knowne to the whole City. Wee too therefore here presente, the
Wiues of those noble Gentlemen, brought vp together from oure
Cradle, perceiuing the malyce betwene our husbandes, made a
vertue of Necessity, deemynge it better for vs to lose our
sweete and auncient conuersation, than to mynister cause of
disquietnesse. But the nearenesse of our houses would not that
naturall hatred shoulde defraude and take away olde ingrafted
amity. Wherefore many times when our Husbands were gone forth,
we met together, and talked in our Gardens, betwene whych there
is but a slender hedge beset with Primme and Roses, which
commoditye in their absence we did discretly vse. And as
sometimes for pleasure we walked with oure husbandes there, ye
(shee turninge vnto them) did cast your eyes vpon ech other’s
wyfe, and were strayghte way in loue, or else perchance you
fained your selues to bee, whych espied by vs, many times
betwene our selues did deuise vppon the same, and red your
amorous letters, and sonnet sent vnto vs. For which disloyalty
and treason toward vs your Wyues, we sought no dishonour to
youre persons, wee were content to suffer you to bee abused with
your fond loue, we blabbed it not abroade to our Gossips, as
many leude and fantasticall women bee wont to doe, thereby to
rayse slaunder to our husbands, and to sturre vp ill reporte
vpon them, whose infirmities it becommeth vs to conceale and
hide. We deuised meanes by some other way to let you understand
your fault, and did cast vpon you many times right louinge
lookes. Which although it were agaynste our owne desire, yet the
cause, and full conclusion of the same, was to practise, if it
were possible, to make you frendes: But consideringe that this
loue, and allurementes of eyther parts, could not tend to other
end, as wee coniectured, but to increase displeasure, and to put
the swords into your handes, we therefore consulted, and
vniformely in one minde agreed for the appeasinge, and
satisfaction of all partes, at sutch nightes as ye fayned to go
into diuers places about earnest affayres as yee alleaged,
Mistresse Lucia with the help of Cassandra my mayde, through the
Gardeine came into my chamber, and I by meanes of Iane hir maide
by like way repayred vnto hirs. And yee poore men guided by our
maydes were brought vnto your chambers where ye lay with your
owne Wyues, and so by tilth of others land in straunge soyle
(as yee beleeued) yee lost no labour. And bicause your
embracements then, were like to those atchieued by amorous
Gentlemen, vsinge vs with more earnest desire than you were wont
to do, both wee were begotten with childe: which ought to be
very gladsome, and gratefull vnto you, if yee were so fayne to
haue children as yee shewed your selues to bee. If then none
other offence doth grieue you, if remorse of Conscience for
other cause doeth not offend you, if none other sorrowe doeth
displease you: gieue ouer your griefe. Remit your displeasure.
Be glad, and ioyfull. Thanke vs for our pollicy and pleasaunt
disport that wee made you. If hitherto yee haue ben enimies,
henceforth be frends, put of that auncient mallice so long
continued, mitigate your hatefull moode, and liue yee from
henceforth like friendly Gentlemen, yelde vp your rancor into
the lap of your Countrey, that shee may put him in exile for
euer, who like a pitifull, and louing mother woulde gladly see
all hir children of one accorde and minde. Which if yee doe,
(ye shall do singulare pleasure to your friendes), ye shall doe
great discomfort to your foes, yee shall do singular good to the
commonwealth, yee shall doe greatest benefit to your selues, ye
shall make vs humble Wyues, yee shall encrease your posterity,
yee shall be praysed of all men, and finally shall depart the
best contented that euer the World brought forth. And now
because yee shall not thinke that wee haue picked out thys Tale
at our fingers ends, thereby to seeke your sauegard and our owne
Fame, and prayse, beholde the letters which you sent vs, beholde
you owne handes subscribed to the same, beholde your seales
assigned thereunto, which shall render true testimony of that
which vnfaynedly we haue affirmed.” Then both deliuered their
letters, which viewed and seene, were well knowne to be their
owne husbandes handes, and the same so well approued hir tale,
as their husbands were the gladdest men of the world and the
Duke and Seignory maruaylously satisfied and contented. In so
mutch as the whole assembly with one voyce, cried out for their
husbands deliueraunce. And so with the consent of the Duke and
the whole seignory they were clearely discharged. The Parents,
Cosins, and Friends of the husbands and wyues were wonderfully
amazed to heere this long hystory, and greatly praysed the maner
of their deliuery, accoumpting the women to be very wise, and
mistresse Isotta to be an eloquent gentlewoman, for that shee
had so well defended the cause of their husbands and of
themselues. Anselmo and Girolamo openly in the presence of all
the people embraced, and kissed their Wyues with great
reioysing. And then the husbands shaked one an other by the
hands, betwene whom began a Brotherly accorde, and from that
time forth liued in perfect amity, and Friendship, exchaunging
the wanton loue that eyther of them bare to other’s wyfe into
Brotherly Friendship, to the great delight of the whole Citty.
When the multitude assembled, to heare this matter throughly was
satisfied, the Duke with cheerefull Countenaunce lookinge toward
Gismonda, sayde thus vnto hir: “And you fayre Gentlewoman, what
haue you to say: Bee bolde to vtter your minde, and wee wil
gladly heare you.” Mistresse Gismonda bashfull to speake, began
wonderfully to blush, into whose cheekes entred an orient rud,
intermixed with an alabaster white, which made her countenaunce
more amiable than it was wont to be. After she had stode still a
while with hir eyes declined towards the ground, in comly wise
lifting them vp againe with shamefast audacity she began thus to
speake: “If I most Noble Prince, in open audience should attempt
to discourse of Loue, whereof I neuer had experience, or knew
what thing it was, I should be doubtfull what to say thereof,
and peraduenture durst not open my mouth at al. But hearing my
father (of worthy memory) many times to tel that your maiesty in
the time of your youth disdained not to open your heart to
receiue the amorous flames of loue, and being assured that there
is none but that doth loue little or mutch, I do not doubt but
for the words which I shal speake, to obtaine both pity and
pardon. To come then to the matter: God I thanke him of his
goodnesse, hath not permitted me to bee one of those women, that
like hipocrites do mumble their Paternoster to saincts:
appearing outwardly to be devout and holy and in Fruict doe
bring forth Deuils, and al kinds of vices, specially
ingratitude, which is a vice that doth suck and dry vp the
fountain of godly Piety. Life is deare to mee (as naturally it
is to all) next which I esteeme myne honor, which is to be
preferred before life, bicause without honor life is of no
regard. And where man and woman do liue in shame notorious to
the world, the same may be termed a liuing death rather than a
life. But the loue that I beare to mine onely beloued Aloisio
here present, I do esteeme aboue al the Iewels and treasures of
the world, whose personage I do regard more than mine owne Lyfe.
The reason that moueth me thereto is very great, for before that
I loued him or euer ment to fixe my mind that way, he dearely
regarded me, continually deuising which way he might win and
obtain my loue, sparing no trauel by Night and Day to seeke the
same. For which tender affection should I shew myself vnkind and
froward? God forbid. And to be playn with your honors, he is
more deare and acceptable vnto me, than the balles of mine own
eyes, being the chiefest things that appertain to the furniture
of the body of man, without which no earthly thing can be
gladsome and ioyful to the sense, and feelinge. Last of all his
amorous, and affectionate demonstration of his loue towards me,
by declaringe himselfe to be carefull of mine honor, rather more
willinge to bestow his owne, than to suffer the same to be
touched with the least suspicion of dishonesty, I can not
choose, but so faythfully imbrace, as I am ready to guage my
life for his sake, rather than his finger shoulde ake for
offence. And where hath there bene euer found sutch liberality
in any louer? What is he that hath bene euer so prodigall,
to employ his life (the most speciall pledge in this worlde,)
rather than hee would suffer his beloued to incurre dishonoure?
Many hystoryes haue I red, and Chronicles of our time, and yet I
haue found few or none comparable vnto thys Gentleman, the like
of whom be so rare and seldome as white Crowes, or Swannes of
colour blacke. O singuler liberality, never hearde of before.
O fact that can neuer be sufficiently praysed. O true loue most
vnfayned. Maister Aloisio rather than he would haue my fame any
one iote to be impayred, or to suffer any shadow of suspition to
bleamish the same, frankly hath confessed himselfe to be a
theefe, and murdrer, regardinge mee and mine honor more than
himselfe, and life. And albeit that he might a thousand wayes
haue saued himselfe without the imprisonment and aduersity which
he hath sustained: neuerthelesse after he had sayd, beinge then
past remembrance through the fall, that he fell downe from my
window, and perceyued how mutch that confession would preiudice
and hurt my good name, and hurt the known honesty of the same,
of his good wyll did chose to dye rather than to speake any
words that might breede yll opinion of mee, or the least thinge
of the worlde that might ingender infamy and slaunder. And
therefore not able to revoke the words hee had spoken of the
fall, nor by any meanes coulde coloure the same, hee thought to
saue the good name of another by his owne hurt. If he then thus
redily and liberally hath protruded his life into manifest
daunger for my benefit and saueguard, preferring mine honour
aboue the care of himselfe, shall not I abandon all that I haue,
yea and therewithall hazard mine honor for his saluation? But
what? Shall I disdayne bountifully to imploy my selfe and all
the endeuor of my Frendes for his deliuery? No, no (my Lords) if
I had a thousand liues, and so many honors at my commaundement,
I woulde giue them al for his releyse and comfort, yea if it
were possible for me to recouer a fresh X.C.M. lyues,
I woulde so frankly bestow them all, as euer I desired to liue,
that I might enioy mine owne Aloisio. But I am sorry, and euer
shal be sorry, for that it is not lawful for me to do more for
him, than that which my power and possibility is able. For if he
should die, truely my life could not endure: if he were depriued
of life, what pleasure should I haue to liue in this world after
him: whereby (moste honorable and righteous iudge,) I beleeue
before the honest, not to loose any one iote of myne honor,
bicause I being (as you may see) a younge Woman and a Widow
desirous to marry againe, it is lawful for me to loue and to bee
beloued, for none other intent (whereof God is the onely iudge)
but to attaine a husbande according to my degre. But if I should
lose my reputation and honor, why should not I aduenture the
same for hym, that hath not spared hys own for me? Now to come
to the effect of the matter, I do say wyth al dutifull
reuerence, that it is an accusation altogither false and vntrue,
that euer mayster Alolsio came to my house as a Theefe against
my wil. For what neede he to be a thefe, or what nede had he of
my goodes, that is a Lorde and owner of twenty times so mutch as
I haue? Alas good Gentleman, I dare depose and guage my lyfe,
that he neuer thoughte mutch lesse dyd any robbery or thing
vnlawful, wherewith iustly he may be charged, but he repayred to
my house with my consent, as a louing and affectionate Louer,
the circumstance whereof, if it be duly marked, must aduouch the
same to be of trouth infallible. For if I had not giuen him
licence to come, how was it possible for him to conuey his
ladder so high, that was made but of Ropes, and to fasten the
same to the iaume of the window, if none within did helpe hym?
Againe, howe could the Window of the Chaumber be open at that
time of the night, which is still kept shut, if it had not bene
by my consent? But I with the helpe of my mayde threwe downe to
him a little Rope, whereunto he tyed his Ladder and drewe the
same vp, and making it so fast, as it could not vndo, gaue a
signe for him to Mounte. But as both our ill Fortune would haue
it, before I could catch any hold of him, to mine inestimable
griefe and hart’s sorrow he fell downe to the ground. Wherefore
(my Lords) I beseech your honours to reuoke the confession
wherein he hath made hymselfe to be a theefe. And you maister
Aloisio declare the trouth as it was, sith I am not ashamed in
this honourable assemble to tel the same. Beholde the letters
(my Lordes) which so many tymes he wrote vnto me, wherein hee
made suite to come to my speache, and continually in the same
doth call me Wyfe. Beholde the Ladder, which till nowe, did
still remayne in my chaumber. Beholde my maide, whych in all
mine affayres, is as it were myne owne hande and helper.”
Aloisio being hereupon demaunded by the Lordes of the articles,
which she in hir tale had recited, confessed them al to be true:
who also at the same instant was discharged. The Duke greatly
commended them both, hir for hir stoute audacity, in defence of
an innocent Gentleman, and him for his honour, and modesty, by
seeking to preserue the Fame and good reporte of a vertuouse
Gentlewoman. Whych done, the Counsell disassembled and brake up.
And the friendes of both the parties accompanied them home to
the house of mistresse Gismonda, where to the great reioyce, and
pleasure of all men, they were solemnely maried in sumptuous and
honourable wise, and Aloisio with hys Wyfe lyued in great
prosperity long time after. Mistresse Lucia, and mistresse
Isotta, at the expyred tyme were deliuered of two goodly sonnes,
in whom the Fathers tooke great Ioy, and delight. Who wyth their
Wyues after that tyme liued very quietly, and well, one louing
an other like naturall Brethren, many times sporting among
themselues discretely at the deceipts of their Wyues. The
wisedome of the Duke also was wonderfully extolled and commended
of all men, the fame whereof was increased and bruted throughout
the Region of Italy. And not without cause. For by hys prudence
and aduise, the Dominion of the State, and Common wealth was
amplified and dilated. And yet in th’ende being old and
impotent, they vnkindly deposed him from his Dukedom.
THE TWENTY-SEVENTH NOUELL.
_The Lorde of Virle, by the commaundement of a fayre younge
Wydow called Zilia, for hys promise made, the better to
attaine hir loue, was contented to remayne dumbe the space of
three yeares, and by what meanes he was reuenged, and obtayned
hys suite._
They that haue spent their youth in humayne follies, and haue
followed the Vanities of loue, not addicted to the contemplation
of high secrets, nor haue made entry here on Earth, to inlarge
and amplyfy the boundes of their honor and Estimation. Those
Worldlings (I say) and embracers of transitory pleasures, shall
witnesse with me, and confirme, this olde and auncient Theme and
proposition to be true which is: that the Beauty, and comely
grace of a Woman, is the very true and naturall adamant (for the
attractiue power, and agreeable quality there inclosed,) to draw
vnto it the hearts, and affections of men: which hath made man
beleue, that the same onely essence, was sent downe from aboue
to serue both for ioy and torment together. For the amplyfyinge
of which proposition, I will not bring forth, the immoderate
loue of Paris by forsaking his owne Natiue country of Troy, to
visite fayre Helena in Greece, nor yet tell how Hercules gaue
ouer his mace to handle the Distaffe, vpon the commaundement of
Omphale, nor yet how Sampson and Salomon were sotted in the
slaueries of Dalida and other concubines. But my discourse here
folowing shall ring out a loud Peale, of a meane Gentlewoman,
of Piedmount, that shewed no fauor or Curtesy at all to her
suppliant, a Gentleman not inferior to Paris for his actiuity
and prowesse: which for her seruice and atchyeues of her loue,
refused not to bee dombe the space of many yeares, and to giue
ouer the best porcion of his sences wherewith the Almighty, made
Man differente from brute and sauage Beastes. If this thing
declare not sufficiently the force and power of that attractiue
and drawing power in woman, no other example is worthy to be
preferred. Those aforesayd and many other haue voluntarily
yoaked themselues in the chains of loue’s obedience, rendreth
the masse of their mirye corps to the slauery thereof, but that
any haue franckely tyed vp their Tongue, the chiefest Instrument
of the bodies furniture: in honorable assembly or where
dexterity of seruice shoulde make him glorious, the like of that
subiection was neuer seene or founde. And yet our fathers dayes
did see this miracle wrought by a Woman, vpon a Gentleman very
wise, and well trained vp in all good exercyse. This example,
and what this Malapert Dame did gaine, by the penance of this
louing knight, shal in this discourse be manifestly pronounced.
The City of Thurin (as is well knowne to them that haue
trauelled Piedmont) is the ornament and bulwark of al the
Countrey, so well for the natural site of the place, as for the
artificial and industrious worke of man’s hande, which hath
instaured and furnished with great magnificence, that which
nature had indifferently enryched, for the rudenesse and litle
knowledg of the time past. Now besides this stately and strong
city, there standeth a litle towne named Montcall, a place no
lesse strong, and of good defence, than wel planted in a faire
and rich soyle. In this Towne there dwelt a Gentlewoman a widow
called Zilia, beautiful amongs the most excellent fayre
Gentlewomen of the countrey, which country (besides other happy
and heauenly influences) seemeth to be specially fauored, for
hauing the most fairest and curteous Gentlewomen, aboue any
other within the compasse of Europa. Notwithstanding this faire
Silia, degenerating from the nature of hir climate was so
haggard and cruel, as it might haue ben thought, she had ben
rather nourished and brought vp amid the most desert mountaines
of Sauoy, than in the pleasant and rich Champian Countreye,
watred and moystened with Eridanus, the father of Riuers, at
this Day called the Pau, the largenesse whereof doth make men to
maruel, and the fertility allureth ech man to be desirous to
inhabit vpon the same. This fayre rebellious Widow, albeit,
that she was not aboue XXIV. or XXV. yeres of age, yet
protested neuer more to be subiect to man, by mariage, or
otherwise, thinking her selfe wel able to liue in single life:
a Minde truly very holy and commendable, if the pricks of the
flesh do obey the first motions and adhortations of the spirit,
but where youth, pleasure, and multitude of suters do addresse
their endeuour against that chastity (which is lightly
enterprysed) the Apostels counsel oughte to be followed, who
willeth yong widows to marry in Christ, to auoid the temptations
of the flesh, and to flye offensiue slaunder and dishonour
before men. This mistresse Zilia (hir husband being dead) only
bent hir selfe to enrich hir house, and to amplify the
possession of a little infant which she had by hir late departed
Husband. After whose death she became so couetous, as hauing
remoued, and almost cut of quite the wonted port she vsed in hir
husband’s dayes, imployed hir maids in houshold affaires,
thinking nothing to be wel don that passed not through hir owne
Handes. A thinge truely more prayse worthy, than to see a sorte
of effeminate, fine and daynty fyngred Dames, that thinke their
honor diminished yf they holde but their Nose ouer theyr
Housholde Matters, where theyr Hande and Dylygence were more
requisite, for so mutch as the mystresse of a House is not
placed the Cheyfe to heare onely the reasons of them that Labor,
but thereunto to put hir hands, for hir presente eye seemeth to
giue a certyn perfection to the worke that the Seruauntes doe by
hir commaundement. Which caused the Hystoryans in tymes past, to
describe vnto the Posterity a Gentlewoman called Lucretia,
not babbling amongs young girles, or running to feastes and
Maigames, or Masking in the night, withoute any regard of the
honor and dygnitye of hir race and house, but in hir Chaumber
Sowing, Spinning and Carding, amids the Troup of hir Mayden
Seruaunts: wherein our mistresse Zilia passed the moste part of
hir time, spending no minute of the day, without some honest
exercise, for that she the rather did for that she liked not to
be seene at Feasts, or Bankets, or to be gadding vp and downe
the streetes, wandring to Gardeyns or places of pleasure,
although to sutch places youth sometimes may haue their honest
repayre to refresh their wearied bodies with vertuous
recreation, and thereby reioyce the heauinesse of their mynde.
But this Gentlewoman was so seuere in following the rigorous,
and constrayned maners of our auncients, as impossible it was,
to see hir abroade: except it were when she went to the Church
to heare deuine seruice. This Gentlewoman seemed to haue studied
the diuinity of the Ægyptians which paynt Venus holding a key
before hir mouth, and setting hir Fote vpon a Tortus, signifying
vnto us thereby the duety of a chaste Woman, whose tongue ought
to bee locked, that shee speak not but in tyme and place, and
her feete not straying or wandering, but to keepe hir selfe
within the limits of hir owne house, except it be to serue God,
and sometimes to render bounden duety to them which brought them
into light. Moreouer Zilia was so religious (I will not say
superstitious) and rigorous to obserue customes, as she made it
very squeimish and straung to kisse a Gentleman that met hir,
a ciuility which of long time hath bene obserued, and yet
remayneth in the greatest parte of the Worlde, that Gentlewomen
do welcome straungers and Guests into their houses with an
honest and chaste kisse. Notwithstandinge the institution and
profession of this Wyddow had wiped away this poyncte of hir
youth: whether it were for that she esteemed hirselfe so fayre
as all men were vnworthy to touch the vtter partes of so rare
and pretious a vessell, or that hir great, and inimitable
chastity made hir so straunge, to refuse that which hir duety
and honour woulde haue permitted hir to graunt. There chaunced
about this time that a Gentleman of the Countrey, called Sir
Philiberto of Virle, esteemed to be one of the most valiaunt
gentlemen in those parts, repayred vpon an holy day to Montcall,
(whose house was not very farre of the Towne) and being at
diuine seruice, in place of occupying his Sence and Mynde in
heauenly things, and attending the holy words of a Preacher,
which that day declared the worde of God vnto the people, hee
gaue himselfe to contemplate the excellent beauty of Zilia, who
had put of for a while hir mourninge vayle, that she might the
better beholde the good father that preached, and receyue a
little ayre, because the day was extreme hot. The Gentleman at
the first blushe, when hee sawe that sweete temptation before
his eyes, thought himselfe rapt aboue the thirde heauen, and not
able to withdraw his looke, he fed himselfe with the Venome
which by little, and little, so seased vpon the soundest parts
of hys mynde, as afterwards being rooted in heart, he was in
daunger still to remayne there for a Guage, wythout any hope of
ease or comforte, as more amply this followinge discourse, shall
giue you to vnderstande. Thus all the morning hee behelde the
Gentlewoman, who made no more accoumpt of theym, that wyth great
admiration did behold hir, than they themselues did of their
life, by committing the same to the handes of a Woman so cruell.
This Gentleman being come home to his lodging enquired what
fayre Wyddow that was, of what calling, and behauiour, but hee
heard tell of more truely than he would of good will haue known
or desired to haue ben in hir, whom he did presently chose to be
the only mistresse of his most secret thoughts. Now
vnderstandynge well the stubburne Nature, and vnciuile Manner of
that Wyddowe, hee coulde not tell what parte to take, nor to
what Sainct to vow his Deuotion, to make suite vnto hir hee
thought it tyme lost, to bee hir Seruaunt, it was not in his
power, hauing already inguaged his Lyberty into the handes of
that beauty, whych once holding captiue the hearte of men, will
not infraunchise them so soone as Thought and Wyll desire.
Wherefore baytinge hymself with hope, and tickled wyth loue, he
determined whatsoeuer chaunced, to loue hir, and to assay if by
long seruice he could lenifie that harde hearte, and make tender
that vnpliaunt wyll, to haue pitty vppon the payne which shee
saw him to endure, and to recompence hys laboursome Trauayles,
which hee thought were vertuously imployed for gayning of hir
good grace. And vpon this settled deliberation, he retired
agayne to Virle (so was his house named) where disposinge hys
thinges in order, he retorned agayne to Montcall to make his
long resiaunce there, to put in readines his furniture, and to
welde his artillary with sutch industry, as in the ende he might
make a reasonable breach to force and take the place: for
surprising whereof, hee hazarded great daungers, the rather that
himselfe might first be taken. And where his assaults and
pollicies could not preuayle, hee minded to content his Fancy
wyth the pleasure and pastyme that hee was to receyue in the
contemplation of a thing so fayre, and of an image so excellent.
The memory of whom rather increased his paine than yelded
comfort, did rather minister corrosiue poyson, than giue remedy
of ease, a cause of more cruell and sodayne death, than of
prolonged lyfe. Philiberto then being become a citizen of
Montcal, vsed to frequent the Church more than hee was wont to
doe, or his deuotion serued hym, and that bycause he was not
able elsewhere to enioy the presence of hys Saynct, but in
places and Temples of Deuotion: which no doubt was a very holy
and worthy Disposition, but yet not meete or requisite to
obserue sutch holy places for those intentes, which ought not to
bee prophaned in things so fonde and foolishe, and Actes so
contrary to the Institution, and mynde of those, whych in tymes
past were the firste Founders and Erectoures of Temples.
Seignior Philiberto then mooued wyth that Religious
Superstition, made no Conscience at al to speake vnto hir wythin
the Church. And true it is, when she went out of the same, he
(mooued wyth a certayne familiar curtesie, naturall to eche
Gentleman of good bringing vp) many tymes conducted hir home to
hir house, not able for all that (what so euer hee sayd) to win
the thing that was able to ingender any little solace, which
greeued him very much: for the cruell woman fained as though she
vnderstoode nothing of that he sayde, and turnyng the Wayne
agaynst the Oxen, by contrary talke shee began to tell hym a
tale of a Tubbe, of matters of hir Householde, whereunto hee
gaue so good heede, as shee did to the hearing of his
complaynts. Thus these two, of diuers Affections, and mooued
wyth contrary thoughtes, spake one to another, without apt
aunswere to eyther’s talke. Whereby the Gentleman conceyued an
assured argument of hys Ruine, who voyde of all hope, and
meanes, practised with certayne Dames of the Citty, that had
familiar accesse vnto hyr house, and vsed frequent conuersation
wyth hys rebellious Lady Zilia. To one of them, then hee
determined to communicate hys secrets, and to doe hir to
vnderstand in deede the only cause that made him to soiorne at
Montcall, and the griefe which he suffered, for that he was not
able to discouer his torment vnto hir, that had giuen him the
wounde. Thys Gentleman therefore, repayred to one of his
neyghbours, a Woman of good corage, which at other tymes had
experimented what meates they feede on that sit at Venus Table,
and what bitternesse is intermingled amid those drinckes that
Cupido quaffeth vnto hys Guestes. Vnto whom (hauing before
coniured hir to keepe close that whych hee woulde declare) he
discouered the secrets of hys mynde, expressinge hys loue
wythout naming hys Lady before he heard the aunswere of hys
Neyghbour, who vnderstanding almost to what purpose the
affections of the Pacient were directed, sayd vnto hym: “Sir,
needful it is not to vse longe orations, the loue that I beare
you for the honest qualities whych hytherto I haue knowne to be
in you, shall make me to keepe silent, that whereof as yet I do
not know the matter, and the assuraunce you haue, not to bee
abused by mee, constrayneth me to warrant you, that I wyll not
spare to do you all the pleasure and honest seruice I can.”
“Ah mistresse,” (aunswered sir Philiberto) “so long as I lyue,
I will not fayle to acknowledge the Liberality of your endeuour
by offeringe your selfe paciently to heare, and secretly, to
keepe the Words I speake accordingly as they deserue: and that
(whych is more than I require) you doe assure me that I shall
finde sutch one of you as wil not spare to gieue your ayde.
Alas, I resemble the good and wyse Captayne, who to take a forte
doeth not only ayde himselfe with the forwardnesse, and
valiaunce of his Souldiers, but to spare them, and to auoyde
slaughter for makinge of way, planteth his cannon, and battereth
the Walle of the fort, which hee would assaile, to the intent
that both the Souldier, and the ordinaunce may perfourme and
suffise the perfection of the plat, which hee hath framed and
deuised within his pollitike heade. I haue already encouraged my
souldiers, and haue lost the better part truely in the skirmish
which hath deliuered vnto mee my sweete cruell Ennimy. Now I am
driuen to make ready the fire, which resteth in the kindled
match of your conceiptes, to batter the fort hitherto
inexpugnable, for any assault that I can make.” “I vnderstand
not” (sayd she smilyng) “these labyrynths of your complaynts,
except you speake more playn. I neuer haunted the Warres, ne
knewe what thynge it is to handle weapons, improper and not
seemely for myne estate and kynde.” “The Warre” (quod he)
{“}whereof I speake, is so naturall and common, as I doubt not,
but you haue sometymes assayed, with what sleightes and
camisados men vse to surpryse their enimies, howe they plant
their ambushes, and what meanes both the assaylant and defendant
ought to vse.” “So far as I see” (sayd shee) “there resteth
nothing for vs, but the assurance of the field, sith wee bee
ready to enter in combat: and doe thinke that the fort shall not
bee harde to winne, by reason of the Walles, dikes, rampers,
bulwarks, platformes, counterforts, curtines, vamewres and
engins which you haue prepared, besides a numbre of false brayes
and flanks, placed in good order, and the whole defended from
the thundringe Cannons and Bombardes, which do amaze the
wandring enemy in the field. But I pray you leauing these
warlike Tumults, to speak more boldly without these
extrauagantes and digressions, for I take pitye to see you thus
troubled: ready to exceede the boundes of your modesty and
wonted wysedome.” “Do not maruell at all mistresse” (quod he)
“sith accordynge to new occurrentes and alterations, the
purpose, talke, and counsel ordinarily do change I am become the
seruaunt of one which maketh me altogither lyke vnto those that
bee madde, and bound in Chaines, not able to speake or say any
thing, but what the spyrites that be in them, do force them to
vtter. For neither will I thynke, or speake any thing, but that
which the Enchaunter Loue doth commaunde and suffer to expresse,
who so rygorously doth vexe my hearte, as in place wher
bouldenesse is most requysite, hee depriueth me of force, and
leaueth mee without any Countenance. And being alone, God
knoweth how frankly I doe wander in the place, where myne enemy
may commaunde, and with what hardinesse I do inuade hir
prouince. Alas, is it not pity then to see these diuersities in
one selfe matter, and vpon one very thing? Truely I would endure
wyllingly all these trauailes, if I wyst in the end, my seruice
woulde be accepted, and hoped that my Martirdome shoulde fynde
releefe: but liuing in this vncertainty, I must needes norysh
the hunger and solace of the vnhappy, which are wishes and vaine
hopes, trusting that some God wyll gayne me a faythful friend
that will assaye to rid me from the hell, into the which I am
throwne, or else to shorten thys Miserable lyfe, whych is a
hundred tymes more paynfull than Death.” In sayinge so, he began
to sighe so straungely as a man would haue thought that two
Smithes sledges working at the forge, had gyuen two blowes at
his stomake, so vehement was the inclosed winde within his
heart, that made him to fetche forth those terrible sighes,
the Eyes not forgetting to yeld forth a Riuer of Teares, which
gushynge forthe at the centre of hys Hearte, mounted into his
Braynes, at lengthe to make issue through the Spoute, proper to
the Chanell of sutch a Fountayne. Which the Gentlewoman seyng,
moued with compassion, coulde not contain also from Weepyng,
and therewythall sayde vnto him: “Although mine estate and
reputation, which to this day I have kept vnspotted, defend the
vse of my good wyl in al things that may defame mine honor, yet
sir, seing the extremity which you suffer to be vnfained, I wil
somwhat stretch my conscience, and assay to succor you with so
good heart, as frankely you trust me with the secrets of your
thought. It resteth then now for me to know what she is, to
whome your deuocions be inclined whose heart and mind I wil so
relief with the taste of your good wil, as I dare giue warrant,
her appetit shal accept your profred seruice, and truly that
woman may count her self happy that shal intertain the offer of
a gentleman that is so honest and curteous, who meaneth with al
fidelity to aduance and honor, not onely the superficial
ornament of hir beauty, but the inward vertues of hir constant
mind. And truly the earth seldom yeldeth those frutes in the
harts of men in these our barren days, they being ouer growen
with the shrubbes of disloialty the same choke vp the plantes of
true Fidelity, the sedes whereof are sowen and replanted in the
soyle of womens hartes, who not able to depart and vse the force
and effects thereof will put vpon them conditions that bee
cruell, to punish the Foolysh indiscreation of tryfling Louers,
who disguised with the vizard of fained friendship, and paynted
with coloured Amity, languishing in sighes and sorrowes, goe
aboute to assay to deceiue the flexible Nature of them that
prodigally employ theyr honor into the hands of sutch cruel,
inconstante and foolysh suters.” “Ah Mistresse” answered the
Gentleman: “howe may I bee able to recompence that onely
benefite which you promyse me now? But be sure that you see
heere a Souldier and Gentleman presente which shall no lesse bee
prodigall of hys Lyfe to doe you seruyce, than you bee lyberall
of your reputation, to ease his Paines. Now sith it pleaseth you
to shew sutch fauour to offer me your helpe and support in that
which payneth me, I require no more at your hands, but to beare
a letter which I shall wryte to mystresse Zilia, with whome I am
so farre in loue, as if I do receiue no solace of my griefe,
I know not howe I shall auoyde the cuttyng of the Threede, whych
the spynning systers haue twisted to prolonge my lyfe, that
henceforth can receiue no succor if by your meanes I do not
atchieue the thing that holdeth me in bondage.” The Gentlewoman
was very sorrowful, when she vnderstoode that Seignior
Philiberto had bent his Loue vpon sutch one, as would not
consente to that requeste, and mutch lesse would render rest
vnto hys myseryes, and therefore enforced hir selfe to moue that
Foolyshe Fantasye out of his head. But he beyng already resolued
in thys myshappe, and the same perceyued by her in the ende she
sayde: “To the intente sir that you may not thynke that I doe
meane to excuse the Satysfactyon of my promyse, make youre
Letters, and of my Fayth I wil delyuer them. And albeyt I knowe
verye well what bee the Honoures and Glorye of that Pylgryme,
yet I wyll render to you agayne the true aunswere of hir speache
whereby you maye consider the gayne you are lyke to make, by
pursuing a Woman (although faire) of so small desert.” The
Gentleman fayled not to gyue her heartye Thankes, prayinge hir
to tarry vntyll hee had written his letters: whereunto she most
willingly obeyed. He then in his chaumber, began to fantasie a
hundred hundred matters to write vnto his Mistresse, and after
he had fixed theym in minde tooke Incke and Paper writing as
followeth.
_The Letters of Seignior Philiberto of Virle, to Mistresse
Zelia of Montcall._
“The passion extreeme which I endure, (Madame) through the
feruent loue I beare you, is sutch, as besides that I am assured
of the little affection that resteth in you towards me agayne,
in respect of that incredible seruitude which my desire is ready
to employ, I haue no power to commaunde my force, ne yet to rid
my selfe from my vowed deuotion and will to your incomparable
beauty, although euen from the beginning I felt the pricks of
the mortall shot which now torments my mynde. Alas, I do not
know vnder what influence I am borne, nor what Fate doth guide
my yeares, sith I doe perceyue that heauen, and loue, and hir
whom alone I honor, doe confirme themselues with one assent to
seeke myne ouerthrow. Alas, I thinke that all the powers aboue
conspired together, to make me be the faythfull man, and
perpetuall seruaunt of you my mistresse deare, to whom alone,
I yelde my heart afflicted as it is, and the ioy of hidden
thoughts noursed in my minde, by the contemplation and
remembraunce of your excellent and perfect graces, whereof, if I
be not fauored, I waight for death, from whych euen now I fly:
not for feare of that whych she can doe, or of the vgly shape
which I conceyue to be in hir, but rather to confirme my life,
this Body for instrument to exercise the myndes conceypts for
doinge your Commaundements, which Body I greatly feare shall
proue the vnworthy cruelty, both of your gentle nouriture, and
of those graces which Dame Nature most aboundantly hath powred
in you. Be sure Madame that you shall shortlye see the Ende of
him, which attendeth yet to beare so mutch as in him doeth lye,
the vehement loue into an other world, which maketh me to pray
you to haue pity on him, who (attending the rest and final
sentence of his Death or Lyfe) doth humbly kisse your white and
delicate handes, beseeching God to giue to you like ioy as his
is, who desireth to be,
Wholy yours or not to be at all
Philiberto of Virle.{”}
The Letter written, closed and sealed, he deliuered to his
neighbour, who promysed hym agayne to bryng him answere at
Night. Thus this Messenger went hir way, leauing this pore
languishyng Gentlemen hoping against hope, and fayning by and by
some ioy and pleasure, wherein he bained himself with great
contented minde. Then sodaynly he called againe vnto
remembraunce, the cruelty and inciuility of Zilia, which shewed
before his eyes so many kindes of Death, as tymes he thought
vpon the same, thinking that he saw the choler wherewith his
little curteous mistresse furiously did intertaine the
messenger, who findinge Zilia comming forth of a garden
adioining to her house, and hauing saluted her, and receiued
like curteous salutation would haue framed hir talke, by honest
excuse in the vnsemely charge and message: to hir vnto whom she
was sent, and for some ease to the pore gentleman which
approched nearer death than life. But Zilia break of hir talke
saying: “I maruell mutch Gentle neighbor to see you heere at
this time of the day, knowing your honest custome is to let
passe no minute of the tyme, except it be emploied in some
vertuous exercise.” “Mistresse” answered the messanger, “I thank
you for the good opinion you haue of me, and doe pray you to
continue the same. For I do assure you that nothinge vayne or of
lyttle effect hath made me slacke my businesse at this time,
which me think I do not forslow, when I inforce my selfe to take
pitye and mercy vpon the afflicted and the substaunce thereof I
woulde disclose, if I feared not to offend you, and break the
loue which of long tyme betweene vs two hath ben frequented.”
“I know not” (said Zilia) “whereunto your words do tend,
althoughe my Hearte doth throbbe, and minde doth moue to make
mee thinke your purposed talke to bee of none other effecte,
than to say a thing which may redound to the preiudice of myne
honour. Wherefore I pray you do not disclose what shall be
contrary, (be it neuer so little) to the duety of Dames of our
Degree.” “Mystresse” sayd the Neighboure, “I suppose that the
lyttle Lykelihoode touchyng in you the thinge for the helpe
whereof I come, hath made you feele some passion, contrary to
the greefe of him that indures so mutch for your sake. Vnto
whome without feare of your dyspleasure, I gaue my Faithe in
Pledge to beare this Letter.” In saying so, she drewe the same
out of hir Bosome, and presentyng it to cruell Silia, shee
sayde: “I beseeche you to thynke that I am not ignoraunt of the
evyll wherewyth the Lorde of Virle is affected, who wrote these
letters. I promysed him the duety of a Messanger towards you:
and so constrayned by promyse I could doe no lesse, than to
delyuer you that which hee doeth sende, with Seruyce sutch as
shall endure for euer, or yf it shall please you to accept him
for sutch a one as hee desireth to be. For my parte I onelye
praye you to reade the Contentes, and accordynglye to gyue mee
Aunswere: for my Fayth is no further bounde, but trustelye to
report to hym the thinge whereuppon you shall bee resolued.”
Zilia which was not wonte to receyue very ofte sutch Ambassades,
at the firste was in mind to breake the Letters, and to retourne
the Messanger wythout aunswere to hir shame. But in the Ende
takyng Heart, and chaunging hir affectyon, she red the Letters
not without shewing some very great alteration outwardely, which
declared the meanynge of hir thought that diuersly did stryue
wythin hir mynde: for sodaynly shee chaunged her Coloure twyce
or thryce, nowe waxing pale lyke the increasynge Moone Eclypsed
by the Sunne, when shee feeleth a certayne darkenynge of hir
borowed Lyghte, then the Vermylyon and coloured Taynte came into
hir Face agayne, wyth no lesse hewe than the blomed Rose newelye
budded forthe, whych Encreased halfe so mutch agayne, the
excellencye of that wherewyth Nature had indued hir. And then
she paused a whyle. Notwythstandynge, after that shee had red,
and red agayne hir Louer’s letter, not able to dissemble hir
foolishe anger which vexed hir heart, shee sayde vnto the
mistresse messanger: “I would not haue thought that you, being a
woman of good fame would (by abusinge your duety,) haue bene the
ambassador of a thing so vncomely for your Estate, and the house
where of you come, and towards me which neuer was sutch one
(ne yet pretend to be.) And trust me it is the loue I beare you,
which shall for this tyme make me dissemble what I thincke,
reseruinge in silence, that whych (had it come from an other)
I would haue published to the great dishonour of hir that maketh
so little accoumpt of my chastity. Let it suffice therefore in
tyme to come for you to thinke and beleue, that I am chaste and
honest: and to aduertise the Lord of Virle to proceede no
further in his sute: for rather will I dy, than agree to the
least poynct of that which hee desires of mee. And that he may
knowe the same, be well assured that hee shall take his leaue of
that priuate talke which sometimes I vsed with him to my great
dishonor, as far as I can see. Get you home therefore, and if
you loue your credit so mutch, as you see me curious of my
chastity, I beseech you vse no further talke of hym, whom I hate
so mutch, as his folly is excessiue, for I do little esteeme the
amorous Toyes and fayned passions, whereunto sutch louinge
fooles doe suffer themselues to be caried headlong.” The
messenger ashamed to heare hir selfe thus pinched to the quicke,
aunswered hir very quietly without mouing of hir pacience:
“I pray to God (mistresse) that he may recouer the different
disease al most incurable in eyther of you twayne, the same
being so vehement, as altered into a phrenesie, maketh you in
this wyse, incapable of reason.” Finishing these wordes she
tooke hir leaue of Zilia, and arriued to the Louer’s house,
she founde him lying vpon his bed, rather dead than a liue: who
seeing his neyghbor returned backe agayne, with Face so sadde,
not tarying for the aunswere which she was about to make, he
began to say: “Ah infortunate Gentleman, thou payest wel the
vsury of thy pleasures past when thou diddest lyue at lyberty,
free from those trauayles which now do put thee to death,
without suffering thee to dy. Oh happy, and more than happy had
I ben, if inconstant Fortune had not deuised this treason,
wherein I am surprised and caught, and yet no raunsome can
redeeme from prison, but the most miserable death that euer
poore louer suffred. Ah Mistresse, I knowe well that Zilia
esteemeth not my Letters, ne yet regardeth my loue, I confesse
that I haue done you wrong by thus abusing your honest amity,
for the solace of my payne. Ah fickle loue, what foole is hee
which doth commit hymselfe to the rage and fury of the Waues of
thy foming and tempestuous Seas? Alas I am entred in, with
great, and gladsome cheere, through the glistering shew before
myne eyes of the faynt shining Sunne beames, whereunto as soone
as I made sayle, the same denied me light of purpose to thrust
me forth into a thousand winds, tempests, and raging stormes of
Rayne. By meanes whereof I see no meane at all to hope for end
of my mishaps: and mutche lesse the shipwracke that sodainely
may rid me from this daunger more intollerable, than if I were
ouerwhelmed wythin the bottomlesse depth of the mayne Ocean. Ah
deceyuer and wily Souldiour, why hast thou made me enterprise
the voyage farre of from thy solitudes and Wildernesse, to geue
me ouer in the middest of my necessity? Is this thy maner
towards them which franckly followe thy tract, and pleasauntly
subdue themselues to thy trayterous follies? At least wyse if I
sawe some hope of health would indure without complaynt thereof:
yea, and it were a more daungerous tempest. But O good God, what
is he of whom I speake? Of whom do I attend for solace and
releefe? Of him truely which is borne for the ouerthrow of men.
Of whom hope I for health? Of the most noysom poyson that euer
was mingled with the subtilest druggs that euer were. Whom shall
I take to be my Patron? He which is in ambush traiterously to
catch me, that he may martir me worsse than he hath done before.
Ah cruell Dame, that measurest so euill, the good will of him
that neuer purposed to trespasse the least of thy
commaundements. Ah, that thy beauty should finde a Subiect so
stubborne in thee, to torment them that loue and honor thee.
O maigre and vnkinde recompence, to expell good seruaunts that
be affectionate to a seruice so iust and honest. Ah Basiliske,
coloured ouer with pleasure and swetnesse, how hath thy sight
dispersed his poyson throughout mine heart? At least wise if I
had some drugge to repell thy force, I should liue at ease, and
that without this sute and trouble. But I feele and proue that
this sentence is more than true:
No physicke hearbes the griefe of loue can cure,
Ne yet no drugge that payne can well assure.
Alas, the seare cloath will not serue, to tent the wound the
time shall be but lost, to launch the sore, and to salue the
same it breeds myne ouerthrow. To be short, any dressing can not
auayle, except the hand of hir alone which gaue the wounde.
I woulde to God shee sawe the bottome of my heart, and viewed
the Closet of my mynde, that shee might iudge of my firme fayth
and know the wrong she doth me by hir rigor and froward will.
But O vnhappy man, I feele that she is so resolued in obstinate
mynde, as hir rest seemeth only to depend vpon my payne, hir
ease vpon my griefe, and hir ioy vpon my sadnesse.” And saying
so, began straungly to weepe, and sighing betwene, lamented,
in so mutch as, the mistresse messaunger not able to abide the
griefe and paynefull trauayle wherein shee saw the poore
gentleman wrapped, went home to hir house: notwithstanding she
told afterward the whole successe of his loue to a Gentleman,
the friend of Philiberto. Now this Gentleman was a companion in
armes to the Lorde of Virle, and a very familyar Freend of his,
that went about by all meanes to put away those foolishe, and
Franticke conceypts out of his fansie, but hee profited as mutch
by his endeuour, as the passionate gayned by his heauines: who
determining to dye, yelded so mutch to care and grief, as he
fell into a greeuous sicknes, which both hindred him from
sleepe, and also his Appetite to eate and drinke, geuing
himselfe to muse vppon his follies, and fansied dreames, without
hearing or admitting any man to speake vnto hym. And if
perchaunce hee hearkened to the persuasions of his frends, he
ceassed not his complaynt, bewayling the cruelty of one, whom he
named not. The Phisitians round about were sought for, and they
coulde geue no iudgement of his malady (neyther for all the
Signes they saw, or any inspection of his Vrine, or touching of
his pulse) but sayd that it was melancholie humor distilling
from the Brayne, that caused the alteration of his sense:
howbeit their Arte and knowledge were void of skil to evacuate
the grosse Bloud that was congeled of his disease. And therefore
dispayryng of his health, with hands full of Money, they gaue
him ouer. Which his friend and Companion perceiuing, maruellous
sorry for his affliction he ceased not to practise all that he
could by Letters, gifts, promises and complaynts to procure
Zilia to visite her pacient. For hee was assured that her onely
presence was able to recouer him. But the cruell woman excused
hir self that she was a Widow and that it shoulde bee vnseemely
for one of hir degree (of intente) to visite a Gentleman, whose
Parentage and Alliance she knew not. The soliciter of the Lord
of Virle his health, seeing how lyttle hys prayers auailed to
his implacable gryefe could not tell to what Sainct he might vow
himself for Counsell, in the ende resolued to sollicite hir
again that hadde done the first Message, that she myght eftsons
deuise some meanes to bryng them to speake togither. And fynding
hir for hys purpose, thus he sayed vnto hir: “Mystresse I
maruell mutch that you make so little accompt of the pore lorde
of Virle who lyeth in his Bedde attending for Death. Alas, if
euer pitty had place in Woman’s heart, I beseech you to gyue
your ayde to help him, the meane of whose recouery, is not
ignoraunt vnto you.” “God is my witnesse” (quod she) “what
trauaile my heart is willing to vndertake to helpe that
Gentleman, but in things impossible, it is not in man to
determine, or rest assured iudgement. I wil go vnto him and
comfort hym so well as I can, that peraduenture my Promyses may
ease some part of his payne: and afterward we wil at leysure
better consider, what is best for vs to do.” Herevppon they
wente together to see the Pacient, that beganne to looke more
chearefull than he dyd before: who seeing the Gentlewoman, said
vnto hir: “Ah mistres, I would to God I had neuer proued your
fidelity, then had I not felt the passing cruell Heart of hir,
that esteemeth more hir honour to practise rigour and tyranny
than with gentlenesse to maintaine the Lyfe of a pore feeble
knight.” “Sir,” (said she,) “be of good cheare, doe not thus
torment your selfe: for I trust to gyue you remedy betwene thys
and to morrowe, and wyll doe myne endeuor to cause you to speake
with hir, vppon whome wrongfully perchaunce you doe complayne,
and who dare not come vnto you, least ill speakers conceiue
occasion of suspicion, who wil make the report more slaunderous,
then remedie for the cause of your disease.” “Ah” (sayd the
pacient) “howe ioyefull and pleasaunt is your talke? I see wel
that you desire my health, and for that purpose would haue me
drinke those liquors, which superficiallay appeare to bee
sweete, which afterwardes may make my lyfe a hundred tymes more
faint and feeble than now it is.” “Be you there,” sayed she?
“And I sweare vnto you by my faith not to faile to keepe my
promyse, to cause you speake alone with mistresse Zilia.” “Alas,
mistresse” sayd the louer, “I aske no more at your haudes, that
I may heare with myne own eares the last sentence of hope or
defiance.” “Well put your trust in me,” sayd she, “and take no
thought but for your health. For I am assured ere it be longe,
to cause hir to come vnto you, and then you shall see whether,
my diligence shall aunswere the effect of myne attempt.” “Me
thinke already” (quod he) “that sicknesse is not able to stay me
from going to hir that is the cause, sith her onely remembraunce
hath no lesse force in mee, than the clearnesse of the Sun
beames to euaporate the thicknesse of the morning mistes.” With
that the Gentlewoman tooke her leaue of hym, and went home
attendynge oportunity to speake to Zilia, whome two or three
Dayes after she mette at Church, and they two beyng alone
togither in a Chapell, she sayd vnto hir with fayned Teares,
forced from her Eyes, and sending forth a Cloude of sighes,
these woordes: “Madame, I nothing doubt at al, but the last
Letters which I brought you, made you conceiue some il opinion
of me, which I do guesse by the frownyng countenance that euer
sithens you haue borne me. But when you shall knowe the hurte
which it hath done, I thinke you wyll not be so harde, and voyde
of pitye, but with pacyence hearken that whych I shall saye, and
therewythall bee moued to pitye the state of a pore Gentleman,
who by your meanes is in the pangs of death.” Zilia, which til
then neuer regarded the payne and sicknesse of the pacient,
began to sorrow, with sutch passion, as not to graunt him
further fauor than he had already receiued, but to finde some
means to ease him of hys gryefe, and then to gyue hym ouer for
euer. And therefore she sayd vnto hir neyghbor: “My good frend,
I thought that all these sutes had beene forgotten, vntill the
other day a certen Gentleman praied me to go see the Lord of
Virle, who told me as you do now, that he was in great daunger.
And now vnderstanding by you that he waxeth worsse, and worsse,
I will be ruled, being well assured of your honesty and vertue,
and that you will not aduise me to any thing that shall be
hurtfull to myne honour. And when you haue done what you can,
you shal winne of me so mutch as nothinge, and geeue no ease to
him at all that wrongfully playneth of my cruelty. For I purpose
not to do any priuate fact with him, but that which shall be
meete for an honest Gentlewoman, and sutch as a faythfull tutor
of hir chastity, may graunt to an honest and vertuous
Gentleman.” “His desire is none other” (sayd the gentlewoman)
“for he craueth but your presence, to let you wit by word, that
he is ready to do the thing you shall commaund him.” “Alas”
sayde Zilia, “it is impossible for me to go to hym without
suspition, which the common people will lightly conceiue of
sutch light and familiar Behauiour. And rather would I dy than
aduenture mine honor hitherto conserued wyth great seuerity and
diligence. And yet sith you say, that he is in extremes of
death, for your sake, I wil not stick to heare him speake.”
“I thanke you” (sayd the Messanger) “for the good wil you beare
me and for the help you promise vnto the poore passionate
Gentleman, whom these newes wil bring on foote againe, and who
al the dayes of his life wil do you honor for that good turne.”
“Sith it is so (sayd Zilia) to morrow at noone let him come vnto
my house, wherein a low chamber, he shall haue leysure to say to
mee his mind. But I purpose by God’s help, to suffer him no
further than that which I haue already graunted.” “As it shall
please you” (sayd hir neighbour) “for I craue no more of you but
that only fauour, which as a Messanger of good Newes, I go to
shew hym, recommending my selfe in the meane tyme to your
commaunde.” And then she went vnto the pacient, whom she found
walkinge vp and downe the Chaumber, indifferent lusty of his
person, and of colour meetely freshe for the tyme hee left his
Bed.” Now when sir Philiberto saw the Messanger, hee sayde vnto
hir: “And how now mystresse, what Newes? Is Zilia so stubborne
as shee was wont to be?” “You may see hir” (sayd she) “if to
morrowe at Noone you haue the heart to aduenture to goe vnto hir
house.” “Is it possible” (sayd hee embracing hir) “that you haue
procured my delyueraunce from the misery, wherewith I haue so
long tyme beene affected? Ah trusty and assured frende, all the
dayes of my lyfe I wil remember that pleasure, and benefite,
and by acknowledging of the same, shall be ready to render like,
when you please to commaunde, or els let me be counted the most
vncurteous Gentleman that euer made profession of loue: I will
go by God’s help to see mistresse Zilia, with intent to endure
all vexation, wherewith Dame Fortune shall afflict me,
protesting to vex my selfe no more, although I see my wished hap
otherwise to ende than my desert requireth. But yet agaynst
Fortune to contend, is to warre agaynst my selfe, whereof the
Victory can be but daungerous.” Thus he passed all the day,
which seemed to last a thousand years to hym, that thought to
receyue some good intertaynment of hys Lady, in whose Bonds hee
was catched before he thought that Woman’s malice could so farre
exceede, or display hir venomous Sting. And truly that man is
voyde of Sense, whych suffreth hym selfe so fondly to bee
charmed, sith the pearill of others before time abused, ought to
serue hym for exaumple. Women be vnto mankinde a greate
confusion, and vnwares for want of hys due foresight, it doth
suffer it selfe to bee bounde and taken captiue by the very
thing which hath no being to worke effect, but by free will.
Which Inchauntment of woman’s beauty, being to men a pleasaunt
displeasure, I thinke to bee decked with that drawinge vertue,
and allurement, for chastising of their sinnes who once fed and
bayted with their fading fauour and poysoned sweetnesse, forget
their owne perfection, and nousled in their foolishe Fansies,
they seeke Felicity, and soueraygne delight, in the matter
wherein doth lie the summe of their vnhaps. Semblaly the
vertuous and shamefaste dames, haue not the eyes of their minde
so blindfolde, but that they see whereunto those francke
seruices, those disloyal Faythes and Vyces coloured and stuffed
with exterior vertue, doe tende: Who doubt not also but sutch
louers do imitate the Scorpion, whose Venome lieth in his Tayle,
the ende of which is loue beinge the ruine of good Renoume, and
the Decay of former vertues. For which cause the heauens, the
Frende of their sexe, haue giuen them a prouidence, which those
Gentle, vnfauoured louers terme to be rigor, thereby to proue
the deserts of Suters, aswell for their great contentation and
prayse, as for the rest of them that do them seruice. Howbeit
this iust and modest prouidence, that cruel Gentlewoman
practised not in hir louer, the Lord of Virle, who was so humble
a seruaunt of his vnkinde mistresse, as his obedience redounded
to his great mishap, and folly, as manifestly may appeare by
that whych followeth. Sir Philiberto then thinking to haue
gayned mutch by hauing made promise, liberally to speake to his
Lady, went vnto hir at the appoyncted hour, so well contented
truely of that grace, as all the vnkindnesse past was quite
forgot. Now being come to the Lodging of Mistresse Zilia, he
found hir in the deuised place with one of hir maydes attending
vpon hir. When she saw him, after a little cold entertaynment,
she began to say vnto him with fayned ioy, that neuer mooued hir
heart, these woordes: “Now sir, I see that your late sicknesse
was not so straunge as I was geeuen to vnderstand, for the good
state wherein I see you presently to be, which from henceforth
shall make mee beleue, that the passions of Men endure so long
as the cause of their affections continue within their fansies,
mutch like vnto looking Glasses, which albeit they make the
equality or excesse of things represented to appeare, yet when
the thing seene doth passe, and vanishe away, the formes also do
voyde out of remembraunce, resembling the wynde that lightly
whorleth to and fro through the plane of some deepe valley.”
“Ah madame” aunswered he, “how easie a matter it is for the
griefelesse person to counterfayt both ioy and dissimulation in
one very thing, which not onely may forget the conceipt that
mooueth his affections, but the obiect must continually remayne
in him, as paynted, and grauen in his minde. Which truely as you
say is a looking Glasse, not sutch one for all that, as the
counterfayted apparaunce of represented formes hath like vigor
in it, that the first and true idees and shapes can so soone
vanish without leauiug most perfect impression of sutch formes
within the minde of him, that liueth vpon their onely
remembraunce. In this mirror then (which by reason of the hidden
force I may well say to bee ardent and burning) haue I looked so
well as I can, thereby to form the sustentation of my good hap.
But the imagined Shape not able to support sutch perfection,
hath made the rest of the body to fayle (weakned through the
mindes passions) in sutch wise as if the hope to recouer this
better parte halfe lost, had not cured both, the whole decay of
the one had followed, by thinking to giue some accomplishment in
the other. And if you see me Madame, attayne to some good state,
impute the same I beseech you, to the good will and fauor which
I receiue by seeing you in a priuate place, wherein I conceyue
greater ioy than euer I did, to say vnto you the thing which you
would not beleeue, by woords at other times proceeding from my
mouth, ne yet by aduertisement signified in my written letters.
Notwithstanding I think that my Martirdome is known to bee sutch
as euery man may perceyue that the Summe of my desire is onely
to serue and obey you, for so mutch as I can receyue no greater
comforte, than to be commaunded to make repayre to you, to let
you know that I am whole (although giuen ouer by Phisitians)
when you vouchsafe to employ me in your seruice, and thinke my
selfe raysed vp agayne from one hundred thousand deathes at
once, when it shall please you to haue pitty vpon the griefe and
passion, that I endure. Alas, what causeth my mishap, that the
heauenly beauty of yours should make proofe of a cruelty so
great? Haue you decreed Madame thus to torment mee poore
Gentleman that am ready to sacrifice myselfe in your seruice,
when you shall impart some fauour of your good grace? Do you
thinke that my passions be dissembled? Alacke, alacke, the
teares which I haue shed, the losse of lust to eate and drinke,
the weary passed nights, the longe contriued sleepelesse tyme
the restlesse turmoyle of my consumed corps may wel assure that
my loyall heart is of better merite than you esteeme.” Then
seeing hir to fixe hir eyes vpon the ground, and thinkinge that
hee had already wonne hir, he reinforced his humble Speache, and
Sighing at fits betwene, not sparinge the Teares, whych trickled
downe alongs hys Face, he prosecuted his Tale as followeth: “Ah
fayre amongs the fayrest, woulde you blot that surpassing Beauty
with a cruelty so furious, as to cause the death of him which
loueth you better than himselfe? Ah my withered eyes, which
hitherto haue bene serued with two liuely springs to expresse
the hidden griefs within the heart, if your vnhap be sutch that
the only Mistresse of your contemplations, and cause of your
driery teares, doe force the Humor to encrease, which hitherto
in sutch wise hath emptied my Brayne, as there is no more in mee
to moisten your drouth, I am content to endure al extremity,
vntil my heart shal feele the last Pangue, that depriueth yee of
nourishment, and me of mine affected Ioy.” The Gentlewoman,
whether shee was weary of that Oration, or rather doubted that
in the end hir chastity would receue some assault through the
dismeasured passion which she saw to continue in him, answered
with rigorous words: “You haue talked, and written inough,
you haue indifferently well solicited hir, whych is throughly
resolued in former minde, to keepe hir honor in that worthy
reputation of degree, wherein she maynetayneth the same amongs
the best. I haue hitherto suffered you to abuse my patience,
and haue shewed that familiarity which they deserue not that go
about leudly to assayle the chastity of those Women that
patiently gieue them eare, for the opinion they haue conceiued
of the shadowing vertues of like foolishe Suters. I now doe see
that all your woordes doe tend to beguile mee, and to depriue
mee of that you cannot giue mee: Which shall bee a warning for
me henceforth, more wisely to looke about my businesse, and more
warely to shunne the Charmes of sutch as you bee, to the ende
that I by bending mine open eares, be not surprised, and
ouercome wyth your enchaunted Speaches. I pray you then for
conclusion, that I heare no more hereof, neyther from you, nor
yet from the Ambassadour that commeth from you. For I neyther
will, ne yet pretend to depart to you any other fauour than that
which I haue enlarged for your comfort: but rather doe protest,
that so longe as you abide in this Countrey, I will neyther goe
forth in streate, nor suffer any Gentleman to haue accesse into
this place except he be my neare Kinsman. Thus for your
importunat sute, I will chastise my light consent, for
harkeninge vnto you in those requests, which duty and Womanhoode
ought not to suffre. And if you do proceede in these your
follies, I will seeke redresse according to your desert, which
till now I haue deferred, thinking that time would haue put out
the ardent heate of your rash, and wanton youth.” The
infortunate Lord of Virle, hearing this sharpe sentence,
remayned long time without speach, so astonned as if he had bene
falne from the Clouds. In the ende for al his despayre he
replyed to Zilia with Countenaunce indifferent merry: “Sith it
is so madame, that you take from mee all hope to be your
perpetuall Seruaunt, and that without other comfort or
contentation I must nedes depart your presence, neuer
(perchaunce) hereafter to speake vnto you againe, be not yet so
squeimish of your beauty, and so cruell towards your languishing
louer, as to deny him a kisse for pledge of his last farewell.
I demaund nothing here in secret, but that honestly you may
openly performe. It is al that I doe craue at your handes in
recompence of the trauayles, paynes, and afflictions suffred for
your sake.” The malitious dame full of rancor, and spitefull
rage sayd vnto him: “I shall see by and by sir, if the loue
which you vaunt to beare mee, be so vehement as you seeme to
make it.” “Ah Madame” (sayd the vnaduised Louer) “commaunde
only, and you shal see with what deuotion I will performe your
will, were it that it should cost me the price of my proper
life.” “You shall haue” (quod she) “the kisse which you require
of me if you will make promise, and sweare by the fayth of a
Gentleman, to do the thinge that I shall commaund, without
fraude, couin or other delay.” “Madame” (sayd the ouer wilful
louer) “I take God to witnesse that of the thing which you shall
commaunde I will not leaue one iote vndone, but it shall bee
executed to the vttermost of your request and will.” She hearing
him sweare with so good affection, sayd vnto him smiling: “Now
then vpon your oth which I beleue, and being assured of your
Vertue and Noble nature, I will also performe and keepe my
promise.” And saying so, shee Embraced and kissed him very
louingly. The poore Gentleman not knowing how dearely hee had
bought that disfauorable curtesie, and bitter sweetenesse, helde
hir a while betwene his armes, doubling kisse vppon kisse, with
sutch Pleasure, as his soule thought to fly vp to the heauens
being inspired with that impoysoned Baulme which hee sucked in
the sweete and sugred breath of his cruel mistresse: who vndoing
hir selfe out of his armes, sayde vnto him: “Sith that I haue
made the first disclosure both of the promise and of the effect,
it behooueth that you performe the rest, for the full
accomplyshment of the same.” “Come on hardily” (sayeth hee) “and
God knoweth how spedily you shal be obeyed.” “I wil then” (quod
shee) “and commaund you vpon your promysed faith that from this
present time, vntyl the space of three yeres be expyred, you
speake to no lyuing person for any thing that shall happen vnto
you, nor yet expresse by tonge, by sound of word or speache what
thing you wante or els desyre, whych requeste if you do breake,
I will neuer truste liuing man for youre sake, but wil publyshe
your fame to bee villanous, and your person periured, and a
promyse breaker.” I leaue for you to think whether this vnhappy
louer were amazed or not, to heare a Commaundment so vniust, and
therewithall the difficulty for the performance. Notwithstanding
he was so stoute of hearte, and so religious an obseruer of his
Othe as euen at that very instant he began to do the part which
she had commaunded, playing at Mumchaunce, and vsing other
signes, for doing of his duetye, accordynge to hir demaund. Thus
after his ryghte humble reuerence made vnto hir, he went home,
where faining that hee had lost his speach by meanes of a
Catarre or reume which distilled from his brayne, he determined
to forsake his Countrey vntill his tyme of penance was rune out.
Wherfore setting staye in hys affayres, and prouydyng for his
trayne, he made him ready to depart. Notwithstanding, he wrot a
Letter vnto Zilia, before he toke hys iovrney into Fraunce, that
in olde tyme hadde ben the Solace and refuge of the miserable,
as wel for the pleasantnes and temperature of the ayre, the
great wealth and the aboundance of al thynges, as for the
curtesye, gentlenes and familyarity of the people: wherein that
region may compare with any other nation vpon the earth. Now the
Letter of Philiberto, fell into the hands of lady Zilia, by
meanes of hys Page instructed for that purpose: who aduertised
hir of the departure of his mayster, and of the despaire wherein
hee was. Whereof shee was somewhat sory, and offended: But yet
puttinge on hir Aunciente seuerytye, tooke the Letters, and
breakinge the Seale, found that which followeth.
The very euill that causeth mine anoy
The matter is that breedes to me my ioy,
Which doth my wofull heart full sore displease,
And yet my hap and hard yll lucke doth ease.
I hope one day when I am franke and free,
To make thee do the thing that pleaseth mee,
Whereby gayne I shall, some pleasaunt gladnesse,
To supply mine vndeserued sadnesse,
The like whereof no mortall Dame can giue
To louing man that heere on earth doth lyue.
This great good turne which I on thee pretende,
Of my Conceites the full desired ende,
Proceedes from thee (O cruell mystresse myne)
Whose froward heart hath made mee to resigne
The full effect of all my liberty,
(To please and ease thy fonde fickle fansy)
My vse of speache in silence to remayne:
To euery wight a double hellishe payne.
Whose fayth hadst thou not wickedly abusde
No stresse of payne for thee had bene refusde,
Who was to thee a trusty seruaunt sure,
And for thy sake all daungers would endure.
For which thou hast defaced thy good name,
And thereunto procurde eternall shame.
¶ That roaring tempest huge which thou hast made me felt,
The raging stormes whereof, well neere my heart hath swelt
By paineful pangs: whose waltering waues by troubled Skies,
And thousand blasts of winde that in those Seas do ryse
Do promise shipwracke sure of that thy sayling Barke,
When after weather cleare doth rise some Tempest darke.
For eyther I or thou which art of Tyger’s kinde,
In that great raging gulfe some daunger sure shalt finde,
Of that thy nature rude the dest’nies en’mies bee,
And thy great ouerthrow full well they do foresee.
The heauens vnto my estate no doubt great friendship shoe,
And do seeke wayes to ende, and finish all my woe.
This penaunce which I beare by yelding to thy hest
Great store of ioyes shall heape, and bring my mynde to rest.
And when I am at ease amids my pleasaunt happes,
Then shall I see thee fall, and snarld in Fortune’s trappes.
Then shall I see thee ban and cursse the wicked time,
Wherin thou madest me gulp such draught of poysoned wine.
Of which thy mortall cup, I am the offerd wight,
A vowed sacrifice to that thy cruell spight.
Wherefore my hoping heart doth hope to see the day,
That thou for silence now to me shalt be the pray.
¶ O Blessed God most iust, whose worthy laude and prayse
With vttered speach in Skies a loft I dare not once to rayse,
And may not well pronounce and speak what suffrance I sustain,
Ne yet what death I do indure, whiles I in lyfe remayne,
Take vengeance on that traytresse rude, afflict hir corps with woe
Thy holy arme redresse hir fault, that she no more do soe:
My reason hath not so farre strayed but I may hope and trust
To see hir for hir wickednes, be whipt with plague most iust.
In the meane while great heauines my sence and soule doth bite,
And shaking feuer vex my corps for griefe of hir despite.
My mynde now set at liberty from thee (O cruell Dame)
Doth giue defiaunce to thy wrath, and to thy cursed name,
Proclayming mortal warre on thee vntill my tongue vntide,
Shall ioy to speak to Zilia fast weping by my side.
The heauens forbid that causlesse wrong abroad shold make his vaunt,
Or that an vndeserued death forgetfull tombe should haunt:
But that in written booke and verse their names shold euer liue
And eke their wicked deedes shold dy, and vertues stil reuiue.
So shall the pride and glory both, of hir be punisht right,
By length of yeares, and tract of time. And I by vertues might,
Full recompence thereby shal haue and stand still in good Fame,
And she like caitif wretch shall liue, to hir long lasting shame.
Whose fond regard of beautie’s grace, contemned hath the force
Of my true loue full fixt in hir: hir heart voide of remorse,
Esteemed it selfe right foolishly and me abused still,
Vsurping my good honest fayth and credite at hir will.
Whose loyall faith doth rest in soule, and therein stil shal bide,
Vntill in filthy stincking graue the earth my corps shall hide.
Then shal that soule fraught with that faith, to heuens make
his repaire
And rest among the heuenly rout, bedect with sacred aire.
And thou for thy great cruelty, as God aboue doth know,
With ruful voice shalt wepe and wayle for thy gret ouerthrow,
And when thou woldst fayn purge thy self for that thy wretched dede
No kindnes shal to the be done, extreme shal be thy mede:
And where my tongue doth want his wil, thy mischiefe to display,
My hand and penne supplies the place, and shall do so alway.
For so thou hast constraynd the same by force of thy behest:
In silence still my tongue to keepe, t’accomplishe thy request.
Adieu, farewell my tormenter, thy frend that is full mute,
Doth bid thee farewell once agayne, and so hee ends his sute.
He that liueth only to be reuenged of thy cruelty,
PHILIBERTO OF VIRLE.
Zilia lyke a disdaynefull Dame, made but a Iest at theese
Letters and Complayntes of the infortunate Louer, saying that
she was very well content with his Seruice: and that when he
should perfourme the tyme of his probation, shee shoulde see if
he were worthy to bee admitted into the Felowship of theym which
had made sufficient proofe of the Order, and Rule of Loue. In
the meane tyme Philiberto rode by great Iourneys (as we haue
sayde before) towardes the goodly, and pleasaunte countrey of
Fraunce, wherein Charles the Seuenth that tyme did raygne, who
miraculously (But gieue the Frencheman leaue to flatter, and
speake well of hys owne Countrey, accordinge to the flatteringe,
and vauntinge Nature of that Nation) chased the Englishemen out
of hys Landes, and Auncient Patrimony in the yeare of our Lord
1451. This Kynge had hys Campe then Warrefaringe in Gascoine,
whose Lucke was so Fortunate as hee expelled hys Ennymies, and
left no Place for theym to Fortyfy there, whych Incouraged the
Kynge to followe that good Occasion, and by Prosecutinge hys
Victoryous Fortune, to Profligate out of Normandie, and to
dispatch himselfe of that Ennemy, into whose Handes, and
seruitude the Countrey of Guyene was ryghtly delyuered, and
Victoryously wonne, and gotten by the Englishmen. The kynge then
beeinge in hys Campe in Normandie, the Piedmount Gentleman the
Lorde of Virle aforesayde, Repayred thereunto to Serue hym in
hys Person, where hee was well knowne of some Captaynes whych
had seene hym at other tymes, and in place where worthy
Gentlemen are wonte to Frequente, and in the Duke of Sauoyes
Courte, whych the Frenchemen dyd very mutch Haunte, because the
Earle of Piedmont that then was Duke of Sauoy had Marryed
Iolanta, the seconde daughter of Charles the Seuenth. Theese
Gentlemen of Fraunce were very mutch sory for the Mysfortune of
the Lord of Virle, and knowinge hym to be one of the Brauest,
and Lustyest Men of Armes that was in his tyme within the
Country of Piedmont, presented him before the King, commending
vnto hys grace the vertue, gentlenesse, and valiaunce of the man
of Warre: who after hee had done his reuerence accordinge to hys
duety, whych hee knew ful wel to doe, declared vnto him by
signes that he was come for none other intent, but in those
Warres to serue hys Maiestye: whom the King heard and
thankefully receyued assuryng himself and promising very mutch
of the dumbe Gentleman for respect of his personage which was
comely and wel proportioned, and therefore represented some
Force and greate Dexterity: and that whych made the king the
better to fantasie the Gentleman, was the reporte of so many
worthy men which extolled euen to the heauens the prowesse of
the Piedmont knight. Whereof he gaue assured testimony in the
assault which the king made to deliuer Roane, the Chyefe Citye
and defence of all Normandie, in the year of our Lord 1451.
where Philiberto behaued himself so valiantly as he was the
first that mounted upon the Wals, and by his Dexterity and
inuincyble force, made way to the souldiers in the breche,
whereby a little while after they entred and sacked the Enemies,
dryuing them out of the Citye, and wherein not long before, that
is to say 1430. the duke of Somerset caused Ioane the Pucelle to
be burnt. The king aduertised of the Seruice of the Dumbe
Gentleman, to recompence him according to his desert, and
bycause hee knewe hym to bee of a good house, he made him a
Gentleman of his Chambre, and gaue him a good pension, promysing
him moreouer to continue hys liberality, when he should see him
prosecute in time to come, the towardnesse of seruice which he
had so haply begon. The dumbe Gentleman thanking the King very
humbly, both for the present pryncely reward, and for promise in
time to come, lifted vp his hand to heauen as taking God to
witnesse of the faith, which inuiolable he promysed to keepe
vnto his Prynce: which he did so earnestly, as hardely he had
promysed, as well appeared in a Skirmishe betweene the Frrench,
and their auncient Enimies the Englysh-Men, on whose side was
the valiaunt and hardy Captayne the Lord Talbot, who hath
eternized his memory in the victories obtained vpon that People,
which sometimes made Europa and Asia to tremble, and appalled
the monstruous and Warlike Countrey of Affrica. In this
conflycte the Piedmont Knighte combated with the Lorde Talbot,
agaynste whome he had so happy successe, as vpon the shock and
incountre he ouerthrewe both man and Horse, which caused the
discomfiture of the Englishe Men: who after they had horsed
agayne their Captain fled amaine, leauing the field bespred with
dead Bodyes and bludshed of their Companions. This victory
recouered sutch corage and boldnes to the French, as from that
tyme forth the Englishmen began with their places and forts to
lose also theyr hartes to defend themselues. The king excedingly
wel contented wyth the prowesse and valiance of the dumbe
Gentleman, gaue him for seruice past the Charge of V.C.
men of armes, and indued him with some possessions, attending
better fortune to make him vnderstand howe mutch the vertue of
valiance ought to be rewarded and cheryshed by Prynces that be
aided in their Necessity with the Dylygence of sutch a vertuous
and noble Gentleman. In lyke manner when a Prynce hath something
good in himself, he can do no lesse but loue and fauor that
which resembleth himself by Pryncely Conditions, sith the Vertue
in what soeuer place it taketh roote, can not chose but produce
good fruicte, the vse whereof far surmounts them all which
approche the place, where these first seedes of Nobility were
throwen. Certaine dayes after the kinge desirous to reioyce his
Knights and Captaines that were in his trayne, and desirous to
extinguish quite the woefull time which so long space held
Fraunce in fearefull silence, caused a triumph of Turney to bee
proclaimed within the City of Roane, wherein the Lord of Virle
was deemed and esteemed one of the best, whych further did
increase in him the good wyl of the kyng, in sutch wyse as he
determined to procure his health, and to make him haue his
speache againe. For he was verye sorry that a Gentleman so
valiant was not able to expresse his minde, which if it might be
had in counsel it would serve the state of a commonwealth, so
wel as the force and valor of his body had til then serued for
defence and recovery of his country. And for that purpose he
made Proclamation by sound of Trumpet throughout the prouinces
as wel within his own kingdome, as the regions adioyning vpon
the same, that who so euer could heale that dumb Gentleman,
shoulde haue ten thousand Frankes for recompence. A Man myght
then haue seene thousands of Physitians assemble in fielde, not
to skirmish with the Englysh men, but to combat for reward in
recouery of the pacient’s speache, who begon to make sutch Warre
against those ten thousand Frankes, as the kyng was afrayde that
the cure of that disease could take no effect: and for that
cause ordained furthermore, that whosoeuer would take in hand to
heale the dumbe, and did not keepe promyse within a certaine
prefixed time, should pay the sayd summe, or for default thereof
should pledge his head in gage. A Man myght then haue seene
those Phisicke Maysters, aswell beyonde the Mountaynes, as in
Fraunce it selfe, retire home againe, bleeding at the Nose,
cursing with great impiety their Patrones, Galen, Hypocrates,
and Auicen, and blamed with more than reprochful Woordes, the
Arte wherewith they fished for honor and richesse. This brute
was spred so far, and babblyng Fame had already by mouth of her
Trump publyshed the same throughout the most part of the
Prouinces, Townes, and Cities neare and farre off to Fraunce, in
sutch wyse as a Man woulde haue thought that the two young men
(which once in the tyme of the Macedonian Warres brought Tydings
to Varinius that the king of Macedon was taken by the Consul
Paulus Emilius) had ben vagarant and wandering abrode to carry
Newes of the king’s edicte for the healing of the Lord of Virle.
Which caused that not only the brute of the Proclamation, but
also the Credyte and reputatyon wherein the sayd Lord was with
the French king arriued euen at Montcal and passed from mouth to
mouth, til at length Zilia the principal cause thereof
vnderstode the newes, which reioyced hir very mutch, seing the
firme Amitie of the dumbe Lord, and the syncere faith of hym in
a promise vnworthy to be kept, for so mutch as where Fraude and
feare doe rule in Heartes of Men, relygyon of promise, specially
the Place of the gyuen Fayth, surrendreth hys force and
reuolteth, and is no more bound but to that which by good wyll
he woulde obserue. Nowe thoughte shee, thoughte? nay rather shee
assured hir selfe, that the Gentleman for all hys wrytten Letter
was stil so surprysed wyth hir Loue, and kindled wyth her fire
in so ample wyse, as when hee was at Montcall: and therefore
determyned to goe to Paris, not for desire shee had to see hir
pacient and penetenciarie, but rather for couetise of the ten
thousand Francks, wherof already shee thought hir self assured,
making good accompt that the dumbe Gentleman when hee should see
himself discharged of his promise, for gratifying of hir, would
make no stay to speak to the intent she myght beare away both
the prayse and Money, whereof all others had failed tyll that
tyme. Thus you see that she, whome honest Amitye and long
service could lytle induce to compassion and desire to giue some
ease vnto hir moste earnest louer, yelded hir selfe to couetous
gaine and greadinesse for to encrease hir Rychesse. O cursed
hunger of Money, how long wilt thou thus blinde the reason and
Sprytes of men? Ah perillous gulfe, how many hast thou
ouerwhelmed within thy bottomlesse Throte, whose glory, had it
not bene for thee, had surpassed the Clouds, and bene equall
with the bryghtnesse of the Sunne, where now they bee obscured
wyth the thicknesse of thy fogges and Palpable darknesse. Alas,
the fruicts whych thou bryngest forth for all thine outewarde
apparance, conduce no felycity to them that bee thy possessors,
for the dropsey that is hydden in their Mynde, whych maketh them
so mutch the more drye, as they drynke ofte in that thirsty
Fountaine, is cause of their alteration: and moste miserable is
that insaciable desire the Couetous haue to glut their appetite,
whych can receiue no contentment. Thys onely Couetousnesse
sometimes procured the Death of the great and rych Romane
Crassus who through GOD’s punyshment fell into the Handes of the
Persians, for violating and sacking the Temple of God that was
in Ierusalem. Sextimuleus burnyng with Avarice and greedynesse
of money, dyd once cut of the head of hys Patron and defender
Caius Gracchus the Tribune of the People, incyted by the Tirant,
which tormenteth the hearts of the couetous. I wil not speake of
a good number of other Examples of people of all kyndes, and
divers nations, to come again to Zilia. Who forgetting hir
virtue, the first ornament and shining quality of hir honest
behauiour, feared not the wearines and trauaile of way, to
commit her selfe to that danger of losse of honor, and to yeld
to the mercy of one, vnto whom she had don so great iniury, as
hir conscyence (if shee hadde not lost hir ryghte sence) oughte
to haue made hir thinke that hee was not without desire to
reuenge the wrong vniustly don vnto him, and specially being in
place where she was not known, and he greatly honoured and
esteemed, for whose loue that Proclamation and search of
Physicke was made and ordained. Zilia then hauing put in order
hir affaires at home departed from Montcall, and passing the
Mounts, arrived at Paris, in that time when greatest despayre
was of the dumbe Knight’s recouery. Beynge arryued, wythin fewe
Dayes after she inquyred for them that had the charge to
entertayne sutch as came, for the cure of the pacient. “For
(sayd she) if ther be any in the world, by whom the knigt may
recouer his health, I hope in God that I am she that shal haue
the prayse.” Heereof the Commissaries deputed hereunto, were
aduertysed, who caused the fayre Physitian to come before them,
and asked her if it were she, that would take vppon hir to cure
this dumbe Gentleman. To whom shee aunsweared. “My maysters it
hath pleased God to reueale vnto me a certayne secrete very
proper and meete for the healyng of hys Malady, wherewithal if
the pacyent wyll, I hope to make hym speake so well, as he dyd
these two yeares past and more.” “I suppose, sayd one of the
Commissaries, that you be not ignoraunte of the Circumstances of
the Kynges Proclamation.” “I knowe ful wel” (quod she) “the
Effecte therefore, and therefore doe say vnto you, that I wyll
loose my life yf I doe not accomplysh that which I doe promyse
so that I may haue Lycence, to tarry wyth hym alone, bycause it
is of no lesse importaunce than hys Health.” “It is no maruell,”
sayde the Commissary, “consideryng your Beauty, which is
sufficient to frame a Newe Tongue in the moste dumbe Person that
is vnder the Heauens. And therefore doe your Endeuor, assuring
you that you shall doe a great pleasure vnto the King, and
besides the prayse you shall gette the good wyll of the dumbe
Gentleman, which is the most excellent man of the World and
therefore so well recompensed as you shall haue good cause to be
contented wyth the kynges Lyberalitye. But (to the intente you
be not deceyued) the meanynge of the Edicte is, that within
fiftene dayes after you begin the cure, you muste make hym
whole, or else to satisfie the Paynes ordayned in the same.”
Whereunto she submitted hir selfe, blinded by Auarice and
presumption, thinking that she had like power nowe ouer the Lord
of Virle, as when she gaue him that sharpe and cruel penance.
These Conditions promysed, the Commissaries went to aduertise
the Knight, how a gentlewoman of Piedmont was of purpose come
into Fraunce to helpe him: whereof he was maruelously astonned.
Now he would neuer haue thoughte that Zilia had borne hym so
great good wil, as by abasing the pryde of hir Corage, would
haue come so farre to ease the griefe of him, whome by sutch
greate torments she had so wonderfully persecuted. He thought
againe that it was the Gentlewoman his Neighboure, whych
sometymes had done hir endeuor to helpe him, and that nowe she
had prouoked Zilia to absolue him of his faith, and requite him
of hys promise. Musing vpon the diuersitie of these things,
and not knowing wherevpon to settle hys iudgment, the deputies
commaunded that the Woman Physitian should be admitted to speake
with the patient. Which was done and brought in place, the
Commissaries presently withdrew themselues. The Lord of Virle
seeinge hys Ennemye come before him, whom sometimes hee loued
very dearely, iudged by and by the cause wherefore she came,
that onely Auaryce and greedy desire of gaine had rather
procured hir to passe the mountayns trauaile, than due and
honest Amitye, wherewith she was double bound through his
perseuerance and humble seruice, with whose sight hee was so
appalled, as he fared like a shadowe and Image of a deade man.
Wherefore callyng to mynd the rigour of his lady, hir inciuility
and fonde Commaundement, so longe time to forbidde hys Speach,
the Loue which once hee bare hir, with vehement desire to obey
hir, sodainly was so cooled and qualyfyed, that loue was turned
into hatred, and will to serue hir, into an appetite of reuenge:
whereupon he determined to vse that presente Fortune, and to
playe his parte wyth hir, vpon whom hee had so foolyshly doted,
and to pay hir with that Money wherewyth she made him feele the
Fruicts of vnspeakable crueltye, to giue example to fonde and
presumptuous dames, how they abuse Gentlemen of sutch Degree
whereof the Knyghte was, and that by hauing regarde to the
merite of sutch personages, they be not so prodigall of
themselues, as to set their honour in sale for vyle reward and
filthy mucke: whych was so constantly conserued and defended by
this Gentlewoman, agaynst the assaultes of the good grace,
beauty, valour, and gentlenesse, of that vertuous and honest
suter. And notwithstanding, in these dayes wee see some to
resiste the amity of those that loue, for an opynyon of a
certayne vertue, which they thinke to be hydden within the corps
of excellent beauty, who afterwards do set themselues to sale to
hym that giueth most, and offreth greatest reward. Sutch do not
deserue to be placed in rank of chast Gentlewomen, of whome they
haue no smacke at al, but amongs the throng of strumpets kynde,
that haue some sparke and outward shew of loue: for she which
loueth money and hunteth after gayne, wyl make no bones, by
treason’s trap to betray that vnhappy man, which shall yelde
himselfe to hir: hir loue tending to vnsensible things, and
sutch in dede, as make the wisest sorte to falsifie their fayth,
and sel the ryghte and Equity of their Iudgment. The Lorde of
Virle, seeing Zilia then in his company, and almost at his
commaundement, fayned as though hee knew hir not, by reason of
his small regard and lesse intertaynment shewed vnto hir at hir
first comming. Which greatly made the poore Gentlewoman to muse.
Neuerthelesse she making a vertue of necessity, and seeing hir
selfe to bee in that place, from whence shee could not depart,
without the losse of hir honor and Lyfe, purposed to proue
Fortune, and to committe hir selfe vnto his mercy, for all the
mobilytie whych the auncients attribute vnto Fortune. Wherefore
shutting fast the doore, shee went vnto the Knight, to whom she
spake these words: “And what is the matter (sir knight) that now
you make so little accompte of your owne Zilia, who in times
past you sayd, had great power and Authorytye ouer you? what is
the cause that moueth you hereunto? haue you so soone forgotten
hir? Beholde me better, and you shal see hir before you that is
able to acquyte you of youre promyse, and therefore prayeth you
to pardon hir committed faultes done in tymes past by abusing so
cruelly the honest and firme loue which you bare hir. I am she,
which through follye and temeritie did stoppe your mouth, and
tyed vp your Tongue. Giue me leaue, I beseeche you, to open the
same agayne, and to breake the Lyne, whych letteth the liberty
of your Speache.” She seeying that the dumbe Gentleman would
make no aunswere at all, but mumme, and shewed by signes, that
he was not able to vndoe his Tongue, weepyng began to kysse hym,
imbrace hym and make mutch of hym, in sutch wyse, as he whych
once studyed to make Eloquent Orations before hys Ladye, to
induce hir to pity, forgat then those Ceremonyes, and spared his
talke, to shewe hymselfe to be sutch one as shee had made at hir
Commaundement, mused and deuysed altogether vpon the executyon
of that, which sometyme hee hadde so paynefully pursued, both by
Woords and contynuall Seruyce, and coulde profite nothing. Thus
waked agayne by hir, whych once had Mortyfyed hys Mynde, assayed
to renue in hir that, whych long tyme before seemed to be a
sleepe. She more for feare of losse of Lyfe, and the pryce of
the rewarde, than for any true or earnest loue suffred hym to
receyue that of hir, whych the long Suter desireth to obtaine of
his mistresse. They liued in this ioy and Pleasure the space of
fiftene Dayes ordained for the assigned Terme of his Cure,
wherein the poore Gentlewoman was not able to conuert hir
offended Fryende to speake, although she humbly prayed him to
shewe so mutch favour as at least she might goe free, from
either losse: telling hym howe lyttle regard shee hadde to hir
honour, to come so farre to doe him pleasure, and to discharge
him of his promise. Mutch other gay and lowlye talke shee hadde.
But the knyghte nothing moued with what she sayde determined to
brynge hir in sutch feare, as he had bene vexed with heauinesse,
which came to passe at the expyred tyme. For the Commissaries
seeing that their pacyent spake not at all, summoned the
Gentlewoman to pay the Penaltye pronounced in the Edict, or else
to loose hyr lyfe. Alas, howe bytter seemed thys drynke to thys
poore gentlewoman who not able to dissemble the gryef that prest
on euery syde, beganne to saye: “Ah, I Wretched and Caytyfe
Woman, by thinking to deceiue an other, haue sharpened the
Sworde to finish myne owne lyfe. Was it not enough for me to vse
sutch crueltye towardes this myne Enemye, which most cruelly in
double wyse taketh Reuenge, but I must come to bee thus tangled
in his Snares, and in the Handes of him, who inioying the
Spoyles of myne Honour, will with my Lyfe, depryue me of my
Fame, by making mee a Common Fable, to all Posterity in tyme to
come? O what hap had I, that I was not rather deuoured by some
Furious and cruell beast, when I passed the mountaines, or else
that I brake not my Necke, downe some steepe and headlong hil,
of those high and hideous mountains, rather than to bee set
heare in stage, a Pageant to the whole Citye to gaze vppon, for
enterprysing a thing so vayne, done of purpose by him, whome I
haue offended. Ah, Signior Philiberto, what Euill rewardest thou
for pleasures receiued, and fauors felt in hir whom thou didst
loue so much, as to make hir dye sutch shameful, and dreadfull
death. But O GOD, I know that it is for worthy guerdon of my
folysh and wycked Lyfe. Ah disloyaltye and fickle trust, is it
possible that thou be harbored in the hearte of hym which hadde
the Brute to bee the most Loyall and Curteous Gentleman of hys
Countrey? Alas, I see well nowe that I must die through myne
onelye simplicity, and that I muste sacrifice mine Honoure to
the rygour of hym, which with two aduauntages, taketh ouer
cruell reuenge of the lyttle wrong, wherewith my chastity
touched him before.” As she thus had finished hir complainte,
one came in to carrye hir to Pryson, whether willinglye shee
wente for that she was already resolued in desire, to lyue no
longer in that miserie. The Gentleman contented wyth that payne,
and not able for to dissemble the gryefe, which hee conceyued
for the passion whych hee sawe hys Welbeloued to endure, the
enioyinge of whome renued the heate of the flames forepast,
repayred to the Kyng, vnto whome to the great pleasure of the
Standers by, and exceding reioyce of hys Maiestye (to heare hym
speake) he told the whole discourse of the Loue betweene hym and
cruell Zilia, the cause of the losse of his speach, and the
somme of hys reuenge.” By the fayth of a Gentleman (sayed the
king) but here is so straunge an hystorye as euer I heard: and
verely your fayth and loyaltye is no lesse to be praised and
commended than the cruelty and couetousnes of the Woman worthy
of reproch and blame, which truly deserueth some greeuous and
notable iustice, if so be she were not able to render some
apparant cause for the couerture and hiding of hir folly.” “Alas
sir,” (sayd the Gentleman) “pleaseth your maiesty to deliuer hir
(although she be worthy of punishment) and discharge the rest
that be in prison for not recouery of my speach, sith my onely
help did rest, eyther at hir Commaundemente whych had bounde me
to that wrong, or else in the expired time, for whych I had
pleadged my fayth.” To which request, the Kinge very willingly
agreed, greatly praysing the Wisedome, Curtesie, and aboue all
the fidelity of the Lord of Virle, who causing his penitenciary
to be set at liberty, kept hir company certayne dayes, as well
to Feaste, and banket hir, in those Landes and Possessions which
the kinges maiesty had liberally bestowed vpon him, as to
saciate his Appetite with some fruictes whereof he had sauoured
his taste when he was voluntaryly Dumbe. Zilia founde that
fauour so pleasaunt, as in maner shee counted hir imprisonment
happy, and hir trauell rest, by reason that distresse made hir
then feele more liuely the force and pleasure of Liberty, which
shee had not founde to bee so delicate, had she not receyued the
experience and payne thereof. Marke heere how Fortune dealeth
with them which trustinge in their force, despise (in respect of
that which they doe themselues) the little portion that they
iudge to bee in others. If the Vayneglory, and arrogante
Presumption of a Chastity Impregnable had not deceiued this
Gentlewoman, if the sacred hunger of gold had not blinded hir,
it could not haue bene knowne, wherein hir incontinency
consisted, not in the Mynion delights, and alluring Toyes of a
passionate Louer, but in the couetous desire of filling hir
Purse, and Hypocriticall glory of praise among men. And
notwithstanding yee see hir gaine to serue hir turne nothing at
all but to the perpetuall reproch of hir name, and the slaunder
sutch as ill speakers and enimies of womankinde, do burden the
Sexe withall. But the fault of one Woman, which by hir owne
presumption deceyued hir selfe, ought not to obscure the glory
of so many vertuous, Fayre, and Honest dames, who by their
Chastity, Liberality, and Curtesy, be able to deface the blot of
Folly, Couetousnes and cruelty of this Gentlewoman heere, and of
all other that do resemble hir. Who taking leaue of hir Louer,
went home agayne to Piedmount, not without an ordinary griefe of
heart, which serued hir for a spur to hir Conscience, and
continually forced hir to thinke, that the force of man is lesse
than nothing, where God worketh not by his grace, which fayling
in vs, oure worckes can fauor but of the stench and corruption
of our nature, wherein it tumbleth and tosseth lyke the Sow that
walloweth in the puddle of filth and dirt. And because yee shall
not thincke in generall termes of Woman’s chastity, and
discretion, that I am not able to vouche some particular example
of later years, I meane to tell you of one, that is not onely to
bee praysed for hir Chastity in the absence of hir husband,
but also of hir Courage and Pollicy in chastisinge the vaunting
natures of two Hungarian Lords that made their braggs they would
win hir to their Willes, and not only hir, but all other,
whatsoeuer they were of Womankynde.
THE TWENTY-EIGHTH NOUELL.
_Two Barons of Hvngarie assuring themselues to obtayne their
sute to a fayre Lady of Boeme, receyued of hir a straung and
maruelous repulse, to their great shame and Infamy, cursinge
the tyme that euer they aduentured an Enterprise so foolish._
Penelope, the woful Wife of absent Vlisses, in hir tedious
longing for the home retourne of that hir aduenturous knight,
assayled wyth Carefull heart amid the troupe of amorous Suters,
and within the Bowels of hir royall Pallace, deserued no greater
fame for hir valiaunt encountries and stoute defence of the
inuincible, and Adamant fort of hir chastity than this Boeme
Lady doth by resisting two mighty Barrons, that canoned the
Walles, and well mured rampart of hir pudicity. For being
threatned in his Princes Court, whether al the well trayned crew
of eche science and profession, dyd make repayre, beyng menaced
by Venus’ band, which not onely summoned hir fort and gaue hir a
camisado by thick _Al’ Armes_, but also forced the place by
fierce assault, she lyke a couragious and politike captayne,
gaue those braue and lusty Souldiers, a fowle repulse, and in
end taking them captiues, vrged them for their victuals to fall
to woman’s toyle, more shamefull than shamelesse Sardanapalus
amid hys amorous troupe. I neede not amplifie by length of
preamble, the fame of this Boeme Lady, nor yet briefly recompt
the Triumph of hir Victory: vayne it were also by glorious
hymnes to chaunte the wisedome of hir beleuing maake, who not
carelesse of hir Lyfe, employed hys care to serue hys Prynce,
and by seruice atchieued the cause that draue him to a
souldier’s state. But yet for trustlesse faith in the pryme
conference of his future porte, hee consulted wyth a Pollaco,
for a compounded drugge, to ease his suspect mind, whych
medicine so eased his maladie, as it not onely preserued hym
from the infected humour, but also made hir happy for euer.
Sutch fall the euents of valiaunt mindes, though many tymes
mother iealosie that cancred Wytch steppeth in hir foote to anoy
the well disposed heart. For had he ioyned to his valyaunce
credite of his louynge wife, without the blynde aduyse of sutch
as professe that blacke and lying scyence, double glorye hee had
gayned: once for endeuoryng by seruice to seeke honour: the
seconde, for absolute truste in hir, that neuer ment to beguyle
him, as by hir firste aunswere to his first motion appeareth.
But what is to be obiected against the Barons? Let them answere
for their fault, in this discourse ensuing: whych so lessoneth
all Noble Myndes, as warely they ought to beware how they
aduenture upon the honour of Ladies, who bee not altogither of
one selfe and yelding trampe, but wel forged and steeled in the
shamefast shoppe of Loyaltie, which armure defendeth them
against the fond skirmishes and vnconsidred conflicts of Venus’
wanton band. The maiesties also of the king and Queene, are to
be aduaunced aboue the starres for their wise dissuasion of
those Noblemen from their hot and hedlesse enterpryse, and then
their Iustice for due execution of their forfait, the
particularity of whych discourse in this wyse doth begynne.
Mathie Coruine, sometime king of Hungarie, aboute the yeare of
oure Lorde 1458, was a valiaunt man of Warre, and of goodly
personage. Hee was the first that was Famous, or feared of the
Turks, of any Prynce that gouerned that kingdome. And amongs
other his vertues, so well in Armes and Letters, as in
Lyberallyty and Curtesie he excelled al the Prynces that raygned
in his time. He had to Wyfe Queene Beatrice of Arragon, the
Daughter of olde Ferdinando kyng of Naples, and sister to the
mother of Alphonsus, Duke of Ferrara, who in learnyng, good
conditions, and all other vertues generally dispersed in hir,
was a surpassing princesse, and shewed hirself not onely a
curteous and Liberall Gentlewoman to king Mathie hir husband,
but to all other, that for vertue seemed worthy of honour and
reward: in sutch wise as to the Court of these two noble
Princes, repayred the most notable Men of al Nations that were
giuen to any kind of good exercise, and euery of them according
to theyr desert and degree welcomed and entertained. It chaunced
in this time, that a knight of Boeme the vasall of Kinge Mathie,
for that he was likewyse kyng of that countrey, born of a noble
house, very valiant and wel exercised in armes, fell in loue
with a passing faire Gentlewoman of like nobility, and reputed
to be the fairest of al the country, and had a brother that was
but a pore Gentleman, not lucky to the goods of fortune. This
Boemian knight was also not very rich, hauing onely a Castle,
wyth certain reuenues thervnto, which was scarce able to yeld
vnto him any great maintenance of liuing. Fallyng in loue then
with this faire Gentlewoman, he demaunded hir in mariage of hir
brother, and with hir had but a very little dowrie. And this
knight not wel forseeing his poore estate, brought his wyfe home
to his house, and there, at more leisure considering the same,
began to fele his lacke and penury, and how hardly and scant his
reuenues were able to maintein his port. He was a very honest
and gentle person, and one that delighted not by any meanes to
burden and fine his tenants, contenting himself with that
reuenue which his ancesters left him, the same amounting to no
great yerely rent. When this gentleman perceiued that he stode
in neede of extraordinary relyefe, after many and diuers
consyderations with himself, he purposed to folow the Court, and
to serue king Mathie his souerain lord and master, there by his
diligence and experience, to seke meanes for ability to sustaine
his wife and himself. But so great and feruent was the loue that
he bare vnto his Lady, as he thought it impossible for him to
liue one houre without hir, and yet iudged it not best to haue
hir with him to the court, for auoidinge of further Charges
incydente to Courtyng Ladyes, whose Delight and Pleasure resteth
in the toyes and trycks of the same, that cannot be wel auoyded
in poore Gentlemen, without theyr Names in the Mercer’s or
Draper’s Iornals, a heauy thyng for them to consyder if for
their disport they lyke to walke the stretes. The daily thynkyng
thereupon, brought the poore Gentleman to great sorrow and
heauinesse. The Lady that was young, wise and discrete, marking
the maner of hir husband, feared that he had some misliking of
hir. Wherefore vpon a day she thus sayd vnto hym: “Dere husband,
willingly would I desire a good turne at your hand, if I wist I
should not displease you.” “Demaund what you will,” (said the
knighte) “if I can, I shall gladly performe it, bicause I do
esteeme your satisfaction, as I do mine owne lyfe.” Then the
Lady very sobrely praied him, that he would open vnto hir the
cause of that discontentment, which hee shewed outwardly to
haue, for that his mynd and behauiour seemed to bee contrary to
ordinary Custome, and contriued Daye and Nyghte in sighes,
auoydinge the Company of them that were wont specially to
delyght him. The Knight hearing his Ladyes request, paused a
whyle, and then sayd vnto hir: “My wel beloued Wyfe, for so
mutch as you desyre to vnderstand my thoughte and mynde, and
whereof it commeth that I am sad and pensife, I wyll tell you:
all the Heauinesse wherewith you see me to be affected, doth
tend to this end. Fayne would I deuyse that you and I may in
honour lyue together, accordyng to our calling. For in respect
of our Parentage, our Liuelode is very slender, the occasion
whereof were our Parents, who morgaged their Lands, and consumed
a great part of their goods that our Auncestors lefte them.
I dayly thynking hereupon, and conceiuyng in my head dyuers
Imaginations, can deuise no meanes but one, that in my fansie
seemeth best, which is, that I go to the Court of our soueraine
lord Mathie who at this present is inferring Warres vpon the
Turk, at whose hands I do not mistrust to receyue good
intertainment, beynge a most Lyberal Prynce, and one that
esteemeth al sutch as be valiant and actiue. And I for my parte
wyll so gouerne my selfe (by God’s grace) that by deserte I wyll
procure sutch lyuing and fauour as hereafter we may lyue in oure
Olde Dayes a quyet Lyfe to oure great stay and comforte: For
althoughe Fortune hitherto hath not fauored that state of
Parentage, whereof we be, I doubt not wyth Noble Courage to win
that in despyte of Fortune’s Teeth, which obstinately hitherto
she hath denyed. And the more assured am I of thys
determination, bycause at other tymes, I haue serued vnder the
Vaiuoda in Transiluania, agaynst the Turke, where many tymes I
haue bene requyred to serue also in the Courte, by that
honourable Gentleman, the Counte of Cilia. But when I dyd
consider the beloued Company of you (deare Wyfe) the swetest
Companyon that euer Wyght possessed, I thought it vnpossible for
me to forbeare your presence, whych yf I should doe, I were
worthy to sustayne that dishonour, which a great number of
carelesse Gentlemen doe, who following their pryuate gayne and
Wyll, abandon theyr young and fayre Wyues, neglectinge the fyre
which Nature hath instilled to the delycate bodies of sutch
tender Creatures. Fearing therewythall, that so soone as I
shoulde depart the lusty yong Barons and Gentlemen of the
Countrey would pursue the gaine of that loue, the pryce whereof
I do esteeme aboue the crowne of the greatest Emperour in all
the World, and woulde not forgoe for all the Riches and Precious
Iewels in the fertyle Soyle of Arabie, who no doubte would
swarme togyther in greater heapes then euer dyd the wowers of
Penelope, within the famous graunge of Ithaca, the house of
Wandering Vlisses. Whych pursute if they dyd attayne, I shoulde
for euer hereafter be ashamed to shewe my face before those that
be of valour and regard. And this is the whole effect of the
scruple (sweete wyfe) that hyndreth me, to seeke for our better
estate and fortune.” When he had spoken these words, he held his
peace. The Gentlewoman which was wyse and stout, perceyuing the
great loue that her husband bare hir, when hee had stayed
himselfe from talke, with good and merry Countenance answered
hym in thys wyse: “Sir Vlrico,” (which was the name of the
Gentleman) “I in lyke manner as you haue done, haue deuysed and
thoughte vpon the Nobilitye and Byrth of our Auncestors, from
whose state and port (and that wythout oure fault and cryme) we
be far wyde and deuyded. Notwythstanding I determined to set a
good face vpon the matter, and to make so mutch of our paynted
sheath as I could. In deede I confesse my selfe to be a Woman,
and you Men doe say that Womens heartes be faynt and feeble: but
to bee playne wyth you, the contrary is in me, my hearte is so
stoute and ambitious as peraduenture not meete and consonant to
power and ability, although we Women will finde no lacke if our
Hartes haue pith and strength inough to beare it out. And faine
woulde I support the state wherein my mother maintayned me. Howe
be it for mine owne part (to God I yeld the thanks) I can so
moderate and stay my little great heart, that contented and
satisfied I can be, with that which your abilitye can beare, and
pleasure commaund. But to come to the point, I say that debating
with my selfe of our state as you full wisely do, I do verily
think that you being a yong Gentleman, lusty and valiaunt, no
better remedy or deuyse can be found than for you to aspyre and
seeke the Kyng’s fauor and seruice. And it must needes ryse and
redounde to your gaine and preferment, for that I heare you say
the King’s Maiestye doth already knowe you. Wherefore I do
suppose that hys grace (a skilfull Gentleman to way and esteeme
the vertue and valor of ech man) cannot chose but reward and
recompence the well doer to his singular contentation and
comfort. Of this myne Opinion I durst not before thys time vtter
Word or signe for feare of your displeasure. But nowe sith your
selfe hath opened the way and meanes, I haue presumed to
discouer the same, do what shal seeme best vnto your good
pleasure. And I for my parte, although that I am a woman
(accordingly as I saied euen now) that by Nature am desirous of
honor, and to shew my selfe abrode more rich and sumptuous than
other, yet in respect of our fortune, I shal be contented so
long as I lyue to continue with you in this our Castell, where
by the grace of God I will not fayle to serue, loue and obey
you, and to keepe your House in that moderate sorte, as the
reuenues shall be able to maintayne the same. And no doubt but
that poore liuing we haue orderly vsed, shal be sufficient to
finde vs two, and fiue or sixe seruaunts with a couple of
horsse, and so to lyue a quyet and merry Lyfe. If God doe send
vs any Children, tyl they come to lawfull age, we will with our
poore liuing bryng them vp so well as wee can and then to prefer
them to some Noble mens seruices, with whome by God’s grace they
may acquire honoure and lyuing, to keepe them in their aged
dayes. And I doe trust that wee two shall vse sutch mutuall loue
and reioyce, that so long as our Lyfe doth last in wealth and
woe, our contented mindes shall rest satisfied. But I waying the
stoutnesse of your minde, doe know that you esteeme more an
Ounce of honor, than all the Golde that is in the world. For as
your birth is Noble, so is your heart and stomacke. And
therefore many tymes seeing your great heauinesse, and manyfolde
muses and studies, I haue wondred with my selfe whereof they
should proceede, and amongs other my conceipts, I thought that
either my behauior and order of dealyng, or my personage did not
lyke you: or else that your wonted gentle minde and disposition
had ben altered and transformed into some other Nature: many
times also I was contente to thynke that the cause of your
disquiet mynde, dyd ryse vppon the disuse of Armes, wherein you
were wonte dailye to accustome youre selfe amonges the Troupes
of the honourable, a company in dede most worthy of your
presence. Reuoluing many times these and sutch lyke cogitations,
I haue sought meanes by sutch alurementes as I could deuyse, to
ease and mitigate your troubled minde, and to wythdraw the great
vnquiet and care wherewith I sawe you to be affected. Bycause I
do esteeme you aboue all the Worlde deemyng your onely gryefe to
be my double Payne, your aking Fynger, a feruent Feuer fit, and
the least Woe you can sustayne moste bytter Death to me, that
loueth you more dearelye than my selfe. And for that I doe
perceyue you are determyned to serue our Noble King, the sorrowe
which without doubte wyll assayle mee by reason of your absence,
I wyll sweeten and lenifie wyth Contentatyon, to see your
Commendable desyre appeased and quiet. And the pleasaunt Memory
of your valyaunt facts beguyle my pensife thoughts, hopyng our
nexte meetyng shall bee more ioyfull than thys our dysiunctyon
and departure heauy. And where you doubt of the Confluence and
repayre of the dyshoneste whych shall attempt the wynnyng and
subduing of myne heart and vnspotted bodye, hytherto inuyolably
kepte from the touch of any person, cast from you that feare,
expel from your minde that fonde conceipt: for death shall
sooner close these mortall Eyes, than my Chastitye shall bee
defyled. For pledge whereof I haue none other thyng to gyue but
my true and symple fayth, whych if you dare trust it shal
hereafter appeare so firme and inuiolable as no sparke of
suspition shal enter your careful minde, which I may wel terme
to be carefull, bicause some care before hand doth rise of my
behauior in your absence. The tryall wherefore shall yelde sure
euidence and testimony, by passing my careful life which I may
with better cause so terme in your absence, that God knoweth wil
be right pensife and carefull vnto mee, who ioyeth in nothinge
else but in your welfare. Neuerthelesse all meanes and wayes
shall bee agreeable vnto my minde for your assurance, and shall
breede in me a wonderful contentation, which lusteth after
nothing but your satisfaction. And if you list to close me vp in
one of the Castell towers til your return, right glad I am there
to continue an Ankresse life: so that the same may ease your
desired mind.” The knight with great delyght gaue ear to the
aunswere of his Wife, and when she had ended hir talke, he began
to reply vnto hir: “My welbeloued, I doe lyke wel and greatly
commended the stoutnesse of your heart, it pleaseth me greatly
to see the same agreeable vnto mine. You haue lightned the same
from inestimable woe by vnderstanding your conceiued purpose and
determination to gard and preserue your honor, praying you
therein to perseuere, still remembring that when a Woman hath
lost hir honor, shee hath forgone the chiefest Iewel she hath in
this Life, and deserueth no longer to be called woman. And
touching my talke proposed vnto you although it be of great
importaunce, yet I meane not to depart so soone. But if it do
come to effect I assure thee Wife, I will leaue thee Lady and
mistresse of all that I haue. In the meane time I will consider
better of my businesse, and consult with my fryendes and
kinsmen, and then determine what is best to be done. Til when
let vs lyue and spend our tyme so merely as we can.” To bee
shorte there was nothing that so mutch molested the knight, as
the doubt he had of his wife, for that she was a very fine and
faire yong Gentlewoman: And therefore he stil deuised and
imagined what assurance he myght finde of hir behauior in his
absence. And resting in this imagination, not long after it cam
to passe that the knight being in company of diuers Gentleman,
and talking of sundry matters, a tale was tolde what chaunced to
a gentleman of the Countrey whych had obtained the fauoure and
good wyll of a Woman, by meanes of an olde man called Pollacco,
which had the name to be a famous enchaunter and Physitian,
dwelling at Cutiano a Citie of Boeme, where plenty of siluer
mines and other metals is. The knight whose Castle was not far
from Cutiano, had occasion to repaire vnto that Citye, and
according to his desire found out this Pollacco, which was a
very old man, and talking with him of diuers things, perceiued
him to be of great skil. In end he entreated him, that for so
mutch as he had don pleasure to many for apprehension of their
loue, he wold also instruct him, how he might be assured that
hys wife did keepe hir self honest all the time of his absence,
and that by certaine signes hee might have sure knowledge
whether she brake hir faith, by sending his honesty into
Cornwall. Sutch vaine trust this knight reposed in the lying
Science of Sorcery, whych although to many other is found
deceitful, yet to him serued for sure euidence of his wiue’s
fidelity. This Pollacco which was a very cunning enchaunter as
you haue heard sayd vnto him: “Sir you demaund a very straunge
matter, sutch as wherwyth neuer hitherto I haue bene acquainted,
ne yet searched the depthe of those hydden secrets, a thyng not
commonly sued for, ne yet practized by me. For who is able to
make assurance of a woman’s chastity, or tel by signes except he
were at the deede doing, that she had don amisse? Or who can
gaine by proctors wryt, to summon or sue at spiritual Courte,
peremptorily to affirme by neuer so good euydence or testimony,
that a woman hath hazarded hir honesty, except he sweare Rem to
be in Re, which the greatest Ciuilian that ever Padua bred neuer
sawe by processe duely tried? Shall I then warrante you the
honesty of such slippery Catell, prone and ready to lust, easy
to be vanquished by the suites of earnest pursuers? But
blameworthy surely I am, thus generally to speake: for some I
know, although not many, for whose poore honesties I dare
aduenture mine owne. And yet that number how small so euer it
be, is worthy all due Reuerence and Honoure. Notwythstandyng
(bycause you seeme to bee an Honeste Gentleman) of that
Knowledge which I haue, I will not bee greatelye squeimyshe,
a certayne secrete experiment in deede I haue, wherewith
perchaunce I may satisfy your demaund. And this is it: I can by
mine Arte in smal time, by certaine compositions, frame a
Woman’s Image, which you continually in a lyttle Boxe may carry
about you, and so ofte as you list behold the same. If the wife
doe not breake hir maryage faith, you shall still see the same
so fayre and wel coloured as it was at the first making, and
seeme as though it newly came from the painter’s shop, but if
perchaunce she meane to abuse hir honesty the same wil waxe
pale, and in deede committing that filthy Fact, sodainly the
colour will bee blacke, as arayed with Cole or other filth, and
the smel thereof wyl not be very pleasaunt, but at al times when
she is attempted or pursued, the colour will be so yealow as
Gold.” This maruellous secrete deuyse greatly pleased the Knyght
verely beleuing the same to be true, specially mutch moued and
assured by the same bruted abrode of his science, whereof the
Cytyzens of Cutiano, tolde very straunge and incredyble things.
When the pryce was paied for this precious Iewel, hee receiued
the Image, and ioyfully returned home to his Castell, where
tarryinge certain dayes, he determined to repayre to the Court
of the glorious king Mathie, making his wife priuy of hys
intent. Afterwards when he had disposed his household matters in
order, he committed the gouernment therof to his Wife, and
hauinge prepared all Necessaries for his voyage, to the great
sorrow and grief of his beloued, he departed and arryued at Alba
Regale, where that time the king lay with Beattrix his Wife, of
whom hee was ioyfully receiued and entertayned. He had not long
continued in the Court, but he had obtained and won the fauor
and good wyll of all men. The king which knew him full well very
honorably placed him in his Courte, and by him accomplished
diuers and many waighty affairs, which very wisely and trustely
he brought to passe according to the king’s mind and pleasure.
Afterwards he was made Colonell of a certain number of footmen
sent by the king against the Turks to defende a holde which the
enimies of God began to assaile vnder the conduct of Mustapha
Basca, which conduct he so wel directed and therin stoutly
behaued himself, as he chased al the infidels oute of those
coasts, winning therby the name of a most valiaunt soldier and
prudent Captaine, whereby he merueylously gayned the fauor and
grace of the king, who (ouer and besides his dayly
intertaynment) gaue vnto him a Castle, and the Reuenue in fee
farme for euer. Sutch rewards deserue all valiaunt men, which
for the honour of theyr Prince and countrey do willingly imploy
their seruice, worthy no doubt of great regard and chearishinge,
vpon their home returne, because they hate idlenes to win Glory,
deuisinge rather to spende whole dayes in fielde, than houres in
Courte, which this worthy knight deserued, who not able to
sustayne his poore Estate, by politick wisdome and prowesse of
armes endeuored to serue his Lord and countrey, wherein surely
hee made a very good choyse{.} Then he deuoutly praysed God, for
that he put into his minde sutch a noble enterprise, trusting
dayly to atchieue greater Fame and Glory: but the greater was
his ioy and contentation, bicause the Image of hys Wyfe inclosed
wythin a Boxe, whych still hee caried about him in hys pursse,
continued freshe of coloure without alteration. It was noysed in
the Court how thys valiaunt Knight Vlrico, had in Boeme the
fayrest and goodliest Lady to his Wife that liued eyther in
Boeme, or Hungary. It chaunced as a certaine company of young
Gentlemen in the Courte were together (amongs whom was this
Knight) that a Hungarian Baron sayd vnto him: “How is it
possible, syr Vlrico, being a yeare and a halfe since you
departed out of Boeme, that you haue no minde to returne to see
your Wife, who, as the common fame reporteth, is one of the
goodliest Women of all the Countrey: truely it seemeth to me,
that you care not for hir, which were great pitty if hir beauty
be correspondent to hir Fame.” “Syr,” (quod Vlrico) “what hir
beauty is I referre vnto the World, but how so euer you esteeme
me to care of hir, you shall vnderstand that I doe loue hir, and
wil do so duringe my lyfe. And the cause why I haue not visited
hir of long time, is no little proofe of the great assurance I
haue of her vertue and honest lyfe. The argument of hir vertue I
proue, for that she is contented that I should serue my Lord and
king, and sufficient it is for me to giue hir intelligence of my
state and welfare, whych many tymes by Letters at opportunity I
fayle not to do: The proofe of my Fayth is euydent by reason of
my bounden duety to our Soueraigne Lord of whom I haue receyued
so great, and ample Benefites, and the Warrefare which I vse in
his grace’s seruice vpon the Frontiers of his Realme agaynst the
enimies of Christe, whereunto I bear more good will than I doe
to Wedlocke Loue, preferring duety to Prince before mariage:
albeit my Wiue’s fayth, and constancy is sutch, as freely I may
spend my lyfe without care of hir deuoyr, being assured that
besides hir Beauty shee is wise, vertuous and honest, and loueth
me aboue al worldly things, tendring me so dearely as she doth
the Balles of hir owne eyes.” “You haue stoutly sayd,” (answered
the Baron) “in defence of your Wiue’s chastity, whereof she can
make vnto hir selfe no great warrantice, because a woman some
tymes will bee in minde not to be mooued at the requests, and
gifts offred by the greatest Prince of the World who afterwards
within a day vpon the onely sight, and view of some lusty youth,
at one simple worde vttered with a few Teares, and shorter
suite, yeldeth to his request. And what is she then that can
conceyue sutch assuraunce in hir selfe? What is hee that knoweth
the secretes of heartes which be impenetrable? Surely none as I
suppose, except God him selfe. A Woman of hir owne nature is
mooueable and plyant, and is the moste ambitious creature of the
Worlde. And (by God) no Woman doe I know but that she lusteth
and desireth to be beloued, required, sued vnto, honored and
cherished? And oftentimes it commeth to passe that the most
crafty Dames which thincke with fayned Lookes to feede their
diuers Louers, be the first that thrust their heads into the
amorous Nets, and lyke little Birdes in hard distresse of
weather be caught in Louer’s Limetwigges. Whereby, sir Vlrico,
I do not see that your Wyfe (aboue all other Women compact of
flesh and bone) hath sutch priuiledge from God, but that she may
be soone entised and corrupted.” “Well sir,” (sayd the Boeme
Knight) “I am persuaded of that which I haue spoken, and verely
doe beleue the effect of my beliefe most true. Euery man knoweth
his owne affayres, and the Foole knoweth better what hee hath,
than hys neighbors, do, be they neuer so wise. Beleue you what
you thincke for good. I meane not to disgresse from that which I
conceyue. And suffer me (I pray you) to beleue what I list, sith
beliefe cannot hurt me, nor yet your discredite can hinder my
beliefe, being free for ech man in semblable chaunces to thinke,
and belieue what his mynde lusteth and liketh.” There were many
other Lordes and Gentlemen of the court present at there talke,
and as we commonly see (at sutch like meetinges) euery man
vttereth his minde: whereupon sundry opinions were produced
touching that question. And because diuers men be of diuers
natures, and many presuminge vpon the pregnancy of their wise
heads there rose some stur about that talke, each man obstinate
in hys alledged reason, more froward peraduenture than reason,
more rightly required: the communication grew so hot and talke
brake forth so loude, as the same was reported to the Queene.
The good Lady sory to heare tell of sutch strife within hir
Court, abhorring naturally all controuersie and contention, sent
for the parties, and required theym from poynct to poynct to
make recitall of the beginning, and circumstaunce of their
reasons, and arguments. And when she vnderstoode the effect of
al their talke, she sayd, that euery man at his owne pleasure
might beleeue what he list, affirming it to be presumptuous and
extreme folly, to iudge all women to be of one disposition, in
like sort as it were a great errour to say that all men bee of
one quality and condicion: the contrary by dayly experience
manifestly appearing. For both in men and women, there is so
great difference and variety of natures, as there bee heades,
and wits. And how it is commonly seene that two Brothers, and
Sisters, borne at one Byrth, bee yet of contrary Natures and
Complexions, of Manners, and Conditions so diuers, as the thinge
which shall please the one, is altogeather displeasaunt to the
other. Wherevppon the Queene concluded, that the Boeme knight
had good reason to continue that good and honest credit of his
Wyfe, as hauing proued hir fidelity of long time, wherein she
shewed hirself to be very wise and discret. Now because (as many
times we see) the natures and appetites of diuers men be
insaciable, and one man sometimes more foolish hardy than
another, euen so (to say the troth) were those two Hungarian
Barons, who seeming wise in their owne conceiptes, one of them
sayd to the Queene in this manner: “Madame, your grace doth wel
maintaine the sexe of womankinde, because you be a Woman. For by
nature it is gieuen to that kinde, stoutly to stand in defence
of themselues, because their imbecillity, and weakenes otherwise
would bewray them: and although good reasons might be alledged
to open the causes of their debility, and why they be not able
to attayne the hault excellency of man, yet for this tyme I doe
not meane to be tedious vnto your grace, least the little heart
of Woman should ryse and display that conceit which is wrapt
within that little Moulde. But to retourne to this chaste Lady,
through whom our talke began, is we might craue licence of your
Maiesty, and saulfe Conduct of thys Gentleman to knowe hir
dwelling place, and haue leaue to speake to hir, we doubt not
but to breake with our batteringe talke the Adamant Walles of
hir Chastity that is so famous, and cary away that Spoile which
victoriously we shall atchieue.” “I know not,” aunswered the
Boeme Knight, “what yee can, or will doe, but sure I am, that
hitherto I am not deceyued.” Many things were spoken there,
and sundry opinions of eyther partes alledged, in ende the two
Hungarian Barons persuaded them selues, and made their vaunts
that they were able to climbe the Skyes, and both would attempt
and also bring to passe any enterprise were it neuer so great,
affirming their former offer by othe, and offering to Guage all
the Landes, and goods they had, that within the space of 5
moneths they woulde eyther of them obtayne the Gentlewoman’s
good will to do what they list, so that the knight were bound,
neyther to returne home, ne yet to aduertise hir of their
determination. The Queene, and all the standers by, laughed
heartely at this their offer, mocking and iesting at their
foolish, and youthly conceites. Whych the Barons perceiuiug,
sayde: “You thinke Madame that we speake triflingly, and be not
able to accomplish this our proposed enterprise, but Madame, may
it please you to gieue vs leaue, wee meane by earnest attempt to
gieue proofe thereof.” And as they were thus in reasoninge and
debating the matter, the kinge (hearinge tell of this large
offer made by the Barons) came into the place where the queene
was, at such time as she was about to dissuade them from the
frantik deuise. Before whom he being entred the chamber, the two
Barons fell downe vpon their Knees, and humbly besought his
Grace, that the compact made betwene sir Vlrico and them might
proceede, disclosing vnto him in few wordes the effect of all
their talke, which franckly was graunted by the king. But the
Barons added a Prouisio, that when they had won their Wager, the
Knight by no meanes shoulde hurt his Wyfe, and from that tyme
forth should gieue ouer hys false Opinion, that women were not
naturally gieuen to the sutes and requests of amorous persons.
The Boeme Knight, who was assured of hys Wyue’s great Honesty,
and Loyall fayth, beleeued so true as the Gospell, the
proportion and quality of the Image, who in all the tyme that
hee was farre of, neuer perceyued the same to bee eyther Pale or
Black, but at that tyme lookinge vpon the Image, hee perceiued a
certayne Yealow colour to rise, as hee thought his Wyfe was by
some loue pursued, but yet sodeynly it returned agayne to his
naturall hewe, which boldned him to say these words to the
Hungarian Barons: “Yee be a couple of pleasaunt, and vnbeleeuing
Gentlemen, and haue conceyued so fantasticall opinion, as euer
men of your calling did: but sith you proceede in your obstinate
folly, and wil needes guage all the Lands, and goods you haue,
that you bee able to vanquishe my Wyue’s Honest, and Chaste
heart, I am contented, for the singuler credite which I repose
in hir, to ioyne with you, and will pledge the poore lyuinge I
haue for proofe of mine Opinion, and shall accomplishe al other
your requestes made here, before the maiesties of the Kinge and
Queene. And therefore may it please your highnesse, sith this
fond deuice can not be beaten out of their heads, to gieue
Licence vnto those Noblemen, the Lords Vladislao and Alberto,
(so were they called) to put in proofe the mery conceipt of
their disposed mindes (whereof they do so greatly bragge) and I
by your good grace and fauoure, am content to agree to their
demaundes: and wee, answered the Hungarians, do once agayne
affirme the same which wee haue spoken.” The king willing to
haue them gyue ouer that strife, was intreated to the contrary
by the Barons: whereupon the kinge perceyuinge their Follies,
caused a decree of the bargayne to be put in writing, eyther
Parties interchaungeably subscribiug the same. Which done, they
tooke their leaues. Afterwards, the two Hungarians began to put
their enterprise in order and agreed betweene themselues,
Alberto to bee the firste that should aduenture vppon the Lady.
And that within sixe Weekes after vpon his returne, the lord
Vladislao should proceede. These things concluded, and all
Furnitures for their seuerall Iorneys disposed, the lord Alberto
departed in good order, with two seruaunts directly trauayling
to the castle of the Boeme Knight, where being arriued, hee
lighted at an Inne of the towne adioyning to the Castle, and
demaunding of the hoste, the Conditions of the lady, hee
vnderstoode that shee was a very fayre Woman, and that hir
honesty, and loue towards hir husbande farre excelled hir
beauty. Which wordes nothing dismayede the Amorous Baron, but
when hee had pulled of his Bootes, and richely arayed hymselfe,
he repayred to the Castle, and knockinge at the Gates, gaue the
Lady to vnderstand that he was come to see hir. She which was a
curteous Gentlewoman, caused him to be brought in, and gently
gaue him honourable intertaynment. The Baron greatly mused vppon
the beauty, and goodlinesse of the Lady, singularly commending
hir honest order and Behauiour. And beinge set down, the young
Gentleman sayd vnto hir: “Madame, mooued with the fame of your
surpassing Beauty, which now I see to bee more excellent than
Fame with hir swiftest Wyngs is able to cary: I am come from the
Court to view and see if that were true, or whether lyinge
Brutes had scattered their Vulgar talke in vayne: but finding
the same farre more fine and pure than erst I did expect,
I craue Lycence of your Ladyship, to conceyue none offence of
this my boulde, and rude attempt.” And herewithall hee began to
ioyne many trifling and vayne words, whych dalyinge Suters by
heate of Lusty bloude bee wont to shoote forth, to declare theym
selues not to be Speachlesse, or Tongue tied. Which the Lady
well espying speedily imagined into what Porte hys rotten Barke
would arriue: wherefore in the ende when shee sawe his Shippe at
Roade, began to enter in prety louinge talke, by little, and
little to incourage his fond attempt. The Baron thinkinge hee
had caught the Ele by the Tayle, not well practised in Cicero
his schoole, ceased not fondly to contriue the time, by making
hir beleeue, that he was farre in loue. The Lady weary (God
wote) of his fonde behauiour, and amorous reasons, and yet not
to seeme scornfull, made him good countenaunce, in sutch wyse as
the Hungarian two or three dayes did nothing else but proceede
in vayne Pursute, Shee perceyuing him to bee but a Hauke of the
first Coate, deuysed to recompence hys Follies with sutch
entertaynement, as during his life, he shoulde keepe the same in
good remembraunce. Wherefore not long after, fayning as though
his great wisedome, vttered by eloquent Talke, had subdued hir,
shee sayd thus vnto him: “My Lord, the reasons you produce, and
your pleasaunt gesture in my house, haue so inchaunted mee, that
impossible it is, but I must needes agree vnto your wyll: for
where I neuer thought during lyfe, to stayne the purity of
mariage Bed, and determined continually to preserue my selfe
inuiolably for my Husbande: your noble grace, and curteous
behauiour, haue (I say) so bewitched mee, that ready I am to bee
at your commaundement, humbly beseeching your honour to beware,
that knowledge hereof may not come vnto myne Husband’s eares,
who is so fierce and cruell, and loueth me so dearely, as no
doubt he will without further triall eyther him selfe kill me,
or otherwise procure my death: and to the intent none of my
house may suspect our doings, I shall desire you to morrow in
the morninge about nyne of the Clock, which is the accustomed
time of your repayre hither, to come vnto my Castle, wherein
when you be entred, speedily to mount vp to the Chaumber of the
highest Tower, ouer the doore whereof, yee shall finde the armes
of my Husband, entayled in Marble: and when you be entred in,
to shut the Doore fast after you, and in the meane time I will
wayte and prouyde, that none shall molest and trouble vs, and
then we shall bestowe our selues for accomplishement of that
which your loue desireth.” Nowe in very deede this Chaumber was
a very strong Pryson ordayned in auncient time by the
Progenitours of that Territory, to Impryson, and punishe the
Vassals, and Tenants of the same, for offences, and Crimes
committed. The Baron hearynge this Lyberall offer of the Ladye,
thinking that he had obteined the summe of al his ioy, so glad
as if he had conquered a whole kingdome, the best contented man
aliue, thanking the Lady for hir curteous answere, departed and
retourned to his Inne. God knoweth vppon howe merry a Pinne the
hearte of this young Baron was sette, and after he had liberally
banketted his hoste and hostesse, pleasantly disposing himselfe
to myrth and recreation, he wente to bed, where ioy so lightned
his merry head, as no slepe at all could close his eyes, sutch
be the sauage pangs of those that aspyre to like delyghts as the
best reclaimer of the wildest hauk could neuer take more payne
or deuise mo shiftes to Man the same for the better atchieuing
of hir pray than dyd this braue Baron for brynging hys
Enterprise to effect. The nexte day early in the morning hee
rose, dressing himselfe with the sweete Perfumes, and puttinge
on hys finest suite of Apparell, at the appoincted houre hee
went to the Castell, and so secretly as he could, accordinge to
the Ladies instruction, hee conueyed himselfe vp into the
Chaumber which hee founde open, and when he was entred, hee shut
the same, the maner of the Doore was sutch, as none within
coulde open it without a Key, and besides the strong Locke, it
hadde both barre and Bolt on the outside, wyth sutch fasteninge
as the Deuill himselfe being locked within, could not breake
forth. The Lady whych wayted hard by for his comming, so soone
as she perceyued that the Doore was shut, stept vnto the same,
and both double Locked the Doore, and also without she barred,
and fast Bolted the same, caryng the Key away with hir. This
Chamber was in the hyghest Tower of the House (as is before
sayd) wherein was placed a Bedde wyth good Furniture, the Wyndow
whereof was so high, that none coulde looke out wythout a
Ladder. The other partes thereof were in good, and conuenient
order, apt and meete for an honest Pryson. When the Lorde
Alberto was within, hee sat downe, wayting (as the Iewes do for
Messias) when the Lady according to hir appoynctment shoulde
come. And as he was in this expectation building castles in the
Ayre, and deuising a thousand Chimeras in his braine, behold he
heard one to open a little wicket that was in the doore of that
Chamber, which was as straight, as scarcely able to receiue a
loafe of bread, or cruse of Wyne, vsed to be sent to the
prysoners. He thinking that it had ben the Lady, rose vp, and
hearde the noyse of a lyttle girle, who looking in at the hole,
thus sayd vnto him: “My Lord Alberto, the Lady Barbara my
mistresse (for that was hir name) hath sent me thus to say vnto
you: ‘That for as much as you be come into this place, by
countenaunce of Loue, to dispoyle hir of hir honour, shee hath
imprysoned you like a theefe, accordinge to your deserte, and
purposeth to make you suffer penance, equall to the measure of
your offence. Wherefore so long as you shal remain in thys
place, she mindeth to force you to gaine your bread and drinke
with the arte of spinning, as poore Women doe for gayne of theyr
lyuinge, meanynge thereby to coole the heate of your lusty
youth, and to make you tast the sorrow of sauce meete for them
to assay, that go about to robbe Ladyes of theyr honour: she bad
me lykewise to tell you, that the more yarne you spin, the
greater shall be the abundance and delycacie of your fare, the
greater payne you take to earne your foode, the more lyberall
she will be in dystrybutyng of the same, otherwise (she sayeth)
that you shall faste wyth Breade and Water.’ Which determinate
sentence she hath decreed not to be infringed and broken for any
kinde of sute or intreaty that you be able to make.” When the
maiden had spoken these Wordes, she shut the lyttle dore, and
returned to hir Ladye, the Baron which thought that he had ben
commen to a mariage, did eate nothing al the mornyng before,
bycause he thought to be enterteyned with better and daintier
store of viandes, who nowe at those newes fared like one out of
his wittes and stoode still so amazed, as though his leggs would
haue fayled him, and in one moment his Spyrites began to vanysh
and hys force and breath forsoke hym, and fel downe vpon the
Chamber flore, in sutch wise as hee that had beheld hym would
haue thought him rather dead than liuyng. In this state he was a
great tyme, and afterwardes somewhat commynge to himselfe, he
could not tel whether hee dreamed, or else that the Words were
true, which the maiden had sayde vnto hym: In the end seeing,
and beynge verely assured, that he was in a Pryson so sure as
Bird in Cage, through disdayne and rage was like to dye or else
to lose his wits, faring with himselfe of long time lyke a madde
Man, and not knowing what to do, passed the rest of the Day in
walking vppe and downe the Chaumber, rauing, stamping, staring,
Cursynge and vsing Words of greatest Villanie, lamenting and
bewailinge the time and day, that so like a beast and Brutysh
man, he gave the attempt to dispoyle the honesty of an other
man’s Wyfe. Then came to his mind the losse of all his Lands and
Goods, which by the king’s authority were put in comprimise,
then the shame, the scorne, and rebuke whych hee should receiue
at other mens handes, beyonde measure vexed him: and reporte
bruted in the Courte (for that it was impossible but the whole
Worlde should knowe it) so gryeued hym, as his heart seemed to
be strained with two sharp and bityng Nailes: the Paynes
whereof, forced hym to loose hys wyttes and vnderstandynge. In
the myddes of whych Pangs furiously vauntyng vp and downe the
Chaumber, hee espied by chaunce in a Corner, a Dystaffe
furnyshed with good store of flaxe, and a spyndle hangyng
thereuppon: and ouercome wyth Choler and rage, hee was aboute to
spoyle and break the same in pieces: but remembryng what a harde
Weapon Necessitye is, hee stayed his wysedome, and albeyt he
hadde rather to haue contryued hys leysure in Noble and
Gentlemanlyke pastyme, yet rather than he would be idle he
thought to reserue that Instrument to auoyde the tedious lacke
of honest and Familiar Company. When supper time was come, the
mayden retourned agayne, who opening the Portall dore, saluted
the Baron, and sayde: “My Lord, my mistresse hath sent mee to
vysite your good Lordshyp, and to receiue at youre good Handes
the effecte of your laboure, who hopeth that you haue sponne
some substanciall store of threede for earning of your Supper,
whych beynge done, shall be readily brought vnto you.” The Baron
full of Rage, Furie, and felonious moode, if before he were
fallen into choler, now by protestation of these words, seemed
to transgresse the bounds of reason, and began to raile at the
poore wench, scolding and chiding hir like a strumpet of the
stews, faring as though he would haue beaten hir, or don hir
some other mischiefe: but his moode was stayed from doyng any
hurt. The poore Wench lessoned by her mistresse, in laughing
wise sayd vnto him: “Why (my Lord) do you chase and rage
againste mee? Me thinks, you do me wrong to vse sutch reprochful
words, which am but a seruaunt, and bounde to the commaundement
of my mistresse: Why sir, do you not know that a pursiuaunt or
messanger suffreth no paine or blame? The greatest Kyng or
Emperour of the Worlde, receiuing defiaunce from a meaner
Prynce, neuer vseth his ambassador with scolding Wordes, ne yet
by villany or rebuke abuseth his person. Is it wisdome then for
you, being a present prysoner, at the mercy of your kepers, in
thys dishonorable sorte to reuile me with disordred talke? But
sir, leaue of your rages, and quiet your selfe for this present
tyme, for my mistresse maruelleth much why you durst come (for
al your Noble state) to giue attemptes to violate hir good name,
which message shee requyred me to tell you, ouer and besides a
desire shee hath to know whether by the Scyence of Spynning, you
haue gained your meat for you seeme to kicke against the wynd,
and beat Water in a morter, if you think from hence to goe
before you haue earned a recompense for the meat which shal be
giuen you. Wherefore it is your lot paciently to suffer the
penance of your fond attempt, which I pray you gently to
sustaine, and think no scorn thereof hardely, for desperate men
and hard aduentures must needes suffer the daungers thereunto
belonging. This is the determinate sentence of my mistresse
mynd, who fourdeth you no better fare than Bread and Water, if
you can not shewe some prety Spyndle full of yarne for signe of
your good wyll at this present pynch of your distresse.” The
Mayden seeying that hee was not dysposed to shewe some part of
wylling mind to gaine his lyuing by that prefixed scyence shut
the portall Doore, and went her way. The unhappy Baron (arryued
thether in very yll tyme) that Nyght had Neyther Breade nor
Broth, and therefore he fared accordynge to the Prouerbe: He
that goeth to bed supperlesse, lyeth in his Bed restlesse, for
during the whole night, no sleepe could fasten hys Eyes. Now as
this Baron was closed in pryson faste, so the Ladye tooke order,
that secretly wyth great cheare hys Seruauntes should be
interteyned, and his Horsse wyth sweete haye and good prouender
well mainteined, all his furnitures, sumpture horse and caryages
conueyed within the Castle, where wanted nothyng for the state
of sutch a personage but onely Lyberty, makyng the host of the
Inne beleue (wher the Lord harbored before) that he was returned
into Hungarie. But now turne we to the Boeme knight, who
knowynge that one of the two Hungarian Competitors, were
departed the Court and ridden into Boeme, dyd still behold the
quality of the inchaunted Image, wherein by the space of thre or
foure Dayes, in whych time, the Baron made his greatest sute to
his Ladie: he marked a certaine alteration of Coloure in the
same, but afterwards returned to his Natiue forme: and seeing no
greater transformation, he was wel assured, that the Hungarian
Baron was repulsed, and imployed his Labor in vaine. Whereof the
Boeme knight was excedingly pleased and contented, bycause he
was well assured, that his Wyfe had kept hir selfe ryghte pure
and honest. Notwithstandyng hys Mynde was not wel settled, ne
yet hys heart at rest, doubting that the lord Vladislao, which
as yet was not departed the courte, would obtayne the thing,
and acquite the faulte, which his Companion had committed. The
imprysoned Baron which all this tyme had neither eaten nor
dronken, nor in the night could sleepe, in the mornyng, after he
had considred his misaduenture, and well perceyued no remedy for
him to goe forth, except hee obeyed the Ladie’s hest, made of
Necessity a Vertue, and applyed himselfe to learne to Spynne by
force, which freedome and honour could neuer haue made him to
do. Whereuppon he toke the distaffe and beganne to Spynne.
And albeyt that hee neuer Sponne in al hys Lyfe before, yet
instructed by Necessity, so well as he could, he drewe out his
Threede, now small and then greate, and manye times of the
meanest sort, but verye often broade, yl fauored, yll closed,
and worse twisted, all oute of fourme and fashyon, that sundry
tymes very heartely he laughed to himselfe, to see his cunning,
but would haue made a cunning Woman spinner burst into Ten
Thousand laughters, if she had ben there. Thus all the morning
he spent in spynning, and when dynner came, his accustomed
messenger, the mayden, repayred vnto him againe, and opening the
wyndow demaunded of the Baron how his worke went foreward, and
whether he were disposed to manifest the cause of hys comming
into Boeme? Hee well beaten in the schoole of shame, vttered
vnto the Maide the whole compact and bargayne made betweene him
and his Companion, and the Boeme knyghte hir mayster, and
afterwards shewed vnto hir his Spyndle ful of threde. The young
Wenche smylyng at hys Woorke, sayd: “By Sainct Marie this is
well done, you are worthy of victual for your hire: for now I
well perceiue that Hunger forceth the Woulf oute of hir Denne.
I conne you thanck, that like a Lord you can so puissantly gayne
your lyuing. Wherefore proceeding in that which you haue
begonne, I doubt not but shortely you will proue sutche a
workeman, as my mistresse shall not neede to put oute hir flax
to spinne (to hir great charge and coste) for making of hir
smockes, but that the same may wel be don within hir own house,
yea althoughe the same doe serue but for Kitchen Cloathes, for
dresser bordes, or cleanynge of hir Vessell before they bee
serued forth. And as your good deserts doe merite thankes for
this your arte, now well begonne, euen so your new told tale of
comming hyther, requyreth no lesse, for that you haue dysclosed
the trouth.” When she had spoken these Woords, she reached hym
some store of meates for hys dynner, and bade hym fare well.
When shee was returned vnto hir Lady, shee shewed vnto hir the
Spyndle full of threde, and told hir therewythall the whole
story of the compact betwene the knight Vlrico, and the two
Hungarian barons. Whereof the Lady sore astonned, for the snares
layd to entrappe hir, was notwithstanding wel contented, for
that shee had so well forseene the same: but most of all
reioysed, that hir husband had so good opinion of hir honest
lyfe. And before she would aduertise hym of those euents, she
purposed to attend the commyng of the lord Vladislao to whome
she ment to do like penance for his carelesse bargayne and
dishonest opinion, accordyngly as he deserued, maruelling very
mutch that both the Barons, were so rash and presumptuous,
daungerously (not knowing what kind of Woman she was) to put
their Landes and goodes in hazard. But considering the Nature of
diuers brainsick men, which passe not how carelesly they
aduenture their gained goods, and inherited Lands, so they may
atchieue the pray, after which they vainely hunt, for the
preiudice and hurt of other, she made no accompt of these
attemptes, sith honest Matrones force not vppon the sutes, or
vayne consumed time of lyght brained Cockscombs, that care not
what fond cost or ill imployed houres they waste to anoy the
good renoume and honest brutes of Women. But not to discourse
from point to point the particulers of this intended iorney,
this poore deceiued Baron in short time proued a very good
Spinner, by exercise whereof, he felt sutch solace, as not onely
the same was a comfortable sporte for his captiue time, but also
for want of better recreation, it seemed so ioyfull, as if he
had bene pluming and feding his Hawke, or doing other sports
belongyng to the honourable state of a Lord. Which his wel
attriued labour, the Maiden recompensed with abundance of good
and delycate meates. And although the Lady was many times
requyred to visite the Baron, yet she would neuer to that
request consent. In whych tyme the knyght Vlrico ceased not
continually to viewe and reuewe the state of his Image, which
appeared styll to bee of one well coloured sorte, and although
thys vse of hys was diuers times marked and seene of many, yet
being earnestly demaunded the cause thereof hee would neuer
disclose the same. Many coniectures thereof were made, but none
could attayne the trouthe. And who would haue thought that a
knight so wyse and prudente had worne within his pursse any
inchaunted thyng? And albeyt the Kyng and Queene had
intelligence of thys frequent practyse of the knight, yet they
thought not mete for the priuate and secrete Mystery, to demaund
the cause. One moneth and a halfe was passed now that the Lorde
Alberto was departed the Court, and become a Castle knyghte and
cunning Spynster: which made the Lord Vladislao to muse, for
that the promise made betweene them was broken, and hearde
neyther by Letter or messenger what successe he had receiued.
After diuers thoughts imagyned in his mynde, he conceyued that
his companion had happily enioyed the ende of his desired ioy,
and had gathered the wyshed fruicts of the Lady, and drowned in
the mayne Sea of his owne pleasures, was ouerwhelmed in the
bottome of Obliuion: wherefore he determined to set forward on
his iourney to giue onset of his desired fortune: who without
long delay for execution of his purpose, prepared all
necessaries for that voyage, and mounted on horsebacke with two
of his men, he iourneyed towards Boeme, and within a few daies
after arryued at the Castle of the fayre and most honest Lady.
And when hee was entred the Inne where the Lord Alberto was
first lodged, he dilygently enquyred of him, and heard tell that
he was returned into Hungarie many dayes before, whereof mutch
maruelling, could not tel what to say or think. In the end
purposing to put in prose the cause wherefore he was departed
out of Hungarie, after dilygent searche of the maners of the
Lady, he vnderstoode by general voyce, that she was without
comparison the honestest, wisest, gentlest, and comelyest Lady
within the whole Countrey of Boeme. Incontinently the Lady was
aduertised of the arriual of this Baron, and knowing his
message, she determyned to paye him also wyth that Money whych
she had already coyned for the other. The next Day the Baron
went vnto the Castle, and knocking at the Gate, sent in woord
how that he was come from the Court of king Mathie, to visite
and salute the Lady of that Castle: and as she did entertayne
the first Baron in curteous guise, and with louing Countenaunce,
euen so she dyd the second, who thought thereby that he had
attayned by that pleasaunt entertaynment, the game which he
hunted. And discoursing vppon dyuers matters, the lady shewed
hir selfe a pleasaunt and Familyar Gentlewoman, whych made the
Baron to thynk that in short tyme he should wyn the pryce for
which he came. Notwithstanding, at the fyrste brunt he would not
by any meanes descend to any particularity of his purpose, but
hys Words ran general, which were, that hearynge tell of the
fame of hir Beauty, good grace and comelinesse, by hauing
occasion to repayre into Boeme to doe certayne his affaires, he
thought it labor wel spent to ride some portion of his iourney,
though it were besides the way, to dygresse to do reuerence vnto
hir, whom fame aduaunced aboue the Skyes: and thus passing his
first visitation he returned againe to his lodging. The lady
when the Baron was gone from hir Castle, was rapt into a rage,
greatlye offended that those two Hungarian Lordes so
presumptuously had bended themselues lyke common Theeues to
wander and roue the Countreys, not onely to robbe and spoyle hir
of hir honour, but also to bryng hir in displeasure of hir
husband, and thereby into the Daunger and Peryll of Death. By
reason of which rage (not without cause conceived) she caused an
other Chamber to be made ready, next Wall to the other Baron
that was become sutch a notable Spynster, and vpon the nexte
returne of the Lord Vladislao, she receiued him with no lesse
good entertainement than before, and when Nyght came, caused him
to be lodged in hir owne house in the Chamber prepared as
before, where he slept not very soundly all that Night, through
the continuall remembraunce of hys Ladies beauty. Next morning
he perceiued himself to be locked fast in a Pryson. And when he
had made him readye, thinking to descend to bid the Lady good
Morrow, seeking meanes to vnlock the Doore, and perceiuing that
he could not, he stoode styll in a dumpe. And as hee was thus
standyng, maruelling the cause of his shuttyng in so fast, the
maiden repaired to the hole of the dore, giuing his honor an
vnaccustomed salutation, which was that hir mistresse commaunded
hir to giue him to vnderstand, that if hee had any lust or
appetyte to his breakfast, or if he minded from thenceforth to
ease his hunger or conteine Lyfe, that he should giue him selfe
to learne to reele yarne. And for that purpose she willed him to
looke in sutch a corner of the Chamber, and he should find
certaine spindles of thred, and an instrument to winde his yarn
vpon. “Wherefore” (quod she) “apply your self thereunto, and
loose no time.” He that had that tyme beholden the Baron in the
Face, would haue thought that hee had seene rather a Marble
stone, than the figure of a man. But conuerting his could
conceyued moode, into mad anger, he fell into ten times more
displeasure with himselfe, than is before described by the other
Baron. But seeinge that his mad behauiour, and beastly vsage was
bestowed in vayne, the next day he began to Reele. The Lady
afterwardes when shee had intelligence of the good, and
gaynefull Spinning of the Lord Alberto, and the wel disposed,
and towardly Reeling of the Lord Vladislao, greatly reioyced for
makinge of sutch two Notable Workemen, whose workemanship
exceeded the labours of them that had been Apprentyzes to the
Occupation seuen Yeares togeather. Sutch bee the apt and ready
Wyts of the Souldiers of Loue: wherein I would wishe all Cupides
Dearlings to be nousled and applied in their youthly time: then
no doubt their passions woulde appease, and rages assuage, and
would giue ouer bolde attempts, for which they haue no thancke
of the chaste and honest. And to thys goodly sight the Lady
brought the Seruaunts of these noblemen, willing them to marke
and beholde the diligence of their Maysters, and to imitate the
industry of their gallant exercise, who neuer attayned meate
before by labour they had gayned the same. Which done, shee made
them take their Horse, and Furnitures of their Lords, and to
depart: otherwise if by violence they resisted, she would cause
their choller to be caulmed with sutch like seruice as they saw
their Lordes doe before their Eyes. The Seruaunts seeing no
remedy, but must needes depart, tooke their leaue. Afterwards
she sent one of hir Seruaunts in poast to the Courte, to
aduertise hir husband of all that which chaunced. The Boeme
knight receyuing these good newes, declared the same vnto the
King and Queene, and recited the whole story of the two
Hungarian Barons, accordingly as the tenor of his Wyues letters
did purport. The Princes stoode still in great admiration, and
highly commended the wisedome of the Lady, esteeming hir for a
very sage and polliticke woman. Afterwards the knight Vlrico
humbly besought the king for execution of his decree and
performaunce of the Bargayne. Whereupon the king assembled his
counsell, and required euery of them to saye their minde. Vpon
the deliberation whereof, the Lord Chauncellor of the Kingdome,
with two Counsellers, were sent to the Castle of the Boeme
knight, to enquire, and learne the processe and doinges of the
two Lordes, who diligently accomplished the kinge’s
commaundement. And hauinge examined the Lady and hir mayden with
other of the house, and the barons also, whom a little before
the arriuall of these Commissioners, the Lady had caused to be
put together, that by Spinning and Reeling they might comfort
one another. When the Lord Chauncellor had framed and digested
in order the whole discourse of this history, returned to the
Court where the king and Queene, with the Pieres and Noblemen of
his kingdome, caused the acts of the same to be diuulged and
bruted abroade, and after mutch talk, and discourse of the
performaunce of this compact, pro, and contra, the Queene taking
the Ladie’s part, and fauoring the knight, the kinge gaue
sentence that sir Vlrico should wholly possesse the landes and
goods of the two Barons to him, and to his Heyres for euer, and
that the Barons should be banished the kingdomes of Hungary and
Boeme, neuer to returne vpon payne of death. This sentence was
put in execution, and the vnfortunat Barons exiled, which
specially to those that were of their consanguinity and bloud,
seemed to seuere, and rigorous. Neuerthelesse the couenaunt
being most playne and euident to most men, the same seemed to
bee pronounced with greate Iustice and equity, for example in
time to come, to lesson rash wits how they iudge and deeme so
indifferently of Womens behaviours, amongs whom no doubt there
bee both good and bad as there bee of men. Afterwards the 2
princes sent for the Lady to the Court, who there was
courteously intertayned, and for this hir wise and polliticke
fact had in great admiration. The Queene then appoynted hir to
be one of hir women of honor, and esteemed hir very deerely.
The knight also daily grew to great promotion well beloued and
fauored of the king, who with his lady long time liued in greate
ioy and felicity, not forgetting the cunning Pollacco, that made
him the image and likenes of his wife: whose frendship and labor
he rewarded with money, and other Benefits very liberally.
THE TWENTY-NINTH NOUELL.
_Dom Diego a Gentleman of Spayne fell in loue with fayre
Gineura, and she with him: their loue by meanes of one that
enuied Dom Diego his happy choyse, was by default of light
credit on hir part interrupted. He constant of mynde, fell
into despayre, and abandoninge all his frends and liuing,
repayred to the Pyrene Mountaynes, where he led a sauage lyfe
for certayne moneths, and afterwardes knowne by one of hys
freendes, was (by marueylous Circumstaunce) reconciled to hys
froward mistresse, and maryed._
Mens mischaunces occurring on the brunts of dyuers Tragicall
fortunes, albeit vpon their first taste of bitternesse, they
sauor of a certayne kinde of lothsome relish, yet vnder the
Rynde of that vnsauerouse Sap, doth lurke a sweeter honnye, than
sweetenesse it selfe, for the fruit that the Posterity may
gather, and learne by others hurts, how they may loathe, and
shun the like. But bicause all thinges haue their seasons,
and euery thynge is not conuenient for all Times, and Places,
I purpose now to shew a notable example of a vayne and
superstitious Louer, that abandoned his liuing and friendes, to
become a Sauage Desert man. Which History resembleth in a maner
a Tragical Comedy, comprehending the very same matter and
Argument, wherewyth the greatest part of the sottishe sorte Arme
themselues to couer and defend their Follies. It is red and
seene to often by common custome, and therefore needelesse heere
to display what rage doth gouerne, and headlong hale fonde and
licentious youth (conducted by the pangue of loue, if the same
be not moderated by reason, and cooled with sacred Lessons) euen
from the cradle to more murture and riper age. For the Tiranny
of Loue amonges all the deadly Foes that vexe and afflict our
mindes, glorieth of his force, vaunting hymselfe able to chaunge
the proper nature of things, be they neuer so sounde and
perfect: who to make them like his lustes, transformeth himselfe
into a substaunce qualified diuersly, the better to intrap sutch
as be giuen to his vanities. But hauing auouched so many
examples before, I am content for this present to tell the
discourse of two persons, chaunced not long sithens in
Catheloigne. Of a Gentleman that for his constancy declared two
extremities in himselfe of loue and folly. And of a Gentlewoman
so fickle and inconstant, as loue and they which wayted on him,
be disordered, for the trustlesse grounde whereupon sutch
foundation of seruice is layed, which yee shall easely conceiue
by well viewing the difference of these twayne: whom I meane to
summon to the lists, by the blast of this sounding trump. And
thus the same beginneth. Not long after that the victorious and
Noble Prynce, younge Ferdinandus, the Sonne of Alphonsus Kynge
of Aragon was deade, Lewes the Twelfth, that tyme being Frenche
king, vpon, the Marches of Catheloigne, betwene Barcelona, and
the Mountaynes, there was a good Lady then a Wyddow, which had
bene the Wyfe of an excellant and Noble knight of the Countrey,
by whom she hadde left one only Daughter, which was so carefully
brought vp by the mother as nothinge was to deare or hard to bee
brought to passe for hir desire, thinking that a creature so
Noble and perfect, could not be trayned vp to delicately. Now
besides hir incomparable furniture of beauty, this Gentlewoman
was adorned with Hayre so fayre, curle, and Yealow, as the new
fined golde was not matchable to the shining locks of this
tender Infant, who therefore was commonly called Gineura la
Blonde. Halfe adaye’s iorney from the house of this Wyddow, lay
the lands of another Lady a Wydow also, that was very rich, and
so wel allied as any in all the Land. This Lady had a Sonne,
whom she caused to be trayned vp so well in Armes and good
letters, as in other honest Exercises proper and mete for a
Gentleman and great Lorde, for which respect shee had sent him
to Barcelona the chyefe Citty of all the Countrey of
Catheloigne. Senior Dom Diego, (for so was the Sonne of that
Wydow called) profited so well in all thynges, that when hee was
18 yeares of age, there was no Gentleman of his degree, that did
excell him, ne yet was able to approche vnto his Perfections and
commendable Behauiour. A thing that did so well content the good
Lady his mother as she could not tell what countenaunce to keepe
to couer hir ioy. A vice very common to fond and foolish
mothers, who flatter themselues with a shadowed hope of the
future goodnesse of their children, which many times doth more
hurt to that wanton and wilfull age, than profit or
aduauncement. The persuasion also of sutch towardnesse, full oft
doth blinde the Spirites of Youth, as the Faults which follow
the same bee farre more vile than before they were: whereby the
first Table (made in his first coloures) of that imagined
vertue, can take no force or perfection, and so by incurring
sundry mishaps the Parent and Chylde commonly escape not without
equall blame. To come agayne therefore to our discourse: It
chaunced in that tyme that (the Catholike Kyng deceased)
Phillippe of Austrich which Succeeded him as Heyre, passing
through Fraunce came into Spayne to bee Inuested, and take
Possession of all hys Seigniories, and Kyngdomes: which knowen
to the Cittyzens of Barcelona, they determined to receiue hym
with sutch Pompe, Magnificence, and Honor, as duely appertaineth
to the greatnes and maiesty of so great a Prince, as is the
sonne of the Romane Emperour. And amonges other thinges they
prepared a Triumphe at the Tilt, where none was suffred to enter
the lists, but yong Gentlemen, sutch as neuer yet had followed
armes. Amongs whom Don Diego as the Noblest person was chosen
chiefe of one part. The Archduke then come to Barcelona after
the receyued honors and Ceremonies, accustomed for sutch
entertaynment, to gratifie his Subiects, and to see the brauery
of the yong Spanish Nobility in armes, would place himselfe vpon
the scaffolde to iudge the courses and valiaunce of the runners.
In that magnifique and Princely conflict, all mens eyes were
bent vpon Dom Diego, who course by course made hys aduersaries
to feele the force of his armes, his manhoode, and dexterity, on
horsebacke, and caused them to muse vpon his toward valiance in
time to come, whose noble Ghests then acquired the victory of
the Campe on his side. Which mooued King Phillip to say, that in
all his life he neuer saw triumph better handled, and that the
same seemed rather a battell of strong and hardy men, than an
exercise of yong Gentlemen neuer wonted to support the deedes of
armes, and trauayle of warfare. For which cause calling Dom
Diego before him he sayd: “God graunt (yong Gentleman) that your
ende agree with your good beginnings and hardy shock of proofe
done this day. In memory whereof I will this night that ye do
your watch, for I meane to morrow (by God’s assistance) to dub
you Knight.” The yong Gentleman blushing for shame, vpon his
knees kissed the Prince’s hands, thanking him most humbly of the
honor and fauor which it pleased his maiesty to do to him,
vowing and promising to do so wel in time to come, as no man
should be deceyued of their conceyued opinion, nor the king
frustrate of his seruice, which was one of his most obedient
Vassals and subiects. So the next day he was made knight, and
receyued the coller of the order at the hands of king Phillip,
who after the departure of his prince which tooke his iorney
into Castille, retired to his owne landes and house more to see
his mother, whom long time before he had not seene, than for
desire of pleasure that be in fieldes, which notwithstanding he
exercised so wel as in end he perceyued refiaunce in townes and
Citties, to be an imprisonment in respect of that he felt in
Countrey. As the Poets whilome fayned Loue to shoote his Arrowes
amid the Woods, Forrests, fertile Fields, Sea coasts, Shores of
great Ryuers, and Fountayne brinkes, and also vppon the tops of
Huge, and hygh Mountaynes at the pursute of the sundry sorted
Nymphes, and fieldish Dimigods, deeming the same to bee a meane
of liberty to follow Loue’s tract without suspition, voyde of
company and lothsome cries of Citties, where Iealousie, Enuy,
false report, and ill Opinion of all things, haue pitched their
Camp, and raysed their Tents. And contrariwise franckly and
wythout dissimulation in the fieldes, the Freende discouering
his passion to his Mistresse, they enioy the pleasure of
hunting, the naturall musicke of Byrds and sometimes in
pleasaunt Herbers compassed with the murmur of some running
Brookes, they communicate their Thoughts, beautifie the accorde
and vnity of Louers, and make the place famous for the first
witnesse of their amorous acquaintaunce. In like manner thrice,
and foure times blest be they there, who leeuing the vnquiet
toyle that ordinarily doth chaunce to them that abyde in
Citties, doe render duety of their studies to the Muses
wherevnto they be most Addicted. Now Dom Diego at his owne house
loued and cherished of his mother, reuerenced and obeyed of hys
Subiects after he had imployed some time at his study, had none
other ordinary pleasure but in rousing the Deere, hunting the
wylde Bore, run the Hare, sometimes to fly at the Hearon, or
fearful Partrich alongs the fields, Forests, Ponds, and steepe
Mountaynes. It came to passe one day, as he Hunted the wylde
Mountayne Goate, which he had dislodged vpon the Hill top, he
espied an olde Hart that his Dogges had found, who so ioyfull as
was possible of that good lucke, followed the course of that
swift, and fearefull beast. But (sutch was his Fortune) the
Dogges lost the foote of that pray, and he his men: for being
horssed of purpose, vpon a fayre Iennet, could not be followed,
and in ende loosinge the sight of the Deere, was so farre
seuered from company, as he was vtterly ignoraunt which way to
take. And that which grieued him moste was his Horse out of
Breath scarce able to goe a false Gallop. For which cause he put
his horne to his mouth, and blew so loude as he could: but his
men were so farre of, as they could not here him. The young
Gentleman being in this distresse, could not tell what to doe,
but to returne backe, wherein he was more deceyued than before,
for thinkinge to take the way home to hys Castle, wandred still
further of from the same. And trotting thus a long tyme, he
spied a Castle Situated vppon a little Hill, whereby he knew
himselfe far from his owne house. Neuerthelesse hearing a
certayne noyse of Hunters, thinking they had bene his People,
resorted to the same, who in deede were the Seruaunts of the
Mother of Gineura with the golden Locks, which in company of
their Mistresse had hunted the Hare. Dom Diego, when he drue
neere to the cry of the Hounds, saw right well that hee was
deceyued. At what tyme Night approched, and the Shadowes
darkening the Earth, by reason of the Sunnes departure, began to
Cloth the Heauens with a Browne and misty Mantell. When the
Mother of Gineura saw the knight which Rode a soft pace, for
that his Horsse was tired, and could trauayle no longer, and
knowing by his outward apperance that he was some great Lord,
and ridden out of his way, sent one of hir men to knowe what he
was, who returned agayne with sutch aunswere as shee desired.
The Lady ioyfull to entertayne a Gentleman so excellent and
famous, one of hir next neighbors, went forwarde to bid hym
welcome, which she did with so great curtesy as the Knight sayd
vnto hir: “Madame, I thinke that fortune hath done me this
fauour, by setting me out of the way, to proue your curtesie and
gentle entertaynment, and to receyue this ioy by visiting your
house, whereof I trust in time to come to be so perfect a frend,
as my predecessors heretofore haue hene.” “Sir,” sayd the Lady,
“if happinesse may be attributed to them, that most doe gayne,
I thincke my selfe better fauored than you, for that it is my
chaunce to lodge and entertayne him, that is the worthiest
person and best beloued in all Catheloigne.” The Gentleman
blushing at that prayse, sayd nothing els, but that affection
forced men so to speake of his vertues, notwithstandinge sutch
as hee was, he vowed from thenceforth his seruice to hir and all
hir Houshold. Gineura desirous not to bee slacke in curtesie,
sayd that he should not so do, except she were partaker of some
part of that, which the knight so liberally had offered to the
whole Family of hir Mother. The Gentleman which till that time
tooke no heede to the deuine Beauty of the Gentlewoman,
beholding hir at his pleasure, was so astoonned, as hee could
not tell what to aunswere, his eyes were so fixed vpon hir,
spendinge his lookes in contemplation of that freshe hew,
stayned with a red Vermilion, vppon the Alabaster and fayre
colour of hir cleare and beautifull face. And for the
imbelishing of that naturall perfection, the attire vppon hir
head was so couenable and proper, as it seemed the same day shee
had Looked for the comming of him, that afterwardes indured so
mutch for hir sake. For hir head was Adorned with a Garlande of
Floures, interlaced wyth hir Golden, and Enamiled hayre, which
gorgeously couered some part of hir Shoulders, disparcled,
and hanging down some tyme ouer hir passing fayre Foreheade,
somewhyles vpon hir ruddy Cheekes, as the Sweete, and Pleasaunt
windy Breath dyd mooue them to, and fro: Yee should haue seene
hir wauering and crisped tresses disposed with so good grace,
and comelynesse, as a man would haue thought that Loue and the
three Graces coulde not tell els where to harbor themselues, but
in that riche and delectable place of pleasure, in gorgeous wise
laced and imbraudred. Vpon hir Eares did hang two Sumptuous and
Riche orientall Pearles, which to the artificiall order of hir
hayre added a certen splendent brightnes. And he that had
beholden the shining and large Forehead of that Nimph which
Gallantly was beset with a Diamonde of inestimable price and
value, chased with a tresse of Golde made in form of little
Starres, would haue thought that he had seene a Rancke of the
twinckeling Planettes, fixed in the Firmament in the hottest
time of Sommer, when that fayre season discouereth the order of
his glittering Cloudes. In lyke maner the sparkeling eyes of the
fayre Gentlewoman, adorned with a stately vaulte with two
Archers, equally by euen spaces distinct, and deuided, stayned
with the Ebene Indian tree, did so well set forth their
Brightnesse, as the eyes of them that stayed their lookes at
Noone daye’s directly vpon the Sunne, could no more be dazeled
and offended, than those were that did contemplate those two
flaminge Starres, which were in force able throughly to pierce
euen the Bottome of the inward partes. The Nose well fourmed,
iustly placed in the Amiable valley of the Vysage, by equall
conformity Distinguished the two Cheekes, stayned wyth a pure
Carnation, resemblinge two lyttle Apples that were arryued to
the due time of their maturity and ripenesse. And then hir
Coralline mouth, through which breathing, issued out a breath
more soote and sauorous than Ambre, Muske, or other Aromaticall
Parfume, that euer the sweete Soyle of Arabie brought forth. She
sometime vnclosing the doore of hir Lips, discouered two rancke
of Pearles, so finely blanched, as the purest Orient would
blushe, if it were compared with the Beauty of thys incomparable
whitenesse. But hee that will take vppon hym to speake of all
hir inspeakable Beauty, may make his vaunte that he hath seene
all the greatest perfections that euer dame Nature wrought. Now
to come a little lower, on this freshe Diana appeared a Neck,
that surmounted the Blaunch colour of Mylke, were it neuer so
excellent white, and hir Stomacke somewhat mounting by the two
Pomels, and firme Teates of hir Breasts separated in equal
distaunce, was couered wyth a vayle, so lose, and fine, as those
two little prety Mountaynes might easily be Discried, to moue,
and remooue, according to the affection that rose in the centre
of that modest, and sober Pucelle’s mynde: who ouer, and besides
all thys, had sutch a pleasaunt Countenaunce, and ioyefull
cheere, as hir Beauty more than wonderfull, rendred hir not so
woorthy to be serued, and loued, as hir natural goodnesse,
and disposed curtesie appearing in hir Face, and hir excellent
entertaynement and comely Grace to all indifferently. This was
not to imitate the maner of the most parte of our fayre Ladies,
and Gentlewomen, who (mooued wyth what Opinion I know not) be so
disdaynefull, as almost theyr name causeth discontentment, and
breedeth in them great imperfection. And who by thinking to
appeare more braue, and fine, by to mutch squeymishe dealing,
doe offuscate and darken with folly their exterior Beauty,
blotting, and defacing that which beauty maketh amiable, and
worthy of honor. I leaue you now to consider wheather Dom Deigo
had occasion to Forgo his Speach, and to bee bereft of Sense,
being liuely assayled with one so well armed as Gineura was with
hir Graces and Honesty: who no lesse abashed with the Port,
Countenaunce, sweete talk, and stately Behauiour of the knight,
which she vewed to be in him by stealing lookes, felt a motion
(not wonted or accustomed) in hir tender heart, that made hir to
chaunge color, and by like occasion speachlesse: an ordinary
custome in them that be surprised with the malady of loue to
lose the vse of speach where the same is most needefull to gieue
the intier charge in the heart, which not able to support and
beare the burden of so many passions, departeth some portion to
the eyes, as to the faythful messengers of the mynde’s secret
conceipts, which tormented beyond measure, and burninge with
affection, causeth sometimes the Humor to gushe out in that
parte that discouered the first assault, and bred the cause of
that Feuer, which frighted the hearts of those two yong persons,
not knowing well what the same might be. When they were come to
the Castle, and dismounted from their Horsses, many Welcomes and
Gratulations were made to the knight, which yelded more wood to
the fire, and liuely touched the yong Gentleman, who was so
outraged with loue, as almost he had no minde of himselfe, and
rapt by litle, and little, was so intoxicated with an Amorous
passion, as all other thoughtes were lothsome, and Ioye
displeasaunt in respect of the fauourable Martirdome which hee
suffered by thinking of his fayre and gentle Gineura. Thus the
knight which in the morning disposed him selfe to pursue the
Hart, was in heart so attached, as at euening he was become a
Seruaunt, yea and sutch a Slaue, as that voluntary seruitude
wholly dispossessed him from his former Freedome. These be the
fruictes also of Folly, inuegling the lookes of men, that launch
themselues with eyes shut into the Gulfe of despayre which in
ende doth cause the ruin and ouerthrow of him, that yeldeth
thereunto. Loue proceedeth neuer but of opinion: so likewise the
ill order of those that bee afflicted with that Passion, ryseth
not elswhere, but by the fond persuasion which they conceiyue,
to bee Blamed, Despised, and deceyued of the thing beloued:
where if they measured that passion according to his valor, they
would make no more accoumpt of that which doth torment them,
than they do of their health, honor, and life, which loue for
their great seruice and labor deludeth them, and recompenseth
another with that for which the foolish Louer imployeth thys
trauel, which at length doth haste despaire, and ende more than
desperate, when an other enioy that, for which hee hath so longe
time beate the Bushes. During the time that supper was
preparyng, the Lady sente hir men to seeke the huntesmen of Dom
Diego, to gyue them knowledge where he was become, and thereof
to certify his mother, who when she heard tell that her sonne
was lodged there, was very glad beyng a ryght good fryend and
very familiar Neighbor with the Lady, the hostesse of Dom Diego.
The Gentleman at supper after he had tasted the feruent heate
that broyled in his Minde, coulde eate little meate, beinge
satisfied with the feeding diete of his Amorous eyes, which
without any maner of Iealousie, distributed their nourishment to
the heart, who sat very soberly, priuily throwing his secretly
Prickes, with louely, and wanton lookes, vppon the heart of the
fayre Lady, which for hir part spared not to render vsury of
rolling regardes, whereof he was so sparing, as almost he durst
not lift vp his eyes for dazeling of them. After Supper, the
knight bidding the mother and Daughter good night, went to Bed,
where in steede of sleepe, he fell to sighinge and imageninge a
thousande diuers deuises, fantasiyng like number of follies,
sutch as they doe whose Braynes be fraught loue. “Alas,” (sayde
hee) “what meaneth it, that alwayes I haue lyued in so great
liberty, and nowe doe feele my self attached with sutch bondage
as I cannot expresse whose effects neuerthelesse be fastned in
me? Haue I hunted to be taken? Came I from my house in liberty,
to be shut vp in Pryson, and do not know wheather I shall be
receyued, or being receyued haue intertaynment, according to
desert? Ah Gineura, I would to God, that thy Beauty did pricke
mee no worsse, than the tree whereof thou takest thy name, is
sharp in touching, and bitter to them that taste it. Truely I
esteeme my comming hither happy (for all the Passion that I
indure) sith the purchase of a griefe so lucky doth qualify the
ioy, that made me to wander thus ouer frankly. Ah Fayre amonges
the Fayrest, truely the fearefull Beast which with the bloudy
Hare Houndes was torne in pieces, is not more Martired, than my
heart deuided in Opinions vppon thyne Affection. And what doe I
know if thou louest an other more worthy to bee Fauoured of thee
than thy poore Dom Diego. But it is impossible that any can
approche the sincerity that I feele in my heart, determining
rather to indure death, than to serue other but fayre and golden
Gineura: therefore my loyalty receyuing no comparison, cannot
bee matched in man sufficient (for respect of the same) to be
called seruaunt of thine excellency. Now come what shal, by
meanes of this, I am assured that so long as Dom Diego liueth,
his heart shal receyue none other impression or desire, but that
which inciteth him to loue, serue, and honor the fairest
creature at thys day within the compasse of Spayne.” Resolued
hereupon, sweating, laboring, and trauelling upon the framing of
his loue, he founde nothing more expedient than to tel hir his
passion, and let hir vnderstand the good wil that he had to do
hir seruice, and to pray hir to accept hym for sutch, as from
that time forth would execute nothing but under the title of hir
good name. On th’otherside Gineura could not close hir eyes,
and knew not the cause almost that so impeched hir of sleepe,
wherefore now tossing on th’one side, and then turning to the
other, in hir rich and goodly Bed, fantasied no fewer deuises
than passionated Dom Diego did. In th’end she concluded, that if
the knight shewed hir any euident signe, or opened by word of
mouth any Speach of loue and seruice, she would not refuse to do
the like to him. Thus passed the night in thoughts, sighes, and
wishes betwene these 2 apprentises of the thing, whereof they
that be learners, shal soone attayne the experience, and they
that follow the occupation throughly, in short time be their
crafts maisters. The next day the knight would depart so soone
as he was vp: but the good widow, imbracing the personage and
good order of the knight in hir heart, more than any other that
she had seene of long time, intreated him so earnestly to tarry
as he which loued better to obey hir request then to depart,
although fayned the contrary, in the end appeared to be
vanquished vpon the great importunity of the Lady. Al that
morning the Mother and the Daughter passed the time with Dom
Deigo in great talke of common matters. But he was then more
astonned and inamored than the night before, in sutch wise as
many times he aunswered so vnaptly to their demaunds, as it was
easily perceiued that his minde was mutch disquieted with some
thing, that only did possesse the force and vehemence of the
same: notwithstanding the Lady imputed that to the
shamefastnesse of the Gentleman, and to his simplicity, which
had not greatly frequented the company of Ladies. When dinner
time was come, they were serued with sutch great fare and sundry
delicates accordingly as with hir hart she wyshed to intertain
the young Lord, to the intent from that time forth, he might
more willinglye make repaire to hir house. After dinner he
rendred thanks to his hostesse for his good cheare and
intertainment that he had receiued, assuring hir, that all the
dayes of his Life he would imploy himselfe to recompence hir
curtesy, and with all duety and indeuor to acknowledge that
fauor. And hauing taken his leaue of the mother, he went to the
Damosell, to hir I say, that had so sore wounded his hearte who
already was so deeply grauen in his mind, as the marke remained
there for euer, taking leaue of hir, kissed hir handes, and
thinking verily to expresse that whereuppon hee imagined all the
Nyghte, his Tongue and Wits were so tyed and rapt, as the
Gentlewoman perfectly perceiued this alteration, whereat she was
no whit discontented and therefore all blushyng, sayde vnto him:
“I pray to God sir, to ease and comfort your gryefe, as you
leaue vs desirous and glad, long to enioy your company.” “Truely
Gentlewoman,” (aunswered the Knyght) “I think my selfe more than
happy, to heare that wysh proceede from sutch a one as you be,
and specially for the desire whych you say you haue of my
presence, whych shall be euer readye to doe that whych it shall
please you to commaunde.” The Gentlewoman bashfull for that
offer, thanked hym verye heartilye praying him wyth sweete and
smilinge Countenance, not to forget the waye to come to visite
them, beyng wel assured, that hir mother would be very glad
thereof. “And for mine owne part,” (quod she) “I shall thinke my
self happy to be partaker of the pleasure and great amity that
is betwene our two houses.” After great reuerence and leaue
taken between them, Dom Diego returned home, where he tolde his
mother of the good interteynment made him, and of the great
honesty of the Lady hys hostesse: “Wherfore madam,” (quod he to
hys Mother) “I am desyrous (if it be your pleasure) to let them
know how much their bountifull hospitality hath tied me to them,
and what desire I haue to recompence the same. I am therefore
wyllyng to bydde them hyther, and to make them so good cheare,
as wyth all theyr Hearte they made me when I was wyth them.”
The Lady whych was the assured fryende of the Mother of Gineura,
lyked well the aduyse of hir sonne, and tolde him that they
should bee welcome, for the aunciente amity of long time betwene
them, who was wont many times to visit one an other. Dom Diego
vpon his mother’s words, sent to intreat the Lady and fayr
Gineura, that it woulde please them to do him the honour to come
into his house: to which request she so willingly yelded, as he
was desirous to bid them. At the appointed day Dom Diego sought
al meanes possible honourably to receyue them: In meates whereof
there was no want, in Instruments of all sortes, Mummeries,
Morescoes, and a thousand other pastymes, whereby he declared
his good bringing vp, the gentlenesse of his Spyryte, and the
desire that he had to appeare sutch one as he was, before hir,
which had already the full possession of his liberty. And
bicause he would not faile to accomplyshe the perfection of his
intent, hee inuyted all the Gentlemen and Gentlewomen that were
his neighbours. I will not here describe the moste part of the
prouision for that feast, nor the diuersity of Meates, or the
delycate kyndes of Wines. It shall suffise mee to tell that
after dynner they daunced, where the knight tooke his mistresse
by the hand who was so glad to see hir selfe so aduanced, as he
was content to be so neare hir, that was the sweete torment and
vnspeakable passion of his mynd, whych hee began to discouer
vnto hir in this wyse: “Mistresse Gineura I have ben alwayes of
this Minde, that Musike hath a certeine secrete hydden vertue
(which wel can not be expressed) to reuiue the thoughts and
cogitations of man, be he neuer so mornfull and pensiue, forcing
him to vtter some outward reioyse: I speake it by my self, for
that I liue in extreme anguish and payne, that al the ioy of the
World seemeth vnto mee displeasaunt, care, and disquyetnesse:
and neuerthelesse my passion, agreeing with the plaintife voice
of the Instrument, doth reioyce and conceiue comforte, as well
to heare insensible thinges conformable to my desires as also to
see my self so neere vnto hir, that hath the salue to ease my
payne, to discharge my disease, and to depryue my Mynd from all
gryefs. In like maner reason it is, that she hir selfe do remedy
my disease, of whom I receiued the prycke, and which is the
first foundation of all mine euil.” “I can not tell” (sayd the
Gentlewoman) {“}what disease it is you speak of, for I shoulde
bee very vnkinde to gieue him occasion of griefe, that doth make
vs this great cheere.” “Ah Lady myne,” (sayd the knight,
fetching a sigh from the bottome of his heart,) “the
intertaynement that I receyue by the continuall contemplation of
your diuine Beauties, and the vnspeakeable brightnesse of those
two Beames, which twinkle in your Face, bee they that happily
doe vex me, and make me drink this Cup of bitternesse, wherein
notwithstanding I finde sutch sweetenesse as al the Heauenly
Drincke called Ambrosia, fayned by the Poets, is but Gall in
respect of that which I taste in mynde, feeling my deuotion so
bent to do you seruice, as onely Death shall vnty the knot
wherewith voluntarily I Knyt my selfe to be your Seruaunt for
euer, and if it so please vou, your Faythfull, and Loyall
Freende, and Husbande.” The yonge Damosell not wonted for to
heare sutch Songs, did chaunge hir coloure at least three or
foure times, and neuerthelesse fayned a little angre of that
which did content hir most: and yet not so sharpe, but that the
Gentleman perceyued well enough, that shee was touched at the
quicke, and also that he was accepted into hir good Grace and
Fauoure. And therefore hee continued styll hys talke, all that
time after dinner, vntill the Mayden made hym thys aunswere:
“Sir, I will nowe confesse that griefe may couer alteration of
affections proceeding of Loue. For although I had determined to
dissemble that which I thinke, yet there is a thinge in my Mynde
(which I can not name) that gouerneth mee so farre from my
proper Deuises, and Conceyptes, as I am constrayned to doe that
which this second Inspiration leadeth mee vnto, and forceth my
Mynde to receyue an Impression: but what will be the ende
thereof, as yet I knowe not. Notwythstandinge, reposinge mee in
youre Vertue, and Honesty, and acknowledgynge youre merite,
I thincke my selfe happy to haue sutch one for my Freende, that
is so Fayre and comely a knight, and for sutch I doe accept you
vntill you haue obtayned of the Lady, my Mother, the second
poynct, which may accomplish that which is moste desyred of
them, that for vertue’s sake do loue. And but for that you shall
bee none otherwyse fauoured of me, than hytherto you haue ben.”
“Tyll now haue I attended for thys ryght happye day of Ioy and
Blysse (sayd the Knyght) in token whereof, I doe kysse your
whyte and delycate Hands, and for acknowledging the fauour that
presently I do receiue, I make my vaunt to be the seruaunt of
hir that is the fayrest, and most curteous Gentlewoman, on thys
side the Mountaynes.” As hee had fynished those words they came
to couer for Supper, where they were serued so honourably, as yf
they had ben in the Court of the Monarch of Spayne. After Supper
they went to walke abroade alongs the Riuer side, besette wyth
Wyllow Trees, where both the Beauty of the time, the runnyng
Ryuer, the Charme of the Natural musicke of birds, and the
pleasaunt Murmure of the tremblyng Leaues, at the whistelyng of
the swete Westerne Wynd, moued them agayne to renew theyr
Pastyme after Dynner. For some dyd gyue themselues to talke,
and to deuyse of delectable matter: some framed Nosegayes,
Garlandes, and other prety posyes for theyr Fryendes; other some
did leape, runne, and throwe the Barre. In the end a great Lord,
neighbor to Dom Diego, whose name was Dom Roderico, knowyng by
his Fryend’s Countenaunce to what saynt hee was vowed, and
perceyuing for whose loue the feaste was celebrate, tooke by the
hand a Gentlewoman that sate nexte to fayre Gineura, and prayed
hir to daunce after a Song, whereunto shee beeynge pleasaunt and
wyse, made no great refusall. Dom Diego fayled not to ioyne wyth
hys mystresse, after whome folowed the rest of that noble
trayne, euery of them as they thought best. Now the Gentlewoman,
that was ledde into daunce, song thys song so apt for the
purpose, as if shee had entred the heart of the Ennimy and
Mystresse of Dom Diego, or of purpose had made the same in the
Name of hir, whom the matter touched aboue the rest.
Who may better sing and daunce amongs vs Ladies all,
Than she that doth hir louer’s heart possesse in bondage thrall?
The yong and tender feeblenesse
Of myne vnskilfull age,
Whereof also the tendernesse
Doth feeble heart assuage:
Whom Beautye’s force hath made to frame
Vnto a Louer’s hest,
So soone as first the kindled flame
Of louinge Toyes increst.
Who may better sing and daunce amongs vs Ladies all,
Than she that doth hir louer’s heart possesse in bondage thrall?
I haue assayed out to put
The fier thus begoone,
And haue attempted of to cut,
The threede which loue hath spoone:
And new alliance fayne would flee
Of him whom I loue best,
But that the Gods haue willed me
To yeld to his request.
Who may better sing and daunce among vs Ladies all,
Than she that doth hir louer’s heart possesse in bondage thrall?
So amiable is his grace,
Not like among vs all:
So passing fayre is his Face,
Whose hue doth stayne us all:
And as the shining sunny day
Doth eu’ry man delight,
So he alone doth beare the sway,
Amongs eche louing wight.
Who may better sing and daunce amongs vs Ladies all
Than she that doth hir louer’s heart possesse in bondage thrall?
Why should not then, the fayrest dame,
Apply her gentle minde,
And honor giue vnto his name,
Wyth humble heart and kinde?
Sith he is full of curtesie,
Indewd with noble grace,
And brest replete with honesty,
Well knowne in euery place.
Who may better sing and daunce amongs vs Ladies all,
Than she that doth hir louer’s heart possesse in bondage thrall?
If I should loue, and serue him than,
May it be counted vice?
If I retayne that worthy man,
Shall I be deemde vnwise?
I will be gentle to him sure,
And render him myne ayde:
And loue that wight with heart full pure,
That neuer loue assayde.
Who may better sing and daunce amongs vs Ladies all,
Than she that doth hir louer’s heart possesse in bondage thrall?
Thus the most sacred vnity,
That doth our hearts combine:
Is voyde of wicked flattery,
The same for to vntwine.
No hardned rigor is our guide,
Nor folly doth vs lead:
No Fortune can vs twayne deuide,
Vntill we both be deade.
Who may better sing and daunce amongs vs Ladies all,
Than she that doth hir louer’s heart possesse in bondage thrall?
And thus assured certaynely,
That this our loue shall dure,
And with good lucke hope verely,
The same to put in vre
The sowen seedes of amity,
Begon betwixt vs twayne,
Shall in most perfect vnity,
For euermore remayne.
Who may better sing and daunce amongs vs Ladies all,
Than she that doth hir louer’s heart possesse in bondage thrall?
Thys Song delighted the Myndes of many in that company, and
principally Dom Deigo, and Gineura, who felt themselues tickled
without laughing: And the mayden reioysed to heare hir selfe so
greatly praysed in so noble a company, and specially in the
presence of hir friende who had no lesse pleasure by hearing the
praises of his beloued, than if he had bin made Lord of all
Aragon. She for all hir dissembled Countenaunce could not hide
the alteration of hir Mynde, without sending forth a sodayne
chaunge of colour, that forced a fayre and goodly taynt in hir
Face. Dom Diego seeing that mutation, was so ioyful as was
possible, for thereby he knew and Iudged himselfe assured of the
good grace of hys Mistresse, and therefore wringing hir finely
by the hands, sayd vnto her very soberly Smiling: “What greater
pleasure my louinge Wench can there happen vnto your Seruaunt,
than to see the accomplishment of this Propheticall Song?
I assure you that in all my life I neuer heard musicke, that
delighted me so mutch as this, and thereby doe vnderstand the
good will of the Gentlewoman, which so curteously hath
discouered yours towards me, and the faythfull seruice whereof
you shall see me from henceforth so liberall, as neyther goods
nor life shalbe spared for your sake.” Ginuera who loued him
with all hir heart, thanked him very humbly, and prayed him to
beleeue that the Song was truely soonge, and that without any
fayle, she that soonge, had thereby manyfested all the secrets
of hir mynde. The daunce ended, they sat theym downe rounde
about a cleare Fountayne, which by silent discourse, issued from
an high and moysty rock, enuironned with an infinite number of
Maple trees, Poplars, and Ashes. To which place a Page brought a
Lute to Dom Diego, whereupon hee could play very well, and made
it more pleasauntly to sound for that hee accorded hys Fayninge
Voyce to the Instrument, Singing this song that followeth.
That I should loue and serue also, good reason doth require,
What though I suffre loathsome grief, my life in woe to wrap?
The same be th’only instruments of my good lucke and hap,
The foode and pray for hungry corps, of rest th’assured hire.
By thought wherof (O heauy man) gush forth of teares great store
And by and by reioyst agayne, my driery teares do cease:
Which guerdon shall mine honor sure in that triumphant peace,
The summe wherof I offer now, were it of price mutch more.
Which I do make withall my heart, vnto that blessed wight,
My proper Goddesse here on earth, and only mistresse deere:
My goods and life, my brething ghost within this carcase here,
I vow vnto that maiesty, that heauenly starre most bright.
Now sith my willing vow is made, I humbly pray hir grace,
To end th’accord betwene vs pight, no longer time to tracte:
Whych if it be by sured band, so haply brought to passe,
I must my self thrice happy count, for that most heauenly fact.
Thys Song made the company to muse, who commended the trim
inuention of the Knight, and aboue all Gineura praysed him more
than before, and could not so well refrayne hir lookes from him,
and he with counterchaunge rendring alike agayne, but that the
two wydowes their Mothers tooke great heede thereof, reioysing
greatly to see the same, desirous in time to couple them
togeather. For at that present they deferred the same, in
consideration they were both very young. Notwithstanding it had
bene better that the same Coniunction had ben made, before
Fortune had turned the Wheele of hir vnstablenes. And truely
delay and prolongation of time sometimes bryngeth sutch and so
great missehappe that one hundred times men cursse their
fortune, and little aduyse in foresight of their infortunate
chaunces that commonly do come to passe. As it chaunced to those
Wydowes, one of them thinking to loose hir son by the vaine
behauior of the other’s daughter, who wythout the help of GOD,
or care vnto his wil, disparaged hir honor, and prepared a
poyson so daungerous for his Mother’s age, as the foode thereof
hastened the way to the good Ladye’s Graue. Now whiles this loue
in thys manner increased and that the desire of these two
Louers, flamed forth ordinarily in fire and flames more violent,
Dom Diego all chaunged and transformed into a new man, receiued
no delyght, but in the sight of his Gineura. And she thought
that there could be no greater Felicity or more to be wyshed
for, than to haue a Fryend so perfect, and so well accomplyshed
wyth all thyngs requisite for the ornament and full furniture of
a Gentleman. This was the occasion that the young Knyght let no
Weeke to passe without visiting his mystresse twice or thryce at
the least, and she did vnto hym the greatest curtesy and best
Entertaynment, that vertue could suffer a Mayden to doe, whych
was the diligent Treasurer and careful tutor of hir honor. And
this she dyd by consent of hir Mother. In lyk maner, honestie
doth not permyt chaste Maydens to vse long talk or immoderate
speach, with the fyrst that be suters vnto them, and mutch lesse
seemely it is for them to be ouer squeimysh Nice, wyth that man
whych seeketh (by way of marryage) to wynne power and tytle of
the Body, beyng in very deede, or ought to be the moiety of
theyr soule. Sutch was the desyres of these two Louers, which
notwithstanding was impeeched by meanes, as hereafter you shal
heare. For duryng the rebounding ioy of those faire couple of
Loyall Louers, it chaunced that the Daughter of a Nobleman of
the Countrey, named Ferrando de la Serre, whych was fayre, very
Comely, Wise, and of good behauiour, by keepynge daily Company
with Gineura, fell extreamely in loue with Dom Diego, and
assayed by all meanes to do him to vnderstand what the puissance
was of hir Loue which willingly shee meant to bestowe vpon him,
if it woold please hym to honor hir so mutch, as to loue hir
with like sincerity. But the knight which was no more his own
Man, beyng possessed of another, had with hys Lybertye lost his
Wyts and Mynd to marke the affectyon of this Gentlewoman, of
whom he made no accompt. The Maiden neuerthelesse ceased not to
loue him, and to proue all possible wayes to make him hir owne.
And knowing how mutch Dom Diego loued Hawking, she bought a
hauke the best in all the countrey, and sent the same to Dom
Diego, who wyth all his heart receiued the same, and
affectuously gaue hir thanks for that desired gyft, praying the
messanger to recommend him to the good grace of his mistresse,
and to assure hir self of his faythfull seruice, and that for
hir sake he would kepe the Hauke so tenderly as the Balles of
his eyes. Thys Hauke was the cause of the ill fortune that
afterwards chaunced to this poore Louer. For going many times to
see Gienura with the hauke on his fist and bearing with him the
tokens of the goodnesse of his Hauke, it escaped his mouth to
say, that the same was one of the things that in all the World
he loued best. Truely this Word was taken at the first bound
contrary to his meaning, wherewith the matter so fell out, as
afterwards by despayre he was like to lose his Lyfe. Certaine
dayes after, as in the absence of the knight, talk rose of his
vertue and honest conditions, one praysing his prowesse and
valyance, another his great Beauty and Curtesy, another passing
further, extolling the sincere affectyon and constancy which
appeared in him touching matters of Loue, one enuious person
named Gracian spake his mind of hym in this wyse: “I will not
deny but that Dom Diego is one of the most excellent most honest
and brauest knyghtes of Catheloigne, but in matters of Loue he
seemeth to me so walteryng and inconstant, as in euery place
where he commeth, by and by he falleth in loue, and maketh as
though he were sicke and would dy for the same.” Gineura
maruelling at those words said vnto him: “I pray you my frend to
vse better talk of the Lord Dom Diego. For I do thynk the Loue
whych the Knight doth beare to a Gentlewoman of thys countrey,
is so firme and assured, as none other can remoue the same out
of the siege of hys mind?” “Lo howe you be deceiued Gentlewoman”
(quod Gracian) “for vnder coloure of dissymulate seruice, he and
sutch as he is doe abuse the simplicity of young Gentlewomen.
And to proue my sayinge true, I am assured that he is extremely
enamored wyth the Daughter of Dom Ferrando de la Serre, of whom
he receyued an Hauke, that he loueth aboue all other things.”
Gineura remembrying the words which certayn dayes before Dom
Diego spake touching his hauke, began to suspect and beleue that
which Gracian alleaged, and not able to support the choler,
whych cold Iealosy bred in hir stomack, went into hir Chaumber
full of so greate gryefe and heauynesse as she was many tymes
lyke to kyll hir selfe. In the end, hopyng to be reuenged of the
wrong whych shee beleued to receyue of Dom Diego, determyned to
endure hir fortune paciently. In the meane tyme she conceyued in
hir Mynd a despyte and hatred so great and extreame agaynst the
poore Gentleman that thought lyttle hereof, as the former loue
was nothing in respecte of the reuenge by death which she then
desired vpon hym. Who the next day after his wonted maner came
to see hir, hauing (to hys great damage) the hauke on his fiste,
which was the onely cause of all her Iealosie. Nowe as the
knyght was in talke with the Mother, seeynge that his beloued
came not at al (accordyng to hir custome) to salute him and bid
him welcome, inquired how she dyd. One that loued hym more than
the rest, sayd vnto him: “Syr, so soone as she knewe of your
comming, immedyately she wythdrew hir self into hir Chaumber.”
He that was wyse and well trayned vp dissembled what he thought,
imagining that it was for some lyttle fantasie, whereunto Women
wyllingly be subiecte. And therfore when he thought time to
depart he toke leaue of the wydow, and as he was goyng down the
staires of the great Chamber, he met one of the maides of
Gineura, whom he prayed to commend him to hir mistresse. Gineura
duryng al this time tooke no reste, deuising howe shee myghte
cutte of cleane hir loue entertained in Dom Diego, after she
knewe that hee carryed the hawke on his fyst: beyng the onely
instrument of her frensie. And therefore thynkyng hir selfe both
despysed and mocked of hir Knyght, and that he had done it in
despyte of hir, she entred into so great rage and Choler as she
was like to fall mad. She being then in this trouble of Mynde,
behold hir Gentlewoman came vnto hir, and dyd the knyght’s
message. Who hearing but the symple name of hir supposed Ennimy,
began to sighe so straungely, as a Man would haue thought hir
soule presently would haue departed hir Body. Afterwards when
she had vanquished hir raging fit whych stayed hir speach, she
gan very tenderly to weepe, saying: “Ah traytor and vnfaithful
Louer, is thys the recompence of the honest, and firme Amity
whych I haue borne thee, so wyckedly to deceiue me vnder the
colour of so faint and detestable a Fryendship? Ah rashe and
arrant Theefe, is it I vppon whom thou oughtest to bend thy
wycked Trumperies? Doste thou thinke that I am no better worth
but that thou prodigally shouldest waste myne honor to bear the
spoyles thereof to hir, that is in nothing comparable vnto me?
Wherein haue I deserued thys discurtesy, if not by louyng thee
more than thy beauty and fained loue deserue? Diddest thou dare
to aduenture vppon me, hauyng thy conscyence wounded wyth sutch
an abhominable and deadly Treason? Durste thou to offer thy
Mouth to kysse my Hand, by the mouth of another, to whome thou
haddest before dedicated thy lying Lyppes in thine owne person?
I most humbly thancke Almighty God that it pleased him to let me
see the Poison by thee prepared for the ruine of my lyfe and
honor. Ha foole, hope not to take me in thy Trap, nor yet to
deceyue me through thy sugred and deceitfull Words. For I sweare
by the Almyghty God, that so long as I shall liue, I will
accompte thee none other, but the most cruell and mortall Ennimy
that I haue in this world.” Then to accomplish the rest of hir
carefull Minde she wrote a Letter to giue hir farewell to hir
olde Friend Dom Diego. And for that purpose instructed hir Page
with this Lesson, that when the knyght should come, he should be
ready before hir lodging and say vnto him in the behalfe of hir,
that before he passed any further, hee shoulde reade the Letter,
and not to fayle to doe the Contents: the Page which was
malicious, and il affectioned to Dom Diego, knowyng the
appointed day of hys comming, wayted for hym a quarter of a mile
from the Castle, where he had not long taryed, but the innocent
louer came, agaynst whome the page went, bearyng about him more
hurtfull and noysome weapons than al the Theeues and robbers had
in all the Countrey of Catheloigne. In this manner presenting
his mystresse letters, he said vnto him: “My Lord, madame
Gineura my mistresse hath sent me vnto you: and bicause she
knoweth how feareful you be to dysplease hir, prayeth you not to
fayle to reade this Letter before you passe anye further, and
there wyth al to accomplysh the effecte thereof.” The knyght
abashed wyth that sodayne message, aunswered the Page: “God
forbid my fryend,” (quod he) “that I should disobey hir by anye
meanes, vnto whom I haue gyuen a full authority and puissaunce
over myne affectyons.” So receyuing the letters, he kissed them
thre or four times, and openyng them, found that he loked not
for, and red that whych he thought not off. The contents were
these.
_The letters of faire Ginuera, to the Knight Dom Diego._
There shall passe no day of my Lyfe, from makyng complaynts of
the disloyall and periured Louer, who being more esteemed and
better beloued than thou dydst deserue, hast made so small
accompte of mee, whereof I wyll be reuenged vpon my selfe,
for that I so lyghtly beleued thy wordes so full of crafte and
guyle. I am in mynd that thou henceforth shalt flye to buzze and
beat the Bushes, where thou suspectest to catch the pray: for
heere thou art lyke to be deceiued. Goe varlet, (goe I say,) to
deceyue hir whych holdeth thee in hir nets and snares, and whose
Presentes (althoughe of small Value) moued thee more than the
Honeste, Vertuous and Chaste Loue, that Vertue hir selfe began
to knytte betweene vs. And sith a Carrion Kyte hath made the fly
further off, than the Wynde of the Ayre was able to bear thee,
God desende that Gineura should goe aboute to hynder thy
follyes, and mutch lesse to suffer hir selfe to bee beguyled
throughe thine Excuses. Nay rather God defend (except thou
desirest to se me dy) that thou shouldest euer bee in place
where I am, assuryng thee of thys my mynde, neuer to be chaunged
so long as my soule shall rest wythin my body: which giuing
breath vnto my panting breast, shal neuer be other, but a
mortall enimy to Dom Diego: and sutch one as euen to the Death
wyl not fayle to prosecute the default of the most traiterous
and vnfaythfull Knyght that euer was gyrte in girdle, or armed
with Sword. And behold the last fauour that thou canst, or
oughtest to hope of me, who lyueth not but onelye to martir and
crucify thee, and neuer shal be{ }other but
The greatest Enimy, that euer thou haddest, or
shalt haue, Gineura the fayre.
The myserable louer had no sooner red the Letter, but lifting vp
his eyes to the heauens, he sayd: “Alas, my God thou knowest
well if euer I haue offended, that I ought to be banyshed from
the place, where my contentation is chyefly fixed, and from
whence my heart{ }shall neuer departe, chaunce what myssehappe
and Fortune so euer shall.” Then tournyng himself towards the
Page, hee sayd: “Sir Page my fryend, say vnto my Ladye, most
humblye commending me vnto hir, that for this present time I
wyll not see hir, but hereafter she shall heare some newes from
me.” The page well lessoned for the purpose, made hym aunswere,
saying: “Sir, she hath wylled me to say thus mutch by mouth,
that ye cannot do hir greater pleasure, than neuer to come in
place where shee is: for so mutch as the Daughter of Dom
Ferrando de la Serre hath so catched you in hir nettes, that
loth she is your faithfull heart shoulde hange in ballance, and
expect the vncertaine Loue of two Ladyes at once.” Dom Diego
hearing the truth of hys missehap, and the occasion of the same,
made Lyghte of the matter for that tyme, till at length the
Choler of his Mistresse were abated, that thereby shee might
know vpon how bryttle Ground she hadde planted a suspition of
hir most faythfull and louing Seruaunt, and so retiring to his
House, altogither vexed and yll contented, he wente into hys
Chaumber where with his Dagger he paunched the gorge of the
poore birde, the cause of hys Ladies Anger, saying: “Ha vyle
carraine kite, I sweare by the bloud of him, that thou shalt
neuer be the cause agayne, to make hir fret for sutch a triflyng
thing as thou art: I beleue that what so euer fury is hidden
within the Body of this curssed Kite, to engender a Plague,
the same now is seased on me, but I hope to doe my Mystresse
vnderstande what Sacrifice I haue made of the thyng that was
sent me, ready to do the lyke vppon mine owne flesh, where it
shall please her to commaund.” So taking Inke and Paper, he made
aunswere to Gineura as foloweth.
_The Letters of Dom Diego, to Gineura the faire._
But who would euer thynck (my Lady deare) that a Lyght Opinion
could so soone haue deuided your good iudgement, to condempn
your Knight before you had heard what he was able to say, for
himself? truely I thought no more to offend you, than the man
which you neuer knew, although you haue bene deceiued by colored
words, vttered by those that be enuious of my happe, and Enimies
of your ioy, who haue filled your minde full of false report.
I swere vnto you (by God, my good Lady) that neuer thinge entred
into my fantasie more, than a desire to serue you alone and to
auoide the acquaintance of all other, to preserue for you a pure
and entire heart. Whereof longe agone I made you an offer. In
wytnesse whereof I humbly beseech you to beleue, that so soone
as you see this Birde (the cause of your anger and occasion of
my mishap) torne and pluckte in pieces, that my heart feeleth no
lesse alteration or torment: for so long as I shall vnderstand
your displeasure to endure against mee, assure your selfe my
Life shall abide in no lesse paine than my ioye was great when I
franckly possessed your presence. Be it sufficient (Madame) for
you to know, that I neuer thought to offend you. Be contented I
beseech you, with this sacrifice which I send you, if not that I
doe the like vpon myne owne body, which without your good will
and grace can no longer liue. For my lyfe depending vppon that
only benefit, you ought not to be astonned if the same fayling
his nourishment doth pearish, as frustrate of that foode,
propre, and apt for his Appetite: and by like meanes my sayd
life shall reuiue, if it may please you to spread your beames
ouer mine obscure and base personage, and to receiue thys
satisfaction for a fault not committed. And so wayting a gentle
aunswere from your great curtesie, I humbly kisse your white and
delicate handes, with all humility, praying God sweete Lady,
to let you see how mutch I suffer without desert, and what
puissaunce you haue ouer him that is all your
Faythfull and euer servaunt
most obedient, Dom Diego.
The letter closed, and sealed, he deliuered to one of his
faythfull and secret Seruaunts, to beare (with the deade Hauke)
vnto Gineura, charging him diligently to take heede to hir
countenaunce, and aboue all, that faithfully he should beare
away what she dyd say vnto him for aunswere. His man fayled not
to speede himselfe with diligence: and being come before
Gineura, he presented that which his maister had sent hir. She
full of wrath and indignation, would not once vouchsafe to reade
the letter, and mutch lesse to accept the present which was a
witnesse of the contrary of that shee did beleue, and turninge
vnto the messenger, she sayde: “My Frende, thou mayest goe get
thee backe agayne, wyth the selfe same charge which thou hast
brought, and say vnto thy mayster, that I haue nothing to doe
with his Letters, his Excuses, or any other thing that commeth
from his handes, as one hauing good experience of his sleyghts
and deceipts. Tell him also, that I prayse God, in good time I
haue taken heede to the little fayth and trust that is in him
for a countergarde, lightly neuer hereafter to bee deceiued.”
The seruyng man would fayne haue framed an Oration to purge his
maister, but the fierce Gentlewoman brake of his talke, saying
vnto hym, that she was wel resolued vpon hir intent, whych was
that Dom Diego should neuer recouer place in hir minde: and that
shee hated hym as mutch at that time as euer shee loued him
before. Vppon whych aunswere the Messanger returned, so
sorrowfull for the Misfortune of his Mayster (knowing hym to bee
very innocent) as he knew full well into what despayre his
Mayster would fall, when he vnderstode those pitifull and heavy
newes: notwithstanding needes he must knowe them, and therefore
when he was come before Dom Diego, he recyted vnto hym from
poynt to poynt his ambassage, and deliuered hym agayne his
Letters. Whereof the infortunate Gentleman was so sore astonned,
as he was like to haue fallen downe dead at that instant.
“Alas,” (sayd he) “what yll lucke is this, that when I thought
to enioye the benefite of my attempte, Fortune hath reuolted to
bryng me to the extremity of the moste desparate man that ever
lyued? Is it possible that my good seruice should bee the cause
of my approached ouerthrow? Alas, what may true and faithfull
louers henceforth hope for, if not the losse of theyr tyme, when
after long deuoire and duetye, an Enuious fool shall come to
depryue them of theyr ioy and gladnesse, and they feelyng the
bytternesse of theyr abandoned farewell, one that loueth lesse
shall beare away the sweete fruicte of sutch hope, and shall
possesse withoute deserte the glory due to a good and faythfull
suter. Ah fayre Gineura, that thou seest not the griefe whych I
do feele, and the affection wherewith I serue thee, and how
mutch I would suffer to gayne and recouer thy good grace and
fauor. Ha vayne hope, which vntill now hast fylled me, with
mirth and gladnesse, altogether spent and ouerwhelmed in the
gaulle of thy bytter sauour, and in the tast of thy corrupted
lycour: better it had ben for me at the begining to haue refused
thee, than afterwards receiued, cherished, and sincerely
beloued, to be banished for so light occasion, as I am ful sore
ashamed to conceyue the same within remembrance: but fortune
shal not haue hir wil ouer me: for so long as I shall liue I
wyll contynue the seruaunt of Gineura, and my lyfe I wyll
preserue, to lette her vnderstand the force of Loue: by
continuaunce whereof, I wyll not sticke to sette my selfe on
fyre with the liuely flames of my passions, and then withdrawe
the fyrebrandes of my ioy, by the rigour and frowardnesse that
shall proceede from hir.” When he had fynished his talke, he
began to sigh and lament so strangely, as his man was about to
go cal the lady his mother. In whom dyd appeare sutch signes, as
if death had ben at hand, or els that he had ben attached wyth
the Spirite of phrensie. But when hee sawe hym aboute to come
agayne to himselfe, he sayed thus vnto him: “How now, syr, wyl
you cast your selfe away for the foolyshe toy of an vndiscrete
girle, yll mannered and taught, and who perchaunce doth al this
to proue how constant you would be? No, no sir, you must turne
ouer an other Leafe, and sith you bee determyned to loue hir,
you must perseuere in your pursute. For at length it is
impossible, but that this Diamont hardnesse, must needes bee
mollified, if she be not a Diuell incarnate, more furious than
the wildest beasts, whych haunt the deserts of Lybia.” Dom Diego
was comforted with that admonition, and purposed to persist in
hys affection, and therefore sent many messages, giftes,
letters, and excuses to hys angry mistresse Gineura. But she
made yet lesse accompt of them than of the first, charging the
messangers not to trouble themselues about those trifles, for
shee had rather dye than see hym, or to receyue any thyng from
him, whom she deadly hated. When newes hereof came to the
knyght, he was altogether impacient, and seeing the small
profite which he did gaine by pursuing his folysh opinion, and
not able to bestow his loue elsewhere, he determined to die:
and yet vnwilling to imbrue his hands with his owne bloud, he
purposed to wander as a vacabond into some deserte, to perfourme
the course of his vnhappye and sorrowfull dayes, hoping by that
meanes to quench the heat of that amorous rage, either by length
of tyme, or by death, the last refuge of the myserable. For
which purpose then, he caused to be made two pylgrims wedes,
the one for himselfe, and the other for his man, and prepared al
their necessaries for his voiage. Then writing a Letter to his
Gineura, he called one of his men, to whom he said: “I am going
about certayne of myne affayres, whereof I will haue no man to
knowe, and therefore when I am gone, thou shalt tell my Lady
Mother what I say to thee, and that within twenty dayes (God
willing) I meane to retourne: moreouer I require thee, that
foure dayes after my departure, and not before, thou beare
theese letters to mistresse Gineura, and if so be she refuse to
receyue them, fayle not to deliuer them vnto hir mother. Take
heede therefore if thou loue me, to do all that which I haue
geuen thee in charge.” Afterwards he called his seruaunt vnto
hym, which had done the first message vnto Gineura, which was a
wise, and gentle fellow, in whom the knight reposed great
affiaunce, to him he declared all his enterprise, and th’ende
whereunto his fierce determination did extend. The good Seruaunt
whych loued his mayster, hearing his intent so vnreasonable,
sayde vnto him: “Is it not enough for you sir, to yelde your
selfe a pray to the most fierce, and cruell woman that lyueth,
but thus to augment hir glory, by seeing hir selfe so victorious
over you? Are you ignoraunt what the mallice of Women is, and
how mutch they triumph in tormenting the poore blynded soules
that become their Seruaunts, and what prayse they attribute vnto
themselues, if by some misfortune they driue them to dispaire?
Was it without cause that the Sage in times past did so greatly
hate that Sexe, and Kinde, as the common Ruine, and ouerthrow of
men? What mooued the Greeke Poet to sing theese verses against
all sorts of Women?
A common woe though silly woman be to man,
Yet double ioy againe she doth vnto him bring:
The wedding night is one, as wedded folk tell can,
The other when the knill for hir poore soule doth ring.
If not for that he knew the happinesse of man consisted more in
auoyding the acquaintaunce of that fury, than by imbracinge, and
chearishing of the same, sith hir nature is altogether like vnto
Æsop’s Serpent, which being deliuered from pearill and daunger
of death by the shepeheard, for recompence thereof, infected his
whole house with his venomous hissing, and rammish Breath.
O howe happy is hee that can mayster his owne affections, and
like a free man from that passion, can reioyce in liberty,
fleeing the sweete euill which (as I well perceyue) is the cause
of your despayre. But sir, your wisedome ought to vanquish those
light conceipts, by setting so light of that your rebellious
Gentlewoman, as shee is vnworthy to be fauoured by so great a
Lord as you be, who deserueth a better personage than hir’s is,
and a frendlier entertainment than a farewell so fondly giuen.”
Dom Diego, although that he tooke pleasure to heare those
discourses of his faythfull seruaunt, yet he shewed so sower a
Countenaunce vnto him, as the other with theese fewe wordes
helde his peace: “Sith then it is so syr, that you be resolued
in your mishap, it may please you to accept mee to wayte vpon
you, whither you are determined to goe: for I meane not to liue
at mine ease, and suffer my mayster, in payne, and griefe.
I will be partaker of that which Fortune shall prepare, vntill
the heauens doe mitigate their rage vpon you, and your
predestinate mishap.” Dom Diego, who desired no better company,
imbraced him very louingly, thankinge him for the good will that
hee bare him, and sayd: “This present Night about midnight, we
wil take our Iourney, euen that way wheather our Lot and also
Fortune shall Guide vs, attendinge eyther the ende of my
Passion, or the whole ouerthrow of my selfe.” Their intent they
did put in proofe: for at Midnight the Moone being cleere when
all thinges were at rest, and the Crickets chirpinge through the
Creauises of the Earth, they tooke their way vnseene of any. And
so soone as Aurora began to garnish hir Mantle with colors of
red and white, and the morning Starre of the Goddesse of
stealing loue, appeared, Dom Diego began to sigh, saying: “Ah
yee freshe and dewy Morninges, that my hap is farre from the
quiet of others, who after they haue rested vpon the Cogitation
of their Ease, and ioye, doe awake by the pleasaunte Tunes of
the Byrdes, to perfourme by effect that which the Shadowe and
Fantasie of their Minde, did present by dreaming in the Night,
where I am constrayned to separate by great distaunce exceeding
vehement continuation of my Torments, to followe wilde Beasts,
wandring from thence where the greatest number of men doe
quietly sleepe and take their rest. Ah Venus, whose Starre now
conducteth me, and whose beames long agoe did glow and kindle my
louing heart, how chaunceth it that I am not intreated according
to the desert of my constant minde and meaning most sincere?
Alas, I looke not to expect any thyng certayne from thee, sith
thou hast thy course amongs the wandring starres. Must the
Influence of one Starre that ruleth ouer mee, deface that which
the Heauens would to bee accomplished, and that my cruel
mistresse, deluding my languors and griefs, triumpheth ouer mine
infirmity, and ouerwhelmeth me with care and sorow, that I liue
pyning away, amongs the sauage beasts in the Wildernesse? For
somutch as without the grace of my Lady, all company shalbe so
tedious and lothsom vnto me, that the only thought of a true
reconciliation with hir, that hath my heart, shal serue for the
comfort and true remedy of all my troubles.” Whiles he had with
these pangs forgotten himselfe, hee sawe that the day began to
waxe cleere, the Sun already spreading his golden beames vpon
the earth and therefore hastely he set himself forthwards, vsing
Bywayes, and far from common vsed trades, so neere as he could,
that hee might not by any meanes be knowne. Thus they rode forth
till Noone: but seeing their horsse to be weary and faynt, they
lighted at a village, farre from the high way: where they
refreshed themselues, and bayted their horsse vntill it was
late. In this sort by the space of three daies they trauersed
the Countrey vntill they arriued to the foote of a mountayne,
not frequented almost but by Wilde and sauage Beasts. The
countrey round about was very fayre, pleasaunt, and fit for the
solitarines of the Knight: for if shadow pleased him, hee might
be delighted with the couert of an infinite number of fruictfull
trees, wherewith only nature had furnished those hideous and
Sauage Desertes. Next to the high and wel timbred Forrests,
there were groues and bushes for exercise of hunting. A man
could desire no kinde of Veneson, but it was to be had in that
Wildernesse: there might be seene also a certain sharpe and rude
situation of craggy, and vnfruictful rocks, which
notwithstanding yelded some pleasure to the Eyes, to see theym
tapissed with a pale moasie greene, which disposed into a
frizeled guise, made the place pleasaunt and the rock soft,
according to the fashion of a couerture. There was also a very
fayre and wide Caue, which liked him well compassed round about
with Firre trees, Pine apples, Cipres, and Trees distilling a
certayne Rosen or Gumme, towards the bottom whereof, in the way
downe to the valley, a man might haue viewed a passing company
of Ewe trees, Poplers of all sortes, and Maple trees, the Leaues
whereof fell into a Lake or Pond, which came by certayne smal
gutters into a fresh and very cleare fountayne right agaynst
that Caue. The knight viewing the auncienty and excellency of
the place, deliberated by and by to plant there the siege of his
abode, for performing of his penaunce and life. And therefore
sayd unto his seruaunt: “My friend, I am aduised that this place
shall be the Monastery, for the voluntary profession of our
religion, and where we will accomplish the Voyage of our
Deuotion. Thou seest both the beauty and solitarinesse, which do
rather commaund vs here to rest, than any other place nere at
hand.” The Seruaunt yelded to the pleasure of his mayster, and
so lightinge from their horsse, they disfurnished them of their
Saddles, and Bridles, gieuing to them the liberty of the fields,
of whom afterwards they neuer heard more newes. The saddles they
placed within the Caue and leauing their ordinary apparell,
clothed themselues in Pilgrimes weedes, fortifying the mouth of
the caue, that wilde beasts should not hurt them when they were
a sleepe. There the seruaunt began to play the Vpholster, and to
make 2 little beds of mosse, whose spindle and wheele were of
wood, so well pollished and trimmed, as if he had bin a
carpenter wel expert in that Science. They liued of nothing els,
but of the fruicts of those wilde trees, sometimes of herbs,
vntill they had deuised to make a crosbow of wood, wherewith
they killed now and then a Hare, a Cony, a Kid, and many times
some stronger beast remayned with them for gage: whose bloude
they pressed out betwene two pieces of wood and rosted them
against the Sunne, seruing the same in, as if it had bene a
right good Dishe for their first course of their sober and
vndelicate Table, whereat the pure water of the fountayne, next
vnto their hollow and deepe house, serued in steade of the good
Wynes, and delicious Drinks that abounded in the house of Dom
Diego. Who liuing in this poore state, ceased night nor day to
complayne of his hard fortune and curssed plight, going many
times through the Desertes all alone, the better to muse and
study thereupon, or (peraduenture) desirous that some hungry
Beare should descend from the mountayne, to finishe his life and
paynefull griefes. But the good Seruaunt knowing his Mayster’s
sorow and mishap, would neuer go out of his sight but rather
exhorted him to retourne home againe to his goods and
possessions, and to forget that order of lyfe, vnworthy for
sutch a personage as he was, and vncomely for him that ought to
be indued with reason and iudgement. But the desperate Gentleman
wilfull in his former deliberation, would not heare him speake
of sutch retrayt. So that if it escaped the seruaunt to be
earnest and sharpe agaynst the rudenesse and sottish cruelty of
Gineura, it was a pastime to see Dom Diego mount in choller
against him, saying: “Art thou so hardy to speak il of the
gentlewoman, which is the most vertuous personage vnder the
coape of heauen? Thou maist thancke the loue I beare thee,
otherwise I would make thee feele how mutch the slaunder of hir
toucheth mee at the heart, which hath right to punishe me thus
for mine indiscretion, and that it is I that commit the wronge
in complayning of hir seuerity.” “Now sir,” sayd the seruaunt,
“I do indeede perceyue what maner of thing the contagion of loue
is. For they which once doe feele the corruption of that Ayre,
think nothing good or sauory, but the filthy smel of that
pestiferous meat. Wherefore I humbly beseech you a little to set
apart, and remoue from minde, that feare and presumptuous dame
Gineura, and by forgetting hir beauty, to measure hir Desert and
your griefe, you shall know then (being guided by reason’s lore)
that you are the simplest and weakest man in the worlde, to
torment your selfe in this wise, and that shee is the fondest
Girle, wholly straught of wits, so to abuse a Noble man that
meriteth the good grace and sweete embracement of one more
fayre, wise and modest, than she sheweth hirselfe to be.” The
knight hearing these words thought to abandon pacience, but yet
replied vnto him: “I sweare vnto thee by God, that if euer thou
haue any sutch talke agayne, eyther I will dye, or thou shalt
depart out of my company, for I cannot abide by any meanes to
suffer one to despise hir whom I do loue and honor, and shal so
do during life.” The seruaunt loth to offend his mayster held
his peace, heauy for all that in heart, to remember how the
poore gentleman was resolued to finish there, (in a desert
unknowen to his Freendes) all the remnaunt of his life. And who
aswell for the euill order, and not accustome nourture, as for
assiduall playnts and weepings, was become so pale and leane,
as he better resembled a dry Chip, than a man, hauing feeling or
lyfe. His eyes were sonke into his Head, his Beard vnkempt, his
hayre staring, his skin ful of filth, altogether more like a
wilde and Sauage creature (sutch one as is depainted in brutal
forme) than faire Dom Diego, so mutch commended, and esteemed
throughout the kingdome of Spayne. Now leaue we this Amorous
Hermit to passionate and playne his misfortune, to see to what
ende the Letters came that he wrote to his cruel Mistresse. The
day prefixed for deliuery of his Letters, his seruaunt did his
charge, and being come to the house of Gineura, founde hir in
the hall with hir mother, where kissing his Mayster’s Letters,
hee presented them with very great reuerence to the Gentlewoman.
Who so soone as shee knew that they came from Dom Diego, all
chaunged into raging colour, and foolishe choller, threwe theym
incontinently vppon the grounde, sayinge: “Sufficeth it not thy
Mayster, that already twice I haue done him to vnderstand, that
I haue nothing to doe with his Letters nor Ambassades, and yet
goeth he about by sutch assaultes to encrease my displeasure and
agony, by the only remembraunce of his folly?” The Mother seeing
that vnciuile order, although shee vnderstoode the cause, and
knowinge that there was some discorde betweene the two Louers,
yet thought it to bee but light, sithe the Comike Poet sayeth:
The Louers often falling out,
And prety warling rage:
Of pleasaunt loue it is no doubt,
The sure renewing gage.
She went vnto hir Daughter, and sayd vnto hir: “What great rage
is this: let me see that Letter that I may reade it: for I haue
no feare that Dom Diego can deceyue me with the sweetenes of his
honny words. And truly Daughter you neede not fear to touch
theym, for if there were any Poyson in theym, it proceeded from
your beauty that hath bitten and stong the knight, whereof if he
assay to make you a partaker, I see no cause why he ought to be
thus rigorously reiected, deseruing by his honesty a better
entertaynement at your hands.” In the meane time one of the
seruing men toke vp the Letters, and gaue them to the Lady,
who reading them, found written as followeth.
_The letters of Dom Diego, to mistresse Gineura._
My dearest and most wel beloued Lady, sith that mine innocency
can finde no resting place within your tender Corpse, what
honest excuse or true reason so euer I do alledge, and sith your
heart declareth itself to be Implacable, and not pleased with
hym that neuer offended you, except it were for ouermutch loue,
which for guerdon of the rare and incomparable amity, I perceyue
my selfe to be hated deadly of you and in sutch wise contemned,
as the only record of my name causeth in you an insupportable
griefe and displeasure vnspeakeable. To auoide I say your
indignation, and by my mishap to render vnto you some ease and
contentment, I haue meant to dislodge my self so far from this
Countrey, as neyther you nor any other, shal euer heare by fame
or true report, the place of my abode, nor the graue wherein my
bones shall rest. And although it be an inexplicable heart’s
sorrow and torment, which by way of pen can not be declared, to
be thus misprised of you, whom alone I do loue and shal, so long
as mine afflicted soule shall hang vpon the feeble and brittle
threede of life: yet for all that, this griefe falling vpon me,
is not irkesome, as the punishment is grieuous, by imagining the
passion of your minde when it is disquieted with disdayne and
wrath agaynst me, who liueth not, but to wander vpon the
thoughts of your perfections. And forsomutch as I doe feele for
the debility that is in me, that I am not able any longer to
beare the sowre shockes of my bitter torments and martyrdome
that I presently doe suffer, yet before my life doe fayle, and
death doe sease vpon my senses, I haue written vnto you this
present letter for a testimoniall of your rigour, which is the
marke that iustifieth my vnguiltynesse. And although I doe
complayne of mine vnhappy fortune, yet I meane not to accuse
you, onely contented that eche man doe know, that firme
affection and eternall thraldome do deserue other recompence
than a farewell so cruell. And I am wel assured, that when I am
deade, you will pitty my torment, knowing then, although to
late, that my loyalty was so sincere, as the report of those was
false, that made you beleeue, that I was very far in loue with
the Daughter of Dom Ferrande de la Serre. Alas, shall a Noble
gentleman that hath bene well trayned vp, be forbidden to
receiue the gifts that come from a vertuous Gentlewoman? Ought
you to be so incapable and voyde of humanity, that the sacrifice
which I haue made of the poore Birde, the cause of your
disdayne, my repentaunce, my lawfull excuses, are not able to
let you see the contrary of your persuasion? Ah, ah, I see that
the dark and obscure vayle of uniust disdayne and immoderate
anger, hath so blindfold your eyes, and inuegled your mynde, as
you can not iudge the truth of my cause and the vnrightousnes of
your quarell. I will render vnto you none other certificate of
myne innocency, but my languishinge heart, which you clepe
betweene your hands, feling sutch rude intertaynment there, of
whom he loaked for reioyse of his trauayles. But forsomutch then
as you do hate me, what resteth for me to do, but to procure
destruction to my self? And sith your pleasure consisteth in
mine ouerthrow, reason willeth that I obey you, and by deth to
sacrifice my life in like maner as by life you were the only
mistresse of my heart. One only thing cheereth vp my heart
agayne, and maketh my death more myserable, which is, that in
dying so innocent as I am, you shall remayne guilty, and the
onely cause of my ruine. My Lyfe will depart like a Puffe, and
Soule shall vanish like a sweete Sommer’s blast: whereby you
shall be euer deemed for a cruell Woman and bloudy Murderer of
your deuout and faythfull Seruaunt. I pray to God mine owne
sweete Lady, to giue you sutch Contentation, Ioye, Pleasure, and
Gladnesse, as you do cause through your Rigor, Discontentment,
Griefe, and Displeasure to the poore languishing Creature, and
who for euermore shall bee
Your most obedient and affected
seruaunt Dom Diego.
The good Lady hauing red the Letter, was so astonned, as hir
words for a long space staied within hir mouth; hir heart
panted, and spirite was full of confusion, hir minde was filled
with sorrow to consider the anguishes of the poore vagabound,
and foster Hermit. In the ende before the houshold dissembling
hir passion which mooued hir sense, she tooke her Daughter a
side, whom very sharply she rebuked, for that she was the cause
of the losse of so notable and perfect a Knight as Dom Diego
was. Then she red the Letter vnto hir, and as all hir eloquence
was not able to moue that cruel damsell, more venemous than a
Serpent agaynst the knight, who (as she thought) had not indured
the one halfe of that which his inconstancy and lightnesse had
wel deserued, whose obstinate minde the mother perceyuinge,
sayde vnto hir: “I pray to God (deare daughter) that for your
frowardnesse, you bee not blinded in your beauty, and for
refusall of so great a benefit as is the alliaunce of Dom Diego,
you be not abused with sutch a one as shall dimme the light of
your renoume and glory, which hitherto you haue gayned amongs
the sobrest and modest maydens.” Hauing sayd so, the wyse and
sage widow, went to the seruaunt of Dom Diego, of whom she
demaunded what day his mayster departed, which she knowing,
and not ignoraunt of the occasion, was more wroth than before:
notwithstanding she dissembled what she thought, and sending
backe his seruant, she required him to do hir hearty
commendations to the Lady his mistresse, which he did. The good
Lady was ioyfull of them not knowing the contents of her sonne’s
letters, but looked rather that he had sent word vnto his lady
of the iust hour of his returne. Howbeit when she saw that in
the space of 20 dayes, nor yet within a moneth he came not, shee
could not tell what to thinke, so dolorous was she for the
absence of hir sonne. The time passinge without hearing any
newes from him she began to torment hirselfe, and be so pensiue,
as if she had heard certayne newes of his death. “Alas,” (quod
she) “and wherefore haue the heauens giuen me the possession of
sutch an exquisite fruict, to depriue mee thereof before I do
partake the goodnesse, and swetenes therof, and before I do
enioy the grifts proceding from so goodly a stock. Ah God,
I fear that my immoderate loue is the occasion of the losse of
my sonne, and the whole ruine of the mother, with the demolition
and wast of al our goods. And I would that it had pleased God
(my Son) the hunter’s game had neuer bene so deere, for thinking
to catch that pray thou thy selfe wast taken and thou wandring
for thy better disport, missing the right way, so strangely
didst straggle, that hard it is to reduce thee into the right
track agayne. At least wise if I knew the place, whereunto thou
arte repaired to finde againe thy losse, I would trauell thither
to beare the company, rather than to lyue heere voyde of a
Husbande, betrayed by them whom I best trusted and bereft from
the presence of the my Sonne, the Staffe and onely comfort of
myne olde age, and the certayne hope of all our House and
Family.” Now if the Mother vexed hir selfe, the Sonne was eased
with no great reioyce, being now a free cittizen with the
Beasts, and Foules of the Forrests, Dennes, and Caues, leauing
not the Profundity of the Woods, the Craggednes of the Rocks, or
beauty of the Valley, without some signe or token of his griefe.
Sometime with a Puncheon wel sharpned, seruing him in steede of
a Penknife, he graued the successe of his loue vpon an hard
stone. Other times the softe Bark of some tender and new growen
spray serued him in steede of Paper, or Parchment. For there he
carued in Cyphres properly combined with a Knot (not easily to
be knowne) the name of his Lady, interlaced so properly with his
owne, that the finest heads might bee deceyued, to Disciphre the
righte interpretation. Vpon a day then, as he passed his time
(accordinge to his custome) to muse vpon Myssehaps, and to frame
his successe of loue in the Ayre, hee Ingraued these Verses vpon
a Stone by a Fountayne side, adioyning to his rude and Sauage
house.
If any Forrest Pan, doth haunt here in this place,
Or wandring Nymphe, hath hard my wofull playnt:
The one may well beholde, and view what drop of grace,
I haue deseru’de, and eke what griefes my heart do taynt,
The other lend to me some broke, or showre of rayne
To moyst myne heart and eyes, the gutters of my brayne.
Somewhat further of many times at the rising of the Sunne,
he mounted the Top of an high and greene Mountayne to solace
himselfe vpon the freshe and greene grasse, where four Pillers
were erected, (eyther naturally done by dame Nature, or wrought
by the industry of man,) which bore a stone in forme four
square, well hewed, made and trimmed in maner of an Aulter, vpon
which Aulter he dedicated these verses to the Posterity.
Vpon this holy squared stone, which Aulter men doe call,
To some one of the Gods aboue that consecrated is,
This dolefull verse I do ingraue, in token of my thrall,
And deadly griefes that do my silly heart oppresse,
And vex with endelesse paynes, which neuer quiet is,
This wofull verse (I say) as surest gage of my distresse,
I fixe on Aulter stone for euer to remayne,
To shew the heart of truest wight, that euer liued in payne.
And vpon the brims of that Table, he carued these Wordes:
This Mason worke erected here, shall not so long abide,
As shall the common name of two, that now vncoupled bee,
Who after froward fortune past, knit eche in one degree,
Shall render for right earnest loue, reward on either side.
And before his Lodging in that wilde and stony Forrest vpon the
Barke of a lofty Beeche Tree, feeling in himselfe an
unaccustomed lustinesse, thus he wrote:
Th’encreasing beauty of thy shape, extending far thy name,
By like increase I hope to see, so stretched forth my fame.
His man seeing him to begin to be merily disposed, one day said
vnto him: “And wherefore sir serueth the Lute, which I brought
amongs our Males, if you do not assay thereby to recreate youre
selfe, and sing thereupon the prayses of hir whom you loue so
wel: yea and if I may so say, by worshipping hir, you do commit
idolatry in your minde. Is it not your pleasure that I fetche
the same vnto you, that by immitation of Orpheus, you may mooue
the Trees, Rocks, and wylde Beastes to bewayle your misfortune,
and witnesse the penaunce that you doe for hir sake, without
cause of so haynous punishment:” “I see well,” (quod the knight)
“that thou wouldest I should be mery, but mirth is so far from
me, as I am estraunged from hir that holdeth me in this misery.
Notwithstanding I will performe thy request, and will awake that
instrument in this desert place, wherewith sometime I witnessed
the greatest part of my passions.” Then the knight receyuing the
Lute sounded thereupon this song ensuing.
The waues and troubled scum, that mooues the Seas alofte,
Which runs and roares against the rocks, and threatneth daungers oft
Resembleth lo the fits of loue,
That dayly do my fansie moue.
My heart it is the ship, that driues on salt Sea fome,
And reason sayles with senselesse wit, and neuer loketh home,
For loue is guide, and leades the daunce,
That brings good hap, or breedes mischaunce.
The furious flames of loue, that neuer ceaseth sure,
Are loe the busie sailes and oares, that would my rest procure,
And as in Skies, great windes do blo,
My swift desires runnes, fleeting so.
As sweete Zephyrus breath, in spring time feedes the floures,
My mistresse voice would ioye my wits, by hir most heauenly powers,
And would exchaunge my state I say,
As Sommer chaungeth Winter’s day.
She is the Artique starre, the gratious Goddesse to,
She hath the might to make and marre, to helpe or els vndo,
Both death and life she hath at call,
My warre, my peace, my ruine and all.
She makes me liue in woe, and guides my sighs and lookes,
She holds my fredome by a lace, as fish is held with hookes,
Thus by despayre in this conceite,
I swallow vp both hooke and baite.
And in the deserts loe I liue, among the sauage kinde,
And spend my time in wofull sighs, rays’d vp by care of minde,
All hopelesse to in paynes I pyne,
And ioyes for euer doe resigne.
I dread but Charon’s boat if she no mercy giue,
In darknesse then my soule shall dwell, in Pluto’s raygne to liue,
But I beleue she hath no care,
On him that caught is in hir snare.
If she release my woe, a thousand thankes therefore,
I shall hir giue, and make the world to honor hir the more,
The Gods in Skies will prayse the same,
And recorde beare of hir good name.
O happy is that life, that after torment straunge,
And earthly sorows on this mould, for better life shal chaunge
And liue amongs the Gods on high,
Where loue and Louers neuer die.
O lyfe that here I leade, I freely giue thee now,
Vnto the fayre where ere she rests, and loke thou shew hir how
I linger forth my yeares and dayes,
To win of hir a crowne of prayse.
And thou my pleasaunt Lute, cease not my songs to sound,
And shew the torments of my minde, that I through loue haue found,
And alwayes tell my Mistresse still,
Hir worthy vertues rules my will.
The Foster Louer.
The Foster louer singing this song, sighing sundry tymes
betwene, the tricling teares ranne downe his Face: which thereby
was so disfigured, as scarse could any man haue knowne him, that
al the dayes of their lyfe had frequented his company. Sutch was
the state of this myserable yong gentleman, who dronke with hys
owne Wyne, balanced himselfe downe to despayre rather than to
the hope of that which he durst not looke for. Howbeit like as
the mischiefs of men be not alwayes durable, and that all
thinges haue their proper season, euen so Fortune repentinge hir
euill intreaty which wrongfully shee had caused this poore
penetenciary of Gineura to endure, prepared a meanes to
readuaunce him aloft vppon hir Wheele, euen when he thought
least of it. And certes, herein appeared the mercy of God, who
causeth things difficult and almost impossible, to be so easy,
as those that ordinarily be brought to passe. How may this
example show how they which be plunged in the bottome of
defiaunce, deeming their life vtterly forlorne, be soone exalted
euen to the top of all glory, and felicity? Hath not our age
seene a man whych was by aucthority of his Enimy iudged to dye,
ready to bee caried forth to the Scaffolde miraculously
deliuered from that daunger, and (wherein the works of God are
to be marueyled) the same man to be called to the dignity of a
Prynce, and preferred aboue all the rest of the people? Now Dom
Diego attending his fieldish Philosophy in the solitary valeys
of the riche Mountayne Pyrene, was rescowed with an helpe
vnlooked for as you shall heare. You haue hard how hee had a
Neyghbour and singuler Frend a Noble Gentleman named Dom
Roderico. Thys Gentleman amongs all his faithfull Companions did
most lament the harde fortune of Dom Diego. It came to passe
that 22 moneths after that the poore Wilde penitent person was
gonne on Pilgrimage, Dom Roderico tooke his Iourney into
Gascoyne for diuers his vrgent Affayres, which after hee had
dispatched, were it that hee was gon out of his way, or that GOD
(as it is most likely) did driue him thither, he approched
towarde that Coaste of the Pyrene Mountaynes, where that tyme
his good Frende Dom Diego did Inhabite, who dayly grew so Weake
and Feeble, as if God had not sent him sodayne succour hee had
gotten that hee most desired, which was death that should haue
bene the ende of his trauayles and Afflictions. The trayne of
Dom Roderico being then a bowe shot of from the sauage Caben of
Dom Diego, espyed the tractes of mens Feete newly troden, and
beganne to maruayle what hee should bee that dwelled there,
considering the Solitude, and Infertility of the Place, and also
that the same was farre of from Towne or House. And as they
deuised hereupon, they saw a man going into a Caue, which was
Dom Diego, comming from making his complayntes vppon the Rock
spoken of before. From which hauinge turned his face toward that
parte of the worlde where he thought the lodging was of that
Saynct, whereunto he addressed his deuotions, Dom Diego hearinge
the Noyse of the horsse, was retired because hee woulde not bee
seene. The knight which rode that way, seeing that, and knowing
how far he was oute of the way, commaunded one of his men to
Gallop towardes the Rocke, to learne what people they were that
dwelled within, and to demaund how they might coaste to the high
way that led to Barcelona. The Seruaunt approching neare the
Caue, perceiued the same so well Empaled and Fortified with
Beasts skins before, fearing also that they were Theeues and
Robbers that dwelled there, durst not approche, and lesse
enquire the way, and therefore returned towards his mayster,
to whom hee tolde what hee saw. The knight of another maner of
Metall and hardinesse than that Rascall and coward seruaunt,
like a stout, Couragious, and valiaunt Man, poasted to the Caue,
and demaundinge who was within, he saw a man come forth so
disfigured, horrible to looke vppon, pale with staring hayre
vpright, as pitifull it was to behold him, which was the seruant
of the foster Hermit. Of him Roderico demaunded what he was, and
which was the way to Barcelone. “Syr,” aunswered that disguised
person: “I know not how to aunswere your demaund, and mutch
lesse I know the country where we now presently be. But sir,
(sayde he sighing) true it is that we be two poore companions
whom Fortune hath sent hither, by what il aduenture I know not,
to do penaunce for our Trespasses, and Offences.” Roderico
hearing him say so, began to call to his remembraunce his
Freende Dom Diego, although he neuer before that tyme suspected
the place of his abode. He lighted then from his horsse,
desirous to see the singularities of the Rocke, and the
magnificence of the Cauish lodging, where hee entred and sawe
him whom he sought for, and yet for all that did not know him:
He commoned with him a long tyme of the pleasure of the solitary
life in respect of theym that liued intangled with the
combersome Follies of this World. “For somutch” (quod he) as the
spirite distracted and withdrawen from Worldly troubles is
eleuate to the contemplation of heauenly thinges, and sooner
attendeth to the knowledge and reuerence of his God, than those
that bee conuersaunt amongs men, and to conclude, the
complaynts, the delights, ambitions, couetousnesse, vanities,
and superfluities that abounde in the confused Maze of Worldely
troupe, doe cause a misknowledge of our selues, a forgetfulnesse
of our Creator, and many times a negligence of piety and
purenesse of Religion. Whiles the vnknowne Hermit, and the
knight Roderico talked of these thinges, the Seruauntes of
Roderico visiting all the Corners of the deepe, and Stony Cell
of those Penitents, by Fortune espied two Saddles, one of theym
rychely wroughte and Armed wyth Plates of Steele, that had bene
made for some goodly Ienet. And vppon the Plate well Wroughte,
Grauen and Enameled, the Golde for all the Rust cankering the
Plate, did yet appear. For whych Purpose one of theym sayde to
the seruaunt of Dom Diego: “Good Father hitherto I see neyther
Mule, nor Horsse, for whom these Saddles can serue, I pray thee
to sell them vnto vs, for they will doe vs more pleasure, than
presently they do you.” “Maisters (quod the Hermit,) if they
like you, they be at your commaundement.” In the meane time
Roderico hauing ended his talke with the other Hermit, without
knowing of any thinge that he desired, sayd vnto his men: “Now
sirs to horse, and leaue wee theese poore people to rest in
peace, and let vs goe seeke for the right way which we so well
as they haue lost.” “Syr,” (quod one of his men,) “there be two
Saddles, and one of them is so exceeding fayre, so well
garnished and wrought as euer you saw.” The knight feeling in
himselfe an vnaccustomed motion, caused them to be brought
before him, and as he viewed and marked the riche Harnesse,
and Trappings of the same, he stayeth to looke vppon the Hinder
parte minionly wrought, and in the middest of the engrauing he
red this deuise in the Spanish Tongue.
_Que brantare la fe, es causa muy fea._
That is,
To violate or breake fayth, is a thing detestable.
That only inscription made him to pause a while. For it was the
Poesie that Dom Diego bore ordinarily in his armes, which moued
him to think that without doubt one of those Pilgrimes was the
very same man to whom that Saddle did appertayne. And therefore
he bent himselfe very attentiuely afterwardes to behold first
the one, and then the other of those desert Citizens. But they
were so altered, as hee was not able to know them agayne. Dom
Diego seeing his Freende so neare him, and the desire that he
had to knowe hym, chafed very mutch in hys mynde, and the more
his Rage began to waxe, when hee saw Roderico approch neare vnto
hym more aduisedly to looke vpon hym, for hee had not his own
Affections so mutch at commaundement, but hys Bloude mooued hys
Entrailes, and mounting into the most knowen place, caused
outwardly the alteration which hee endured, to appeare. Roderico
seeing hym to chaunge colour, was assured of that which before
hee durst not suspect: and that which made him the sooner
beleeue that he was not deceived, was a lyttle tuft of haire, so
yelow as Gold, which Dom Diego had vpon his Necke, whereof Dom
Roderico takyng heede, gaue ouer all suspition, and was well
assured of that he doubted. And therefore displaying himselfe
with hys armes opened vpon the necke of his friend, and
imbracing him very louingly, his face bedewed with tears, sayd
vnto him: “Alas, my Lord Dom Diego, what euill lucke from Heauen
hath departed you from the good company of them which dye for
sorrow, to see themselues berieued of the Beauty, lyght and
ornament of their felowship? What are they that haue giuen you
occasion thus to Eclipse the bryghtnesse of your name, when it
oughte most clearely to shyne, both for theyr present pleasure,
and for the honour of your age? Is it from me sir, that you
oughte thus to hide yourselfe? Do you think me so to be blynd,
that I know not ryght well, that you are Dom Diego, that is so
renoumed for vertue and prowesse? I would not haue tarried here
so longe, but to carry away a power to reioyce two persons, you
being the one, by withdrawing your selfe from this heauy and
vnseemely Wyldernesse, and my selfe the other, to enioy your
Company, and by bearyng newes to your fryends, who sith your
departure, do bewaile and lament the same.” Dom Diego seeing
that he was not able to conceyle the truth of that which was
euidently seene, and the louing imbracements of his best
Friende, began to feele a certayne tendernesse of heart lyke
vnto that whych the Mother conceyueth, when she recouereth hir
Sonne that is long absent, or the chaste wyfe, the presence of
hir deare Husband, when she clepeth him betwene hir armes, and
frankely culleth and cherisheth hym at hir pleasure. For whych
cause not able to refrain any longer for ioy and sorrow
together, weping and sighing began to imbrace him wyth so good
and hearty affection, as with good wyl the other had sought and
longed to knowe where he was. And being come againe to himself,
he sayd to his faithfull and most louinge friend: “Oh God, how
vneasy and difficult be thy iudgments to comprehend? I had
thought to liue here miserably, vnknowen to al the world, and
behold, I am here discouered, when I thought least of it. I am
indeede” (quod he to Roderico) “that wretched and vnfortunate
Dom Diego, euen that thy very great and louing fryend, who weary
of his lyfe, afflycted wyth his vnhap, and tormented by fortune,
is retyred into these desertes to accomplysh the ouerplus of the
rest of his il luck. Now sith that I haue satisfied you herein,
I beseech you that being content wyth my sighte, yee wyll get
you hence and leaue me heere to performe that lyttle remnant
whych I haue to lyue, without telling to any person that I am
aliue, or yet to manifeste the place of my abode.” “What is that
you say sir,” (sayd Roderico) “are you so farre straught from
your ryght wits, to haue a minde to continue this brutal Lyfe,
to depryue al your friends from the ioy whych they receiue by
inioying your company? Think I pray you that God hath caused vs
to be born noble men, and hauing power and authority not to lyue
in Corners, or be buryed amid the slauery of the popular sort,
or remain idle within great palaces or secrete Corners, but
rather to illustrat and giue lyght with the example of our
vertue to those that shal apply themselues to our dexterity of
good behauior, and do lyue as depending vpon our edicts and
commaundments: I appeale to your faith, what good shall succede
to your subiects, who haue both heard and also knowne the
benefit bestowed vppon them by God, for that hee gaue them a
Lord so modest and vertuous, and before they haue experimented
the effect of his goodnesse and Vertue, depriued of him, that is
adorned and garnished with sutch perfections? What comfort,
contentation and ioy shall the Lady your mother receiue, by
feelyng your losse to be so sodaine, after your good and
delycate bryngyng up, instructed with sutch great diligence and
vtterly berieued of the fruict of that education? It is you sir,
that may commaund obedience to Parents, succor to the afflicted,
and do iustice to them that craue it: Alas, they be your poore
subiectes that make complaints, euen of you, for denying them
your due presence. It is you of whom my good madame doth
complayne, as of him that hath broken and violated his faith,
for not comming home at the promised day.” Now as he was about
to continue his oration, Dom Diego vnwilling to heare him, brake
of his talk saying: “Ah sir, and my great Friend: It is an easy
matter for you to iudge of mine affayres, and to blame myne
absence, not knowing peraduenture the cause thereof. But I
esteeme you a man of so good iudgement, and so great a fryend of
thinges that be honeste, and a Gentleman of great fidelity, as
by vnderstanding my hard luck, when you be aduertised of the
cause of my withdrawing into this solitarie place, you wyll
rightly confesse, and playnely see that the wisest and most
constant haue committed more vaine follies than those don by
mee, forced with like spirite that now moueth and tormenteth
me.” Hauing sayd, he tooke aside Roderico, where he dyd tell
vnto hym the whole discourse both of his Loue, and also of the
rigor of hys Lady, not without weepyng, in sutch abundaunce and
with sutch frequent sighes and sobs interruptyng so hys speach,
as Roderico was constrained to keepe him company, by remembryng
the obstinacie of hir that was the Mistresse of his heart, and
thinkynge that already he had seene the effect of lyke missehap
to fal vpon his owne head, or neare vnto the lyke, or greater
distresse than that which he sawe his deare and perfect Fryend
to endure. Notwythstanding he assayed to remoue him from that
desperate minde and opinion of continuance in the desert. But
the froward penitente swore vnto him, that so long as he liued
(without place recouered in the good graces of his Gineura,) he
would not returne home to his house, but rather change his
being, to seke more sauage abode, and lesse frequented than that
was. “For” (quod hee) “to what purpose shall my retourne serue
where continuinge mine affection, I shall fele lyke cruelty that
I dyd in time past, which wil bee more painful and heauy for me
to beare than voluntary exile and banyshment, or bring me to
that end wherein presently I am.” “Contente your self I beseech
you, and suffer me to be but once vnhappy, and do not perswade
mee to proue a second affliction, worsse than the first.”
Roderico hearing his reasons so liuely and wel applied would not
reply, onely content that he would make him promyse to tarry
there two monthes, and in that time attempt to reioyse himselfe
so wel as he could. And for hys owne part, he swore vnto him,
that he would bee a meanes to reconcile Gineura, and brynge them
to talke together. Moreouer, he gaue him assurance by othe, that
hee shoulde not bee discouered by hym, nor by any in his
Company. Wherewith the knyght somewhat recomforted, thanked him
very affectuously. And so leauyng wyth him a fielde bed, two
seruaunts, and Money for his Necessities, Roderico tooke hys
leaue, tellyng hym that shortely he would visite him againe, to
his great contentation, as euer he was left and forsaken with
gryefe and sorrow, himselfe makyng great mone for the vnseemely
state and myserable plyght of Dom Diego. And God knoweth whether
by the way, he detested the cruelty of pitilesse Gineura,
blasphemyng a million of times the whole sexe of Womankynd,
peraduenture not without iust cause. For there lieth hydden
(I know not what) in the brests of Women, which at times like
the Wane and increase of the Moone, doth chaunge and alter,
whereof a man can not tell on what foote to stand to conceiue
the reasons of the same: whych fickle fragility of theirs
(I dare not say mobility) is sutch, as the subtillest wench of
them al best skilled in Turner’s Art, can not (I say deface) or
so mutch as hide or colour that naturall imperfection. Roderico
arriued at his house, frequented many times the lodging of
Gineura, to espy hir fashions, and to see if any other had
conquered that place, that was so well assayled and besieged by
Dom Diego. And this wyse and sage knyght vsed the matter so
well, that he fell in acquaintance wyth one of the Gentlewoman’s
Pages, in whom she had so great trust, as she conceyled from him
very few of hir greatest secretes, not well obseruing the
preceipte of the wyse man, who councelleth vs not to tell the
secretes of the mynde to those, whose iudgement is but weake,
and tongue very lauish and frank of speach. The Knyght then
familiar with this Page, dandled him so with faire words, as by
lyttle and lytle he wrong the Wormes out of his Nose, and
vnderstode that when Gineura began once to take Pepper in snuffe
against Dom Diego, she fell in loue wyth a Gentleman of Biskaye,
very poore, but Beautyfull, young and lustye, whych was the
Stewarde of the house: and the Page added further that hee was
not then there, but woulde returne wythin three Dayes, as he had
sent Woorde to hys mystresse, and that two other Gentlemen
woulde accompany him to cary away Gineura into Biskaye, for that
was their last conclusion: “And I hope” (quod he) “that she will
take me with hir, bicause I am made priuy to their whole
intent.” Roderico hearing the treason of this flight and
departure of the vnfaithful daughter, was at the first brunt
astonned, but desirous that the Page should not marke his
altered Countenaunce, said vnto him: “In very deede meete it is,
that the Gentlewoman should make hir owne choice of husband,
sith hir mother so little careth to prouide for hir. And albeit
that the Gentleman be not so riche and Noble as hir estate
deserueth, hir affection in that behalfe ought to suffise and
the honesty of his person: for the rest Gineura hath (thanks be
to God) wherewith to intertaine the state of them both.” These
wordes he spake, farre from the thought of his hearte. For being
alone by himself, thus he said: “O blessed God, how blinde is
that loue, which is vnruled, and out of order: and what dispayre
to recline to them, which (voide of reason) doe feede so
foolishly of vayne thoughts and fond desires, in sutch wise as
two commodities, presented vnto them, by what ill lucke I know
not, they forsake the beste, and make choise of the worst. Ah
Gineura, the fairest Lady in all this Countrey, and the moste
vnfaithfull Woman of oure time, where be thine eyes and
iudgement? Whither is thy mynde straied and wandred, to acquite
thyselfe from a great Lord, faire, rich, noble, and vertuous,
to be giuen to one that is poore, whose parents be vnknowne, his
prowesse obscure, and birth of no aparant reputation. Behold,
what maketh me beleue, that loue (so wel as Fortune) is not
onely blynd, but also dazeleth the sight of them that hee
imbraceth and captiuateth vnder his power and bondage. But I
make a vowe (false woman) that it shal neuer come to passe and
that this Biskaye gentleman shall neuer enioy the spoyles whych
iustely bee due vnto the Trauaile and faithfull seruice of the
valyaunt and vertuous knyght Dom Diego. It shal be hee, or else
I wil dye for it, whych shall haue the recompense of his
troubles, and shall feele the caulme of that tempest, whych
presently holdeth hym at Anker, amyd the most daungerous rockes
that euer were.” By this meanes Roderico knew the way how to
keepe promise wyth his friende, which liued in expectation of
the same. The two dayes past, whereof the Page had spoken, the
beloued of Gineura, fayled not to come, and with him two
Gallants of Biskaye, valiaunt Gentlemen, and well exercysed in
Armes. That Nighte Roderico wente to see the olde Wydowe Lady,
the Mother of the Mayden, and fyndyng oportunity to speak to the
Page, hee said vnto hym: “I see my Friend, accordingly as thou
diddest tell mee, that ye are vppon departing, the steward of
the house beeing now retourned. I pray the tel mee, if thou haue
neade of mee, or of any thyng that I am able doe for thee,
assuring thee that thou shalt obtaine and haue what so euer thou
requirest. And therewithall I haue thought good to tel thee, and
giue the warning (for thine owne sake specially) that thou keepe
all thynges close and secrete, that no slaunder or dishonour do
followe, to blot and deface the Same and prayse of thy
Mistresse. And for my selfe I had rather dye, than once to open
my mouth, to discouer the least intent of this enterpryse. But
tell mee, I praye thee, when do ye depart?” “Sir” (quod the
Page) “as my Mistresse saieth, to morow about ten or eleuen of
the Clocke in the Euening, when the Lady hir Mother shall bee in
the sound of hir first sleepe.” The knight hearyng that, and
desirous of no better time, tooke hys leaue of the Page, and
went home, where he caused to bee sente for tenne or twelue
Gentlemen, his Neighbours and Tenaunts, whom he made priuy of
his secretes, and partakers of that he went about, to deliuer
out of Captiuity and miserie the chiefest of all his Friends.
The Nighte of those two Louers departure being come, Dom
Roderico, which knewe the way where they should passe, bestowed
him selfe and his Company in Ambush, in a little Groue, almost
three Miles of the Lodging of this fugitiue Gentlewoman: where
they hadde not long tarried but they hearde the tramplinge of
Horsse, and a certaine whispring noise of People riding before
them. Nowe the Nighte was somwhat cleare, which was the cause,
that the Knighte amonges the thronge, knew the Gentlewoman,
besides whome rode the Miserable Wretche that hadde stolne hir
awaye. Whome so soone as Roderico perceyued full of despyte,
moued wyth extreme passion, welding his launce into his rest,
brake in the nearest way vpon the infortunate louer, with sutch
vehemency, as neither coate of Maile or Placard was able to saue
his lyfe, or warraunt him to keepe company wyth that troupe
which banded vnder loue’s Enseigne, was miserably slayne, by the
guide of a blynd, naked, and thieuish litle boy. And when he saw
he had done that he came for, he sayd to the rest of the
Company: “My Friends, thys man was carelesse to make inuasion
vpon other mens ground.” These poore Biskayes surprysed vpon the
sodayne, and seeyng the ambushment to multiply, put spurres to
theyr horsse to the best aduantage they could for expedition,
leauing their Conduct or guid gaping for breath and geuing a
signe that he was dead. Whiles the other were making themselues
ready to runne away, two of Roderico his men, couered with
Skarfes, armed, and vnknowne, came to sease vppon sorrowfull
Gineura, who beholdyng her fryende deade, began to weepe and
crye so straungely, as it was maruell that hir breath fayled
not. “Ah trayterous Theeues,” (said she) “and bloudy Murderers,
why do ye not addresse your selues to execute cruelty vppon the
rest, sith you haue done to death hym, that is of greater value
than you all? Ah my deare Fryend, what crooked and grieuous
Fortune haue I, to see thee grouelyng dead on ground and I
abyding in life, to be the pray of murderous Theeues and thou so
cowardly beryued of lyfe.” Roderico wyth his face couered, drew
neare vnto her, and sayde: “I beseech you Gentlewoman, to forget
these straunge fashions of complaynt, sith by them ye bee not
able to reuiue the dead, ne yet make your ende of gryefes.” The
maiden knowing the voyce of hym, that had slayne hir fryende,
began to cry out more fiercely than before. For whych cause one
of the gentlemen in company with Roderico, hauing a blacke
counterfait beard with two lunets, in manner of spectacles, very
large and great, that couered the moste part of his Face,
approched neare the bashful maiden, and with bigge voice and
terrible talk, holding his dagger vpon hir white and delicate
breast, said vnto hir: “I sweare by the Almighty God, if I heare
thee speake one word more, I wil sacrifice thee vnto the ghost
of that varlet, for whome thou makest thy mone, who deserued to
end his daies vpon a gallow tree rather than by the hands of a
gentleman. Holde thy peace therefore thou foolysh girle, for
greater honour and more ample Benefite is meant to thee, than
thou hast deserued. Ingratitude onely hath so ouerwhelmed thy
good Nature, as thou art not able to iudge who be thy friends.”
The gentlewoman fearing death, whych as she thought was present,
held hir peace, downe alonges whose Eyes a ryuer of Teares dyd
run, and the passion of whose heart appeared by assiduall
sighes, and neuer ceassing sobbes, whych in end so quallifyed
hir cheare, that the exteriour sadnesse was wholy inclosed
wythin the mynd and thought of the afflicted Gentlewoman. Then
Roderico caused the body of the dead to be buryed in a lyttle
Countrey Chappell, not farre out of theyr way. Thus they
trauayled two dayes before Gineura knew any of them, that had
taken hir away from hir louer: who permytted none to speake vnto
hir nor she to any of hir company, beyng but a waiting maid, and
the page that hadde dyscouered al the secretes to Dom Roderico.
A notable example surely for stolne and secrete mariages,
whereby the honour of the contracted partes, is most commonly
blemyshed, and the Commaundement of GOD violated, whose word
enioyneth obedience to Parents in all ryghtfull causes, who if
for any lyght offence, they haue power to take from vs the
inheritance whych otherwyse naturall law would giue vs, what
ought they of duety to doe, where rebellyous Chyldren abusing
theyr goodnesse, do consume without feare of Liberty, the thynge
that is in theyr free wyll and gouernement. In like maner diuers
vndiscrete and folysh mothers are to be accused, which suffer
their daughters of tender and chyldysh age to be enamored of
theyr seruants, not remembryng how weake the flesh is, how prone
and ready men be to do euyl, and how the seducyng spirite
wayting stil vpon us, is procliue and prone to surpryse and
catch vs wythin his Snares, to the intent he may reioyce in the
ruine of soules washed and redeemed wyth the bloud of the Son of
God. This troupe drawing neare to the caue of Dom Diego,
Roderico sent one of his men to aduertise him of their comming,
who in the absence of his fryende, fylled and susteined with
hope, shortely to see the onely Lady of hys hearte, accompanyed
wyth a merry and ioyfull Trayne, so soone as hee had somewhat
chaunged his wilde maner of Lyfe, he also by lyttle and lyttle
gayned a good part of hys lusty and fresh coloure, and almost
had recouered that beauty, which he had when he firste became a
Citizen of those desertes. Now hauiug vnderstanded the message
sent vnto him by Roderico, God knoweth if with that pleasaunt
tydings he felt a motion of Bloud, sutch as made all his members
to leape and daunce, whych rendred hys Mynde astonned, for the
onely memorye of the thynge that poysed hys mynd vp and downe,
not able to be wayed in equall Balaunce whereof rather he ought
to haue made reioyse than complayne, being assured to see hir,
of whome he demaunded onely grace and pardon, but for recouery
of hir, he durst not repose any certayne Iudgement. In the Ende
hoystyng vp hys head lyke one rysen from a long and sound
sleepe, hee sayd: “Praise be to God, who yet before I dye, hath
done me great pleasure, to suffer me to haue a syght of hir,
that by causing my Matirdome, continueth hir stubburne manner of
Lyfe, whych shall procure in like sort myne vtter ruine and
decay. Vpon the approch of whom I shall goe more ioyfull,
charged with incomparable loue, to vysit the ghosts beneath, in
the presence of that cruel swete, that now tormenteth me with
the ticklysh tentation, and who sometimes hath made me tast a
kind of Hony sugred with bytter Gal, more daungerous than the
suck of Poyson and vnder the vermyllion rudde of a new sprouted
Rose diuiuely blowen forth, hath hydden secrete Thornes the
pryckes whereof hath me so lyuely touched, as my Wound cannot
well bee cured, by any Baulme that may be thereunto applyed,
without enioying of that myne owne missehappe, moste happy or
wythout that remedy, whych almost I feele restyng in death, that
so long and oftentymes I haue desired as the true remedy of all
my paynes and gryefe.” In the meane whyle Dom Roderico, whych
tyll that tyme was not knowen vnto Gineura, drew neare vnto hir
by the way as he rode, and talked wyth hir in this sorte:
“I doubt not (Gentlewoman) but that you think your self not wel
contented to se me in this place, in sutch company and for
occasion so vnseemely for my degre, and state, and moreouer
knowying what iniury I seeme to do vnto you, that euer was, and
am so affectionate and friendly to the whole stocke of your race
and Lynage, and am not ignoraunte that vppon the firste brunte
you may iudge my cause vniust to carry you away from the handes
of your fryend, to bring you into these desertes, wylde, and
solitary places. But if ye considred the force of that true
amity, which by vertue sheweth the common Bondes of hearts and
myndes of Men, and shall measure to what end this acte is done,
without to mutch staying vpon the lyght apprehension of Choler,
for a beginnynge somewhat troublesom, I am assured then (that if
you be not wholly depryued of reason) you shall perceiue that I
am not altogether worthy blame nor your selfe vtterly voyde of
fault. And bycause we draw neare vnto the place, whether (by the
help of God) I meane to conduct you, I beseech you to consider,
that the true Seruaunt whych by all seruice and duety studieth
to execute the commaundementes of him that hath puissance ouer
him, doth not deserue to bee beaten or driuen away from the
house of his maister, but to be fauored and cherished, and ought
to receyue equal recompense for his seruice. I speake not this
for my selfe, my deuotion beinge vowed elsewhere, but for that
honest affection which I beare to all vertuous and chaste
persons. The effect whereof I will not deny to tell you in tyme
and place, where I shall use sutch modesty towards you, as is
meete for a maiden of your age and state. For the greatnesse of
Noble Men and puisant, doth most appeare and shew forth it self,
when they vse Mildenesse and Gentlenesse vnto those, to whom by
reason of their Authority they mighte execute cruelty and
malice. Now to the end that I do not make you doubtfull long, al
that which I haue done and yet meane to doe, is for none other
purpose but to ease the grieuous paines of that moste faithful
louer that loueth at thys Daye vnder the Circle of the Moone. It
is for the good Knighte Dom Diego, that loueth you so dearely
and still worshippeth your Noble fame, who bicause he wil not
shew himself disobedient, liueth miserably amonge bruite beasts,
amid the craggy rocks and mountaines, and in the deepe solitudes
of comfortlesse dales and valleis. It is to him I say that I do
bryng you, protesting vnto you by othe (Gentlewoman) that the
misery wherein I saw him, little more than VI. Wekes
past, toucheth me so neare the heart, as if the Sacrifice of my
lyfe sufficed alone, (and without letting you to feele this
painfull voyage) for the solace of his martirdome I would spare
it no more, than I do mine owne endeuor and honor, besides the
hazarding of the losse of your good grace and fauour. And albeit
I wel perceiue, that I do grieue you, by causing you to enter
this painfull iourney, yet I besech you that the whole
displeasure of this fact may bee imputed vnto my charge, and
that it would please you louingly to deale with him, who for
your sake vseth so great violence against himself.” Gineura as a
woman half in despayre for the death of hir friend, behaued hir
selfe like a mad woman void of wit and sense, and the simple
remembraunce of Dom Diego his name so astonned her, (which name
she hated far more than the pangs of death) that she staied a
long time, hir mouth not able to shape one word to speake. In
the ende vanquished with impacience, burning with choler, and
trembling for sorrow, loked vpon Dom Roderico with an Eye no
lesse furious, than a Tigresse caught within the Net, and seeth
before hir face hir young Fawnes murdered, wringing hir hands
and beating hir delicate brest, she vsed these or sutch like
woordes: “Ah bloudy traitor and no more Knight, is it of thee
that I oughte to looke for so detestable a villany and treason?
How darest thou be so hardy to entreat me for an other, that
hast in myne owne presence killed him, whose death I will pursue
vpon thee, so longe as I haue life within this body? Is it to
thee false theefe and murderer, that I ought to render accompte
of that which I meant to doe? Who hath appointed thee to be
arbitrator, or who gaue thee commission to capitulate the
Articles of my mariage? Is it by force then, that thou wouldest
I should loue that vnfaithfull Knighte, for whom thou hast
committed and done this acte, that so longe as thou liuest shal
blot and blemish thy renoume, and shal be so wel fixed in my
mind, and the wounds shal cleaue so neare my heart, vntill at my
pleasure I be reuenged of this wrong? No, no, I assure thee no
force done vnto mee, shall neuer make mee otherwyse dysposed,
than a mortall Enimy both to thee which art a Theefe and
rauisher of an other man’s wife, and also to thy desperate frend
Dom Diego, which is the cause of this my losse: and now not
satisfied with the former wrong done vnto me, thou goest about
to deceiue me vnder the Colour of good and pure Friendship. But
sith wicked Fortune hath made me thy Prysoner, doe with me what
thou wylt, and yet before I suffer and endure that that Traytor
Dom Diego doe enioy my Virginity, I will offer vp my lyfe to the
shadowes and Ghostes of my faythful fryend and husband, whome
thou hast so trayterously murdred. And therefore (if honestlye I
may or ought entreate mine Enimy) I pray thee that by doynge thy
duety, thou suffer vs in peace, and gyue lycence to mee, thys
Page, and my two pore Maydens to depart whether we lyst.”
“God forbid” (quod Roderico) “that I should doe a Trespasse so
shamefull, as to depryue my dearest fryend of his ioy and
contentation, and by falsifiing my faith be an occasion of hys
death, and of your losse, by leauing you without company,
wandring amids this wildernesse.” And thus he continued his
former discourse and talk, to reclaime thys cruell Damosell to
haue pity vpon hir poore penytent, but he gained as mutch
thereby, as if he had gone aboute to number the Sands alongs the
Sea Coastes of the maine Ocean. Thus deuising from one talke to
an other, they arryued neare the Caue, which was the stately
house of Dom Diego: where Gineura lyghted, and saw the pore
amorous Knight, humbly falling downe at hir feete, all forworne,
pale, and disfigured, who weeping with warme teares, said vnto
hir: “Alas, my deare Lady, the alone and onely mistresse of my
heart, do you not thinke that my penaunce is long inoughe for
the sinne which ignorauntly I haue committed, if euer I haue don
any fault at al? Behold [I beseech you (good ladie deare) what
ioy] I haue conceiued in your absence, what pleasures haue
nursed mine hope, and what consolation hath entertained my life:
which truely had it not bene for the continual remembraunce of
your diuine Beauty, I had of long time abreuiated the pains
which do renew in me so many times the pangs of death: as
oftentimes I think vpon the vnkindnes shewed vnto me by making
so litle accompt of my fidelity: whych can nor shal receiue the
same in good part, wer it so perfect as any assuraunce were able
to make it.” Gineura swelling with sorrow and full of feminine
rage, blushing with fury, hir eyes sparcklinge forth hir
chollerick conceypts, vouchsafed not so mutch as to giue him one
word for aunswere, and bicause she would not looke vppon him,
she turned hir face on the other side. The poore and afflicted
Louer, seeing the great cruelty of his felonous Mystresse, still
kneeling vpon his knees, redoubling his armes, fetching Sighes
with a voyce that seemed to bee drawne by force from the bottome
of his heart, proceeded in these wordes: “Syth the sincerity of
my fayth, and my long seruice madame Gineura, cannot persuade
you that I haue beene most Obedient, Faythfull, and very Loyall
seruaunt towards you, as euer any that hath serued Lady or
Gentlewoman, and that without your fauour and grace it is
vnpossible for mee any longer to liue, yet I doe very humbly
beseech you, for that all other comfort is denied me, if there
bee any gentlenesse and curtesie in you, that I may receyue this
onely grace at your hands for the last that euer I hope to
craue: which is, that you being thus greeuously offended with
me, would do iustice vpon that vnfortunate man, that vpon his
Knees doth instantly craue the same. Graunt (cruell mistresse)
this my request, doe vengeaunce at your pleasure vpon him, which
willingly yeldeth himselfe to death with the effusion of his
poore innocent bloud to satisfy you, and verily farre more
expedient it is for him thus to die, by appeasing your wrath,
than to rest or liue to your discontentment or anoiaunce. Alas,
shal I be so vnfortunate, that both life and death should bee
denied me by one person of the world, whom I hoped to content
and please by any sort or meanes what so euer restinge in mine
humble obedience? Alas gentlewoman rid mee from this Torment,
and dispatch your selfe from the griefe you haue to see this
vnhappy Knight, who would say and esteeme himselfe most happy
(his life being lothsome vnto you) if he may content you, by
death done by your owne handes, sith other fauour he cannot
expect or hope for.” The Mayden hardned in hir Opinion, stoode
still immoueable mutch like vnto a Rocke in the midst of the
Sea, disquieted with a tempest of billowes, and fomy Waues in
sutch wise as one word could not be procured from hir mouth.
Which vnlucky Dom Diego perceyuing, attached with the feare of
present death, and faylinge his Naturall force fell downe to the
Grounde, and faintyng saied: “Ah, what a recompence doe I
receiue for this so faythfull Loue?” Roderico bebolding that
rufull sight, whilest the others went about to relieue Dom
Diego, repaired to Gineura, and full of heauinesse mingled with
fury, said vnto hir: “By God (false fiendish woman) if so be
that I doe chaunge my mind, I will make thee feele the smarte,
no lesse than thou shewest thy selfe dishonourable to them that
doe thee honour: Art thou so carelesse of so greate a Lord as
this is, that humbleth himselfe so lowe to sutch a strumpet as
thou art: who without regarde either to hys renoume, or the
honour of his House, is content to bee abandoned from his noble
state, to become a fugitiue and straunger? What cruelty is this
for thee to mispryse the greatest humility that man can Imagin?
What greater amends canst thou wysh to haue, yea though the
offence which thou presupposest had ben true? Now (if thou be
wyse) chaunge thy Opinion, except thou wouldest haue mee doe
into so many pieces, thy cruel corpse and vnfaithful heart, as
once this poore Knight did in parts the vnhappy hauke, which
through thy folly did breede vnto him this distresse, and to thy
self the name of the most cruell and disloyall Woman that euer
lyued. But what greater benefite can happen vnto thee, than to
see thys Gentleman vtterly to forget the fault, to conceiue no
sinister suspition of thy running away, crauing pardon at thy
Hands, and is contented to sacrifice him self vnto thine Anger,
to appease and mytigate thy rage? Now to speake no more hereof,
but to proceede in that which I began to say, I offer vnto thee
then both death and Loue, choose whether thou lyst. For I sweare
againe by hym that seeth and heareth all thinges, that if thou
play the foole, that thou shalt feele and proue me to be the
cruellest Ennimy that euer thou hadst: and sutch a one as shall
not feare to imbrue his hands wyth the bloud of hir that is the
death of the greatest friend I haue, and truest knight that euer
bare armes.” Gineura hearing that resolute aunswere, shewed hir
selfe to be nothing afrayde nor declared any token of feare, but
rather seemed to haue encouraged Roderico, in braue and mannish
sort, farre diuers from the simplicity of a young and tender
Mayden, as a Man would say, sutch a one as had neuer felt the
assaultes and troubles of adverse fortune. Wherefore frouncyng
her Browes, and grating hir Teeth wyth closed fists, and
Countenaunce very bold, she made him answere: “Ah thou Knight,
whych once gauest assault to commit a villany and Treason
thinkest thou now without remorse of conscyence to continue thy
mischyefe: I speak it to thee Villayne, whych hauing shed the
Bloud of an honester Man than thou art, fearest not now to make
me a Companion of hys Death. Which thyng spare not hardily to
accomplysh, to the intent that I liuinge, may not be sutch a one
as thou falsly iudgest me to be: for neuer Man hitherto vaunted,
and never shall, that hath had the spoyle of my dearest Iewell:
from the Fruict whereof, like an arrant Thiefe, thou hast
depryued my loyall Spouse. Now doe what you lyste: for I am
farre better content to suffer death, be it as cruel as thou art
mischieuous, and borne for the disquieting and vexation of
honest Maidens then yelde vnto thy furies: notwithstanding I
humbly beseech Almyghty God, to gyue thee so mutch pleasure,
contentation and ioy in thy loue, as thou hast done to me, by
hastening the death of my deare Husband. O GOD, if thou be a
iust GOD, sutch a one, as from whom we thy poore Creatures do
beleue al iustice to proceede, thou I say which art the Rampire
and refuge of al iustice, poure downe thy vengeance and plague
vpon these pestiferous Thieues and murderers, which prepared a
worldely plague vpon me thine innocent damsel. Ah wycked
Roderico, think not that death can be so fearful vnto me, but
that with good heart, I am able to accept the same, trusting
verily that one day it shal be the cause of thy ruine, and the
ouerthrowe of him for whom thou takest al these paines.” Dom
Roderico maruelously rapte in sense imagined the Woman to be
fully bente against hym, who then had puissance (as he thought,)
ouer hir own heart: and thinking, that he sawe hir moued with
like rage against him, as she was against Dom Diego, stode stil
so perplexed and voyde of ryghte minde, as he was constrained to
sitte downe, so feeble he felt him self for the onely
remembraunce of hir euyll demeanor. And whilest this Pageant was
a doing, the handmayd of Gineura, and hir page, inforced to
persuade their mystresse to haue compassion vpon the Knight that
had suffred so mutch for hir sake, and that she would consent to
the honest requests and good counsell of Roderico. But she which
was stubbornely bent in hir fonde persuasions, made them
aunsere: “What fooles? are you so mutch bewitched, eyther with
the fayned teares of this disloyall Knight, whych colorably thus
doth torment himselfe, or els are yee inchaunted with the
venomous honny and tirannicall brauery of the Theefe which
murdered my husbande, and your mayster? Ah vnhappy caytife
mayden, is it my chaunce to endure the assault of sutch Fortune,
when I thought to liue at my best ease, and thus cruelly to
tomble into the handes of him, whom I hate so mutch as he
fayneth loue vnto me? And moreouer my vnlucky fate is not
herewith content, but redoubleth my sorrowe, euen by those that
be of my trayne, who ought rather to incourage mee to dy, than
consent to so vnreasonable requests. Ah loue, loue, how euill be
they recompenced which faythfully doe Homage vnto thee? And why
should not I forget all Affection, neuer hereafter to haue mynde
on man to proue beginning of a pleasure, which tasted and felt
bringeth more displeasure than euer ioy engendreth delight.
Alas, I neuer knewe what was the fruicte of that which so
straungely did attach me, and thou O trayterous and theeuishe
Loue, haste ordayned a banket serued with sutch bitter dishes,
as forced I am perforce to taste of their egre sweetes: Auaunt
sweete folly, auaunt, I doe henceforth for euer let thee slip,
to imbrace the death, wherein I hope to find my greatest rest,
for in thee I finde noughte else but heapes of strayninge
Passions. Auoyde from me all mishap, flee from me ye furious
ghostes and Fayries most vnkinde, whose gaudes and toyes dame
loue hath wrought to keepe occupied my louing minde, and suffer
me to take ende in thee, that I may liue in an other life
without thee, being now charged with cup of griefe, which I
shall quaffe in venomous drincke soaked in the Sops of
bitternesse. Sharpen thou thy selfe, (O death vnkinde) prepare
thy Darte, to strike the Corpse of hir, that she may voyde the
Quarelles shotte agaynst hir by hir Aduersary. Ah poore hearte,
strip thy selfe from hope, and qualifie thy desires. Cease
henceforth to wishe thy Lyfe, seeing, and feelinge the
appoyncted sight of loue and Life, combattyng within my minde,
els where to seeke my peace in an other world, with him to ioy,
whych for my sake was sacrificed to the treason of varlets
handes, who for the perfite hoorde of his desires, noughte else
dyd seeke but to soile his bloudy fists with the purest bloude
of my loyall friend. And I this floud of Teares do shead to
saciate his felonous moode that is the iust shortening of my
dolefull Dayes.” When she had thus complayned, she began
horribly to torment hir selfe that the cruellest of the company
were moued with compassion, to see hir thus strangely straught
of hir wits: neuertheles they did not discontinue by duety to
solicite hir to haue regard to that which poore fayntyng Dom
Diego dyd endure: who so soone as wyth freshe Fountayn water hee
was reuiued, seeing still the heauinesse of his Lady, and hir
increased disdaine and choler againste hym vanished in diuers
soundings: which moued Roderico from studye deepe, wherein he
was, to ryse, whereunto the rage of Gineura had cast him downe,
bicause forgetting all imaginarie affection of his Lady, and
proposing his duety before his eyes, whych ech Gentleman oweth
to Gentle Damsels [and womenkind], styll beholding with
honorable aspect the gryefe of the martyred wyldernesse Knyght,
sighing yet in former gryefes, he sayd vnto Gineura, “Alas,
is it possyble, that in the heart of so young and delicate a
maiden, there may bee harboured so straunge fury and
vnreasonable rage? O God, the effect of the cruelty resting in
this Woman, painting it selfe in the imaginatiue force of my
mind, hath made me feare the like myssehappe to come to the
cruell state of this disaduenturous gentleman? Notwithstanding
(O thou cruell beast) thinke not that thys thy fury shall stay
me from doing thee to death, to rid thee from follye and
disdayne, and this vnfortunate louer from despayre and trouble,
verily beleuing, that in tyme it shalbe knowne what profit the
World shall gayne by purgyng the same of sutch an infected
plague as is an vnkynd and arrogante hearte: and it shall feele
what vtility ryseth by thyne ouerthrowe. And I doe hope besydes
in tyme to come, that Men shall prayse this deede of myne, who
for preseruynge the Honoure of one House, hath chosen rather to
doe to death two offenders, than to leaue one of them aliue, to
obscure the glory and brightnesse of the other. And therefore”
(sayd he, tourning his face to those of his traine,) “cut the
throte of this stubborne and froward beast, and doe the like to
them that be come with hir, shewe no more fauor vnto them all,
than that curssed strumpet doth mercy to the life of that
miserable Gentleman, who lieth a dying there for loue of hir.”
The Mayden hearing the cruel sentence of hir death, cryed out so
loud as she coulde, thinking reskue woulde haue come, but the
poore Wench was deceiued: for the desert knew none other, but
those that were abiding in that troupe. The Page and the woman
seruaunt exclamed vpon Roderico for mercy, but he made as though
he heard them not, and rather made signe to his men to do what
he commaunded. When Gineura sawe that their deathe was purposed
in deede, confirmed in opinion rather to dy, than to obey, she
said vnto the executioners: “My friends, I beseech you let not
these innocentes abide the penaunce of that which they neuer
committed. And you, Dom Roderico, be reuenged on me, by whome
the fault, (if a woman’s faith to hir husband may be termed a
faulte) is don. And let these infortunate depart, that bee God
knoweth guiltles of any cryme. And thou my friend, which liuest
amonges the shadowes of faythfull louers, if thou haue any
feelinge, as in deede thou prouest being in another world,
behold the purenesse of mine heart and fidelity of my loue: who
to keep the same inuiolable, do offer my self voluntarily to the
death, which this cruell tyrant prepareth for me. And thou
hangman the executioner of my ioyes, and murderer of the
immortall pleasures of my loue (sayd she to Roderico) glut thy
vnsaciable desire of bloud, make dronke thy mind with murder,
and boast of thy litle triumph, which for all thy threates or
persuasible words, thou canst not get from the heart of a simple
maiden, ne cary away the victory for all the battred breach made
into the rampare of hir honour.” When she had so said, a Man
would haue thought that the memory of death had cooled hir
heate, but the same serued hir as an assured solace of hir
paynes. Dom Diego being come to himself and seing the discourse
of that tragedy, being now addressed to the last act and end of
that life and stage of faire and golden locked Gineura, making a
vertue of necessity, recouered a lyttle corage to saue, (if it
were possible) the life of hir, that had put hys owne in hazard
miserably to end. Hauing stayed them that held the maiden, he
repayred to Dom Roderico, to whom he spake in this wise: “I see
wel my good Lord and great Friende, that the good will you beare
me, causeth you to vse this honest order for my behalf, whereof
I doubt if I should lyue a whole hundred yeares, I shall not be
able to satisfy the least of the bondes wherein I am bound, the
same surpassing all mine ability and power. Yet for al that
(deare friend) sith you see the fault of this missehap to arise
of my predestinate ill lucke, and that man cannot auoyde things
once ordained, I beseech you do me yet this good pleasure (for
all the benefits that euer I haue receiued) to send back again
this gentlewoman with hir trayne, to the place from whence you
toke hir, wyth like assurance and conduct, as if shee were your
sister. For I am pleased with your endeuor, and contented with
my misfortune, assuring you sir besides, that the trouble which
she endureth, doth far more gryeue my heart than al the paine
which for hir sake I suffer. That hir sorrow then may decrease
and mine may renue againe, that she may lyue in peace, and I in
Warre for hir cruel beauty sake, I wyll wayt vppon Clotho, the
Spynner of the threden life of man vntil she breake the twysted
lace that holdeth the fatall course of my dolefull yeares. And
you Gentlewoman lyue in rest, as your poore suppliant, wretched
Dom Diego, shalbe citizen of wyld places, and vaunt you hardely
that yee were the best beloued maiden that euer liued.”
Maruellous truly be the forces of loue, when they discouer their
perfection, for by their meanes thinges otherwise impossible be
reduced to sutch facility, as a man would iudge that they had
neuer bene so hard to obtaine, and so painefull to pursue: As
appeared by this damsel, in whome the wrath of fortune, the
pynche of iealosie, the intollerable rage of hir fryendes losse,
had ingendred a contempte of Dom Diego, an extreame desire to be
reuenged on Dom Roderico, and a tediousnesse of longer Lyfe.
And now putting of the vaile of blynde appetite, for the
esclarishing of hir vnderstandyng Eyes, and breakyng the Adamant
Rocke planted in the middes of hir breast, she beheld in open
sight the stedfastnesse, pacience and perseueration of hir great
fryend. For that supplycation of the Knight had greater force in
Gineura, than all hys former seruyces. And full wel she shewed
the same, when throwyng hir selfe vppon the Necke of the
desperate Gentleman, and imbracyng hym very louyngly she sayd
vnto him: “Ah sir, that your felicity is the begynnyng of my
great ioy of Mynd, whych sauoreth now of sweetnes in the very
same, in whom I imagyned to be the welsprynge of bytternesse.
The diminutyon of one gryefe is, and shall bee the increase of a
bonde, sutch as for euer I wyll call my selfe the moste humble
slaue of your honor, lowly beseechyng you neuerthelesse to
pardon my follyes, wherewyth full fondely I haue abused youre
pacience. Consider a whyle sir, I beseech you, the Nature and
secrecye of loue. For those that be blinded in that passion,
thynke them selues to be perfecte Seers, and yet be the first
that commit most filthy faultes. I doe not denie any committed
wrong and trespasse, and doe not refuse therefore the honest and
gentle Correction that you shall appointe mee, for expiation of
myne offence.” “Ah my Noble Lady,” (aunswered the knight, all
rapt wyth pleasure, and halfeway out of his wyts for ioy)
“I humbly beseech you inflyct vppon my poore wretched body no
further panges of Death, by remembryng the glory of my thought,
sith the recitall bryngeth with it a tast of the trauailes which
you haue suffred for my ioy and contentation.” “It is
therefore,” (quod she) “that I think my self happy: for by that
meanes I haue knowne the perfect qualyties that be in you, and
haue proued two extremities of vertue. One consisting in your
constancy and loyalty wherby you may vaunt yourself aboue hym
that sacrificed his Lyfe vpon the bloudy body of his Ladye who
for dying so, finished his Trauailes. Where you haue chosen a
life worse than death, no lesse paynefull a hundred times a Day,
than very death it self. The other in the clemency wherwyth you
calme and appease the rage of your greatest aduersaries. As my
self which before hated you to death, vanquished by your
courtesie do confesse that I am double bound vnto you, both for
my lyfe and honor: and hearty thankes do I render to the Lord
Roderico for the violence he dyd vnto me, by which meanes I was
induced to acknowledge my wrong, and the right whych you had to
complayne of my beastly resistance.” “Al is wel,” sayd Roderico,
“sith without peril of honor we may returne home to our houses:
I intend therefore (sayd he) to send word before to the Ladies
your mothers of your returne, for I know how so wel to couer and
excuse this our enterpryse and secrete iorneis, as by God’s
assistance no blame or displeasure shall ensue thereof. And like
as (said he smiling) I haue builded the fortresse whych shot
into your campe, and made you flie, euen so I hope (Gentlewoman)
that I shalbe the occasion of your victorye, when you combat in
close campe, with your sweete cruel Ennimy.” Thus they passed
the iorney in pleasaunt talk, recompensing the 2 Louers with al
honest and vertuous intertainment for their griefs and troubles
past. In the meane while they sent one of their Seruaunts to the
two widow Ladies, which were in greate care for their Children,
to aduertise them that Gineura was gone to visit Dom Diego, then
being in one of the castles of Roderico, where they were
determined if it were their good pleasure, to consumate their
mariage, hauing giuen faith and affiance one to the other. The
mother of Gineura could not heare tel of more pleasant newes:
for she had vnderstanded of the foolysh flyght and escape of hir
daughter, with the steward of hir house, wherof she was very
sorrowful, and for grief was like to die, but assured and
recomforted with those newes she failed not to mete the mother
of Dom Diego, at the appointed place whether the 2 louers were
arriued two daies before. Ther the mariage of that fair couple
(so long desired) was solempnised with sutch magnificence as was
requisite for the state of those two noble houses. Thus the
torment indured, made the ioye to sauour of some other taste
than they do feele, which without paine in the exercise of
loue’s pursute, attaine the top of theyr desires: and truly
their pleasure was altogether like to him that nourished in
superfluous delicacy of meates cannot aptly so wel iudge of
pleasure as he which sometimes lacketh the abundance. And verily
loue wythout bitternesse, is almost a cause without effects, for
he that shall take away gryefs and troubled fansies from Louers,
depryueth them of the prayse of their stedfastnesse, and maketh
vayne the glory of their perseuerence: For{ }hee is vnworthy to
beare away the price and Garland of triumph in the Conflict,
that behaueth himselfe like a coward, and doth not obserue the
lawes of armes and manlike dueties incident to a combat. This
History then is a Mirrour for Loyall Louers and Chaste Suters,
and maketh them detest the vnshamefastnesse of those, which vpon
the first view do followe with might and mayne, the Gentlewoman
or Lady that gieueth them good Face, or Countenaunce whereof any
gentle heart, or mynde, noursed in the Schoolehouse of vertuous
education, will not bee squeymishe to those that shall by chaste
salutation or other incountry, doe their curteous reuerence.
This History also yeldeth contempt of them, which in their
affection forget themselues abasing the Generosity of their
Courages to be reputed of fooles the true champions of loue,
whose like are they that desire such regarde. For the perfection
of a true Louer consisteth in passions, in sorrows, griefes,
martirdomes, or cares, and mutch lesse arriueth he to his
desire, by sighes, exclamations, Weapings, and childishe
playnts: For so mutch as vertue ought to be the bande of that
indissoluble amity, which maketh the vnion of the two seuered
bodies of that Woman man, which Plato describeth, and causeth
man to trauell for hys whole accomplishment in the true pursute
of chaste loue. In which labour truly, fondly walked Dom Diego,
thinking to finde the same by his dispayre amiddest the sharpe
solitary Deserts of those Pyrene Mountaynes. And truely the
duety of his perfect friende, did more liuely disclose the same
(what fault so euer he did) than all his Countenaunces, eloquent
letters or amorous Messages. In like manner a man doth not know
what a treasure a true Friende is, vntill hee hath proued his
excellency, specially where necessity maketh him to taste the
swetenes of sutch delicate meate. For a frend being a seconde
himselfe, agreeth by a certayne naturall Sympathie and
attonement to th’affections of him whom he loueth both to
particpate his ioyes and pleasures, and to sorrowe his
aduersity, where Fortune shall vse by some misaduentures,
to shewe hir accustomed mobility.
THE THIRTIETH NOUELL.
_A Gentleman of Siena, called Anselmo Salimbene, curteously
and gently deliuereth his enemy from death. The condemned
party seeing the kinde parte of Salimbene, rendreth into his
hands his sister Angelica, with whom he was in loue, which
gratitude and curtesie, Salimbene well markinge, moued in
Conscience, woulde not abuse hir, but for recompence tooke hir
to his wyfe._
Wee do not meane here to discouer the Sumptuosity and
Magnificence of Palaces, stately, and wonderfully to the view of
men, ne yet to reduce to memory the maruellous effectes of man’s
Industry to builde and lay Foundations in the deepest Chanel of
the mayne sea, ne to describe their ingenious Industry, in
breaking the Craggy Mountaynes, and hardest Rocks, to ease the
crooked Passages of weary waies, for Armies to marche through in
accessible places. Onely now do we pretend to shewe the effects
of loue, which surmount all Opinion of common thinges, and
appeare so miraculous as the founding, and erecting of the
Collissæi, Collossæi, Theatres, Amphitheatres, Pyramides, and
other workes wonderfull to the world, for that the hard indured
path of hatred and displeasure long time begoon, and obstinately
pursued wyth straunge cruelty, was conuerted into loue, by
th’effect of concord, sutch as I know none, but is so mutch
astonned, as hee maye haue good cause to wonder, consyderyng the
stately foundations vppon which Kinges and greate Monarches haue
employed the chyefest reuenues of their prouinces. Now lyke as
ingratitude is a vice of greatest blame and discommendation
amongs men, euen so Gentlenesse and Kindnesse ought to beare the
title of a most commendable vertue. And as the Thebans were
accused of that crime, for their great Captaynes Epaminondas and
Pelopidas. So the Plateens (contrarywise) are praised for their
solempne obseruation of the Grekes benefits, which deliuered
them oute of the Persians bondage. And the Sicyonians beare away
the pryse of eternall prayse, for acknowledgyng the good turnes
receiued of Aratus, that delyuered them from the cruelty of the
tyrants. And if Philippo Maria, duke of Milan, deserued eternal
reproch for his ingratitude to his wife Beatrix, for the secrete
killing of hir, he being enryched with hir goodes and treasures:
a barbarous Turke borne in Arabia, shal carry the praise, who
being vanquished in Arabia, by Baldouine, kyng of Hierusalem,
and he and his Wife taken prysoners, and his treasures fallen
into the hands of that good king, issued of the Loraine bloud,
who neuerthelesse seeing that the Chrystian had deliuered him,
and restored againe his wife would not be vanquished in
magnificence and liberalitye, and mutch lesse beare the name of
an vnkind prince, but rather when Baldouine was ouercome of the
infidels, and being retyred within a certaine city, the Admiral
of Arabie, came to him in the night, and tellyng him the deuice
of his companions, conueyed hym out of the City, and was hys
guide vntill he sawe hym free from peril. I haue alleaged the
premysses, bycause the History whych I purpose to recyte,
aduoucheth two examples not Vulgare or Common, the one of very
great Loue, and the other of sutch acceptation and knowledgyng
thereof, as I thought it pity the same should lurk from the
Acquayntaunce of vs Englysh Men. And that they alone should haue
the Benefite thereof whych vnderstand the Italian tongue,
supposing that it shall bryng some fruyct and commodity to this
our Englishe Soyle, that ech Wyghte may frame their lyfe on
those whych in straung Countries far from vs, haue lyued
vertuously wythout reproch that might soyle or spotte theyr
name. In Siena then (an auncient, and very noble Citty of
Toscane, which no longe time past was gouerned by hir
Magistrates, and liued in hir own lawes and liberties, as the
Lucquois, Pisans, and Florentines do) were two families very
rich, noble, and the chiefe of the Citty called the Salimbenes,
and Montanines, of the Race and Stock whereof, excellent men in
their Common wealth haue descended, very good and expert
Souldiers for conducte of Armies. Those two houses in the
beginning were so great freendes, and frequented sutch loue and
familiarity, as it seemed they had bene but one house and
bloude, dayly vsinge eche others company, and banketting one
another. But Italy in all times being as it were a Store house
of troubles, and a very marte of sedition, bandes, and
parcialities, specially of ciuill warres in euery Citty, it
coulde not be that Siena shoulde alone enioy hir liberty in
peace, and accorde of Cittizens, and vaunt hir selfe to bee free
from knowledge of particular debate. For of warres shee had good
experience against the Florentines, who by long remembraunce
haue don what they coulde to make hir subiect vnto them. Nowe
the cause of that discorde rose euen by them which kept the
Cittizens in vnity and concord, and was occasioned by those 2
houses the noblest, and most puissant of their common wealth.
It is not vnknowne to any man, that antiquity ordayned it to be
peculiar for nobility, to trayne vp there children in huntinge,
aswell to bolden and Nosell theym in daungers, as to make them
stronge, and accustomed in trauayle, and to force them shun the
delicate lyfe and great Idlenes which accompany honorable
houses, and those of gentle bloud, forsomutch as by the pursuite
of Beastes, sleyghts of warre bee obserued: the Hounds be the
square battell, the Greyhoundes be the flanquarts and Wynges to
follow the enimy, the horseman serueth to gieue the Chace, when
the Game speedeth to couert, the Hornes be the Trumpets to
sounde the Chase and Retire, and for incouragement of the Dogges
to run. To be short, it seemeth a very Campe in battayle,
ordayned for the pleasure and passetyme of noble youth.
Neuerthelesse, by hunting diuers missefortunes doe arise, and
sundry daungers haue happened by the same. Meleager lost his
Lyfe for the victory of the wyld Bore of Callydonia, Cephalus
was slaine for kylling his deare beloued Pocris, and Acastus was
accursed for murdering the King’s sonne of whome he was the
Tutour. William Rufus, one of our Englysh Kings, the son of the
Conquerour, was killed with an Arrow in the New Forrest by a
French Gentleman called Walter Tyrel, as he was pursuing the
Harte. Other histories reporte dyuers peryls chaunced in
hunting, but yet the same worthy to be cheryshed, frequented and
vsed by good aduise and moderate pastyme. So the huntinge of the
wylde Bore defyled the City of Siena, with the bloud of hir owne
Citizens, when the Salimbenes and Montanines vppon a daye in an
assembled company, incountring vpon a greate and fierce Bore,
toke hym by force of men and Beastes. When they had don, as they
were banketting and communing of the nimblenesse of their dogs,
ech man praising his owne, as hauing done beste, there rose
greate debate amongs them [vpon that matter], and proceeded so
farre, as fondly they began to reuile one another with words,
and from taunting termes to earnest blowes, wherewith diuers in
that skirmish were hurt on both sides: In the end the Salimbenes
had the worsse, and one of the principall slayne in the place,
which appalled the rest, not that they were discoraged, but
attending time and season of reuenge. This hatred so strangely
kindled betwene both partes, that by lyttle and lyttle, after
many combats and ouerthrowes of eyther side, the losse lyghted
vpon the Montanines, who with their wealth and rychesse were
almost brought to nothing, and thereby the rygour and Choler of
the Salimbenes appeased, none being able to resist them, and in
space of time forgot all iniuries. The Montanines also that
remayned at Siena, liued in quyet, wythoute chalenge or quarell
of their aduersaries, howbeit mutuall talke and haunt of others
company vtterly surceased. And to say the truth, there were
almost none to quarell wythall, for the whole Bloude and Name of
the Montanines rested in one alone, called Charles the Sonne of
Thomas Montanine, a young man so honest and well brought vp as
any then in Siena, who had a syster, that for beauty, grace,
curtesy and honesty, was comparable with the best in all
Thoscane. This poore young Gentleman had no great reuenue, for
that the patrimonie of his predecessors was wasted in charges
for entertainement of Souldiers in the time of the hurly burly
and debates aforesaid. A good parte also was confiscate to the
Chamber of Siena for trespasses and forfaitures committed: with
the remayne he sustained his family, and indifferently
maintained hys porte soberly within his owne house, keping his
sister in decent and moderate order. The Maiden was called
Angelica, a Name of trouth, without offence to other, due to
hir. For in very deede in hir were harbored the vertue of
Curtesy and Gentlenesse, and was so wel instructed and nobly
brought vp, as they which loued not the Name or race of hir,
could not forbeare to commend hir, and wyshe theyr owne
daughters to be hir lyke. In sutch wise as one of hir chiefest
foes was so sharpely beset with hir vertue and beauty, as he
lost his quiet sleepe, and lust to eate and drinke. His name was
Anselmo Salimbene, who woulde wyllinglye haue made sute to marry
hir, but the discord past, quite mortified his desire, so soone
as he had deuised the plot wythin his brayne and fansie.
Notwithstanding it was impossible that the louer so lyuely
grauen and roted in his mind, could easily be defaced. For if
once in a day he had not seene hir, his heart did fele the
torments of tosting flames, and wished that the hunting of the
Bore, had neuer decaied a family so excellent, to the intent he
myght haue matched himself with hir, whome none other could
displace out of his remembraunce, that was one of the rychest
Gentlemen and of greatest power in Siena. Now for that he durst
not discouer his amorous griefe to any person, was the chiefest
cause that martired most his hearte, and for the auncient
festred malice of those two families, he despayred for euer, to
gather either floure or fruict of that affection, presupposing
that Angelica would neuer fixe hir Loue on him, for that his
Parents were the cause of the defaite and ouerthrow of the
Montanine house. But what? There is nothing durable vnder the
heauens. Both good and euyll haue theyr reuolution in the
gouernment of humane affayres. The amityes and hatredes of
Kynges and Prynces, be they so hardened, as commonly in a Moment
hee is not seene to be a hearty Friende, that lately was a
cruell Foe, and spyred naught else but the ruine of his
Aduersary? Wee see the variety of Humayne chaunces, and then doe
iudge at eye what great simplicity it is to stay and settle
certayne, and infallible iudgement vppon man’s vnstayed doings.
He that erst gouerned a king, and made all things to tremble at
his word, is sodaynely throwne downe, and dyeth a shamefull
death. In like sorte, another whych looketh for his owne
vndoinge, seeth himselfe aduaunced to hys estate agayne, by
reuenge ouer his Enimies. Calir Bassa gouerned whilom the great
Mahomet, that wan the Empire of Constantinople, who attempted
nothing without the aduice of that Bassa. But vpon the sodayne
he saw him selfe reiected, and the next day strangled by
commaundement of him, which so greatly honoured him, and without
iust cause did him to a death so cruell. Contrarywise Aragon the
Tartarian entring Armes against his Vncle Tangodor Caui, when
hee was vpon the Poynct to lose his Lyfe for his rebellion, and
was conueyed into Armenia to be executed there, was rescued by
certayne Tartarians the houshold seruaunts of his dead vncle,
and afterwards Proclaymed King of Tartary about the year 1285.
The example of the Empresse Adaleda is of no lesse credit than
the former, who being fallen into the hands of Beranger the
Vsurper of the Empyre escaped his fury and cruelty by flight,
and in the ende maried to Otho the firste, sawe hir wrong
reuenged vpon Beranger and all his Race by hir Sonne Otho the
second. I aduouch these Hystories to proue the mobility of
fortune, and the chaunge of worldly chaunces, to th’ende you may
see that the very same misery which followed Charles Montanine
hoysted him aloft agayne, and when he looked for least succour,
he saw deliueraunce at hand. Now to prosecute our Hystory: know
yee that while Salimbene by little and little pined for loue of
Angelica, whereof shee was ignoraunt and carelesse, and albeit
shee curteously rendred health to him, when sometimes in his
amorous fit he beheld hir at a Window, yet for al that shee
neuer so mutch as guessed the thoughts of hir louing enimy.
During these haps it chaunced that a rich Cittizen of Siena,
hauing a ferme adioyning to the Lands of Montanine, desirous to
encrease his Patrimony, and annexe the same vnto his owne, and
knowing that the yong Gentleman wanted many thinges, moued him
to sel his inheritaunce, offring hym for it in ready money,
a M. Ducates, Charles which of al the wealth and substaunce left
him by his auncester, had no more remaynyng but that countrey
Ferme, and a Palace in the City (so the rich Italians of ech
City, terme their houses,) and with that lytle lyued honestly,
and maintained his sister so wel as he could, refused flatly to
dispossesse himselfe of the portion, that renewed vnto him the
happy memory of those that had ben the chiefe of all the Common
Wealth. The couetous wretch seeing himselfe frustrate of his
pray, conceiued sutch rancor against Montanine, as he purposed
by right or wrong to make him not only to forfait the same, but
also to lose his lyfe, following the wicked desire of tirannous
Iesabell, that made Naboth to be stonned to death to extort and
wrongfully get his vineyard. About that time for the quarels and
common dyscordes raigning throughout Italy, the Nobility were
not assured of safety in their Countreis, but rather the common
sort and rascall number, were the chief rulers and gouerners of
the common wealth, whereby the greatest part of the Nobility or
those of beste authority being banished, the villanous band, and
grosest kind of common people made a law (like to the Athenians
in the time of Solon) that all persons of what degree and
condition so euer they were, which practized by himselfe or
other meanes the restablyshing or reuocation of sutch as were
banished out of their Citye, should lose and forfaite the
summe of M. Florens, and hauing not wherewith to pay the
condempnation, their head should remaine for gage. A law no
doubt very iust and righteous, scenting rather of the barbarous
cruelty of the Gothes and Vandales, than of true christians,
stopping the retire of innocents exiled for particular quarels
of Citizens incited one against another, and rigorously
rewarding mercy and curtesy, with execution of cruelty
incomparable. This Citizen then purposed to accuse Montanine
for offending against the law, bicause otherwise he could not
purchase his entent, and the same was easy inough for him to
compasse, by reason of his authority and estimation in the
Citye: for the Endytemente and plea was no sooner red and giuen,
but a number of post knightes appeared to depose against the
poore Gentleman, to beare witnesse that he had trespassed the
Lawes of the Countrey, and had sought meanes to introduce the
banished, with intent to kyll the gouerners, and to place in
state those factious, that were the cause of the Italian
troubles. The myserable Gentleman knewe not what to do, ne how
to defend himself. There were against him the Moone and the VII.
starres, the state of the City, the Proctor and Iudge of the
Courte, the wytnesses that gaue euidence, and the law whych
condempned him. He was sent to Pryson, sentence was pronounced
against him with sutch expedition, as he had no leysure to
consider his affayres. There was no man, for feare to incurre
the displeasures of the Magistrates, that durst open hys mouth
to speake or make sute for hys delyueraunce. Like as the most
part of fryendes in these dayes resembling the crow, that flyeth
not but after carrian to gorge his rauenous Crop, and sutch
friends doe visite the house of the fryend but for profit,
reuerencyng him so long as he is in prosperitye, accordyng to
the Poet’s complaynt.
Like as the purest gold in fieri flames is tried,
Euen so is fayth of fryends in hard estate descried.
If hard missehap doth thee affray,
Ech of thy friends do flie away,
And he which erst full friendly semde to thee,
A friend no more to thy poor state is hee.
And simple Wyghtes ought not to bee afrayde, and thynke amyss if
Fryendes doe flee away, sith Prynces and great Lords incurre
sutch hap and Fortune. The great leader of the Romayne Armies,
Pompeius, the honor of the people and Senate of Rome, what
companion had he to flee with hym? Whych of his auncient friends
toke paine to rescue and delyuer him from his Enimyes hands
which did pursue him? A king of Ægipt which had known and found
this good Romane Prynce a kind and gentle fryend, was he that
killed him, and sent his head to his Victor and unsatible greedy
gutte Iulius Cæsar, falsifying his promised fayth, and
forgetting his receiued pleasures. Amongs all the comforts which
this pore Siena Gentleman found, although but a curssed Traitor,
was thys vnfaithfull and pestiferous Camæleon, who came and
offred him al the pleasure and kindnesse he was able to do.
But the varlet attended conuenient tyme to make him taste his
poyson, and to let him see by effect, how dangerous a thing it
is to be il neighbored, hoping after the condempnation of
Montanine he should at pleasure purchase the Lordshippe, after
whych with so open mouth he gaped. Ouer whom he had hys wyll:
for two or three dayes after the recitall of the endytement
and giuing of the euydence, Charles was condempned, and his
fine sessed at M. Florins to be payed within XV. dayes,
vntyl whych time to remaine in Pryson. And for default of
sutch payment to loose his heade, bicause he had infringed the
Lawes, and broken the Statutes of the Senate. This sentence was
very difficult for poor Montanine to digest, who saw all his
goodes like to be dispoyled and confiscate, complayning
specially the fortune of fayre Angelica his sister, whych all
the tyme of the imprysonment of hir deare brother, neuer went
out of the house, ne ceased to weepe and lamente the hard
fortune whereinto their family was lyke to fall by that new
mischaunce: “Alas,” said the fayre curteous damsel, “will the
heauens never be appeased but continually extend their wrathe
vpon our deplored family, and shal our missehaps neuer cease?
Had it not bene more tollerable for our consumed bloude, that
the dissentions past, had been tried by dent of sword, than to
see the present innocency of the young Gentleman my brother in
daunger to be innocently accused and put to death, through the
vniustice of those, which beare mortal malice to noble bloud,
and glory in depryuation of the whole remembrance of the same?
O dampnable state that muste hale the guiltlesse to the gibet
and irreuocable sentence of those iudges remaining in a city,
which men cal free, albeit a confused multitude hath the vpper
hande, and may so bee, that Nature hath produced them to treade
vnder foote noble Wightes for their Offences. Ah dear Brother,
I see well what is the cause. If thou hadst not that lytle
lordshyp in the Countrey, and Pryncely House in the City, no man
would haue enuied thine estate, or could haue charged thee with
any Crime, which I would to God, thou hadst not onely
enterprysed, but also broughte to passe, to the intent thou
mightest haue ben reuenged of the wrong which these cankred
Carles ordinarily do vnto my Noble bloud. But what reason is it
that marchants and artificers, or the sonnes of villaines should
rule a common Wealth? O happy Countreis where kings giue Lawes,
and Princes see by proued sight, those persons which resemble
them, and in their places beare the sway. And O unhappy wee,
that be the slaues of a waiwarde state, peruerted by corruption.
Why dyd our predecessors minde to stablysh any lyberty at al, to
thrust the same into the confused gouernment of the commons of
our Countrey? We haue stil the Frenchman at our tayle, or the
people of our highest Bishop, or else those crafty Florentines,
we be the common pray of al those that list to follow the haunt,
and that which is our extreamest misery, we make oure selues the
very slaues of them that of right ought to be reputed the vilest
amongs us al. Ah deare Brother, that thy wretched tyme is come,
the onely hope of our decayed family. Thou hadest neuer bene
committed to Warde, had not thy false assured foes bene assure
of witnesse to condempne thee. Ah that my life mighte raunsome
thine, and redeme agayn thyne estate and succor, thou shouldest
be sure that forthwith Angelica would prepare hirself to bee the
pray of those hungry rauenyng Wolues, which bleat and bellow
after thy Lands and Lyfe.” Whyle this fayre Damsell of Siena in
this sort dyd torment hir self, poore Montanine, seeinge that he
was brought to the last extremity of his desired hope, as eche
man naturally doth seke meanes to prolong his lyfe, knowing that
all other help fayled for hys delyueraunce except he sold his
land, aswel to satisfy the fine, as to preuayle in the rest of
his Affaires, sent one of the gailers to that worshipfull usurer
the cause of hys Calamity, to offer him his Land for the pryce
and sum of a M. Ducates. The pernicious and trayterous
villain, seeing that Montanine was at his mercy, and stode in
the water up to the very throte, and knew no more what to do,
as if already he had tryumphed of hys life and Land so greatly
coueted, answered him in this manner: “My friend thou shalt say
to Charles Montanine, that not long ago I would willingly haue
giuen him a good Summe of Money for his Ferme, but sithens that
tyme I haue imployed my Money to some better profit: and albeit
I was in minde to buy it, I would be loth to give aboue 7. C.
Florins, being assured that it cannot be so commodious, as my
Money is able to bring yearely Gayne into my Purse.” See how
Auarice is the Pickpurse of secret and hidden gayne, and the
very Whirlepoole of Honesty, and Conscience, couetinge nought
els but by vnrighteous Pray of other mens goods, to accumulate
and heape together. The aboundance whereof bringeth no greater
good hap vnto the gluttonous Owner, but rather the minde of
sutch is more miserable, and carryeth therewithall more decrease
of quiet, than increase of filthy muck. The couetous man beareth
no loue but to his Treasure, nor exerciseth charity but vpon his
Coafers, who, than he would be dispossessed thereof, had rather
sell the life of his naturall Father. This detestable Villayne
hauing sometimes offered M. Ducates to Charles for his
Enherytaunce, will now doe so no more, aspiring the totall Ruine
of the Montanine Family. Charles aduertised of his minde, and
amazed for the Counsels decree, well saw that all thinges
contraried hys hope and expectation, and that he must needes dye
to satisfie the excessiue and couetous Lust of the Cormerant,
whose malice hee knew to bee so vehement, as none durst offer
him Money, by reason of the vnhappy desire of this neuer
contented Varlet: For which consideration throughly resolved to
dye, rather than to leaue hys poore Sister helplesse, and
without reliefe, and rather than he would agree to the bargayne
tending to his so great losse and disadvauntage, and to the
Tirannous dealing of the wicked Tormentor of hys Lyfe, seeing
also that all meanes to purge and auerre his innocency, was
taken from him, the finall decree of the Iudges being already
passed, he began to dispose himselfe to repentaunce and
saluation of his Soule, making complaynte of his Mishaps in thys
manner.
To what hath not the heauens hatefull bin,
Since for the ease of man they weaue sutch woe?
By diuers toyles they lap our crosses in
With cares and griefes, whereon our mischiefes groe:
The bloudy hands and Sword of mortall foe,
Doe search mine euill, and would destroy me quite,
Through heynous hate and hatefull heaped spite.
Wherefore come not the fatall sisters three,
That draw the line of life and death by right?
Com furies all, and make an ende of mee,
For from the world, my sprite would take his flight.
Why comes not nowe fowle Gorgon full in sight,
And Typhon’s head, that deepe in hell remaynes,
For to torment the silly soules in paynes?
It better were for mee to feele your force,
Than this missehap of murdring enuy’es rage,
By curssed meanes and fall vpon my corse,
And worke my ruine amid my flouring age:
For if I were dispatch’de in this desire,
The feare were gone, of blacke infernall fire.
O Gods of Seas, and cause of blustring winde,
Thou Æolus and Neptune to I say,
Why did you let my Barke sutch fortune finde,
That safe to shore I came by any way?
Why brake yee not, agaynst some Rocke or Bay,
The keele, the sterne, or els blew downe the Mast,
By whose large sayles through surging seas I past?
Had these things hapt, I had not seene this houre,
The house of dole where wofull sprites complayne,
Nor vserers on me had vsde sutch power,
Nor I had seene depaynted in disdayne,
The God of care, with whom dead Ghosts remayne.
Who howles and Skrekes in hollow trees and holes,
Where Charon raygnes among condemned soules.
Ah, ah, since hap will worke my wretched end,
And that my ruine by iudgement is decreed:
Why doth not happe sutch happy fortune send,
That I may lead with me the man in deede,
That staynd his fayth, and faylde me at my neede,
For gayne of golde, as vsurers do God knowes,
Who cannot spare the dropping of their nose?
I should haue slayne the slaue that seru’d me so,
O God forbid my hands were brued in blood,
Should I desire the harme of friend or foe?
Nay better were to wishe mine en’my good:
For if my death I throughly vnderstood,
I should make short the course I haue to run,
Since rest is got when worldly toyle is done.
Alas, alas, my chiefest way is this,
A guiltlesse death to suffer as I can,
So shall my soule be sure of heauen’s blisse,
And good renoume shall rest behinde me than,
And body shall take end where it began,
And fame shall fly before me, ere I flit
Vnto the Gods, where Ioue in throne doth sit.
O God conuert, from vyce to vertue now,
The heart of him that falseth fayth wyth me,
And chaunge his minde and mend his maners throw,
That he his fault and fowle offence may see,
For death shall make my fame immortall bee:
And whiles the Sunne which in the heauens doth shine,
The shame is his, and honor shall be mine.
Alas, I mourne not for my selfe alone,
Nor for the fame of my Forefathers olde,
’Tys Angelike, that causeth me to mone,
’Tys she that filles my brest with fansies colde,
’Tys shee more worth, than was the fliece of golde,
That mooues my minde and breedes sutch passions straunge,
As in my selfe I feele a wonderous chaunge.
Haue pitty Lord of hir and mee this day,
Since destny thus hath sundred vs in spite,
O suffer not hir vertues to decay,
But let hir take in friendship sutch delite,
That from hir brest all vice be banisht quite:
And let hir like as did hir noble race,
When I poore man am deade, and out of place.
Alas my hand would write these wofull lines,
That feeble sprite denyes for want of might,
Wherefore my heart in brest consumes and pines,
With deepe desires, that far is from man’s sight,
But God he sees myne innocencie and right,
And knowes the cause of myne Accuser still,
Who seekes my bloud to haue on mee his will.
When Charles thus complayned himself, and throughly was
determined to dy, great pitty it was to see how fayre Angelica
did rent hir Face, and teare hir golden Locks, when she saw how
impossible it was to saue hir obstinate brother from the cruel
sentence pronounced vpon him, for whom she had imployed all hir
wits and fayre speach, to perswade the neerest of hir Kin to
make sute. Thus rested she alone ful of sutch heauinesse and
vexation as they can think which see themselues depriued of
things that they esteeme most dere. But of one thing I can wel
assure you, that if ill fortune had permitted that Charles
should haue bin put to death, the gentle damsel also had
breathed forth the final gasp of hir sorowful life, yeldinge
therewithall the last end of the Montanine race and family. What
booteth it to hold processe of long discourse? Beholde the last
day is come deferred by the Iudges, whereupon he must eyther
satisfie the fine, or dye the next day after like a rebel and
Traytor against the state, without any of his kin making sute or
meane for his deliueraunce: albeit they visited the fayre
mayden, and comforted hir in that hir wretched state,
instructing hir how shee should gouerne hir selfe patiently to
suffer things remedilesse. Angelica accompanied with hir kin,
and the maidens dwelling by, that were hir companions, made the
ayre to sound with outcries and waymentings, and she hir selfe
exclaymed like a woman destraught of Wits, whose plaints the
multitude assisted with like eiulations and outcries, wayling
the fortune of the yong gentleman, and sorowfull to see the
mayden in daunger to fal into some mishap. As these things were
thus bewayled, it chaunced about nine of the clocke at night,
that Anselmo Salimbene, he whom we haue sayd to be surprised
with the loue of Angelica, returning out of the Countrey, where
he had remayned for a certayne time, and passing before the
house of his Lady, according to his custome, heard the voyce of
women and maydens which mourned for Montanine, and therewithall
stayd: the chiefest cause of his stay was, for that he saw go
forth out of the Pallace of hys Angelica, diuers Women making
Moane, and Lamentation: wherefore he demaunded of the neyghbors
what noyse that was, and whether any in those Quarters were dead
or no. To whom they declared at length, al that which yee haue
heard before. Salimbene hearing this story, went home to his
house, and being secretly entred into his chamber, began
discourse with himselfe vpon that accident, and fantasying a
thousand things in his heade, in the ende thought that Charles
should not so be cast away, were he iustly or innocently
condempned, and for the only respect of his sister, that she
might not bee left destitute of the Goods, and Inheritaunce.
Thus discoursing diuers things, at length he sayd: “I were a
very simple person nowe to rest in doubt, sith Fortune is more
curious of my felicity than I could wishe, and seeketh the
effect of my desires, when least of all I though vpon them. For
behold, Montanine alone is left of all the mortall enimies of
our house, whych to morrow openly shall lose his head like a
rebell and seditious person, vpon whose Auncesters, in him shall
I be reuenged, and the quarell betweene our two Families, shall
take ende, hauinge no more cause to feare renuing of discorde,
by any that can descend from him. And who shall let mee then
from inioying hir, whom I doe loue, hir brother being dead,
and his goods confiscate to the Seigniory, and she without all
Maynetenaunce, and Reliefe, except the ayde of hir onely beauty
and curtesie? What maynetenaunce shall she haue, if not by the
loue of some honest Gentleman, that for hys pleasure may support
hir, and haue pitty vppon the losse of so excellent beauty? Ah
Salimbene, what hast thou sayd? Hast thou already forgotten that
a Gentleman for that only cause is esteemed aboue al other,
whose glorious facts ought to shine before the brightnesse of
those that force theymselues to followe vertue? Art not thou a
Gentleman borne, and Bred in noble house, Issued from the Loyns
of gentle and noble Parentes? Is it ignoraunt vnto thee, that it
pertayneth vnto a noble and gentle heart, to reuenge receyued
Iniuries himselfe, without seeking ayde of other or else to
pardon them by vsing clemency and princely curtesie, burying all
desire of vengeaunce vnder the Toumbe of eternall obliuion?
And what greater glory can man acquire, than by vanquishing
himselfe, and chastising his affections and rage, to bynde him
which neuer thought to receyue pleasure or benefit at his hand?
It is a thing which exceedeth the common order of nature, and so
is it meete and requisite, that the most excellent doe make the
effects of their excellency appeare, and seeke meanes for the
immortality of their remembraunce. The great Dictator Cæsar was
more praysed for pardoning hys enimies, and for shewing himselfe
curteous and easie to be spoken to, than for subduinge the braue
and valiaunt Galles and Britons, or vanquishing the mighty
Pompee. Dom Roderico Viuario, the Spaniard, although he might
haue bene reuenged vpon Dom Pietro, king of Aragon, for his
infidelity, bicause he went about to hinder his voyage agaynst
the Saracens at Grenado, yet woulde not Punishe or Raunsome him,
but taking him Prysoner in the Warres, suffred him to goe
without any Tribute, or any exaction of him and his Realme. The
more I followe the example of mighty Personages in thinges that
be good, the more notorious and wonderful shall I make my selfe
in their rare and noble deedes. And not willing to forget a
wrong done vnto me, whereof may I complayne of Montanine? What
thinge hath hee euer done agaynst me or mine? And albeit his
Predecessors were enimies to our Family, they haue therefore
borne the penaunce, more harde than the sinne deserued. And
truly I should be afrayde, that God would suffer me to tumble
into some mishap, if seeing one afflicted, I should reioyce in
his affliction, and take by his decay an argument of ioy and
pleasure. No, no, Salimbene is not of minde that sutch fond
Imagination should Bereue good will to make hymselfe a Freende,
and to gayne by liberality and curtesie hir, which for hir only
vertue deserueth a greater lord than I. Being assured, that
there is no man (except he were dispoyled of all good nature and
humanity) specially bearing the loue to Angelica, that I do, but
he would be sory to see hir in sutch heauinesse and despayre,
and would attempt to deliuer hir from sutch dolorous griefe.
For if I loue hir as I do in deede, must not I likewise loue all
that which she earnestly loueth, as him that is nowe in daunger
of death for a simple fine of a thousand Florens? That my heart
doe make appeere what the loue is, which maketh me Tributary and
Subiect to fayre Angelica, and that eche man may knowe, that
furious loue hath vanquisht kings and great monarches, it
behoueth not me to be abashed, if I which am a man and subiect
to passions, so well as other, doe submit my selfe to the
seruice of hir, who I am assured is so vertuous as euen very
necessity cannot force hir to forget the house, whereof she
tooke hir originall. Vaunt thy selfe then O Angelica, to haue
forced a heart of it selfe impregnable, and giuen him a wound
which the stoutest Lads might sooner haue depriued of lyfe, than
put him out of the way of his gentle kinde: and thou, Montanine,
thinke, that if thou wilt thy selfe, thou winnest to day so
hearty a frende, as only death shall separate the vnion of vs
twayne, and of all our posterity. It is I, nay it is I my selfe,
that shall excell thee in duety, poynting the way for the
wisest, to get honor, and violently compel the mooued myndes of
those that be our aduersaries, desiring rather vainely to forgo
myne own life, than to giue ouer the vertuous conceipts, which
be already grifted in my minde.” After this long discourse
seeing the tyme required dilligence, hee tooke a thousand
Ducats, and went to the Treasurer of the fines, deputed by the
state, whom he founde in his office, and sayde vnto him: “I haue
brought you sir, the Thousande Ducates, which Charles Montanine
is bounde to pay for his deliueraunce. Tell them, and gieue him
an acquittaunce, that presently hee may come forth.” The
Treasorer woulde haue giuen him the rest, that exceeded the
Summe of a Thousand Florens: but Salimbene refused the same,
and receyuing a letter for his discharge, he sent one of his
Seruaunts therewithal to the chiefe Gayler, who seeing that the
Summe of his condemnation was payd, immediately deliuered
Montanine out of the Prison where he was fast shut, and fettered
with great, and weyghty Giues. Charles thinckinge that some
Frier had bin come to confesse him, and that they had shewed him
some mercy to doe hym to death in Prison, that abroade in open
shame of the world he might not deface the Noble house whereof
he came, was at the first sight astonned, but hauing prepared
himselfe to die, praysed God, and besought him to vouchsafe not
to forget him in the sorrowful passage, wherein the stoutest and
coragious many times be faynt and inconstaunt. He recommended
his Soule, he prayed forgieuenesse of his sinnes: and aboue all,
he humbly besought the goodnesse of God, that it would please
him to haue pitty vpon his Sister, and to deliuer hir from all
Infamy and dishonor. When he was caried out of Pryson, and
brought before the Chiefe Gayler, sodaynely his Giues were
discharged from his Legges, and euery of the standers by looked
merily vppon hym, without speakinge any Woorde that might affray
hym. That Curtesie vnlooked for, made hym attende some better
thynge, and assured hym of that whych before by any meanes hee
durste not thyncke. And hys expectation was not deceiued. For
the Gayler sayde vnto hym: “Bee of good Cheare Sir, for beholde
the letters of your discharge, wherefore you may goe at liberty
whether you list.” In saying so, he opened the Pryson, and
licenced Montanine to departe, praying him not to take in ill
part his intreaty and hard imprysonment, for that hee durst doe
none other, the State of the City hauing so enioyned hym. May
not ech Wyght now behold how that the euents of loue be diuers
from other passions of the mind? How could Salimbene haue so
charitably deliuered Montanine, the hatred beyng so long tyme
rooted between the two houses, if some greate occasion whych
hath no name in Loue, had not altred his Nature, and
extinguished hys affection? It is meritoryous to succour them
whome we neuer saw before, sith nature moueth vs to doe well to
them that be lyke our selues. But faith surmounteth there, where
the very naturall inclynation feeleth it self constrayned and
seeth that to be broken, whych obstynately was purposed to be
kept in mynde. The graces, gentlenesse, Beauty, mild behauior
and allurement of Angelica, had greater force ouer Salimbene,
than the humility of hir Brother, although he had kneeled a
hundred tymes before him. But what heart is so brute, but may be
made tractable and Mylde, by the Contemplation of a thyng so
rare, as the excellent Beauty of that Siena Mayden, and woulde
not humble it selfe to acquyre the good graces of so perfect a
Damsel? I wyll neuer accuse man for beyng in Loue wyth a fayre
and vertuous Woman, nor esteeme hym a slaue, whych painefully
serueth a sobre Mayden, whose heart is fraught wyth honeste
affections, and Mynd wyth desyre tending to good ende. Well
worthy of blame is he to be deemed whych is in loue wyth the
outeward hew, and prayseth the Tree onely layden with floures,
without regard to the fruict, whych maketh it worthye of
commendation. The young maiden must needes resemble the floure
of the Spryng time, vntill by hir constancy, modesty, and
chastity she hath vanquished the concupiscence of the flesh,
and brought forth the hoped fruicte of a Vertue and Chastity not
Common. Otherwyse, shee shall bee lyke the inrolled Souldyer,
whose valyance hys only mind doth wytnes, and the offer whych he
maketh to hym that doth register his name in the muster bookes.
But when the effect of seruyce is ioyned wyth his attempt, and
proofe belyeth not hys promyse, then the Captain imbraceth him,
and aduaunceth him, as a glasse for his affaires from that time
forth. The lyke of Dames hauing passed the assaults and resisted
the attempts of theyr assaylants which be honest, not by force
being not requyred, but inclyned by ther owne nature, and the
dyligence of theyr chast and inuincyble heart. But turne we
againe vnto our purpose, Montanine, when he was delyuered,
forthwyth wente home to hys house, to comfort hir, whom he was
more than sure to be in great distresse and heauinesse for his
sake, and whych had so mutch neede of comfort as he had, to take
his rest. He came to the gate of his Pallace (where beyng knowne
that it was Montanine) his sister by any meanes coulde not bee
made to beleue the same: so impossible seeme thynges vnto vs,
which we most desyre. They were all in doubte, lyke as wee reade
that they were when S. Peter escaped Herod’s Pryson by the
Angel’s meanes. When Angelica was assured that it was hir
Brother, sobbes wer layde aside, sighes were cast away, and
heauy weepings conuerted into teares of ioy, she went to imbrace
and kisse hir Brother, praising GOD for hys delyuerance, and
making accompt that he had ben raised from death to lyfe,
considering his stoutnes of minde rather bent to dye than to
forgo his Land, for so smal a pryce. The Dames that wer kin vnto
hym, and tarried there in Company of the maiden half in
dispayre, least by dispayre and fury shee might fall into
outrage therby to put hir lyfe in peril, with all expedition
aduertised their husbands of Montanine’s Lyberty, not looked
for, who repayred thither, as wel to reioyce with him in his ioy
and good fortune, as to make their excuse, for that they had not
trauayled to ryd him from that misery. Charles whych cared
nothing at al for those mouth blessings, dissembled what he
thought, thanking them neuerthelesse for their visitation and
good remembrance they had of hym, for visiting and comforting
his sister which honor, he estemed no lesse than if they had
imployed the same vpon his owne person. Their friends and
kinsfolk being departed, and assured that none of them had payde
his ransome, hee was wonderfully astonned and the greater was
his gryef for that he could not tell what hee was, whych
withoute requeste, had made so gentle a proofe of his
lyberality: if he knew nothing, farre more ignoraunte was his
sister, forsomutch as she dyd thinke, that he had changed his
mind, and that the horrour of death had made him sel his
countrey inheritance, to hym whych made the first offer to buy
the same: but either of them deceyued of their thought went to
bed. Montanine rested not all the Nyght, hauyng still before his
eyes, the vnknowne image of hym that had delyuered him. His bed
serued his turne to none other purpose, but as a large field or
some long alley within a Wood, for walkes to make discourse of
hys mynde’s conceipts, sometimes remembryng one, sometimes
another, without hitting the blanke and namyng of him that was
his deliuerer, vnto whome he confessed him selfe to owe hys
seruice and duety so long as hee lyued. And when hee saw the day
begyn to appeare and that the Mornyng, the Vauntcurrour of the
day, summoned Apollo to harnesse hys Horsse to begynne his
course in our Hemisphere, he rose and went to the Chamberlaine
or Treasurer, sutch as was deputed for receypt of the Fines,
sessed by the State, whom he saluted, and receyuing lyke
salutation, he prayed hym to shewe hym so mutch pleasure as to
tell hym the parties name, that was so Lyberall to satysfie his
fine due in the Eschequer of the State. To whome the other
aunswered: “None other hath caused thy delyueraunce
(O Montanine) but a certain person of the World, whose Name thou
mayst easily gesse, to whome I gaue an acquittance of thyne
imprysonmente, but not of the iuste summe, bycause hee gaue me a
Thousand Ducates for a Thousand Florens, and woulde not receyue
the ouerplus of the debte, whych I am readye to delyuer thee
wyth thyne acquyttaunce.” “I haue not to doe wyth the Money”
(sayd Charles) “onely I pray you to tell me the name of him that
hath don me thys great curtesy, that hereafter I may acknowledge
him to be my Friend.” “It is” (sayd the Chamberlayne) “Anselmo
Salimbene, who is to bee commended and praysed aboue all thy
parents and kinne, and came hither very late to bryng the Money,
the surplusage whereof, beholde here it is.” “God forbid” (sayd
Montaine) “that I should take awaye that, whych so happily was
brought hither to rid me out of payne.” And so went away wyth
his acquittance, his mind charged with a numbre of fansies for
the fact don by Salimbene. Being at home at his house, he was
long time stayed in a deepe consideration, desirous to know the
cause of that gentle parte, proceeding from him whose Parents
and Auncesters were the capitall Enimies of his race. In the end
lyke one risyng from a sound sleepe, he called to mynd, that
very many times he had seene Anselmo with attentiue eye and
fixed looke to behold Angelica, and in eying hir uery louyngly,
he passed euery day (before theyr gate) not shewing other
countenaunce, but of good wyll, and wyth fryendly gesture,
rather than any Ennimies Face, saluting Angelica at all tymes
when he met hir. Wherefore Montanine was assured, that the onely
loue of Salimbene towards his sister caused that delyueraunce,
concluding that when the passion doth proceede of good loue,
seazed in gentle heart and of noble enterpryse, it is impossible
but it muste bryng forth the maruellous effects of vertue’s
gallantize, of honesty and curtesy, and that the spyrite wel
borne, can not so mutch hide hys gentle nourtoure, but the fyre
must flame abroade, and that whych seemeth dyfficult to bee
brought to passe, is facilitye, and made possible by the
conceiptes and indeuors so wel imployed: wherefore in the Ende
not to bee surmounted in Honesty, ne yet to beare the marke of
one, that vnthankefully accepteth good turnes, he determyned to
vse a great prodigality vppon him, that vnder the name of foe,
had shewed himselfe a more faythful friend, then those that bare
good face, and at neede wer furthest off from afflicted
Montanine, who not knowing what present to make to Salimbene,
but of himselfe and hys syster, purposed to impart his minde to
Angelica, and then vpon knowledge of hir wil to performe his
intent. For which cause vnderstanding that his gracious enimy
was gone into the Countrey, he thoughte well to consyder of his
determynatyon, and to breake wyth hir in hys absence, the better
to Execute the same, vppon his nexte retourne to the Citye. He
called Angelica asyde, and beynge bothe alone together, hee vsed
these or sutch lyke Woordes: “You knowe, deare Sister, that the
higher the fall is, the more daungerous and greater gryefe he
feeleth that doth fall from highe than hee that tumbleth downe
from place more low and of lesser steepenes. I speak this,
bicause I cal to mind the condition, nobility, and excellency of
our ancesters, the glorie of our race, and riches of all our
house, which constraineth me many tymes to sigh, and sheade a
streame of teares, when I see the sumptuous palaces that were
the homes and resting places of our Fathers, and grand fathers,
when I see on al parts of this City, the Armes, and Scutcheons
painted and imbossed, bearyng the mark of the Antiquity of our
house, and when I beholde the stately marble tombes and brasen
Monuments, in dyuers our Temples erected for perpetuall Memorye
of many knyghtes and generalles of warres, that sorted forth of
the Montanine race: and chyefly I neuer enter thys great Palace,
the remnant of our inheritaunce and patrimony, but the
remembraunce of our auncesters, so glaunceth ouer mine Hearte,
as an hundred hundred tymes, I wysh for death, to thynke that I
am the Post alone of the mysery and decay fallen vppon the name
and famous familye of the Montanines, whych maketh me thinke our
life to be vnhappy, being downe fallen from sutch felicity,
to feele a mysery most extreame. But one thing alone ought to
content vs, that amid so great pouerty, yl luck, ruine and
abasement, none is able to lay vnto our charge any thing
vnworthy of the nobility and the house, whereof we be descended,
our lyfe being conformable to the generositie of our
predecessors: whereby it chanceth, that although our poore
estate be generally knowne, yet none can affirme, that we haue
forligned the vertue of them, which vertuously haue lyued before
vs. If so bee wee haue receiued pleasure or benefit of any man,
neuer disdained I with al duety to acknowledge a good turne,
stil shunning the vyce of ingratytude, to soyle the reputation
wherein hitherto I haue passed my lyfe. Is there anye blot which
more spotteth the renoume of man, than not confessing receiued
benefites and pleasures perfourmed in our necessity? You know in
what peril of death I was, these few daies past, through their
false surmise which neuer loued me, and how almost miraculously
I was redemed out of the hangman’s hands, and the cruel sentence
of the vnryghteous Magistrate, not one of our kin offrynge
themselues in deede or word for my defense, which forceth mee to
say, that I haue felt of my Kin, which I neuer thought, and haue
tasted sutch commodity at his hands, of whome I neuer durst
expect or hope for pleasure, relief, aide or any comfort.
I attended my delyueraunce by sute of those whome I counted for
Kin and fryends, but the same so soon vanished, as the Necessity
and peryll were present. So pressed with woe, and forsaken of
fryends, I was affrayde that our aduersaries (to remoue all
feare and suspition in tyme to come) would haue purchased my
totall ruine, and procured the ouerthrowe of the Montanines
name, by my Death, and approched end. But good God, from the
place whereof I feared the danger, the calme arose, which hath
brought my Barke to the hauen of health, and at his hands where
I attended ruine, I haue tasted affiance and sustentation of
myne honor and lyfe. And playnely to procede, it is Anselmo
Salimbene, the son of our auncient and capital enimies, that
hath shewed himself the very loyall and faithful fryend of our
family, and hath deliuered your brother by payment to the State,
the summe of a Thousand Ducats to raunsome the life of him, who
thought him to be his moste cruel aduersary. O Gentleman’s heart
in dede and gentle mind, whose rare vertues do surpasse all
humaine vnderstanding. Friends vnited together in band of
Amitye, amaze the World by the effects not vulgar in things
whych they do one for an other. But thys surmounteth all,
a mortall Ennimy, not reconcyled or requyred, without demaund of
assuraunce for the pleasure which he doth, payeth the debts of
his aduersarie: which facte exceedeth all consideration in them,
that discouer the factes of men. I can not tel what name to
attribute to the deede of Salimbene, and what I ought to call
that his curtesy, but this must I needes protest, that the
example of his honestie and gentlenes is of sutch force, and so
mutch hath vanquished me, as whether I shal dye in payne or lyue
at ease, neuer am I able to exceede his lyberality. Now my life
being ingaged for that which he hath don to mee, and hee hauynge
delyuered the same from infamous Death, it is in your handes
(deare sister) to practize the deuyse imagined in my mind, to
the intente that I may be onely bound to you for satisfying the
liberalitye of Salimbene, by meanes whereof, you which wepte the
death and wayled the lost liberty of your Brother, doe see me
free and in safety hauyng none other care but to be acquited of
hym, to whome both you and I be dearely bound.” Angelica hearyng
hir brother speak those words, and knowing that Salimbene was
he, that had surpassed all their kinne in amity and comforte of
theyr familye, answered her brother, sayinge: “I woulde neuer
haue thought (good Brother) that your deliuerance had come to
passe by him whose name euen now you tolde, and that our
Ennimyes breaking al remembraunce of auncient quarels, had care
of the health and conseruation of the Montanines. Wherefore if
it were in my power I would satisfy the curtesy and gentlenesse
of Anselmo, but I know not which way to begin the same. I being
a maid that knoweth not how to recompense a good turne, but by
acknowledging the same in heart: and to go to render thanks, it
is neither lawfull or comely for me, and mutch lesse to offer
him any thynge for the lyttle accesse I haue to his house, and
the small familiarity I haue with the Gentlewomen of his kinne.
Notwythstanding, Brother, consider you wherein my power resteth
to ayde and helpe you, and be assured (myne honor saued) I wyll
spare nothynge for your contentment.” “Sister” (sayd Montanine)
“I haue of long time debated with my self what is to be done,
and deuised what myghte be the occasion that moued this young
Gentleman to vse so greate kindnesse toward mee, and hauing
diligently pondred and waied what I haue seene and knowne,
at length I founde that it was the onely force of Loue, which
constrained his affection, and altered the auncient hatred that
he bare vs, into new loue, that by no meanes can be quenched.
It is the couert fire which Loue hathe kindled in his intrailes,
it is loue whych hath raysed the true effects of gentlenesse,
and hath consumed the conceipts of displeased mind. O the great
force of that amorous alteration, which vppon the sodain
exchaung, seemeth impossible to receiue any more chaung or
mutation. The onely Beauty and good grace of you Syster, hath
induced our gracious Enimy, the seruaunt of your perfections, to
delyuer the poore Gentleman forlorn of all good fortune. It is
the honest lyfe and commendable behauiour of Angelica Montanine,
that hath incyted Anselmo to doe an acte so praise worthy, and a
deede so kinde, to procure the deliuerance of one, which looked
not for a chaunce of so great consequence. Ah gentle younge
gentleman: Ah pryncely minde, and heart noble and magnanimous.
Alas how shall it be possyble that euer I can approche the
honest liberalitye wherwyth thou hast bound me for euer? My lyfe
is thine, myne honour dependeth of thee, my goodes be tyed to
thee. What resteth then, if not that you (sister) voyde of
cruelty do vse no vnkyndnesse to hym that loueth you, and who
for love of you hathe prodygally offred hys owne goodes to ryd
me from payne and dyshonor? If so be, my lyfe and sauegarde haue
ben acceptable vnto thee, and the sight of me dyscharged from
Pryson was ioyful unto thee, if thou gauest thy willing consent
that I should sel my patrimony, graunt presently that I may wyth
a great, rare, and precious present, requyte the Goodnesse,
Pleasure and curtesye that Salimbene hath done for your sake:
And syth I am not able with goodes of Fortune to satisfie his
bountye, it is your person which may supply that default, to the
intent that you and I may be quytted of the oblygation, wherein
we stand bound vnto him. It behoueth that for the offer and
reward of Money whych he hath imployed, we make present of your
Beautye, not selling the pryce of your chastity, but delyueryng
the same in exchaunge of curtesye, beyng assured for hys
gentlenesse and good Nourtoure sake, hee wyll vse you none
otherwyse, or vsurpe any greater authority ouer you, than Vertue
permitteth in ech gentle and Noble hearte. I haue none other
means of satisfaction, ne larger raumsome to render free my head
from the Tribute whych Salimbene hathe gyuen for my Lyfe and
Liberty. Thynke (deare Sister) what determinate aunswere you
wyll make me, and consider if my request be meete to be denyed.
It is in your choise and pleasure to deny or consent to my
demaund. If so be that I be denyed and loose the meanes by your
refuse to be acquitted of my defender, I had rather forsake my
Citye and Countrey, than to lyue heere wyth the title of
ingratitude, for not acknowledging so greate a pleasure. But
alas, with what Eye, shall I dare behold the Nobility of Siena,
if by greate vnkyndnesse I passe vnder silence the rarest
friendship that euer was deuised? What heartes sorrow shall I
conceyue to bee pointed at wyth the finger, like one that hath
forgotten in acknowledging by effecte, the receiued pleasure of
my delyueraunce? No (sister) eyther you must bee the quyet of my
Minde, and the acquittance of vs bothe, or else must I dye, or
wander lyke a vagabond into straunge Countries, and neuer put
foote agayne into Italy.” At those words Angelica stode so
astonned and confused, and so besides hir selfe, like as wee see
one distraught of sense that feeleth himself attached with some
amaze of the Palsey. In the end recouering hir sprytes, and bee
blubbered al with teares, hir stomacke panting like the Bellowes
of a forge, she answeared hir brother in thys manner: “I knowe
not louyng Brother by reason of my troubled minde howe to
aunswere your demaund, which seemeth to be both ryght, and
wronge, right for respect of the bond, not so, in consideration
of the request. But how I proue the same, and what reason I can
alleadge and discouer for that proofe, hearken me so paciently,
as I haue reason to complayne and dispute vpon this chaunce more
hard and difficulte to auoyde, than by reply able to be
defended, sith that Lyfe and the hazarding thereof is nothing,
in regarde of that which you wyll haue me to present with too
exceeding prodigall Liberality, and I would to God that Life
mighte satisfie the same, than be sure it should so soone be
imployed, as the promise made thereof. Alas, good God, I thought
that when I sawe my brother out of Pryson, the neare distresse
of death, whereunto vniustly he was thrown, I thought (I say)
and firmely did beleue, that fortune the Enimy of our ioy, had
vomitted al hir poison, and being despoyled of hir fury and
crabbed Nature had broken the bloudy and Venemous Arrowes,
wherewyth so longe tyme she hath plagued our family, and that by
resting of hir selfe, shee had gyuen some rest to the Montanine
house of al theyr troubles and misaduentures. But I (O miserable
wight) do see and feele how far I am deuided from my hope, and
deceiued of mine opinion, sith the furious stepdame, appeareth
before me with a face more fierce and threatning, then euer she
did, sharpening hir selfe against my youth in other sort, then
euer against any of our race. If euer she persecuted our
auncesters, if she brought them to ruine and decay, she now doth
purpose wholly to subuerte the same, and throw vs headelong into
the bottomlesse pit of all misery, exterminating for all
tegether, the remnaunte of our consumed house. Be it either by
losse of thee (good brother) or the vyolent death of me which
cannot hazarde my Chastity for the pryce of myne vnhappy life:
Ah, good God, into what anguish is my mynde exponed, and how doe
I feele the force and Vyolence of froward Fortune? But what
speak I of fortune? How doth hard lucke insue, that is
predestinated by the heauens vppon our familly? Must I at so
tender yeares, and of so feeble kinde make choyse of a thing,
which would put the wysest vpon Earth into their shifts? My
heart doth fayle me, reason wanteth and Iudgement hangeth in
ballaunce by continuall agitations, to see how I am dryuen to
the extremity of two daungerous straits, and enuironned with
fearefull ieoperdies, forcibly compelled either to bee deuided
and separated from thee (my Brother,) whome I loue aboue mine
owne life, and in whome next after God I haue fyxed and put my
hope and trust, hauing none other solace, Comfort and helpe, but
thee, or else by keping thee, am forced to giue vnto an other,
and know not how, the precious treasure which beyng once lost,
cannot be recouered by any meanes, and for the gard and
conseruation whereof, euery woman of good iudgement that loueth
vertue, ought a thousand times to offer hir selfe to death
(if so many wayes she could) rather than to blot or soyle that
inestimable Iewell of chastity, wherewith our lyfe is a true
lyfe: contrarywyse shee which fondly suffreth hir self to be
disseazed and spoyled of the same, and looseth it without honest
title, albeit she be a lyue, yet is she buryed in the most
obscure caue of death, hauing lost the honour which maketh
Maydens march with head vpryght. But what goodnesse hath a
Ladye, Gentlewoman, Maiden, or Wyfe, wherein she can glory, hir
honour being in doubt, and reputatyon darkened with infamie?
Whereto serued the imperyall house of Augustus, in those Ladyes
that were intituled the Emperour’s Daughters, when for their
villany, theyr were vnworthy of the title of chaste and
vertuous? What profited Faustina the Emperiall Crowne vpon hir
head, hir chastity through hir abhominable Life, being rapt and
despoyled? What wronge hath bene done to many symple Women, for
being buryed in the Tombe of dark obliuion, which for their
vertue and pudique Lyfe, meryted Eternall prayse? Ah Charles,
my Brother deare, where hast thou bestowrd the Eye of thy
foreseeing mynde, that without prouidence and care of the fame
due to honest Dames, and chast Damosels of our Family, hauyng
lost the goodes and Fathers inheritance, wilt haue me in like
sort forgoe my Chastity, whych hytherto I haue kept with
heedeful dilygence. Wilte thou deare Brother, by the pryce of my
virginity, that Anselmo shall haue greater victorye ouer vs,
than he hath gotten by fight of Sword vpon the allied remnaunt
of our house? Art thou ignorant that the woundes and diseases of
the Mynd, be more vehement than those which afflict the Body? Ah
I vnhappy mayden, and what ill lucke is reserued for me, what
destiny hath kept me till this day to be presented for Venus’
Sacrifice, to satisfy a young manne’s lust, which coueteth
(peraduenture) but the spoile of mine honor? O happy the Romain
maide, slayne by the proper hands of hir woeful Father
Virginius, that she myght not{ }be soyled with infamy, by the
Lecherous embracements of rauenous Appius, which desired hir
acquaintaunce. Alas, that my brother doe not so, rather I woulde
to God of his owne accord he be the infamous minister of my life
ready to be violated, if God by his grace take not my cause in
hand? Alas death, why dost thou not throwe against my hearte thy
most pearcing dart, that I may goe waite vpon the shadowes of my
thryce happy Parents, who knowing this my gryefe, wyll not be
voide of passion to helpe me wayle my woefull state. O God, why
was not I choaked and strangled, so soone as I was taken forth
the secret imbracements of my mother’s Wombe, rather than to
arriue into this mishap, that either must I lose the thing I
deeme moste deare, or die with the violence of my proper hands?
Come death, come and cut the vnhappy threede of my woefull Lyfe:
stope the pace of teares with thy trenchant Darte that streame
outragiously downe my face, and close the breathing wind of
sighes, which hynder thee from doing thine office vpon my heart,
by suffocation of my lyfe and it.” When she had ended those
Words, hir speache dyd faile, and waxing pale and faint,
(sitting vppon hir stoole) she fared as though that very death
had sitten in hir place. Charles thynking that his sister had
bene deade, mated with sorrowe, and desirous to lyue no longer
after hir, seeing he was the cause of that sownyng, fell downe
dead vpon the Ground, mouing neither hand nor foote, as though
the soule had ben departed from the bodye. At the noyse which
Montanine made by reason of hys fall, Angelica reuiued out of
hir sowne, and seeinge hir Brother in so pytifull plyght, and
supposing he had bene dead for care of hys request, for beyng
berieued of hir Brother, was so moued, as a lyttle thynge would
haue made hir do, as Thisbe dyd, when she viewed Pyramus to be
slayne. But conceyuing hope, she threw hir selfe vppon hir
Brother, cursing hir Fortune, bannyng the Starres of cruelty,
and hir lauish speach, and hir self for hir little loue to hir
brother, who made no refusall to dye to saue his Lande for
reliefe of hir: wher she denyed to yeld hir selfe to him that
loued hir with so good affection. In the end she applied so many
remedies vnto hir brother, sometimes casting cold water vpon his
face, sometimes pinching and rubbing the temples and pulses of
his armes and his mouth with vineger, that she made hym to come
agayne: and seeing that his eyes were open, beholding hir
intentiuely with the countenance of a man half in despayre, she
saied vnto him: “For so mutch brother as I see fortune to be so
froward, that by no meanes thou canst auoide the cruel lot,
which launceth me into the bottome of mortall misery, and that I
must aduenture to folowe the indeuors of thy minde, and obey thy
will, which is more gentle and Noble, than fraught with reason,
I am content to satisfy the same and the loue which hitherto
thou hast born me. Be of good cheere, and doe wyth mee and my
body what thou list, giue and presente the same to whom thou
pleasest. Wel be thou sure, that so sone as I shal bee out of
thy hands and power, I wyl be called or esteemed thine no more,
and thou shalt haue lesse authority to stay me from doing the
deuises of my fantasie, swearing and protesting by the Almighty
God, that neuer man shall touch Angelica, except it be in
mariage, and that if he assay to passe any further, I haue a
heart that shall incourage my hands to sacrifice my Life to the
Chastitye of Noble Dames whych had rather dye than liue in
slaunder of dyshonesty. I wyll die a body without defame, and
the Mynde voyde of consent, shall receiue no shame or filth that
can soyle or spot the same.” In saying so, she began againe to
weepe in sutch aboundance, as the humour of hir brayne ranne
downe by the issue of bothe hir Eyes. Montanine albeit sorrowful
beyond measure to see his gentle and chast sister in sutch
vexation and heauinesse, reioysed yet in his mind, that she had
agreed to his request, which presaged the good lucke that
afterwardes chaunced vnto him, for hys Lyberal offer.
“Wherefore” (said he to Angelica,) “I was neuer in my Lyfe so
desirous to liue, but that I rather choose to dye, than procure
a thinge that should turne thee to displeasure and griefe, or to
hazarde thine honor and reputation in daunger or peryll of
damage, which thou hast euer knowne, and shouldest haue still
perceyued by effect, or more properly to speak, touched with thy
finger if that incomparable and rare curtesy and Lyberality of
Salimbene had not prouoked me to requyre that, which honestly
thou canst not gyue, nor I demaunde without wronge to thee, and
preiudice to mine owne estimation and honoure. But what? the
feare I haue to be deemed ingrate, hath made me forget thee, and
the great honesty of Anselmo maketh me hope, yea and stedfastly
beleue, that thou shalt receiue none other displeasure, but to
be presented vnto him whome at other times we haue thought to be
our mortal enimy. And I thinke it impossible that he wil vse any
villany to hir whome he so feruently loueth, for whose sake he
feareth not the hatred of his friends, and disdained not to save
him whome he hated, and on whome he myght haue bene reuenged.
And forsomutch sister, as the face commonly sheweth the signe
and token of the hearte’s affection, I pray thee by any meanes
declare no sad countenaunce in the presence of Salimbene, but
rather cheere vp thy face, dry vp the aboundance of thy teares,
that he by seeing thee Ioyfull and mery, may be moued to
continue his curtesy and use thee honestly, being satisfied with
thy liberality, and the offer that I shall make of our seruice.”
Here may be seene the extremitie of two dyuers thinges, duety
combatting with shame, reason being in contention with himself.
Angelica knew and confessed that hir brother did but his duetye,
and that she was bound by the same very bond. On the other side,
hir estate and virginall chastity, brake the endeuours of hir
duety, and denyed to doe that which she esteemed ryght.
Neuerthelesse shee prepared hir self to follow both the one and
the other: and by acquitting the duety to hir brother, she
ordayned the meane, to discharge him of that which he was bound
to his benefactor, determinynge neuerthelesse rather to dye,
than shamefully to suffer hir selfe to be abused, or to make hir
lose the floure, which made hir glyster amongs the maidens of
the city, and to deface hir good fame by an acte so vyllanous.
But that speciall rare vertue was more singular in hir, than was
that continency of Cyrus the Persian King, who fearing to be
forced by the allurements of the excellent beauty of chast
Panthea, would not suffer hir to be brought into his presence,
for feare that hee being surmounted with folysh lustes, should
force hir, that by other meanes could not be persuaded to breake
the holy lawes of Mariage, and promised faith to hir husband.
For Salimbene hauing in his presence, and at his commaundement
hir whome aboue al thyngs he loued would by no meanes abuse his
power, but declared his gentle nature to bee of other force and
effect, than that of the aforesaid king as by reading the
successe of this historie you shal perceiue. After that
Montanine and his sister had vttered many other words vpon their
determination, and that the fayre maiden was appeased of hir
sorrow, attending the issue of that which they went about to
begin: Anselmo was come home out of the Countrey, whereof
Charles hauing intelligence, about the second houre of the
night, he caused his sister to make hir ready, and in company of
one of their seruants that caried light before them, they came
to the lodginge of Salimbene, whose seruaunt seeing Montanine so
accompanied to knocke at the Gate, if hee did maruel I leaue for
you to think, by reason of the displeasure and hatred which he
knew to bee betweene the two families, not knowing that which
had already passed for the heginning of a final peace of so many
controuersies: for which cause so astonned as he was, he went to
tel his maister that Montanine was at the gate, desirous
secretly to talk vnto him. Salimbene knowing what company
Charles had with him, was not vnwilling to goe downe, and
causing two Torches to be lighted, came to his gate to
entertaine them, and to welcome the brother and the sister, wyth
so great curtesie and friendship as he was surprysed with loue,
seeing before his eyes the sight of hir that burned hys heart
incessantly, not discoueryng as yet the secrets of his thought
by making hir to vnderstand the good wyl he bare hir, and how
mutch he was hir seruant. He could not tel wel whether he was
incharmed or his eyes daselled, or not wel wakened from sleepe
when he saw Angelica, so amazed was he with the straungenesse of
the fact, and arriuall of the maiden to his house. Charles
seeing hym so confused, and knowing that the great affection he
bare vnto his sister, made him so perplexed and besides himself,
said vnto him: “Sir, we would gladly speake with you in one of
your Chambers, that there myght be none other witnesse of our
dyscourse, but we three together.” Salimbene which was wrapt
wyth ioy, was able to make none other aunsweare, but: “Goe we
whether you please.” So taking his Angelica by the hand, they
went into the Hall, and from thence into his chamber, whych was
furnyshed accordinge to the state and riches of a Lord, he being
one of the welthiest and chiefe of the City of Siena. When they
were set downe, and al the seruants gone forth, Charles began to
say to Salimbene, these words: “You may not thinke it straunge
(sir Salimbene) if against the Lawes and customes of our Common
Wealthe, I at thys tyme of the Nyght doe call you vp, for
knowyng the Bande wherewyth I am bound vnto you, I must for euer
confesse and count my selfe to be your slaue and bondman, you
hauing don a thing in my behalf that deserueth the name of Lord
and maister. But what vngrateful man is he that wil forget so
greate a benefit, as that which I haue receyued of you, holding
of you, life, goods, honor, and this mine own sister that
enioyeth by your meanes the presence of hir brother and hir rest
of mind, not losing our noble reputation by the losse prepared
for me through vnrighteous iudgement, you hauing staied the
ruine both of hir and me, and the rest of our house and kin.
I am ryghte glad sir, that this my duety and seruice is bounden
to so vertuous a Gentleman as you be, but exceeding sorry, that
fortune is so froward and contrary vnto me, that I am not able
to accomplishe my good will, and if ingratitude may lodge in
mind of a neady Gentleman, who hath no helpe but of himselfe,
and in the wyll of hys chast sister, and minde vnited in two
persons onely saued by you, duety doeth requyre to present the
rest, and to submit al that is left to be disposed at your good
pleasure. And bicause that I am well assured, that it is
Angelica alone which hath kindled the flame of desire, and hath
caused you to loue that which your predecessours haue deadly
hated, that same sparke of knowledge, whych our misery could not
quench with all his force, hath made the way and shewed the path
whereby we shall auoide the name of ingrate and forgetfull
persons, and that same which hath made you lyberall towards me,
shalbe bountifully bestowed vpon you. It is Angelica sir, which
you see present heere, who to discharge my band, hath willingly
rendred to be your owne, submittinge hir selfe to your good
wyll, for euer to be youres. And I which am hir brother, and
haue receiued that great good wyll of hir, as in my power to
haue hir wyl, do present the same, and leaue hir in your hands,
to vse as you would your owne, praying you to accept the same,
and to consider whose is the gift, and from whence it commeth,
and how it ought to be regarded.” When he had sayd so, Montanine
rose vp, and without further talke, went home vnto his house. If
Anselmo were abashed at the Montanines arriuall, and astonned at
the Oration of Charles, his sodain departure was more to be
maruelled at, and therwithal to see the effect of a thing which
he neuer hoped, nor thought vpon. He was exceding glad and
ioyfull to see himself in the company of hir, whome he desired
aboue al things of the world, but sory to see hir heauy and
sorrowful for sutch chaunce. He supposed hir being ther, to
procede rather of the yong man’s good and gentle Nature, than of
the Maiden’s will and lykynge. For whych cause taking hir by the
hand, and holding hir betwene hys armes, he vsed these or sutch
lyke words: “Gentlewoman, if euer I had felt and knowne with
what Wing the variety and lyghtnesse of worldly thynges do flye,
and the gaynes of inconstant fortune, at this present I haue
seen one of the most manifest profes which seemeth to me so
straunge, as almost I dare not beeleue that I see before myne
Eyes. I know well that it is for you, and for the seruice that I
beare you, that I haue broken the effect of that hatred, whych
by inheritaunce I haue receiued against your House, and for that
deuotion haue deliuered your Brother. But I see that Fortune
wyll not let mee to haue the vpper hand, to bee the Conquerer of
hir sodaine pangs. But you your self shall see, and euery man
shall know that my heart is none other than noble, and my
deuises tend, but to the exploit of all vertue and Gentlenesse:
wherefore I pray you (sayd he, kissing hir louingly) be not sad,
and doubt not that your seruaunt is any other now, hauing you in
his power, than he was when he durst not dyscouer the ardent
Loue that vexed him, and held him in feeble state, ful of desire
and thought: you also may bee sure, that he hath not had the
better hande ouer me, ne yet for his curtesy hath obteined
victory, nor you for obeying him. For sith that you be myne, and
for sutch yelded and giuen to me, I wyl keepe you, as hir whome
I loue and esteme aboue al things of the World, makyng you my
Companion and the onely mistresse of my goodes heart, and wyll.
Thinke not that I am the Fryend of Fortune, and practise
pleasure alone without vertue. It is modesty which commaundeth
me, and honesty is the guide of my conceipts. Assure you then,
and repose your comfort on mee: for none other than Angelica
Montanine shall be the wyfe of Anselmo Salimbene: and during my
life, I wyll bee the Fryend, the defender and supporter of your
house.” At these good Newes, the drousie and wandryng Spirite of
the fayre Siena mayd awaked, who endyng hir teares and appeasing
hir sorrow, rose vp, and made a very lowe reuerence vnto hir
curteous fryend, thanking hym for hys greate and incomparable
liberalitye, promising all seruice, duetie, and Amitye, that a
Gentlewoman ought to beare vnto him, whom God hath reserued for
hir Spouse and husband. After an infinite number of honest
imbracements and pleasaunte kisses giuen and receiued on both
partes, Anselmo called vnto him one of his Auntes that dwelled
within him, to whome he deliuered his new Conquest to keepe,
and spedily without delay he sent for the next of his Kinne and
dearest friends: and being come, he intreated them to kepe him
company, in a very vrgent and weighty businesse he had to do,
wherein if they shewed themselues dilygent in his request,
doubtful it is not, but he addressed speede for accomplishment
of his Enterpryse. Then causyng hys Aunte and welbeloued
Angelica to come forth, he carryed them (not without their great
admiration) to the pallace of Montanine, whither being arryued:
he and hys Companie were well intertayned of the sayd Montanine,
the Brother of fayre Angelica. When they were in the Hall,
Salimbene sayd to hys Brother in law that should be: “Senio
Montanine, it is not long sithens, that you in company of my
faire Gentlewoman heere, came home to speake wyth mee, desirous
to haue no man priuy to the effect of your conference. But I am
come to you with this troupe to disclose my minde before you al,
and to manifeste what I purpose to doe, to the intente the whole
World may know your good and honest Nature, and vnderstand how I
can be requited on them, which indeuor to gratifie me in any
thing.” Hauing said so, and euery man being set down he turned
his talk to the rest of the company in thys wise: “I doubt not
my friends and Noble Dames, but that ye mutch muse and maruell
to see me in this house so late, and in your company, and am
sure, that a great desire moueth your minds to know for what
purpose, the cause, and why I haue gathered this assemblie in a
time vnlooked for, and in place where none of our race and kinne
of long time did enter, and lesse did meane to make hither their
repaire. But when you doe consider what vertue and goodnesse
resteth in the heartes of those men, that shunne and auoide the
brutyshnesse of Minde, to followe the reasonable part, and which
proprely is called Spirituall, you shall thereby perceiue, that
when Gentle kynde and Noble Heart, by the great mistresse dame
Nature be gryfted in the myndes of Men, they cease not to make
appeare the effect of their doings, sometyme producing one
vertue, sometimes another, which cease not to cause the fruicte
of sutch industry both to blome and beare: In sutch wyse, as the
more those vertuous actes and commendable workes, do appeare
abroade, the greater dyligence is imployed to searche the matter
wherein she can cause to appeare the force of vertue and
excellency, conceiuing singular delyghte in that hir good and
holy delyuery, which bryngeth forth a fruict worthy of sutch a
stocke. And that force of mind and Generosity of Noble Heart is
so firme and sure in operation, as although humane thinges be
vnstable and subiect to chaung, yet they cannot be seuered or
disparcled. And although it be the Butte and white, whereat
fortune dischargeth al hir dartes and shaftes, threatning
shooting and assayling the same round, yet it continueth stable
and firme like a Rocke and Clyffe beaten wyth the vyolent fury
of waues rising by wind or tempest. Whereby it chaunceth, that
riches and dignity can no more aduaunce the heart of a slaue and
villaine, than pouerty make vile and abase the greatnesse of
courage in them that be procreated of other stuffe than of
common sorte, whych daily keepe the maiesty of their oryginall,
and lyve after the instincte of good and Noble Bloude, wherewith
their auncesters were made Noble, and sucked the same vertue
oute of the Teates of Noursses Breasses, who in the myddes of
troublesome trauayles of Fortune that doe assayle them, and
depresse theyr modesty, their face and Countenaunce, and theyr
factes full well declare theyr condition, and to doe to
vnderstande, that vnder sutch a Misery, a Mynde is hydde which
deserueth greater Guerdon than the eigre taste of Calamitye. In
that dyd glowe and shyne the Youthe of the Persian and Median
Monarch, beynge nourssed amonges the stalles and Stables of hys
Grandfather, and the gentle kind of the founder of stately Rome
sockeled in the Shepecoates of Prynces sheepehierds. Thus mutch
haue I sayd, my good lords and dames, in consideration of the
noble corage and gentle minde of Charles Montanine, and of his
sister, who without preiudice to any other I dare to say, is the
paragon and mirrour of all chast and curteous maidens, well
trayned vp, amonges the whole Troupe of those that lyue thys day
in Siena, who beeyng brought to the ende and last poynt of their
ruine, as euery of you doth knowe, and theyr race so sore
decayed as there remayneth but the onely Name of Montanine:
notwythstanding they neuer lost the heart, desire, ne yet the
effect of the curtesy, and naturall bounty, whych euer doth
accompany the mynd of those that be Noble in deede. Whych is the
cause that I am constrayned to accuse our Auncesters, of to
mutch cruelty, and of the lyttle respecte whych for a
controuersye occured by chaunce, haue pursued them with sutch
mortall reuenge, as without ceasing, with all their force, they
haue assayed to ruinate, abolyshe, and for euer adnichilate that
a ryghte Noble and illustre race of the Montanines, amongs whome
if neuer any goodnesse appeared to the Worlde, but the Honesty,
Gentlenesse, Curtesy and vertuous maners of these twayne here
presente, the Brother and sister, yet they ought to be accompted
amonges the ranke of the Noblest and chiefest of our City, to
the intent in time to come it may not be reported, that wee haue
esteemed and chearyshed Riches and drossie mucke, more than
vertue and modesty. But imitating those excellent gouerners of
Italy, whych held the Romane Empire, let vs rather reuerence the
Vertuous Poore, than prayse or pryse the Rich, gyuen to vice and
wickednesse. And for so mutch as I do see you all to be desirous
to knowe the cause and argument, whych maketh me to vse this
talke, and forceth mee to prayse the curtesy and goodnesse of
the Montanines, pleaseth you to stay a lyttle with pacience,
and not think the tyme tedyous, I meane to declare the same.
Playnely to confesse vnto you (for that it is no cryme of Death,
or heinous offence) the gyfts of nature, the Beauty and
comelynesse of fayre Angelica heere present, haue so captiuate
my Mind, and depriued my heart of Lyberty, as Night and Day
trauailing how I might discouer vnto hir my martirdom, I did
consume in sutch wyse, as losing lust of slepe and meate,
I feared ere long to be either dead of sorrow or estranged of my
right wits, seing no meanes how I might auoide the same, bicause
our two houses and Families were at contynuall debate: and
albeit conflicts were ceased, and quarelles forgotten, yet there
rested (as I thought) a certaine desire both in the one and the
other of offence, when time and occasion did serue. And yet mine
affection for all that was not decreased, but rather more
tormented, and my gryefe increased, hopelesse of help, which now
is chaunced to me as you shall heare. You do know, and so do all
men, howe wythin these fewe dayes past, the Lord Montanine here
present, was accused before the Seniorie, for trespasses against
the statutes and Edicts of the same, and being Prysoner, hauing
not wherewith to satisfie the condempnation, the Law affirmed
that his life should recompence and supply default of Money.
I not able to suffer the want of hym, which is the brother of
the dearest thing I esteeme in the Worlde, and hauing not hir in
possession, nor lyke without him to attayne hir, payed that
Summe, and delyuered hym. He, by what meanes I know not, or how
he coniectured the beneuolence of my deede, thynking that it
proceeded of the honest Loue and affection which I bare to
gracious and amiable Angelica, wel consideryng of my curtesy,
hath ouercome me in prodigalitye, he this Nyght came vnto mee,
with his sister my mistresse, yelding hir my slaue and
Bondwoman, leauyng hir with me, to doe with hir as I would with
any thing I had. Behold my good Lordes, and yee Noble Ladies and
cosins, and consider how I may recompence this Benefit, and be
able to satisfie a present so precious, and of sutch Value and
regard as both of them be, sutch as a right puissant prince and
Lord may be contented wyth, a duety so Liberall and Iewell
inestymable of two offered thynges.” The assistants that were
there, could not tell what to say, the discourse had so mutch
drawne their myndes into dyuers fantasies and contrary opinions,
seing that the same requyred by deliberation to be considered,
before lightly they vttred their mindes. But they knew not the
intent of him, which had called them thither, more to testify
his fact, than to iudge of the thing he went about, or able to
hinder and let the same. True it is, that the ladies viewing and
marking the amiable countenance of the Montanine Damsell, woulde
haue iudged for hir, if they feared not to bee refused of hym,
whome the thing did touche most neere. Who without longer staye,
opened to them al, what he was purposed to do, saying: “Sith ye
do spende time so long vpon a matter already meant and
determyned, I wyll ye to knowe, that hauing regard of mine
honour, and desirous to satisfie the honesty of the Brother and
sister, I mynde to take Angelica to my wyfe and lawfull spouse,
vniting that whych so long tyme hath bene deuyded, and making
into two bodyes, whilom not well accorded and agreed, one like
and vniforme wyll, praying you ech one, ioyfully to ioy with me,
and your selues to reioyse in that alliaunce, whych seemeth
rather a worke from Heauen, than a deede concluded by the
Counsell and industrie of Men. So lykewyse all wedded feeres in
holy Wedlocke (by reason of the effect and the Author of the
same, euen God himselfe, whych dyd ordayne it firste) bee
wrytten in the infallible booke of hys owne prescience, to the
intent that nothing may decay, whych is sustayned wyth the
mighty hand of that Almyghty God, the God of wonders, which
verily hee hath displayed ouer thee (deare Brother) by makynge
thee to fall into distresse and daunger of death, that myne
Angelica, beeing the meane of thy delyueraunce, myght also bee
cause of the attonement which I doe hope henceforth shall bee,
betwene so Noble houses as ours be.” Thys finall decree reueled
in open audience, as it was, against their expectation, and the
ende that the kindred of Anselmo looked for, so was the same no
lesse straunge and bashfull, as ioyful and pleasaunt, feeling a
sodain ioy, not accustomed in theyr mynde, for that vnion and
allyaunce. And albeit that their ryches was vnequall, and the
dowry of Angelica nothyng neare the great wealth of Salimbene,
yet all Men dyd deeme him happy, that hee had chaunced vpon so
vertuous a maiden, the onely Modestie and Integritie of whome,
deserued to bee coupled wyth the most honourable. For when a man
hath respecte onely to the beauty or Riches of hir, whome he
meaneth to take to Wyfe, hee moste commonly doth incurre the
Mischiefe, that the Spyrite of dyssention intermeddleth amyd
theyr household, whereby Pleasuere vanishing wyth Age, maketh
the riueled Face (beset wyth a Thousand wrynkeled furrowes) to
growe pale and drye. The Wyfe lykewyse when she seeth her goodes
to surmount the substance of hir wedded Husband, she aduaunceth
hir hearte, she swelleth wyth pryde, indeuoryng the vpper hand
and souerainty in all thyngs, whereupon it riseth, that of two
frayle and transitorie things, the building which hath so fyckle
foundation, can not indure, man being borne to commaund, and can
not abyde a mayster ouer hym, beyng the chyefe and Lord of hys
Wyfe. Now Salimbene, to perfourme the effect of hys curtesie,
gaue his fayre Wife the moytie of his Lands and goods, in
fauoure of the Mariage, adopting by that meanes, Montanine to
bee his Brother, appointing hym to be heyre of all hys goodes in
case he deceased wythout heyres of his Body. And if GOD did send
hym Children, he instituted him to bee the heyre of the other
halfe, which rested by hys donation to Angelica his new espouse:
Whom he maried solempnely the Sunday folowing, to the great
contentation and maruell of the whole City, which long time was
afflicted by the ciuile dissentions of those two houses. But
what? Sutch be the varieties of worldly successe, and sutch is
the mischiefe amongs men, that the same which honesty hath no
power to winne, is surmounted by the disgrace and misfortune of
wretched time. I neede not to alleage here those amongs the
Romanes, which from great hatred and malice were reconciled with
the indissoluble knot of Amity; forsomutch as the dignyties and
Honoures of theyr Citty prouoked one to flatter and fawne vpon
an other for particular profit, and not one of them attained to
sutch excellencie and renoume, as the foresayd did, one of whome
was vanquyshed with the fire of an amorous passion, whych
forcyng nature hir selfe, brought that to passe, which could
neuer haue bene thoughte or imagyned. And yet Men wyll accuse
loue, and painte hir in the Colours of foolysh Furye and raging
Madnesse. No, no, Loue in a gentle heart is the true subiect and
substance of Vertue, Curtesy, and Modest Manners, expellynge all
Cruelty and Vengeance, and nourishyng peace amongs men. But if
any do violate and prophane the holy Lawes of Loue, and peruert
that which is Vertuous, the faulte is not in that holye Saincte
but in hym whych foloweth it wythout skyll, and knoweth not the
perfection. As hapneth in euery operation, that of it selfe is
honest, although defamed by those, who thinking to vse it, doe
filthily abuse the same, and cause the grosse and ignoraunte to
condempne that is good, for the folye of sutch inconstant
fooles: In the other is painted a heart so voyde of the blody
and abhominable sinne of Ingratitude, as if death had ben the
true remedy and meane to satisfie his band and duety, he would
haue made no conscience to offer himselfe frankly and freely to
the dreadful passage of the same. You see what is the force of a
gentle heart wel trained vp, that would not be vanquished in
curtesye and Lyberality. I make you to be iudges, (I meane you)
that be conuersant in loue’s causes, and that with a Iudgement
passionlesse, voide of parciality doe dyscourse vppon the factes
and occurrentes that chaunce to men. I make you (I saye) iudges
to gyue sentence, whether of three caried away the pryse, and
most bound his companion by lyberall acte, and curtesie not
forced. You see a mortall enimy sorrow for the misery of his
aduersary, but solycited therunto by the ineuitable force of
Loue. The other marcheth with the glory of a present so rare and
exquisite, as a great Monarch would haue accompted it for
singuler fauor and prodigality. The maiden steppeth forth to
make the third in ranke, wyth a loue so stayed and charity
wonderfull towards hir brother, as being nothynge assured
whether he to whome she offered hir selfe were so Moderate, as
Curteous, she yeldeth hir selfe to the losse of hir chastity.
The first assayeth to make himselfe a conquerour by mariage, but
she diminishyng no iote of hir Noble mind, he must seeke else
where hys pryse of victory. To hir a desyre to kyll hir selfe
(if thinges succeeded contrary to hir minde) myght haue stopped
the way to hir great glory, had she not regarded hir virginity,
more than hir own Lyfe. The second seemeth to go half
constrained, and by maner of acquitall, and had hys affectyon
bene to render hymselfe Slaue to hys Foe, hys Patron and
preseruer, it would haue diminished his prayse. But sithens
inough wee haue hereof dyscoursed, and bene large in treatie of
Tragicomicall matters, intermyxed and suaged (in some parte)
wyth the Enteruiewes of dolor, modesty, and indifferente good
hap, and in some wholly imparted the dreadfull endes like to
terrible beginnings, I meane for a reliefe, and after sutch
sowre sweete bankets, to interlarde a licorous refection for
sweeting the mouthes of the delicate: And do purpose in this
Nouell insuing, to manifest a pleasaunt disport betweene a Wydow
and a Scholler, a passing Practise of a crafty Dame, not well
schooled in the discipline of Academicall rules, a surmountinge
science to trade the nouices of that forme, by ware foresight,
to incountre those that by laborsome trauayle and nightly watch,
haue studied the rare knowledge of Mathematicalles, and other
hidden and secrete Artes. Wishing them so well to beware, as I
am desirous to let them know by this rudiment, the successe of
sutch attemptes.
THE THIRTY-FIRST NOUELL.
_A Wydow called Mistresse Helena, wyth whom a Scholler was in
loue, (shee louing an other) made the same Scholler to stande
a whole Wynter’s night in the Snow to wayte for hir, who
afterwardes by a sleyght and pollicie, caused hir in Iuly, to
stand vppon a Tower starke naked amongs Flies and Gnats, and
in the Sunne._
Diuert we now a little from these sundry haps, to solace our
selues wyth a merry deuice, and pleasaunt circumstaunce of a
Scholler’s loue, and of the wily guily Subtilties of an amorous
Wydow of Florence. A Scholler returned from Paris to practise
hys knowledge at home in his owne Countrey, learneth a more
cunning Lecture of Mistresse Helena, than he did of the
subtillest Sorbone Doctor, or other Mathematicall from whence he
came. The Scholler as playnely hee had applied his booke, and
earnestly harkned his readings, so he simply meant to be a
faythfull Louer and deuout requirant to this Iolly dame, that
had vowed his Deuotion and promised Pilgrimage to an other
Saynct. The Scholler vpon the first view of the Wydowe’s
wandring Lookes, forgetting Ouide’s Lessons of Loue’s guiles,
pursued his conceipt to the vttermost. The Scholler neuer
remembred how many valiaunt, wise and learned men, wanton Women
had seduced and deceyued. Hee had forgot how Catullus was
beguiled by Lesbia, Tibullus by Delia, Propertius by Cynthia,
Naso by Corinna, Demetrius by Lamia, Timotheus by Phryne, Philip
by a Greeke mayden, Alexander by Thays, Hanniball by Campania,
Cæsar by Cleopatra, Pompeius by Flora, Pericles by Aspaga,
Psammiticus the king of Ægypt by Rhodope, and diuers other very
famous by Women of that stampe. Hee had not ben wel trayned in
holy writ, or heard of Samson’s Dalida, or of Salomon’s
Concubins, but like a playne dealinge man, beleued what she
promised, followed what she bad him, waited whiles she mocked
him, attended till shee laughed him to scorne. And yet for all
these Iolly pastimes inuented by this Widdow, to deceyue the
poore Scholler, she scaped not free from his Logike rules,
not saife from his Philosophy. He was forced to turne ouer
Aristotle, to reuolue his Porphyrie, and to gather his Wits
about hym to requite this louing Peate, that had so charitably
delt with him. He willingly serched ouer Ptolome, perused
Albumazar, made haste to Haly, yea and for a shift besturred him
in Erra Pater, for matching two contrary Elements. For colde in
Christmasse holy dayes, and Frost at Twelftide, shewed no more
force on this poore learned Scholler, than the Sunne’s heate in
the Feries of Iuly, Gnats, Flyes, and Waspes, at Noone dayes in
Sommer vpon the naked tender Corpse of this fayre Wyddow. The
Scholler stoode belowe in a Court, benoommed for colde, the
Wyddowe preached a lofte in the top of a Tower, and fayne would
haue had water to coole hir extreme heate. The Scholler in his
Shyrt bedecked wyth his demissaries. The Wyddow so Naked as hir
Graundmother Eue, wythout vesture to shroud hir. The Wyddow by
magike arte what so euer it cost, would fayne haue recouered hir
lost Louer. The Scholler well espying his aduantage when hee was
asked councell, so Incharmed hir with his Sillogismes, as he
made hir to mount a Tower, to cursse the time that euer she knew
him or hir Louer. So the Wydow not well beaten in causes of
Schoole, was whipt with the Rod, wherewith shee scourged other.
Alas good Woman, had she known that olde malice had not bene
forgotten, she woulde not haue trusted, and lesse committed hir
selfe to the Circle of his Enchauntments. If women wist what
dealings are wyth men of great reading, they would amongs one
hundred other, not deale wyth one of thee meanest of those that
be Bookish. One Girolamo Ruscelli, a learned Italyan making
prety notes for the better elucidation of the Italyan Decamerone
of Boccaccio, iudgeth Boccaccio himselfe to be this scholler,
whom by an other name he termeth to be Rinieri. But whatsoeuer
that Scholler was, he was truely to extreme in reueng, and
therein could vse no meane. For hee neuer left the poore feeble
soule, for all hir curteous Words and gentle Supplication,
vntill the Skin of hir flesh was Parched with the scalding Sunne
beames. And not contented with that, delt his Almose also to hir
Mayde, by sending hir to help hir Mistresse, where also she
brake hir Legge. Yet Phileno was more pityfull ouer the 3
nymphes and fayre Goddesses of Bologna, whose Hystory you may
reade in the 49 Nouell of my former Tome. He fared not so
roughly with those, as Rinieri did with thys, that sought but to
gayne what she had lost. Well, how so euer it was, and what
differency betweene eyther of theym, this Hystory ensuinge, more
aptly shall gieue to vnderstande. Not long sithens, there was in
Florence, a young Gentlewoman of worshipfull parentage, fayre
and comely of personage, of courage stout, and abounding in
goods of Fortune (called Helena,) who being a widow, determined
not to mary agayne, bicause she was in loue with a yong man that
was not voyde of Nature’s good gifts, whom for hir owne Tooth,
aboue other shee had specially chosen. In whom (setting aside
all other care) many tymes (by meanes of one of hir maydes which
she trusted best) she had great pleasure and delight. It
chaunced about the same time that a yong Gentleman of that Citty
called Rinieri, hauinge a great time studied at Paris, returned
to Florence, not to sell his Science by retayle, as many doe,
but to knowe the reasons of things, and the causes thereof,
which is a speciall good exercise for a Gentleman. And being
there honoured and greatly esteemed of all men, aswell for his
curteous behauiour, as also for his knowledge, he liued like a
good Cittizen. But it is commonly seene, they which haue best
vnderstandinge and knowledge, are soonest tangled in Loue: euen
so it hapned with this Rinieri, who repayringe one day for his
passetime to a Feaste, this Madame Helena clothed al in blacke,
(after the manner of Widowes) was there also, and seemed in his
eyes so beautifull and well fauored, as any woman euer he saw,
and thought that hee might bee accoumpted happy, to whom God did
shewe so mutch fauoure, as to suffer him to be cleped betweene
hir Armes: and beholdinge her diuers tymes and knowing that the
greatest and dearest things cannot be gotten with out labour, he
determined to use all his endeuour and care in pleasing of hir,
that thereby he might obtayne hir loue, and so enioy hir. The
yong Gentlewoman not very bashfull, conceyuing greater opinion
of hir selfe, than was needefull, not castinge hir Eyes towards
the Ground, but rolling them artificially on euery side, and by
and by perceyuing mutch gazing to be vpon hir, espied Rinieri
earnestly beholding hir, and sayd, smiling to hir selfe:
“I thinke that I haue not this day lost my time in comming
hither, for if I bee not deceyued, I shall catch a Pigeon by the
Nose.” And beginning certayne times stedfastly to looke vpon
him, she forced hir selfe so mutch as she could, to seeme very
ernestly to beholde him. And on the other part thinking, that
the more pleasaunt and amorous she shewed hirselfe to be,
the more hir beauty should be esteemed, chiefly of him whom
specially shee was disposed to loue. The wise Scholler giuing
ouer his Philosophy, bent all his endeuour here vnto, and
thinking to be hir seruaunt, learned where she dwelt, and began
to passe before hir house under pretence of some other occasion:
whereat the Gentlewoman reioysed for the causes beforesayde,
fayning an earnest desire to looke vpon him. Wherefore the
Scholler hauing found a certayne meane to be acquaynted wyth hir
Mayde discouered his loue: Praying her to deale so with hir
mistresse, as he might haue hir fauor. The maide promised him
very louingly incontinently reporting the same to hir mistresse,
who with the greatest Scoffes in the Worlde, gaue ear thereunto
and sayd: “Seest thou not from whence this Goodfellowe is come
to lose al his knowledge and doctrine that he hath brought vs
from Paris. Now let vs deuise therefore how he may bee handled
for going about to seeke that, which he is not like to obtaine.
Thou shalt say vnto him, when he speaketh to thee agayne, that I
loue him better than he loueth me, but it behooueth me to saue
mine honoure, and to keepe my good name and estimation amongs
other Women.” Whych thinge, if he be so wise (as hee seemeth)
hee ought to Esteeme and Regarde. “Ah, poore Wench, she knoweth
not wel, what it is to mingle Huswiuery with learning, or to
intermeddle distaues with bookes.{”} Now the mayde when she had
founde the Scholler, tolde him as hir mistresse had commaunded:
whereof the Scholler was so glad, as he with greater endeuor
proceded in his enterprise, and began to write Letters to the
Gentlewoman, which were not refused, although he could receyue
no aunsweres that pleased him, but sutch as were done openly.
And in this sorte the Gentlewoman long time fed him with
delayes. In the ende she discouered all this new loue vnto hir
frend, who was attached with sutch an Aking Disease in his
heade, as the same was Fraught with the Reume of Iealousie:
wherefore she to shewe hir selfe to be suspected without cause
(very carefull for the Scholler) sent hir mayde to tell him,
that she had no conuenient time to doe the thinge that should
please him, sithens he was first assured of hir loue, but hoped
the next Christmasse holly dayes to be at his commaundement:
wherefore if he would vouchsafe to come the night following the
first holly day, into the Court of hir house, she would wayte
there for his comminge. The Scholler the best contented man in
the Worlde fayled not at the time appoyncted, to go to the
Gentlewoman’s house: where being placed by the Mayde in a base
Court, and shut fast within the same, he attended for hir, who
Suppinge with hir friende that night, very pleasauntly recited
vnto him all that she had determined then to doe, saying: “Thou
mayst see now what loue I do beare vnto him, of whom thou hast
foolishly conceyued thys Iealousie. To which woordes hir Freende
gaue eare with great delectation, desiringe to see the effect of
that, whereof she gaue him to vnderstand by wordes.” Now as it
chaunced the day before the Snowe fell downe so thicke from
aboue, as it couered the Earth, by which meanes the Scholler
within a very little space after his arriuall, began to be very
colde: howbeit hopinge to receyue recompence, he suffred it
paciently. The Gentlewoman a little whyle after, sayd vnto hir
Freende: “I pray thee let vs goe into my chuamber, where at a
little Window we may looke out, and see what he doth that maketh
thee so Iealous, and herken what aunswere he will make to my
Mayde, whom of purpose I wyll send forth to speake vnto him.”
When she had so sayde, they went to the Window, where they
seeing the Scholler (they not seene of hym,) heard the Mayde
speake these wordes: “Rinieri, my Mystresse is the angriest
Woman in the World, for that as yet she cannot come vnto thee.
But the cause is, that one of hir Brethren is come to visite hir
this Euening, and hath made a long discourse of talke vnto hir,
and afterwardes bad himselfe to Supper, and as yet is not
departed, but I thinke hee will not tary longe, and then
immediately she will come. In the meane tyme she prayeth thee to
take a little payne.” The Scholler beleeuing this to be true,
sayde vnto hir: “Require your Mistresse to take no care for mee
till hir leasure may serue: But yet entreat hir to make so mutch
hast as she can.” The Mayde returned and went to Bed, and the
Dame of the house sayd then vnto hir frend: “Now sir, what say
you to this? Doe you thincke that if I loued him, as you
mystrust, that I would suffer him to tarry beneath in this
greate colde to coole himselfe?” And hauing sayd so, she went to
Bed with hir frende, who then was partly satisfied, and all the
night they continued in greate pleasure and solace, laughing,
and mocking the miserable Scholler that walked vp and downe the
Court to chafe himselfe, not knowing where to sit, or which way
to auoyde the colde, and curssed the long taryinge, of his
mistresse Brother, hoping at euery noyse he heard, that she had
come to open the dore to let him in, but his hope was in vayne.
Now she hauinge sported hir selfe almost till midnight, sayd
vnto hir frend: “How think you (sir) by our Scholler, whether
iudge you is greater, his Wysedome, or the loue that I beare
vnto him? The colde that I make him to suffer, will extinguish
the heate of suspition whych yee conceyued of my wordes the
other day.” “Yee say true,” (sayd hir frend,) “and I do assure
you, that like as you are my delight, my rest, my comfort, and
all my hope, euen so I am yours, and shalbe during life.” For
the confirmation of which renewed amity, they spared no delights
which the louing Goddesse doeth vse to serue and imploy vpon her
seruaunts and suters. And after they had talked a certayne time,
she sayd vnto him: “For God’s sake (sir) let vs rise a little,
to see if the glowing fire which this my new louer hath dayly
written vnto me, to burn in him, bee quenched or not.” And
rysing out of their Beds, they went to a little Window and
looking downe into the Courte, they saw the Scholler dauncing
vpon the Snow, whereunto his shiuering teeth were so good
Instruments, as he seemed the trimmest Dauncer that euer trode a
Cinquepace after sutch Musicke, being forced thereunto through
the great colde which he suffered. And then she sayde vnto him:
“What say you to this my frende, do you not see how cunninge I
am to make men daunce without Taber, or Pipe?” “Yes in deede,”
(sayd hir Louer) “yee be an excellent Musitian.” “Then” (quod
shee) “let vs go downe to the dore, and I will speake vnto him,
but in any Wise say you nothing, and we shal heare what reasons
and arguments he will frame to mooue me to compassion, and
perchaunce shall haue no little pastime to behold him.”
Whereupon they went downe softly to the dore, and there without
opening the same, shee with a softe voyce out at a little whole,
called the Scholler vnto hir. Which hee hearinge, began to
prayse God and thancke hym a thousande times, beleeuing veryly
that he should then be let in, and approching the dore, said:
“I am heere mine (owne sweete heart) open the dore for God’s
sake, for I am like to die for Cold.” Whom in mocking wise she
answered: “Can you make me beleue (M. Scholler) that you are so
tender, or that the colde is so great as you affirme, for a
little Snow newly falne downe? There be at Paris farre greater
Snowes than these be, but to tell you the troth, you cannot come
in yet, for my Brother (the deuell take him) came yesternight to
supper, and is not yet departed, but by and by hee wyll be gon,
and then you shall obtayne the effect of your desire, assuring
you, that with mutch a doe I haue stolne away from hym, to come
hither for your comfort, praying you not to thincke it longe.”
“Madame” sayd the Scholler, “I beseech you for God’s sake to
open the dore, that I may stand in couert from the Snow, which
within this houre hath fallen in great aboundaunce, and doth yet
continue: and there I will attend your pleasure.” “Alas sweet
Friend” (sayd she) “the dore maketh sutch a noyse when it is
opened, that it will easily be heard of my brother, but I will
pray him to depart, that I may quickely returne agayne to open
the same.” “Goe your way then” (sayd the Scholler) “and I pray
you cause a great fire to be made, that I may warme mee when I
come in, for I can scarce feele my selfe for colde.” “Why, it is
not possible” (quod the Woman) “if it be true that you wholly
burne in loue for me, as by your sundry Letters written, it
appeareth, but now I perceyue that you mocke me, and therefore
tary there still on God’s name.” Hir frende which heard all
this, and tooke pleasure in those wordes, went agayne to Bed
with hir, into whose eyes no slepe that night coulde enter for
the pleasure and sport they had with the poore Scholler. The
vnhappy wretched Scholler whose teeth chattered for colde,
faring like a Storke in colde nights, perceyuing himselfe to be
mocked, assayed to open the dore, or if he might goe out by some
other way: and seeing it impossible, stalking vp and downe like
a Lyon, curssed the nature of the time, the wickednesse of the
woman, the length of the Night, and the Folly and simplicity of
himselfe: and conceyuing great rage, and despight agaynst hir,
turned sodaynely the long and feruent loue that he bare hir,
into despight and cruell hatred, deuising many and diuers meanes
to bee reuenged, whych he then farre more desired, than hee did
in the beginninge to lye with his Widow. After that longe and
tedious night, day approched, and the dawning thereof began to
appeare: wherefore the mayde instructed by hir mistresse, went
downe into the court, and seemyng to haue pity uppon the
Scholler, sayd vnto hym: “The Diuell take hym that euer he came
hyther this nyghte, for hee hath bothe let vs of sleepe, and
hath made you to be frozen for colde, but take it paciently for
this tyme, some other Nyght must be appointed. For I know well
that neuer thyng coulde chaunce more displeasantly to my
Mistresse than this.” But the Scholler full of dysdayne, lyke a
wyse man which knew well that threats and menacyng words, were
weapons without hands to the threatned, retayned in hys Stomacke
that whych intemporate wyll would haue broken forth, and wyth so
quiet Woordes as hee coulde, not shewynge hymselfe to bee angry,
sayd: “In deede I haue suffred the worste Nyghte that euer I
dyd, but I knowe the same was not throughe your mistresse fault,
bicause shee hauing pitye vppon me, and as you say, that which
cannot be to Night, may be done another time, commend me then
vnto hir, and farewell.” And thus the poore Scholler stiffe for
colde, so well as hee coulde, retourned home to his house, where
for the extremitye of the tyme and lacke of sleepe beyng almost
deade, he threwe hymselfe vppon his bed, and when he awaked,
his Armes and Legges had no feeling. Wherefore he sent for
Physitions and tolde them of the colde he had taken, who
incontinently prouided for his health: and yet for al their best
and spedy remedies, they could scarce recouer his Iointes and
Sinewes, wherein they did what they could: and had it not bene
that he was yong, and the Sommer approching, it had ben to mutch
for him to haue endured. But after he was come to Healthe, and
grewe to be lusty, secrete Malyce still resting in his breaste,
hee thought vpon reuenge. And it chaunced in a lytle tyme after,
that Fortune prepared a new accident to the scholer to satisfy
his desire, bycause the young man which was beloued of the
Gentlewoman, not caring any longer for hir, fel in loue with an
other, and gaue ouer the solace and pleasure he was wont to doe
to mistresse Helena, for which despite she consumed herself in
wepings and lamentations. But hir maid hauing pity vpon hir
mistresse sorrowes, knowing no meanes to remoue the melancoly
which she conceiued for the losse of hir friend, and seing the
scholler daily passe by accordinge to his common Custome,
conceiued a foolishe beliefe that hir mistresse friend might be
brought to loue hir agayne, and wholly recouered, by some charme
or other sleight of Necromancy, to bee wrought and brought to
passe by the Scholler. Which deuise she tolde vnto hir
mistresse, and she vndiscretely (and without due consideration
that if the scholler had any knowledge in that science, he would
helpe himselfe) gaue credite to the words of hir mayde, and by
and by sayd vnto hir, that shee was able to bring it to passe,
if he would take it in hande, and therewithall promised
assuredly, that for recompense he should vse hir at his
pleasure. The mayde diligently tolde the Scholler hereof,
who very ioyfull for those newes, sayd vnto himselfe: “O God,
praysed be thy name, for now the time is come, that by thy helpe
I shall requite the iniuries done vnto me by this wicked Woman,
and be recompensed of the great loue that I bare vnto hir:” And
aunswered the mayd: “Go tell thy mistresse that for this matter
she neede to take no care, for if hir frend were in India, I can
presently force him to come hither, and aske hir forgiuenesse of
the fault he hath committed agaynst hir. And the maner, and way
how to vse hir selfe in this behalfe, I will gieue hir to
vnderstand when it shal please hir to appoinct me: and fayle not
to tell hir what I say, comforting hir in my behalfe.” The mayde
caried the aunswere, and it was concluded, that they should
talke more hereof at the Church of S. Lucie, whither being come,
and reasoning together alone, not remembring that she had
brought the Scholler almost to the poynct of death, she reueyled
vnto him all the whole matter, and the thing which he desired,
praying him instantly to helpe hir, to whome the scholler sayd:
“True it is lady, that amongs other things which I learned at
Paris, the arte of Necromancie, (whereof I haue very great
skill,) is one: But bycause it is mutch displeasaunt to God,
I haue made an othe neuer to vse it, eyther for my selfe, or for
any other: howbeit the loue which I beare you, is of sutch
force, as I cannot deny you any request, yea and if I should be
damned amongs all the deuils in hell, I am ready to performe
your pleasure. But I tell you before, that it is a harder matter
to be done, than paraduenture you belieue, and specially where a
Woman shall prouoke a Man to loue, or a Man the Woman, bycause
it can not be done by the propre Person, whome it doth touche,
and therefore it is meete, whatsoeuer is done, in any wyse not
to be affrayde, for that the coniuration must bee made in the
Nyght, and in a solytarie place wythout Companye: which thing I
know not how you shal bee disposed to doe.” To whom the Woman
more amorous than wise, aunswered: “Loue prycketh mee in sutch
wise, as there is nothyng but I dare attempt, to haue him
againe, that causelesse hath forsaken me. But tel me I beseech
you wherein it behoueth that I be so bold and hardy.” The
Scholer (subtil inough) said: “I muste of necessity make an
image of brasse, in the name of him that you desire to haue,
which being sent vnto you you must, when the Mone is at hir ful,
bath your self stark naked in a running riuer at the first houre
of sleepe VII. times with the same image: and afterwards beyng
stil naked, you must go vp into some tree or house vnhabited,
and turning your selfe towardes the North side thereof wyth the
image in your hand you shal say VII. times certain words, that I
wil giue you in writing, which when you haue done, two damsels
shal come vnto you, the fairest that euer you saw, and they
shall salute you, humbly demaundyng what your pleasure is to
commaund them: to whome you shal willingly declare in good order
what you desire: and take hede aboue al things, that you name
not one for an other: and when they begonne, you may descend
downe to the place where you left your Apparel, and array your
selfe agayne, and afterwardes retourne home vnto your house, and
assure your self, that before the mid of the nexte Nyghte
folowing, your Fryend shall come vnto you weepyng, and crying
Mercye and forgyuenesse at youre Handes. And know yee, that from
that tyme forth, he wil neuer forsake you for any other.” The
gentlewoman hearing those words, gaue great credyte thervnto:
and thought that already she helde hir fryend betweene hir
Armes, and very ioyfull sayd: “Doubt not sir, but I wyll
accomplysh al that you haue inioyned me: and I haue the meetest
place in the World to doe it: for vppon the valley of Arno, very
neare the Ryuer syde I haue a Manor house, secretly to woorke
any attempt that I list: and now it is the moneth of Iuly, in
which tyme bathing is most pleasaunt. And also I remembre that
not far from the Ryuer, there is a lyttle Toure vnhabited, into
which one can scarce get vp, but by a certain Ladder made of
chesnut tree, which is already there, whereuppon the shephierds
do sometime ascende to the turrasse of the same Toure, to looke
for their cattell when they be gone astray: and the place is
very solitarie out of the way. Into that Toure wyll I goe vp,
and trust to execute what you haue requyred me.” The Scholler
which knew very well both the village whereof she spake, and
also the Toure, right glad for that he was assured of his
purpose, sayde: “Madame, I was neuer there, ne yet do knowe the
village, nor the Toure, but if it bee as you saye, it is not
possible to finde anye better place in the Worlde: wherefore
when the tyme is come, I wyll send you the Image, and the
prayer. But I heartily beseech you, when you haue obtained your
desire, and do perceyue that I haue well serued your turne, to
haue me in remembraunce, and to keepe your promyse.” Which the
Gentlewoman assured hym to doe withoute fayle, and taking hir
leaue of him, she retired home to hir house. The Scholer ioyfull
for that his deuise should in deede come to passe, caused an
image to be made with certaine Characters, and wrote a tale of a
Tubbe in stede of the prayer. And when hee sawe tyme he sent
them to the Gentlewoman, aduertising hir that the Nyght
folowyng, she must doe the thing he had appoynted hir. Then to
procede in his enterprise, he and his man went secretly to one
of his fryends houses that dwelte harde by the towne. The Woman
on the other side, and hir Mayde repaired to hir place: where
when it was nyght, makyng as though she would go slepe, she sent
hir Mayde to Bed: afterwards about ten of the Clocke she
conueyed hirself very softly out of hir lodgyng, and repayred
neare to the Towne vpon the riuer of Arno, and lookyng aboute
hir, not seeing or perceiuing any man, she vnclothed hir selfe,
and hidde hir apparell vnder a bush of Thornes, and then bathed
hir selfe VII. tymes with the Image, and afterwardes starke
naked, holding the same in her hand, she went towardes the
Toure. The Scholler at the beginning of the Nyghte beying hydden
wyth hys seruaunt amongs the willowes and other trees neere the
Toure, saw all the aforesayde thinges, and hir also passing
naked by him, (the whitenesse of whose body surpassed as he
thought, the darknesse of the night, so farre as blacke
exceedeth white) who afterwardes behelde hir Stomack, and the
other partes of hir body, which seemed unto him to be very
delectable. And remembringe what would shortly come to passe, he
had some pitty vppon hir, on the other side, the temptation of
the Flesh sodaynely assayled hym, prouoking him to issue forth
of the secret corner, to Surprise hir, and to take his pleasure
vpon hir. But calling to hys rememberaunce what shee was, and
what great wrong hee had sustayned, his mallice began to kindle
agayne, and did remoue his pitty, and lust, continuing still
stedfast in his determination, suffring her to passe hir Iorney.
The Wydow being vppon the Toure, and turning hir face towards
the North, began to say the wordes which the Scholler had giuen
hir. Within a while after the Scholler entred in very softly,
and tooke away the ladder whereupon she got vp, and stoode still
to heare what she did say and doe. Who hauing VII. times recited
hir prayer, attended the comming of the two damsels: for whom
she wayted so long in vayne, and therewithall began to be
extreemely colde, and perceyued the dawning of the day appeare.
Wherefore taking great displeasure that it came not to passe as
the Scholler had tolde hir, she spake theese wordes to hir
selfe: “I doubt mutch least this Scholler will rewarde mee with
sutch another night, as wherein once I made him to wayte: but if
he haue done it for that respect, he is not well reuenged, for
the nights now want the third part of the length of those, then,
besides the colde that he indured, which was of greater
extremity.” And that the day might not discouer hir, she woulde
haue gone downe from the Toure, but she found the Ladder to be
taken away. Then as thou the Worlde had molten vnder hir Feete,
hir heart began to fayle, and Fayntinge, fell downe vppon the
tarrasse of the toure, and when hir force reuiued agayne, she
began pitifully to weepe and complayne. And knowing well that
the Scholler had done that deede for reuenge, she grew to be
angry wyth hir selfe, for that shee hadde Offended another, and
to mutch trusted hym whom she ought (by good reason) to haue
accoumpted hir enimy. And after she had remayned a great while
in this plight, then looking if there were any way for hir to
goe downe, and perceyuinge none, she renued hir weeping, whose
minde great care and sorrow did pierce saying thus to hir selfe:
“O vnhappy wretch, what will thy brethren say, thy Parents, thy
Neyghbors, and generally all they of Florence, when they shall
vnderstande that thou hast bene found heere naked? Thy honesty
which hitherto hath bene neuer stayned, shall now bee blotted
with the stayne of shame, yea, and if thou were able to finde
(for reamedy hereof) any matter of excuse (sutch as might be
founde) the wicked Scholler (who knoweth all thy doings) will
not suffer thee to ly: ah miserable wretch, that in one houre’s
space, thou hast lost both thy freende and thyne honour. What
shall become of thee? Who is able to couer thy shame?” When she
had thus complayned hirselfe, hir sorrowe was not so great as
shee was like to cast hirselfe headlong downe from the Toure:
but the Sunne being already risen, she approched neare one of
the corners of the Walle, espying if she coulde see any Boy
keeping of cattell, that she might send him for hir Mayde. And
it chaunced that the Scholler which lay and slept in couert,
awaked, one espying the other, the Scholler saluted hir thus:
“Good morow, Lady, be the Damsels yet come?” The Woman seeing,
and hearing him, began agayne bitterly to weepe, and prayed him
to come vp to the Toure, that she might speake with him. The
Scholler was thereunto very agreable, and she lying on hir belly
vpon the terrasse of the Touer, discouering nothing but hir head
ouer the side of the same, sayd vnto him weeping: “Rinieri,
truly, if euer I caused thee to endure an ill Night, thou art
now well reuenged on me; for although it be the moneth of Iuly,
I thought (because I was naked) that I should haue frosen to
death this night for cold, besides my great, and continuall
Teares for the offence which I haue done thee, and of my Folly
for beleeuing thee, that maruell it is mine eyes do remayne
within my head: And therefore I pray thee, not for the loue of
me, whom thou oughtest not to loue, but for thine owne sake
which art a gentleman, that the shame and payne which I haue
sustayned, may satisfy the offence and wrong I haue committed
agaynst thee: and cause mine apparell I beseech thee to be
brought vnto me, that I may goe downe from hence, and doe not
robbe mee of that, which afterwardes thou art not able to
restore, which is, myne honor: for if I haue deceyued thee of
one night, I can at all times when it shall please thee, render
vnto thee for that one, many. Let it suffice thee then with
this, and like an honest man content thy selfe by being a little
reuenged on me, by making me to know now what it is to hurt
another. Do not, I pray thee, practise thy power against a
woman: for the Egle hath no fame for conquering of the Doue.
Then for the loue of God, and for thine honor sake, haue pitty
and remorse vpon me.” The Scholler with a cruel heart remembring
the iniury that he hath receyued, and seeing hir so to weepe and
pray, conceyued at one instant both pleasure and griefe in his
minde: pleasure of the reuenge which he aboue all things
desired, and griefe mooued his manhoode to haue compassion vpon
the myserable woman. Notwithstanding, pitty not able to ouercome
the fury of his reuenge, he aunswered: “Mistresse Helena, if my
praiers (which in dede I could not moysten with teares, ne yet
sweeten them with sugred woordes, as you doe yours nowe) might
haue obtained that night wherein I thought I should haue died
for colde in the Court full of snowe, to haue bene conueyed by
you into some couert place, an easie matter it had beene for mee
at this instant to heare your suite. But if now more than in
times past your honor do waxe warme, and that it greeueth you to
stand starke naked, make your prayers to him, betweene whose
Armes you ware not offended to be naked that night, wherein you
hearde me trot vp and downe your Courte, my Teeth chattering for
cold and marching vpon the Snow: And at his handes seeke
releefe, and pray him to bring your Clothes, and fetch a Ladder
that you may come downe: Force your selfe to set your honor’s
care on him for whom both then, and now besides many other
times, you haue not feared to put the same in perill, Why doe
you not cal for him to come and help you? And to whom doth your
help better appertayne than vnto him? You are his owne, and what
things will he not prouyde in this distresse of yours? Or else
what person will hee seeke to succour, if not to helpe and
succour you? Call him (O foolish woman) and proue if the loue
which thou bearest him, and thy wit together with his, be able
to deliuer thee from my Folly, where (when both you were
togethers) you tooke your Pleasure. And now thou haste
Experience wheather my Folly or the Loue which thou diddest
beare vnto him, is greatest. And be not now so Lyberall, and
Curteous of that which I go not about to seeke: reserue thy good
Nights to thy beloued freende, if thou chaunce to escape from
hence aliue: for from my selfe I cleerely discharge you both.
And truly I haue had to mutch of one: and sufficient it is for
mee to bee mocked once. Moreouer by thy crafty talke vttered by
subtill speache, and by thyne vntimely prayse, thou thinkest to
force the getting of my good will, and thou callest me
Gentleman, valiaunt man, thinkinge thereby to withdrawe my
valyaunte minde from punishing of thy wretched body: but thy
flatteries shall not yet bleare mine vnderstanding eyes, as once
wyth thy vnfathyfull promises thou diddest beguile my
ouerweeninge wit. I now to well do know, and thereof thee well
assure, that all the time I was a Scholler in Paris, I neuer
learned so mutch as thou in one night diddest teach mee. But put
the Case that I were a valiaunt man, yet thou art none of them
vpon whom valiaunce ought to shewe his effects: and for the end
of sutch tormenting and passing cruell beasts, as thou art, only
death is fittest rewarde: for if a Woman made but halfe these
playnts, there is no man, but woulde asswage his reuenge. But
yet as I am no Eagle, and thou no Doue, but a most venomous
Serpent, I intend so well as I can to persecute thee mine
auncient enimy, wyth the greatest mallice I can deuise, which I
cannot so properly cal reuenge, as I may terme it Correction:
for that the reuenge of a matter ought to surmount the Offence,
and I will bestow no reuenge on thee: for if I were disposed to
apply my mynde therevnto, for respect of thy displeasure done to
me, thy Lyfe should not suffise, nor one hundred more like vnto
thine: which if I tooke away, I should but rid the Worlde of a
most vile, and wicked woman. And to say the truth, what other
art thou then a Deuill accept a little beauty in thy Face, which
within few yeares will vanishe and consume: for thou tookest no
care to kill, and destroy an honest man (as thou euen now
diddest terme me) whose Life, may in tyme to come bee more
profitable to the Worlde, than an hundred thousand sutch as
thyne, so long as the World indureth. I wil teach thee then by
the paine thou suffrest, what is it to mock sutch Men as bee of
skyll, and what maner of thyng it is to delude and Scorne poore
schollers, gyuing thee warning hereby, that thou never fall into
sutch folly, if thou escapest this. But if thou haue so great a
will to come downe as thou sayest thou hast, why doest thou not
throwe downe thy selfe headlonge, that by breaking of thy Necke
(if it please God) at one instante thou rid thy selfe of the
payne, wherein thou sayest thou art, and make mee the best
contented man of the Worlde. For this tyme I will say no more to
thee, but that I haue done inough to make thee clime so high.
Learne then now so wel how thou maist get down, as thou didst
know how to mock and deceyue me.” While the Scholler had
preached vnto hir these words, the wretched woman wepte
continually, and the time stil did passe away, the Sunne
increasing more and more: but when the Scholler held his peace,
she replyed: “O cruell man, if that curssed nyght was grieuous
vnto thee, and my fault appeared great, cannot my youth and
Beauty, my Teares and humble Prayers bee able to mitigate thy
wrath and to moue thee to pitty: do at least that thou mayst be
moued and thy cruell minde appeased for that onely act, let me
once again be trusted of thee, and sith I haue manifested al my
desire, pardon me for this tyme, sith thou hast sufficiently
made me feele the penance of my sinne. For, if I had not reposed
my trust in thee, thou hadst not now reuenged thy self on me,
which with desire most spytefull thou doest full well declare.
Gyue ouer then thine anger, and pardon me henceforth: for I am
determined if thou wilt forgeue mee, and cause me to come downe
out of this place, to forsake for ever that vnfaithfull Louer,
and to receive thee for my only friend and Lord. Moreouer where
thou greatly blamest my beauty, esteeming it to be short, and of
smal accompt, sutch as it is, and the like of other women I
know, not be regarded for other cause but for pastime and
plesure of youthly Men, and therefore not to be contemned: and
thou thy self truly art not very old; and albeit that cruelly I
am intreated of thee, yet can I not beleue that thou wouldest
haue me so miserably to die, as to cast my selfe down headlong,
like one desperate, before thine eyes, whome (except thou were a
lier as thou seemest to be now) in time past I did wel please
and like. Haue pitye then upon me, for God’s sake, for the Sunne
begins to grow exceding hot, and as the extreame and bitter cold
did hurt me the last Night euen so the heat beginneth to molest
me.” Whereunto the Scholler which kept hir there for the nonce,
and for his pleasure, answered: “Mistresse you did not now
commit your faith to me for any loue you bare, but to get that
again which you had lost, wherfore that deserueth no good turne,
but greater pain: and fondlye thou thinkest this to be the onely
meanes, whereby I am able to take desired reuenge. For I haue a
thousand other wayes and a thousand Trappes haue I layed to
tangle thy feete, in makynge thee beleue that I dyd loue thee:
in sutch wyse as thou shouldest haue gone no where at any tyme,
is thys had not chanced but thou shouldest haue fallen into one
of them: and surely thou couldest haue falne into none of them,
but would haue bred thee more anoyaunce and shame than this
(which I chose not for thyne ease, but for my greater pleasure.)
And besides if all these meanes had fayled me, the pen should
not, wherewyth I would haue displayed thee in sutch Colours, as
when the simple brute thereof hadde come to thyne eares, thou
wouldest haue desired a thousand times a Day, that thou hadst
neuer bene born. For the forces of the pen be farre more
vehement, than they can esteeme that haue not proued them by
experience. I swear vnto thee by God, that I doe reioyse, and so
wil to the ende, for this reuenge I take of thee, and so haue I
done from the beginning: but if I had with pen painted thy
maners to the Worlde, thou shouldest not haue ben so mutch
ashamed of other, as of thy selfe, that rather than thou
wouldest haue loked mee in the Face agayne, thou wouldest haue
plucked thyne Eyes oute of thy head: and therefore reproue no
more the Sea, for beeing increased wyth a lyttle Brooke. For thy
loue, or for that thou wilt be mine own, I care not, as I haue
already told thee, and loue him again if thou canst, so mutch as
thou wilt, to whome for the hatred that I haue borne,
I presently bear so mutch good wyll agayne, and for the pleasure
that he hath don thee now. You be amorous and couet the loue of
young men, bicause you see theyr Colour somewhat fresh, their
beard more black, their bodies well shaped to daunce and runne
at Tylt and Ryng, but al these qualities haue they had, that be
growne to elder yeares, and they by good experience know what
other are yet to learn. Moreouer you deeme them the better
horssemen, bicause they can iourney more myles a day than those
that be of farther yeares. Truely I confesse, that with great
paynes they please sutch Venerial Gentlewomen as you be, who doe
not perceyue (like sauage Beastes) what heapes of euill doe
lurke vnder the forme of fayre apparance. Younge men be not
content with one Louer, but so many as they behold, they do
desire, and of so many they think themselues worthy: wherefore
their loue cannot be stable. And that this is true, thou mayest
now be thine owne wytnesse. And yong men thynkyng themselues
worthy to be honoured and cherished of theyr Ladies, haue none
other glory but to vaunt themselues of those whome they have
enioyed: whych fault maketh many to yeld themselues to those
that be discrete and wise, and to sutch as be no blabbes or
Teltales. And where thou sayest that thy loue is knowne to none,
but to thy mayde and me, thou art deceiued, if thou beleue the
same, for al the inhabitants of the streete wherein thy Louer
dwelleth, and the streete also wherein thy house doth stand,
talke of nothynge more than of your Loue. But many times in
sutch cases, the party whome sutch Brute doth touch, is the last
that knoweth it. Moreouer, young men do robbe thee, where they
of elder yeares do gyue thee. Thou then (which hast made sutch
choyse), remayne to him whome thou hast chosen, and me (whom
thou floutest) gyue leaue to apply to an other: for I haue found
a Woman to bee my fryend, which is of an other discretion than
thou art, and knoweth me better than thou dost. And that thou
mayst in an other world be more certaine of myne Eyes desire,
than thou hitherto art, throwe thy selfe downe so soone as thou
canst, that thy soule already (as I suppose) receiued betwene
the armes of the diuel hym selfe may se if mine eyes be troubled
or not, to view thee breake thy Necke. But bicause I think thou
wilt not do me that good turne, I say if the Sunne begin to
warme thee, remember the cold thou madest me suffer, which if
thou canst mingle with that heat, no doubt thou shalt feele the
same more temperate.” The comfortlesse Woman seeing that the
Scholler’s words tended but to cruell end, began to weepe and
said: “Now then sith nothing can moue thee to take pity for my
sake, at lest wise for the loue of hir, whom thou saiest to be
of better discretion than I, take some compassion: for hir sake
(I say) whom thou callest thy friend, pardon mee and bryng
hither my clothes that I may put them on, and cause me if it
please thee to come down from hence.” Then the Scholler began to
laugh, and seing that it was a good while past III. of the
clocke, he answered: “Well go to, for that woman’s sake I cannot
wel say nay, or refuse thy request, tel me where thy garments
be, and I wyll go seke them, and cause thee to come downe.” She
beleuing hym, was some what comforted, and told hym the place
where she had bestowed them. And the Scholler going out of the
Toure, commaunded his seruaunt to tarry there, and to take heede
that none went in vntil he came againe. Then he departed to one
of hys friends houses, where he wel refreshed himselfe, and
afterwards when he thought time, he layd him downe to slepe. Al
that space mistresse Helena whych was styll vpon the Toure, and
recomforted with a lyttle foolish hope, sorrowful beyonde
measure, began to sit downe, seeking some shadowed place to
bestow hir selfe, and with bitter thoughts and heauy cheare in
good deuotion, wayted for his comming, now musing, now wepyng,
then hopyng, and sodaynely dispayring the Scholler’s retourne
wyth hir Clothes: and chaunging from one thought to another,
like one that was weary of trauel, and had taken no rest al the
Nyght, she fel into a litle slumbre. But the Sun whych was
passing hote, being aboute noone, glaunced his burning beames
vpon hir tender body and bare head, with sutch force, as not
only it singed the flesh in sight, but also did chip and parch
the same with sutch rosting heat, as she which soundly slepte,
was constrayned to wake: and feling that raging warmth, desirous
somewhat to remoue hir self, she thought in turning that all hir
tosted flesh had opened and broken, like vnto a skyn of
parchement holden against the fire: besides with payne extreame,
hir head began to ake, with sutch vehemence, as it seemed to be
knocked in pieces: and no maruel, for the pament of the Toure
was so passing hotte, as neither vpon hir feete, or by other
remedy, shee could find place of rest. Wherefore without power
to abide in one place, she stil remoued to and fro wepying
bitterly. And moreouer, for that no Wynd did blow, the Toure was
haunted wyth sutch a swarme of Flies, and Gnats, as they
lighting vppon hir parched flesh, did so cruelly byte and stinge
hir, that euery of them seemed worsse than the prycke of a
Nedle, which made hir to bestirre hir hands, incessantly to
beate them off cursing still hir selfe, hir Lyfe, hir friend and
Scholler. And being thus and with sutch pain bitten and
afflicted with the vehement heat of the Sun, with the Flies and
gnats, hungry, and mutch more thyrsty, assailed with a thousand
grieuous thoughts, she arose vp, and began to loke about hir if
she could heare or see any person, purposing whatsoeuer came of
it to call for helpe. But hir ill fortune had taken way al this
hoped meanes of hir reliefe: for the Husbandmen and other
Laborers were al gone out of the fields to shrowd themselues
from the heate of the day, sparing their trauail abrode, to
thresh their corn and doe other things at home, by reason
whereof she neither saw nor hearde any thing, except
Butterflies, humble bees, crickets, and the riuer of Arno, which
making hir lust to drink of the water quenched hir thirst
nothing at al, but rather did augment the same. She sawe besides
in many places, woodes, shadows and houses, which lykewyse did
breede hir double grief, for desire she had vnto the same. But
what shal we speak any more of this vnhappy woman? The Sunne
aboue, and the hot Toure paiment below, wyth the bitings of the
flies and gnats, had on euery part so dressed hir tender corps,
that where before the whitenesse of hir body did passe the
darkenesse of the Night, the same was become red, al arayed and
spotted wyth gore bloud, that to the beholder and viewer of hir
state, she seemed the most yll sauored thyng of the Worlde: and
remayning in thys plyght without hope or councel, she loked
rather for death than other comfort. The Scholler after the
Clocke had rounded three in the afternoon, awaked, and
remembring his lady, went to the Toure to see what was become of
hir, and sent his man to dinner, that had eaten nothing all that
day. The Gentlewoman hearing the Scholler, repayred so feeble
and tormented as shee was, vnto the trap doore, and sitting
vppon the same, pityfully weeping began to say: “Rinieri, thou
art beyonde measure reuenged on me, for if I made thee freese
all night in mine open Court, thou haste tosted me to day vppon
this Toure, nay rather burnt with heate, consumed me: and
besides that, to dye and sterue for hunger, and thirst.
Wherefore I pray thee for God’s sake to come vp, and sith my
heart is faynt to kill my selfe, I pray thee heartely speedily
to do it. For aboue all things I desire to dy, so great and
bitter is the torment which I endure. And if thou wilt not shewe
me that fauor, yet cause a glasse of Water to be brought vnto
me, that I may moysten my mouth, sith my teares bee not able to
coole the same, so great is the drouth and heate I haue within.”
Wel knew the Scholler by hir voyce, hir weake estate, and sawe
besides the most part of hir body all tosted with the Sunne: by
the viewe whereof, and humble sute of hir, he conceiued a little
pitty. Notwythstanding he aunsweared hir in this wise: “Wicked
woman thou shalt not dye with my hands, but of thine owne, if
thou desire the same, and so mutch water shalt thou haue of me
for coolinge of thine heate, as dampned Diues had in hell at
Lazarus handes, when he lifted up his cry to Abraham, holdinge
that saued wighte within his blessed bosome, or as I had fire of
thee for easing of my colde. The greater is my griefe that the
vehemence of my colde must be cured with the heate of sutch a
stincking carion beast, and thy heate healed with the coldnesse
of most Soote and sauerous Water distilled from the orient Rose.
And where I was in daunger to loose my Limmes, and life, thou
wilt renew thy Beauty like the Serpent that casteth his Skin
once a yeare.” “Oh myserable wretch” (sayd the woman) “God gieue
him sutch Beauty gotten in this sorte, that wisheth me sutch
euill. But (thou more cruell than any other beast) what heart
haste thou, thus like a Tyraunte to deale with me? What more
grieuous payne coulde I endure of thee, or of any other, than I
do, if I had killed, and done to death thy parents or whole race
of thy stocke and kin with most cruel torments? Truely I know
not what greater tyranny coulde be vsed agaynst a Trayter that
had sacced or put a whole Citty to the sword, than that thou
haste done to me, to make my flesh to bee the foode and rost
meate of the Sunne, and the baite for licorous flies, not
vouchsafing to reach hither a simple glasse of Water whych would
haue bene graunted to the condempned Theefe, and Manqueller,
when they be haled forth to hanging, yea wine most commonly, if
they aske the same. Now for that I see thee still remayne in
obstinate mind, and that my passion can nothinge mooue thee,
I wyll prepare paciently to receiue my death, that GOD may haue
mercy on my soule, whom I humbly beseech with his righteous eyes
to beholde that cruell act of thyne.” And with those woords, she
approched with payne to the middle of the terrasse, despayring
to escape that burning heate, and not onely once, but a
thousande times, (besides hir other sorowes) she thought to
sowne for thirst, and bitterly wept without ceasing, complayning
hir mishap. But being almost night, the Scholler thought hee had
done inough, wherefore he tooke hir clothes, and wrapping the
same within his seruaunt’s cloke, he went home to the
Gentlewoman’s house where he founde before the gate, hir mayde
sitting al sad and heauy, of whom he asked where hir mistresse
was. “Syr,” (sayd she) “I cannot tell, I thought this morning to
finde hir a Bed, where I left hir yester night, but I cannot
finde hir there, nor in any other place, ne yet can tell
wheather to goe seeke hir, which maketh my hearte to throb some
misfortune chaunced vnto hir. But (sir quod she) cannot you tell
where she is?” The Scholler aunswered: “I would thou haddest
bene with hir in the place where I left hir, that I might haue
bene reuenged on thee so well, as I am of hir. But beleue
assuredly, that thou shalt not escape my handes vntill I pay
thee thy desert, to the intent hereafter in mocking other, thou
mayst haue cause to remember me.” When hee had sayde so, hee
willed his man to gieue the mayde hir Mistresse Clothes, and
then did bidde hir seeke hir out if shee would. The Seruaunte
did his Mayster’s commaundment, and the Mayde hauinge receyued
them, knewe them by and by, and markinge well the scholler’s
wordes, she doubted least hee had slayne hir Mistresse, and
mutch adoe she had to refrayne from crying out. And the Scholler
being gone, she tooke hir Mistresse Garments, and ran vnto the
Toure. That day by hap, one of the Gentlewoman’s labouring Men
had two of his hogges runne a stray, and as he went to seeke
them (a little while after the Scholler’s departure) he
approched neare the Toure looking round about if he might see
them. In the busie searche of whom hee heard the miserable
playnt that the vnhappy Woman made, wherefore so loude as he
coulde, be cried out: “Who weepeth there aboue?” The Woman knew
the voice of hir man, and calling him by his name, shee sayde
vnto him: “Goe home I pray thee to call my mayde and cause her
to come vp hither vnto me.” The fellow knowing his mistresse
voice sayd vnto hir: “What Dame, who hath borne you vp so hygh?
Your mayde hath sought you al this day, and who would haue
thought to finde you there?” He then taking the staues of the
Ladder, did set it vp against the Toure as it ought to be, and
bounde the steppes that were wanting, with fastenings of Wyllowe
twigges, and sutch like pliant stuffe as he could finde. And at
that instant the mayde came thither, who so soone as she was
entred the Toure, not able to forbeare hir voyce, beating hir
hands, shee began to crye: “Alas sweete Mistresse where be you?”
She hearing the voyce of hir Mayde aunswered so well as shee
could: “Ah (sweete Wench) I am heere aboue, cry no more, but
bring me hither my clothes.” When the mayde heard hir speake, by
and by for ioy, in haste she mounted vp the Ladder, which the
Labourer had made ready, and with his helpe gat vp to the
Terrasse of the Toure, and seeing hir Mystresse resembling not a
humayne body but rather a wodden Faggot halfe consumed with
fire, all weary and whithered, lying a long starke naked vppon
the Grounde, she began with hir Nayles to wreke the griefe vpon
hir Face, and wept ouer hir with sutch vehemency as if she had
beene deade. But hir Dame prayed hir for God’s sake to holde hir
peace, and to help hir to make hir ready: and vnderstanding by
hir, that no man knewe where she was become, except they which
caried home hir clothes, and the Labourer that was present
there, shee was somewhat recomforted, and prayed them for God’s
sake to say nothing of that chaunce to any person. The Laborer
after mutch talke, and request to his Mistresse, to be of good
cheere, when shee was rysen vp, caried hir downe vpon his Necke,
for that she was not able to goe so farre, as out of the Toure.
The poore Mayde which came behinde, in goinge downe the Ladder
without takinge heede, hir foote fayled, and fallinge downe to
the Grounde, shee brake hir Thigh, for griefe whereof she
roared, and cryed out lyke a Lyon. Wherefore the Labourer hauing
placed his Dame vpon a greene banke, went to see what hurt the
Mayde had taken, and perceyued that she had broken hir Thigh, he
caried hir likewise vnto that banke, and placed hir besides hir
mistresse, who seeing one mischiefe vppon another to chaunce,
and that she of whom she hoped for greater help, than of any
other, had broken hir Thigh, sorrowfull beyonde measure, renewed
hir cry so miserably, as not onely the Labourer was not able to
comforte hir, but he himself began to weepe for company. The
Sunne hauinge trauayled into hys Westerne course, and taking his
farewell by settling himselfe to rest, was at the poynct of
goinge downe. And the poore desolate woman vnwilling to be
benighted, went home to the Labourer’s house, where taking two
of his Brothers, and his Wyfe, returned to fetch the Mayde, and
caried hir home in a Chayre. Then cheering vp hys Dame with a
little fresh water, and many fayre Wordes, he caried hir vpon
his Necke into a Chaumber, afterwardes his Wyfe made hir warm
Drinks and Meates, and putting of hir clothes, layd hir in hir
Bed, and tooke order that the mistresse and maide that night
were caried to Florence, where the Mistresse ful of lies,
deuised a Tale all out of order of that which chaunced to hir,
and hir Mayde, making hir Brethren, hir Sisters, and other hir
neighbours beleeue, that by flush of lightning, and euill
Sprites, hir face and body were Blistered, and the Mayde stroken
vnder the Arse bone with a Thunderbolt. Then Physitians were
sent for, who not without greate griefe, and payne to the Woman
(which many tymes left hir Skin sticking to the Sheets) cured
hir cruell Feuer, and other hir diseases, and lykewise the mayde
of hir Thigh: which caused the Gentlewoman to forget hir Louer,
and from that time forth wisely did beware and take heede whom
she did mocke, and where she did bestow hir loue. And the
Scholler knowing that the Mayde had broken hir Thigh, thought
himselfe sufficiently reuenged, ioyfully passing by them both
many times in silence. Beholde the reward of a foolish wanton
widow for hir Mockes and Flouts, thinking that no greate care or
more prouident heede ought to be taken in iesting with a
Scholler, than with any other common person, nor well remembring
how they doe know (not all, I say, but the greatest parte) where
the Diuell holdeth his Tayle: and therefore take heede good
Wyues, and Wydowes, how you giue your selues to mockes and
daliaunce, specially of Schollers. But nowe turne we to another
Wyddow that was no amorous Dame but a sober Matrone, a motherly
Gentlewoman, that by pitty, and Money Redeemed, and Raunsomed a
King’s Sonne out of myserable Captiuity, that was vtterly
abandoned of all his Friendes. The manner and meanes how the
Nouell ensuing shall shewe.
THE THIRTY-SECOND NOUELL.
_A Gentlewoman and Wydow called Camiola of hir owne minde
Raunsomed Roland the Kyng’s Sonne of Sicilia, of purpose to
haue him to hir Husband, who when he was redeemed unkindly
denied hir, agaynst whom very Eloquently she Inueyed, and
although the Law proued him to be hir Husband, yet for his
vnkindnes, shee vtterly refused him._
Bvsa a Gentlewoman of Apulia, maynetayned ten Thousande Romayne
souldiers within the walles of Cannas, that were the remnaunte
of the army after the ouerthrow there: and yet hir State of
Rychesse was saulfe and nothynge dimynished, and left therby a
worthy Testimony of Lyberality as Valerius Maximus affirmeth. If
this worthy woman Busa for Liberality is commended by auncient
Authors: if she deserue a Monument amongs famous Wryters for
that splendent vertue which so brightly blasoneth the Heroicall
natures of Noble dames, then may I bee so bolde amonges these
Nouels to bring in (as it were by the hand) a Wyddow of Messina,
that was a Gentlewoman borne, adorned with passing beauty and
vertues. Amongs the rancke of which hir comely Qualities, the
vertue of Liberality glistered lyke the morninge Starre after
the Night hath cast of his darke and Cloudy Mantell. This
Gentlewoman remayning in Wyddowes state, and hearing tell that
one of the Sonnes of Federicke, and Brother to Peter that was
then King of the sayd Ilande called Rolande, was caried Prysoner
to Naples, and there kept in miserable Captiuity, and not like
to bee redeemed by his Brother for a displeasure conceyued, nor
by any other, pittying the state of the young Gentleman, and
mooued by hir gentle, and couragious disposition, and specially
with the vertue of liberality, raunsomed the sayd Rolande, and
craued no other interest or vsury for the same, but him to
husband, that ought upon his knees to haue made sute to be hir
slaue and seruaunte for respect of his miserable state of
Imprisonment. An affiaunce betweene them was concluded, and he
redeemed, and when hee was returned, hee falsed his former
fayth, and cared not for hir: for which vnkinde part, she before
his Frends inueyeth agaynst that ingratitude, and vtterly
forsaketh him, when (sore ashamed) he would very fayne haue
recouered hir good wil. But she like a wise gentlewoman well
waying his inconstant mynde before mariage, lusted not to taste
or put in proofe the fruicts and successe thereof. The intire
Discourse of whom you shall briefly and presently vnderstand.
Camiola a widow of the City of Siena, the Daughter of a gentle
Knight called Signor Lorenzo Toringo, was a Woman of great
renoume and fame for hir beauty liberality and shamefastnesse,
and led a life in Massina, (an auncient Citty of Sicile) no
lesse commendable than famous, in the company of hir parentes,
contenting hirself wyth one only Husbande, while she liued,
which was in the tyme when Federick the thirde was Kyng of that
Isle: And after their death she was an heyre of very great
wealth and ritchesse, which were alwayes by hir conserued and
kept in maruellous honest sort. Nowe it chaunced that after the
death of Federick, Peter succeedinge by his Commaundement,
a great Army by Sea was equipped from Messina, vnder the conduct
of Iohn Countee of Chiaramonte, (the most Renoumed in those
dayes in Feats of Warre,) for to ayde the people of Lippary,
which were so strongly and earnestly besieged, as they were
almost all dead and consumed for hunger. In this Army, ouer and
besides those that were in pay, many Barons and Gentlemen
willingly went vpon their own proper costes, and charges, as
well by Sea as Lande, onely for fame, and to be renoumed in
armes. This Castell of Lippari was assaulted by Godefrey of
Squilatio a valiaunt Man, and at that time Admiral to Robert
Kyng of Ierusalem and Sicile: Which Godefrey by long siege and
assault, had so famished the people within, as dayly he hoped
they would surrender. But hauing aduertisement (by certayne
Brigandens which he had sent abroade to scour the Seas) that the
Enimies Army (which was farre greater than his) was at hand,
after that he had assembled all his Nauy togeather in one sure
place, he expected the euent of Fortune. The Enimies so soone as
they were seased and possessed of the place, without any
resistaunce of the places abandoned by Godefrey, caried into the
Citty at their pleasure all their victualles. which they brought
wyth them, for which good happe and chaunce the sayde Countee
Iohn being very mutch encouraged and puffed vp wyth pryde,
offred Battell to Godefrey. Wherefore he not refusing the same,
being a man of great corage, in the Night time fortified his
Army with Boordes, Timber, and other Rampiers, and hauing put
his Nauy in good order, he encouraged his Men to fight, and to
doe valiauntly the next day, which done, hee caused the Ankers
to bee wayed, and gieuing the signe, tourned the prowees of hys
Shyppes agaynst the Sicilians Army, but Countee Iohn who thought
that Godefrey would not fight, and durst not once looke vpon the
great army of the Sicilians, did not put his Fleete in order to
fight, but rather in readinesse to pursue the enimies. But
seeing the Courage, and the approch of theym that came agaynste
him, began to feare, his heart almost fayling him, and repented
him that he had required his Enimy to that which he thought
neuer to haue obtayned. In sutch wise as mistrusting the
Battayle with troubled minde, changing the order giuen, and
notwithstanding not to seeme altogither fearefull, incontinently
caused his Ships to be put into order after the best maner he
could for so little tyme, himselfe gieuing the signe of battell.
In the meane while their enimies being approched neere vnto
them, and making a very great noyse with Cryes and Shoutes,
furiously entred the Sicilians, which came slowly forth, and
hauing first throwne their Hookes and Grapples to stay them,
they began the fight with Dartes, Crosse-bowes, and other Shot,
in sutch sort as the Sicilians being amazed for the sodayne
mutation of Councell, and all enuironned with feare, and the
Souldiers of Godefrey perceyuing the same, entred their enimies
Ships, and comming to blowes, even in a moment all was filled
with bloud, by reason whereof the Sicilians, then despayring of
themselues, and they that feared turning the prowes fled away:
But neuerthelesse the Victorye reclininge towardes Godefrey,
many of their Ships were drowned, many taken, and diuers
Pinnasses by force of their Oares escaped. In that fight died
fewe people, but many were hurt, and Ihon the Captayne Generall
taken Prysoner, and with him almost all the Barons, which of
their own accordes repayred to those Warres, and besides a great
number of Souldiers, many Ensignes as well of the field, as of
the Galleyes, and specially the mayne Standerd was taken. And in
the ende, the Castell being rendred after long Voyages, and
great Fortunes by Sea, they were al chayned, caried to Naples
and there imprisoned. Amongs those Prisoners, there was a
certayne Gentleman named Rowlande, the Naturall Sonne of King
Federick deceased, a yong prince very comely and valyaunt. Who
not being redeemed, taried alone in prison very sorrowfull to
see all others discharged after they had payd their Raunsome and
himselfe not to have wherewith to furnish the same. For king
Pietro (to whom the care of him appertayned by reason he was his
Brother), for that his warres had no better successe, and done
contrary to his commaundement, conceyued displeasure so wel
agaynst him, as all others which were at that battell. Nowe hee
then being prisoner without hope of any liberty, by meanes of
the dampishe prison, and his feete clogged with yrons, grewe to
bee sicke and feeble. It chaunced by fortune, that Camiola
remembred him, and seeing him forsaken of his brethren, had
compassyon vppon his missehappe in sutch wise, as she purposed
(if honestly she might doe the same) to set hym at liberty. For
the accomplishment whereof without preiudice of hir honour, she
sawe none other wayes but take him to husband. Wherefore shee
sent diuers vnto him secretely, to conferre if he would come
forth vpon that condition, whereunto he wilingly agreed. And
performing ech due ceremonie, vnder promised faith, vpon the
gift of a ring willingly by a deputy espoused Camiola, who with
so mutch diligence as she could, payed two thousand Crownes for
his ransome, and by that meanes he was deliuerd. When he was
retourned to Messina, he repayred not to his Wyfe, but fared as
though there had neuer bene any sutch talke beetwene theym:
whereof at the begynninge Camiola very mutch maruelled, and
afterwardes knowinge his vnkindenesse was greatly offended in
hir heart against him. Notwithstanding to the intent she might
not seeme to be grieued without reason, before she proceded any
further, caused him louingly to be talked withal, and to be
exhorted by folowing his promyse to consummate the mariage: and
seeing that he denied euer any sutch Contract to be made, she
caused him to be summoned before the Ecclesiastical Iudge, by
whome sentence was giuen that hee was hir husband euidence of
his owne letters, and by witnesse of certayne other personages
of good reputation, which afterwards he himself confessed,
his face blushyng for shame, for that he had forgotten sutch a
manifest benefit and good turne. When the kynde part of Camiola
done vnto him was throughly known, he was by hys Brethren
reproued and checked for hys villany, whereupon by their
instigation, and the persuasion of his frends, he was contented
by humble request to desire Camiola to perform the Nuptials. But
that gentlewoman which was of great corage in the presence of
diuers that were wyth him, when he required hir thereunto,
answered him in this maner: “Rowland I haue great cause to
render thankes to almyghty God, for that it pleased him to
declare vnto me the proofe of thine vnfaythfulnesse, before thou
didst by any meanes contaminate (vnder colour of mariage) the
purity of my body, and that through his fauour, by whose most
holy name thou wentest about to abuse me by false and periured
Oth, I haue foreseene thy Trumpery and deceypt, wherein I
beleeue that I have gayned more than I shoulde haue done by thee
in mariage. I suppose that when thou were in pryson, thou didst
meane no lesse, than now, by effect thou shewest, and diddest
thinke that I, forgetting of what house I was, presumptuously
desired a Husband of the Royal bloud, and therefore wholly
inflamed with thy love, did purpose to beguile mee by denying
the Trouth, when thou haddest recouered lyberty thorough my
Money, and thereby to reserue thy selfe for some other of more
famous Aliaunce, being restored to thy former degree. And
thereby thou hast gieuen proofe of thy will, and what minde thou
haddest so to do if thyne ability had bene correspondent. But
God, who from the lofty Skyes doth beholde the humble and low,
and who forsaketh none that hopeth in him, knowing the sincerity
of my Conscience, hath gieuen mee the grace by little trauayle,
to breake the bands of thy deceipts, to discouer thine
ingratitude, and make manifest thine infidelity, which I haue
not done only to display the wrong towardes me, but that thy
Brethren and other thy friends might from henceforth know what
thou art, what affiaunce they ought to repose in thy fayth,
and thereby what thy frends ought to looke for, and what thine
enimies ought to feare. I have lost my Money, thou thy good
name: I haue lost the hope which I had of thee, thou the fauour
of the Kinge, and of thy brethren: I the expectation of my
mariage, thou a true and constant Wife: I the fruits of charity,
thou the gayne of amity: I an vnfaythful husband, thou a most
pure and loyall Wyfe. Now the Gentlewomen of Sicilia doe
maruayle at my Magnificence, and Beauty, and by prayses aduaunce
the same vp into the heauens: and contrarywise euery of theym
doe mock thee, and deeme thee to be Infamous. The Renoumed
Wryters of ech Countrey will place me amongs the ranke of the
noblest Dames, where thou shalt be depressed, and throwne downe
amonges the Heapes of moste vnkynde. True it is, that I am
somewhat deceyued by deliuering out of Pryson, a yong man of
Royal, and noble race, in steede of whom I have redeemed a
Rascall, a Lier, a Falsifier of his faith, and a cruell Beast:
and take heede hardily how thou do greatly esteme thyselfe, and
I wish thee not to think that I was moued to draw thee out of
Pryson, and take thee to Husbande for the good qualities that
were in thee, but for the memory of auncient benefits which my
father receyued of thine (if Federick, a king of most sacred
remembraunce were thy father, for I can scarsly beleeue, that a
sonne so dishonest should proceede from so noble a Gentleman as
was that famous Prince.) I know well thou thinkest that it was
an vnworthy thing, that a Widow not being of the Royal bloud
should have to husband, the sonne of a Kinge, so strong and of
so goodly personage, which I willingly confesse: but I would
haue thee a little to make me aunswere (at the least wise if
thou canst by reason) when I payd so great a sum of money to
deliuer thee from bondage and captiuity, where was then the
nobility of thy Royall race? Where was thy force of Youth? And
where thy Beauty? If not that they were closed up in a terrible
Pryson, where thou wast detayned in bitter griefe, and sorrowe,
and there with those naturall qualities, couered also in obscure
darknesse, that compassed thee round about. The ill fauoured
noyse and iangling of thy chaines, the deformity of thy Face
forced for lack of light, and the stench of the infected Prison
that prouoked sicknesse, and the forsaking of thy Frends, had
quite debased al these perfections wherewith now thou seemest to
be so lusty. Thou thoughtest me then to be worthy, not onely of
a yong man of a royall bloud, but of a God, if it were possible
to haue him, and so soon as thou (contrary to all hope) didst
once visite thy natural Countrey, like a most pestilent person
without any difficulty, haste chaunged thy mynde, and neuer
since thou wast deliuered, once did call into thy remembraunce
how I was that Camiola, that I was shee (alone) that did
remembre thee: that I was shee (alone) that had compassion on
thy mishap, and that I was onely shee, who for thy health did
imploy all the goods I had. I am, I am (I say) that Camiola,
who by hir Money raunsomed thee out of the hands of the Capitall
enimies of thine Auncesters, from Fetters, from Pryson: and
finally deliuered thee from Misery extreme, before thou were
altogether settled in dispayre. I reduced thee agayne to hope,
I haue reuoked thee into thy Countrey, I haue brought thee into
the Royal Pallace, and restored thee into thy former Estate, and
of a Prisoner weake, and ill fauoured, haue made the a younge
Prynce, strong, and of fayre aspect. But wherefore haue I
remembred these things, whereof thou oughtest to bee very
mindefull thy selfe, and which thou art not able to deny? Sith
that for so great benefits thou hast rendred me sutch thanks,
as being my husband in deede, thou haddest the Face to deny me
mariage, already contracted by the deposition of honest
Witnesses, and approued by Lettres, Signed with thine owne hand.
Wherefore diddest thou despise me that hath delyuered thee? Yea
and if thou couldest haue stayned the Name of hir with Infamy,
that was thine onely Refuge, and Defender, thou wouldest gladly
haue giuen cause to the common people, to thinke lesse than
Honesty of hir. Art thou ashamed (thou Man of little Iudgement)
to haue to Wyfe a Wyddowe, the Daughter of a Knight? O how farre
better had it ben for thee to haue bene ashamed to breake thy
promised fayth, to haue dispised the holy and dreadfull name of
God, and to haue declared by thy curssed vnkindnes, how full
fraught thou art with Vice. I doe confesse in deede that I am
not of the Royall bloud: notwithstanding from the Cradle, being
Trayned, and brought vp in the Company of kinges Wyues, and
Daughters, no great maruayle it is, if I haue indued and put on
a Royall heart and manners, that is able to get, and purchase
royall Nobility: but wherefore doe I multiply so many wordes?
No, no, I will be very facile, and easie in that wherein thou
haste ben to me so difficult and hard by resisting the same with
all thy power. Thou haste refused heretofore to be mine, and
hauing vanquished thee, to be sutch, franckly of myne owne
accorde, I doe graunt that thou art not. Abide (on God’s name)
with thy royall Nobility, neuerthelesse defiled with the spot of
Infidelity. Make mutch of thy youthly lustinesse, and of thy
transitory beauty, and I shal be contented with my Wyddow
apparell, and shall leaue the riches which God hath geuen me to
Heyres more honest than those that might haue come of thee.
Auaunt thou wycked yong man, and sith thou art coumpted to be
vnworthy of me, learne with thine own experience, by what
subtilty and guiles thou maiest betray other dames, suffiseth it
for me to be once deceyued. And I for my parte fully determine
neuer to tary longer with thee, but rather chastly to lyue
without husband, which lyfe I deeme farre more excellent than
with thy match continually to be coupled.” After shee had spoken
these words, shee departed from him, and from that time forth,
it was impossible eyther by prayers, or Admonitions to cause hir
chaunge hir holy intent. But Rowland al confused, repenting
himself to late of hys Ingratitude, blamed of ech man, his eyes
fixed vpon the grounde, auoyding not onely the presence of his
brethren, but of all sorts of people, dayly led from that time
forth, a most miserable life, and neuer durst by reason to
demaunde hir againe to Wife, whom he had by disloyalty refused.
The King and the other Barons, marueyling of the noble heart of
the Lady, singularly commended hir, and exalted hir prayses vp
into the Skyes, vncertayne neuerthelesse wherein shee was most
worthy of prayse, eyther for that (contrary to the couetous
nature of Women) she had raunsomed a yong man with so great a
Summe of Money, or else after she had deliuered him, and
sentence gieuen that he was hir Husbande, she so couragiously
refused him, as an vnkinde man, vnworthy of hir company. But
leaue we for a tyme, to talke of Wydowes, and let vs see what
the Captayne, and Lieutenaunt of Nocera can alledge vpon the
discourse of his cruelties, which although an ouer cruell
Hystory, yet depaynteth the successe of those that apply their
myndes to the Sportes of Loue, sutch Loue I meane, as is
wantonly placed, and directed to no good purpose, but for
glutting of the Bodye’s delight, which both corrupteth nature,
maketh feeble the body, lewdly spendeth the time, and specially
offendeth him who maketh proclamation, that Whooremongers and
adultrers shal neuer Inherite his Kyngdome.
THE THIRTY-THIRD NOUELL.
_Great cruelties chaunced to the Lords of Nocera, for adultry
by one of them committed with the Captayne’s wyfe of the forte
of that Citty, with an enterprise moued by the Captaine to the
Cittyzens of the same for Rebellion, and the good and dutyfull
aunswere of them: with other pityfull euents rysing of that
notable and outragious vyce of whoredom._
The furious rage of a Husband offended for the chastity violated
in his Wyfe, surpasseth all other, and ingendreth mallice
agaynst the doer whatsoeuer he be. For if a Gentleman, or one of
good nature, cannot abyde an other to doe him any kinde of
displeasure, and mutch lesse to hurt him in hys Body, how is he
able to endure to haue his honour touched, specially in that
part which is so neere vnto him as his owne Soule? Man, and Wyfe
being as it were one body and one will, wherein Men of good
Judgement cannot well like the Opinion of those which say that
the honour of a lusty and couragious person dependeth not vpon
the fault of a foolish woman: for if that wer true which they so
lightly vaunt, I would demaund why they be so animated and angry
against them which adorne their head with braunched Hornes, the
Ensignes of a Cuckolde: and truely nature hath so well prouided
in that behalfe, as the very sauage Beastes doe fight, and
suffer death for sutch honest Jealousie. Yet will I not prayse,
but rather accuse aboue al faulty men, those that be so fondly
Jealous, as eche thinge troubling their mindes, be afrayde of
the Flyes very shadowe that buzze about their Faces. For by
payning and molestinge theymselues with a thinge that so little
doth please and content them, vntill manifest, and euident
proofe appeare, they display the folly of their minde’s
imperfection, and the weakenesse of their Fantasy. But where the
fault is knowne, and the Vyce discouered, where the husbande
seeth himselfe to receyue Damage in the soundest part of his
moueable goods, reason it is that he therein be aduised by
timely deliberation and sage foresight, rather than with
headlong fury, and raging rashnesse to hazard the losse of his
honour, and the ruine of his life and goods. And lyke as the
fayth and fidelity of the vndefiled Bed hath in all times
worthely ben commended and rewarded: euen so he that polluteth
it by Infamy, beareth the penaunce of the same. Portia the
Daughter of Cato, and wife of Brutus shall be praysed for euer,
for the honest and inuiolable loue which she bare vnto hir
beloued husband, almost like to lose hir life when she heard
tell of his certayne death. The pudicity of Paulina the wife of
Seneca appeared also, when she assayed to dy by the same kinde
of death wherewith hir Husband violently was tormented by the
vniust commaundement of the most cruel and horrible Emperoure
Nero. But Whores and Harlottes, having honest Husbands, and well
allied in Kin, and Ligneage by abandoning their bodyes, doe
prodigally consume their good Renoume: yea but if they escape
the Magistrates, or auoyde the wrath of offended husbandes for
the wrong done vnto them, yet they leaue an immortall slaunder
of their wicked life, and youth thereby may take example aswell
to shun sutch shamelesse Women, as to followe those Dames that
be Chaste, and Vertuous. Now of this contempt whych the Wyfe
beareth to hir Husband, do rise very many times notorious
slaunders, and sutch as are accompanied with passinge cruelties:
wherein the Husbande ought to moderate his heate, and calme his
choler, and soberly to chastise the fault, for so mutch as
excessiue wrath, and anger, doe Eclipse in man the light of
reason, and sutch rages doe make them to be semblable vnto
Brute, and reasonlesse Beastes: meete it is to be angry for
thinges done contrary to Right, and Equity, but Temperaunce,
and Modesty is necessary in al occurrentes, bee they wyth vs, or
against vs. But if to resist anger in those matters, it be hard
and difficulte, yet the greater impossibility there is in the
operation, and effect of any good thinge, the greater is the
glory that vanquisheth the affection and mastereth the first
motion of the minde which is not so impossible to gouerne, and
subdue to reason, as many do esteeme. A wise man then cannot so
farre forget his duety, as to exceede the Boundes, and Limits of
reason, and to suffer his mynde to wander from the siege of
Temperaunce, which if he doe after hee hath well mingled Water
in his Wyne, hee may chaunce to finde cause of Repentaunce, and
by desire to repayre his Offense augment his fault, sinne being
so prompt and ready in man, as the crime which might bee couered
with certayne Iustice, and coloured by some lawe or righteous
cause, maketh him many tymes to fall into detestable Vice and
Synne, so contrary to mildnesse and modesty, as the very
Tyraunts themselues woulde abhorre sutch wickednesse. And to the
ende that I do not trouble you with Allegation of infinite
numbres of examples, seruing to this purpose, ne render occasion
of tediousnes for you to reuolue so many bookes, I am contented
for this present, to bring in place an Hystory so ouer cruell,
as the cause was not mutch vnreasonable, if duty in the one had
bene considered, and rage in the other bridled and foreseene,
who madly murthered and offended those that were nothing guilty
of the Facte, that touched him so neare. And although that these
be matters of loue, yet the Reader ought not to bee grieued nor
take in evill parte, that we bee still in that Argument. For we
doe not hereby goe about to erect a Schoolehouse of Loue, or to
teache Youth the wanton Toyes of the same. But rather bryng
forth these Examples to withdraw the plyant, and tender Age of
this our time, from the pursuite of like Follies, which may
(were they not in this sort warned) ingender lyke effects that
these our Hystoryes do recoumpt, and whereof you shall bee
Partakers by reading the discourse that followeth. Yee must than
vnderstand, that in the time that Braccio Montone, and Sforza
Attendulo florished in Italy, and were the chiefest of the
Italian men of warre, there were three Lords and brethren which
held vnder their authority and Puissaunce Foligno, Nocera, and
Treuio, parcell of the Dukedome of Spoleto, who gouerned so
louingly their Landes together, as without diuision, they
maynetayned themselues in great Estate, and lyued in Brotherly
concorde. The name of the Eldest of these three Lordes was
Nicholas, the second Cæsar, the yongest Conrade, gentle
Personages, wise and wel beloued so well of the Noble men their
Neyghbours, as also of the Cittyzens that were vnder their
Obeysaunce, who in the ende, shewed greater loyalty towards
them, than those that had sworne their fayth, and had giuen
Pleadges for confirmation, as yee shal perceyue by reading what
insueth. It chaunced that the eldest oftentimes repayring from
Foligno to Nocera, and lodging still in the Castell, behelde
with a little to mutch wanton Eye, the Wyfe of his Lieutenaunt
whych was placed there with a good number of dead payes, to
Guard the Fort, and keepe vnder the Cittizens, if by chaunce
(as it happeneth vpon the new erection of Estates) they attemped
some new enterprise agaynst their Soueraygne Lordes. Nowe this
Gentlewoman was very fayre, singularly delighting to be looked
vpon: which occasioned the Lord Nicholas, by perceyuing the
wantonesse and good wyll of the Mystresse of the Castell, not to
refuse so good occasion, determining to prosecute the inioying
of hir, that was the Bird after which he hunted, whose Beauty
and good grace had deepely wounded his Mind, wherin if he forgot
his duety, I leaue for al men of good iudgement to consider. For
me thinke that this young Lorde ought rather singularly to loue
and cherysh his liuetenaunt that faithfullye and trustily had
kept his Castell and Forte, than to prepare agaynst him so
Trayterous an Attempt, and Ambushe. And if so bee hys sayd
Lieutenaunt had bene accused of felony, misprison, or Treason
(yet to speake the trouth) hee might haue deliuered the charge
of his Castell vnto an other, rather then to suborne his Wyfe to
folly. And ought likewise to haue considered that the
Lieuetenaunt by puttinge his trust in him, had iust cause to
complayne for Rauishing hys Honoure from hym in the Person of
hys Wyfe, whom hee ought to haue loued wythout any affection to
Infrindge the Holy Lawe of Amitye, the breakinge whereof
dissolueth the duety of ech Seruaunt towardes his Soueraygne
Lord and mayster. To be short, this blinded Louer yelding no
resistaunce to loue, and the foolish conceipt which altereth the
iudgements of the wisest, suffred his fansie to roue so farre
vnto hys Appetites, as on a daye when the Lieuetenaunte was
walked abroade into the Castel to view the Souldiours and deade
payes (to pleasure him that sought the meanes of his
displeasure) hee spake to the Gentlewoman his Wyfe in this
manner: “Gentlewoman, you being wise and curteous as ech man
knoweth, needefull it is not to vse long or Rethoricall
Orations, for so mutch as you without further supply of talk do
clearely perceyue by my Looks, Sighes, and earnest Viewes,
the loue that I beare you, which without comparison nippeth my
Hearte so neare as none can feele the parching paynes, that the
same poore portion of me doth suffer. Wherefore hauing no great
leysure to let you further vnderstand my mynde, it may please
you to shewe me so mutch Fauour as I may be receyued for him,
who hauing the better right of your good grace, may therewithall
enioy that secret Acquayntance, which sutch a one as I am
deserueth: of whom yee shall haue better experience if you
please to accept him for your owne.” This mistresse Lieutenaunt
which compted hir selfe happy to be beloued of hir Lorde, and
who tooke great pleasure in that aduenture, albeit that shee
desyred to lette hym knowe the good will that she bare vnto him,
yet dissembled the matter a little, by aunswering him in this
wise: “Your disease Sir is sodayne, if in so little time you
haue felt sutch excesse of malady: but perchance it is your
heart that being ouer tender, hath lightly receyued the pricke,
which no doubt will so soone vanish, as it hath made so ready
entry. I am very glade (Sir) that your heart is so merily
disposed to daliaunce, and can finde some matter to contriue the
superfluitie of tyme, the same altering the diuersity of man’s
complexion, accordingly as the condition of the hourely Planet
guideth the nature of euery wight.” “It is altogither otherwise
(aunswered hee) for being come hither as a master and Lord, I am
become a seruaunt and slaue: and briefly to speake my minde, if
you haue not pitty vpon me, the disease which you call sodayne,
not only will take increase, but procure the death and finall
ruine of my heart.” “Ah sir,” (sayd the Gentlewoman) “your
griefe is not so deepely rooted, and death so present to
succeede as you affirme, ne yet so ready to gieue ouer the
place, as you protest, but I see what is the matter, you desire
to laugh mee to scorne, and your heart craueth something to
solace it selfe which cannot be idle, but must imploy the vacant
tyme vpon some pleasaunt Toyes.” “You haue touched the pricke
(aunswered the Louer) for it is you in deede wherevpon my hearte
doth ioy, and you are the cause of my Laughter and passetime,
for otherwise all my delights were displeasures, and you also by
denying me to be your seruaunt, shall abbreuiate, and shorten my
liuing dayes, who only reioyseth for choyse of sutch a
mystresse.” “And how (replied she) can I be assured of that you
say? The disloyalty, and infidelity of man being in these dayes
so faste vnited, so hastely following one another, as the Shadow
doth the Body, wheresoeuer it goeth.” “Onely experience”
(sayed he) “shall make you know what I am, and shall teach you
wheather my heart is any thing different from my wordes, and I
dare bee bolde to say, that if you vouchsafe to do mee the
pleasure to receyue mee for your owne, you may make your vaunt
to haue a Gentleman so faythfull for your frend, as I esteeme
you to be discrete, and as I desire to let you taste the effect
of mine affection, by sutch some honest order as may be
deuised.” “Sir” (sayd she) “it is well and aduisedly spoken of
you, but yet I thincke it straunge for sutch a Gentleman as you
be, to debase your honor to so poore a Gentlewoman, and to goe
about both to dishonor me, and to put my life in pearill.” “God
forbid” (aunswered the Lord Nicholas) “that I be cause of any
slaunder, and rather had I dye my selfe than minister one simple
occasion whereby your fame should be brought in question. Only I
doe pray you to have pitty vpon me, and by vsing your curtesie,
to satisfie that which my seruice and faythfull friendship doth
constrayne, and binde you for the comfort of him that loueth you
better than himselfe.” “We will talke more thereof hereafter”
(aunswered the lieuetenaunt’s Wyfe) “and than will I tell you
mine aduise, and what resolution shall follow the summe of your
demaunde.” “How now Gentlewoman” (sayd he) “haue you the heart
to leaue me voyde of hope, to make me languish for the
prorogation of a thing so doubtful as the delayes bee which loue
deferreth? I humbly pray you to tell me whereunto I shall trust:
to the intent that by punishing my heart for proofe of this
enterprise, I may chastise all mine Eyes by reuing from them the
meanes for euer more to see that which contenteth me best, and
wherein resteth my solace, leauing my minde full of desires, and
my heart without final stay, vppon the greatest Pleasure that
euer man coulde choose.” The Gentlewoman would not loose a Noble
man so good and perfect: whose presence already pleased hir
aboue all other thinges, and, who voluntarily had agreed to hys
request, by the onely signe of hir Gests, and Lookes, sayde vnto
him smilinge with a very good grace: “Doe not accuse my heart of
lightnesse, nor my minde of infidelity and treason, if to please
and obey you, I forget my duty, and abuse the promise made unto
my Husband, for I sweare vnto you (sir) by God, that I haue more
forced my thought, and of long time haue constrayned mine
appetites in dissembling the loue that I beare you, than I haue
receiued pleasure, by knowing my selfe to be beloued by one
agreeable to mine affection. For which cause you shall finde me
(being but a poore Gentlewoman) more ready to do your pleasure,
and to be at your commaundement, than any other that liueth be
shee of greater Port, and regarde than I am. And who to satisfie
your request, shal one day sacrifice that fidelity to the
iealous fury of hir husband.” “God defend” (sayd the young Lord)
“for we shal be so discrete in our doings, and so seldome
communicate, and talke togeather, as impossible for any man to
discry the same. But if mishap will haue it so, and that some
ill lucke doe discouer our dealinges, I haue shift of wayes to
coloure it, and power to stop the mouthes of them that dare
presume to clatter and haue to do with our priuate conference.”
“All that I know wel inough sir” (sayd she) “but it is great
simplicity in sutch thinges for a man to trust to his authority,
the forced inhibition whereof shall prouoke more babble, than
rumor is able to spreade for all his tattling talk of our secret
follies. Moreouer I would be very glad to do what pleaseth you,
so the same may be without slaunder. For I had rather dy, than
any should take vs in our priuities and familier pastimes: let
vs be contented with the pleasure that the ease of our ioy may
graunt, and not with sutch contentation as shal offend vs, by
blotting the clerenesse of our good name.” Concluding then the
time of their new acquayntaunce, which was the next day at
noone, when the Lieutenaunt did walke into the Citty, they
ceased their talke for feare of his enteruiew. Who (upon his
retourne) doing reuerence vnto his Lord, tolde him that hee
knewe where a wilde Boare did haunte, if it pleased him to see
the pastime. Whereunto the Lord Nicholas fayned louingly to
gieue eare (although agaynst his will) for so mutch as hee
thought the same Huntinge should be a delay for certayne dayes
to the enioying, (pretended and assured) of his beloued. But she
that was so mutch or more esprysed with the raging and
intollerable fire of loue, speedily found meanes to satisfie hir
louer’s sute, but not in sutch manner as was desired of eyther
partes, wherefore they were constrayned to defer the rest vntill
an other time. This pleasaunt beginning so allured the Lord of
Nocera, as vnder the pretence of huntinge, there was no weeke
that passed, but hee came to visite the Warrener of hys
Lieutenaunt. And this order continuing without any one little
suspition of their loue, they gouerned theymselues wisely in
pursute thereof. And the Lord Nicholas vsed the game and sporte
of Hunting, and an infinite number of other exercises, as the
running of the Ring, and Tennis, not so mutch thereby to finde
meanes to enioy his Lady, as to auoyde occasion of Iealosie in
hir Husband, being a very familiar vice in all Italians, the
Cloake whereof is very heauy to beare, and the disease
troublesome to sustayne. But what? Like as it is hard to beguile
an Vsurer in the accoumpt of his money, for his continuall watch
ouer the same, and slumbring sleepes vpon the Bookes of his
recknings and accoumpts, so difficult it is to deceyue the heart
of a iealous man, and specially when he is assured of the griefe
which his head conceyueth. Argus was neuer so cleere eyed for
all his hundred Eyes ouer Iupiter’s Lemman, as those Louers be,
whose opinions be ill affected ouer the chastity of their Wyues.
Moreouer what Foole, or Asse is hee, who seeing sutch vndiscrete
familiarity of two Louers, the priuy gestures and demeanors
without witnesse, theyr stolne walkes at vntymely houres, and
sometimes theyr embracements to, strayght and common before
seruants, that would not doubt of that whych most secretly did
passe? True it is that in England (where liberty is so honestly
obserued as being alone or secrete conuersation gyueth no cause
of suspition) the same mighte haue bene borne withall. But in
Italy, where the Parents themselues be for the most part
suspected, (if there had bene no facte in deede committed) that
familiarity of the Lord Nicholas, with hys Lieutenaunte’s Wyfe
was not suffrable, but exceded the Bounds of reason, for so
mutch as the Commoditie which they had chosen for possessing of
theyr loue, (albeit the same not suspitions) animated them
afterwards to frequent their familiarity and dysporte to
frankly, and wythout discretion: which was the cause that
fortune (who neuer leaueth the ioyes of men wythout giuing
thereunto some great alarme,) being enuious of the mutuall
delightes of those two louers, made the husband to doubt of that
which hee would haue dissembled, if honor could so easily be
loste wythoute reproch, as bloud is shed without peryll of Lyfe,
but the matter being so cleare, as the fault was euident,
specyally in the party which touched him so neare as hymselfe,
the Lieuetenaunt before he would enterpryse any thing, and
declare what he thought desired throughly to bee resolued of
that whych hee sawe as it were but in a Cloude, and by reason of
hys conceyued Opynion hee dealt so warely and wisely in those
affaires, and was so subtil an espiall, as one day when the
louers were at theyr game, and in their most straite and secrete
embracements, he viewed them coupled with other leash, than he
would haue wished, and colled with straighter bands then reason
or honesty did permit. He saw with out beeing seene, wherein he
felt a certaine ease and contentment, for being assured of that
he doubted, and purposed to ordeyne a sowre refection after
their delightsome banket, the simple louers ignoraunt by signe
or coniecture, that their enterpryses were dyscouered. And
truely it had ben more tollerable and lesse hurteful for the
Lieuetenaunte, if euen then hee had perpetrated his vengeaunce,
and punyshed them for theyr wyckednesse, than to vse the Cruelty
wherewith afterwardes he blotted his renoume, and soyled his
hands by Bedlem rage in the innocent bloud of those that were
not priuye to the folly, and lesse guilty of the wronge don vnto
him. Now the Captain of the Castel for al his dissimulation in
couering of his griefe, and his fellony and Treason intended
against his soueraigne Lord, which he desired not yet manifestly
to appeare, was not able any more from that time forth to speake
so louingly vnto him, nor with sutch respect and reuerence as he
did before, which caused his Wife thus to say vnto hir Louer:
“My Lord I doubt very mutch least my husband doth perceiue these
our common practizes, and secrete familiar dealings, and that he
hath some Hammer working in his heade, by reason of the
Countenaunce,{ }and vncheareful entertaynement which he sheweth
to your Lordship, wherefore myne aduyse is, that you retire for
a certaine tyme to Foligno. In the meane space I wil marke and
espye if that his alteration be conceiued for any matter against
vs, and wherefore his wonted lookes haue put on this new
alteration and chaunge. All which when I haue (by my espial and
secret practize sounded) I will spedily aduertise you, to the
end that you may provide for the sauegard of your faithfull and
louing seruaunt.” The young Lord, who loued the Gentlewoman wyth
al his heart, was attached with so great gryefe, and dryuen into
sutch rage by hearyng those wycked Newes, as euen presently he
woulde haue knowne of hys Lieuetenaunt, the cause of his
dyswonted cheare. But weighing the good aduyse whych his woman
had giuen him, paused vppon the same, and promysed hir to doe
what she thought best. By reason whereof, gyuynge warnyng to his
Seruantes for hys departure, he caused the Lyeuetenaunte to be
called before him, vnto whome hee sayd: “Captayne, I had
thoughte for certayne Dayes to sporte and passe my tyme, but
hearing tell that the Duke of Camarino commeth to Foligno, to
debate with vs of matters of importaunce, I am constrained to
departe, and do pray you in the meane time to haue good regard
vnto our affaires, and if any newes doe chaunce to aduertise the
same wyth all Expedytion.” “Sir” (sayd the Captayne) “I am
sorrye that now when our passetime of hunting myght yelde some
good recreation vnto your honour, that you doe thus forsake vs,
notwithstanding sith it is your good pleasure, we will cease the
chase of the wylde Bore till your retourne. In the meane time,
I will make ready the Coardes and Tramelles, that vppon your
comming, nothing want for the Furniture of our sport.” The Lord
Nicholas, seeing his Lieuetenaunt so pleasauntly disposed, and
so litle bent to Choller, or iealous fantasie, was persuaded,
that some other toy had rather occupyed his Minde, than any
suspition betweene his Wife and hym. But the subtyll Husband
searched other meanes to be reuenged, than by kylling him alone,
of whom he receyued that dishonour, and was more craftie to
enterpryse, and more hardie to execute, than the Louers were
wyse or well aduised to preuent and wythstande his sleightes and
pollicies. And albeit that the Wyfe (after the departure of hir
Fryend) assayed to drawe from him the cause of his altered
cheare yet coulde shee neuer learne, that hir husband had any
ill opinion of theyr Loue. For so many tymes as talke was moued
of the Lord Nicholas, hee exalted his prayse vp into the
Heauens, and commended hym aboue all his Brethren. All whych hee
dyd to beguyle the pollycies of hir, whome he saw to blush, and
many times chaunge Colour, when she heard him spoken of, to whom
she bare better affection than to hir Husband, vnto whom
(in very dede) she did owe the faith and integritie of hir body.
This was the very toile which he had laid to intrap those
amorous persons and purposed to rid the world of them by that
meanes, to remoue from before his eyes, the shame of a
Cuckolde’s title, and to reuenge the iniurie don to his
reputation. The mistresse of the Castel seeynge that hir husband
(as shee thought) by no meanes did vnderstande hir follies,
desired to continue the pleasure, which either of them desired,
and which made the third to die of phrenesie, wrote to the Lord
Nicholas, the letter that followeth.
“My Lord, the feare I had, that my husband should perceyue our
loue, caused me to intreat you certaine dayes past, to
discontinue for a time, the frequentation of your owne house,
whereby I am not little agrieued, that contrary to my wil, I am
defrauded of your presence, which is far more pleasaunt vnto me,
than my husband’s flatteries, who ceaseth not contynually to
talke of the honest behauiour, and commendable qualyties that be
in you, and is sorry for your departure, bicause he feareth that
you mislyke youre entertainement, whych should be (sayth he) so
gryeuous and noysome vnto him, as death it selfe. Wherefore,
I pray you sir, if it be possible, and that your affayres doe
suffer you, to come hither to the ende I may enioy your amayable
presence, and vse the Liberty that our good hap hath prepared,
through the litle iealousie of my husband your Lieuetenaunt:
who I suppose before it be long wil intreat you, so great is his
desire to make you passetime of hunting within your owne Land
and territory. Fayle not then to come I beseech you, and we wyll
so well consider the gouernment of our affaires, as the best
sighted shall not once discry the least suspicion thereof,
recommending my selfe most humbly (after the best maner I can)
to your good Lordship.”
This Letter was deliuered to a Lackey to beare to the Lord
Nicholas, and not so priuily done, but the Lieutenaunt
immediately espied the deceipt which the sooner was disciphred,
for so mutch as he dayely lay in wayte to find the meanes to
reuenge the wrong done vnto him, of purpose to beate the iron so
long as it was hotte, and to execute hys purpose before his Wife
tooke heede, and felte the endeuor of his Enterpryse. And
bicause that shee had assayed by diuers wayes to sound his
heart, and fele whether he had conceiued displeasure against the
Lord hir louer, the Day after wherein she had written to hir
friend, hee sent one of his Men in poste to the three Lordes,
to requyre them to come the nexte Day to see the pastime of the
fayrest and greatest wild Bore, that long tyme was bred in the
Forrests adioyning vnto Nocera, Albeit that the Countrey was
fayre for coursinge, and that dyuers tymes many fayre Bores haue
ben encountred there. But it was not for this, that he had
framed his errand, but to trap in one toyle and snare the thre
brethren, whom he determined to sacrifice to the aulter of his
vengeance, for the expiation of theyr elder brother’s trespasse,
and for soyling the Nuptial bed of his seruaunt. He was the
wylde Bore whome he meant to strike, hee was the pray of his
vnsaciable and cruell Appetite. If the fault had ben generall of
all three togethers, he had had some reason to make them passe
the bracke of one equall fortune, and to tangle them within one
net, both to preuent thereby (as he thought) his further hurt,
and to chastise their leude behauiour. For many tymes
(as lamentable experience teacheth) Noble men for the onely
respecte of their Nobility, make no Conscience to doe wrong to
the honor of them, whose reputation and honesty, they ought so
wel to regard as their owne. Herein offended the good Prynce of
the Iewes Dauid, when to vse his Bersabe without suspition, he
caused innocent Vrias to bee slayne, in lieu of recompence for
his good seruice, and diligent execution of his behests. The
children of the proud Romane king Tarquinius, did herein greatly
abuse them selues, when they violated that noble Gentlewoman
Lucrece, whom al histories do so mutch remembre, and whose
chastity, al famous writers do commend. Vppon sutch as they be,
vengeance ought to be don, and not to defile the hands in the
bloud of innocents, as the Parents and Kinsemen of deade Lucrece
did at Rome, and this Lieutenaunt at Nocera, vppon the brethren
of him that had sent him into Cornwal, without passing ouer the
Seas. But what? Anger proceding of sutch wronge, surmounteth al
phrenesie, and exceedeth al the bounds of reason, and man is so
deuoyd of Wyts, by seeing the blot of defamation, to lyght vpon
him, as he seeketh al meanes to hurt and displease him that
polluteth his renoume. Al the race of the Tarquines for like
fact were banyshed Rome, for the onely brute whereof, the
husband of the faire rauished wife, was constrayned to auoid the
Place of his natiuity. Paris alone violated the body of
Menelaus, the Lacedemonian kyng, but for reuenge of the rauyshed
Greeke, not onely the glory and Rychesse of stately Troy, but
also the most parte of Asia and Europa, was ouertourned and
defaced, if credyte may be gyuen to the recordes of the
Auncyent. So in this fact of the Lieutenaunt, the Lord Nicholas
alone, had polluted his bed, but the reuenge of the cruel man
extended further, and his fury raged so farre, as the guiltlesse
were in greate Daunger to beare the penaunce, which shall be
well perceiued by the discourse that foloweth. The Captaine then
hauing sent his message, and beyng sure of his intent (no lesse
than is he already had the brethren within his hold, vpon the
point to couple them together with his wife, to send them all in
pilgrimage to visite the faithfull forte, that blason their
loues in an other worlde, with Dydo, Phyllis, and sutch like,
that more for dispayre than loue, bee passed the straictes of
death) caused to be called before him in a secrete place, al the
souldiers of the Fort, and sutch as with whome he was sure to
preuayle, to whom not without sheading forth some teares, in
heauie Countenaunce, he spake in this maner: “My Companions and
Fryends, I doubt not but yee bee abashed to see me wrapt in so
heauy plyght, and appeare in this forme before you (that is to
say) bewept, heauy, panting with sighes, and all contrary to my
custome, in other state and maner, than my courage and degree
requyre. But when ye shall vnderstand the cause I am assured
that the case whych seemeth straunge to you, shall be thought
just and ryght and so will perfourme the thing wherein I shall
employe you. Ye knowe that the first point that a Gentleman
ought to regarde, consisteth not onely in repelling the iniury
done vnto the body, but rather it behoueth that the fight begin
for the defense of his honor, which is a thinge that proceedeth
from the Minde, and resorteth to the Body, as the Instrument to
worke that which the spyryte appointeth. Now it is honour, for
conseruation whereof, an honest man and one of good Courage
feareth not to put hymselfe in all perill and daunger of death
and losse of goodes, referring himselfe also to the guarde of
that whych toucheth as it were oure owne reputation. In sutch
wyse as if a good Captaine do suffer hys souldier to be a wycked
man, a Robber, a Murderer, and an exacter, he beareth the note
of dyshonor albeit in all his doings he gouerneth his estate
after the rule of honesty, and doth nothing that is vnworthy his
vocation. But what? he being a head vnited to sutch members, if
the partes of that vnited thing be corrupt and naught, the head
must needes bear the blot of the fault before referred to the
whole Body. Alas (sayd he sighing) what parte is more neare, and
dearer to Man, than that which is giuen vnto him for a Pledge
and Comfort duryng his Life, and which is conioyned to be bone
of his bone, and flesh of his flesh, to breath forth one Mynde,
and to think with one heart and equall wil. It is of the Wyfe
that I speake, who being the moytie of hir husband, ye ought not
to muse if I say, that the honoure of the one is the rest of the
other, and the one infamous and wycked, the other feeleth the
troubles of sutch mischiefe, and the Wife being carelesse of hir
honour, the husband’s reputation is defiled, and is not worthy
of prayse, if he suffer sutch shame vnreuenged: I must
(Companions and good friends) here dyscouer that whych my heart
would faine kepe secrete, if it were possible, and must rehearse
a thing vnto you, which so sone as my Mouth would faine kepe
close, the Minde assayeth to force the ouerture. And loth I am
to do it, were it not that I make so good accompt of you, as ye
being tied to me with an vnseparable Amity, will yeld me your
comfort and Ayde against him that hath done mee this Villany,
sutch as if I be not reuenged vpon, needes must I be the
Executioner of that vengeance vppon my selfe, that I am loth to
lyue in this dishonor, whych all the dayes of my life (without
due vltion) like a Worme wyll torment and gnaw my conscyence.
Wherefore before I goe any further, I woulde knowe whether I
myght so well trust your aide and succour in this my businesse,
as in all others I am assured you would not leaue mee so long as
any breath of life remained in you. For without sutch assurance,
I do not purpose to let you know the pricking naile that
pierceth my heart, nor the gryefe that grieueth me so neare,
as by vttering it without hope of help I shall open the Gate to
death, and dye without reliefe of my desire, by punishing him,
of whome I haue receyued an iniury more bloudy than any man can
doe.” The Souldiers whych loued the Captaine as theyr owne Lyfe,
were sorry to see him in sutch estate, and greater was theyr
dolour to heare wordes that tended to nothing else but to fury,
vengeaunce, and murder of hymselfe. Wherefore all wyth one
accorde promysed theyr helpe and mayne force towardes and
against all men for the bryngyng to passe of that whych hee dyd
meane to requyre. The Lieutenaunt assured of his Men conceyued
heart and Courage, and continuing his Oration and purpose,
determyned the slaughter and ouerthrowe of thre Trinicien
Brethren, (for that was the surname of the Lordes of Foligno,)
who pursued his Oration in this maner: “Know ye then
(my Companions and good Friends) that it is my Wife, by whome I
haue indured the hurt and losse of myne honour, and she is the
party touched, and I am he that am most offended. And to the
ende that I do not hold you longer in suspence, and the party be
concealed from you, whych hath don me thys Outrage: ye shall
vnderstand that Nicholas Trinicio, the elder of the three Lordes
of Folingno and Nocera, is he, that against all ryght and equity
hath suborned the Wife of his Lieuetenaunt, and soyled the Bed
of him, whereof he ought to haue ben the defender and the very
bulwarke of his reputation. It is of hym my good Fryends, and of
his that I meane to take sutch Vengeaunce, as eternall memory
shall display the same to all posterity: and neuer Lord shal
dare to doe a like wrong to mine, without remembraunce what his
duety is, which shall teach hym how to abuse the honest seruice
of a Gentleman that is one of his owne trayne. It resteth in you
both to holde vp your hand, and keepe your promise, to the end
that the Lord Nicholas, deceiuyng and mocking me, may not trust
and put affiance in your force, vnto whych I heartily do
recommend my selfe.” The Souldiers moued and incited with the
wickednesse of theyr Lord and with the wrong done to him, of
whom they receyued wages, swore agayne to serue his turne in any
exploit he went about, and requyred him to be assured, that the,
Trinicien Brethren should be ouerthrowne, and suffer deserued
penaunce, if they might lay hands vpon them, and therefore
willed him to seke meanes to allure them thither, that they
might be dispatched. The Lieuetenaunt at these words renuing a
chearefull Countenaunce, and shewing himself very ioyfull for
sutch successe after he had thanked his Souldyers, and very
louingly imbraced the chiefest of them, reuealed hys deuised
pollicy, and hoped shortly to haue them at his commaundement
within the Fort, alleaging that he had dispatched two Messengers
vnto them, and that his wife also priuily had sent hir page:
vnto whome he purposed to gyue so good a recompense, as neuer
more she should plant his hornes so hygh, vnder a colour of
gentle entertaynement of hir ribauld and Friend. They were
scarce resolued vpon this intent, but newes were brought him,
that the next day morning, the three lords accompanied with
other nobility would come to Nocera, to hunt that huge wylde
Bore, whereof the Lieutenaunt had made so greate auant. These
newes did not greatly please the Captaine, for so mutch as he
feared, that his purpose could not (conueniently) be brought to
passe, if the company were so great. But when he considered that
the Lords alone, should lodge within the Fort, he was of good
cheare again, and staied vpon his first intent. The Triniciens
the next day after came very late, bicause the Lord Berardo of
Verano duke of Camerino, desired to be one, and also the two
brethren taried for Conrade, who was at a mariage, and could not
assist the Tragedie that was played at Nocera, to his great hap
and profit. So this troupe came to Nocera late, and hauing
supped in the City, the Lord Nicholas, and the Duke of Camerino
went to Bed in the Fort, Cæsar the brother of Trinicio tarying
behind with the Trayne, to lodge in the city. Stay here a while
(ye Gentlemen) ye I say, that pursue the secrete stelths of
loue, neuer put any great trust in fortune, which seldome kepeth
hir promise with you. Ye had neede therfore to take goode heede,
least ye be surprysed in the place, wher priuily you giue the
assault, and in the acte wherein ye desire the assistance of
none. See the barbarous cruelty of a Lieutenant, which loued
rather to kill his corriual in his cold bloud, than otherwise to
be reuenged, when he saw him a bed with his Wife, purposely that
the example of his fury myght be the better knowne, and the
secret sclander more euident, from the roote whereof did spryng
an infinite number of Murders and mischiefs. About midnight
then, when all thinges were at rest vnder the darke silence of
the nyght, the Lieutenant came to the Chamber of the Lord
Nicholas, accompanied with the most part of the Watch, and
hauyng stopt vp the yeoman of hys Chaumber, hee so dressed the
Companion of hys Bedde, as for the first proofe of his
courtesie, he caused hys Membres and priuy partes to be cut of,
saying vnto him with cruell disdayne: “Thou shalt not henceforth
(wycked wretch) weld this launce into the rest, thereby to
batter the honour of an honester man than thy self.” Then
lanching his stomacke with a piercing blade, he tare the heart
out of his belly, saying: “Is this the trayterous Heart that
hath framed the plot and deuysed the enterprise of my shame,
to make this infamous villaine without Life, and his renoume
without prayse?” And not content with this Cruelty, he wreakt
the like vpon the remnaunt of his body, that sometimes the
runnagate Medea did vpon hir innocent brother, to saue the Lyfe
of hir selfe, and of hir friend Iason. For she cut him into an
hundred thousand pieces, gyuing to euery Membre of the poore
murdred soule hir word of mockery and contempt. Was it not
sufficient for a tirannous husband to be reuenged of hys shame,
and to kill the party which had defamed him, without vsing so
furious Anotamie vpon a dead body, and wherein there was no
longer feeling? But what? Ire beyng wythout measure, and anger
wythout Brydle or reason, it is not to be wondred, if in al his
actes the Captayne ouerpassed the iust measure of vengeance.
Many would thinke the committed murder vppon Nicholas, to be
good and iust: but the Iustice of an offense, ought not so longe
time to be conceyled, but rather to make him feele the smart at
the very tyme the deed is done, to the ende that the nypping
gryefe of pestilent treason wrought against the betrayed party,
be not obscured and hydden by sodayne rage and lacke of reason
rising in the mindes first motions, and thereby also the faulte
of the guilty, by hys indiscretion couered: otherwyse there is
nothyng that can colour sutch vice. For the law indifferently
doth punish euery man, that without the Magistrates order taketh
authority to venge his own wrong. But come we againe vnto our
purpose. The Captayne all imbrued in bloude, entred the Chaumber
of the Duke of Camerino, whom with al the rest of the strangers
that were wythin the Castle, hee lodged (without speakynge any
worde) in a deepe and obscure pryson. Beholde, what reste they
tooke that nyghte, whych were come to hunt the Wylde Boare. For
wythout trauaylyng farre, they were intrapped in the subtill
engines and Nettes of the furious Lieuetenaunte, who when the
morning bedecked with hir vermilion cleare began to shewe hir
selfe, when all the Hunters dyd put them selues in readynesse,
and coupled vp theyr Dogges to marche into the Fielde, beholde,
one of the Captayne’s cruell Ministers wente into the City,
to cause the Lord Cæsar to come and speake with hys brother
Nicholas, and intreated him not to tarry, for that he and the
Duke were dysposed to shewe hym some disport. Cæsar whych neuer
suspected the least of these chaunced murders, desired not to be
prayed agayne, but made haste to the Butcherie like a lamb, and
in the company of the Wolues themselues that were in readynesse
to kyll hym. He was no sooner in the Court of the Castle, but
seuen or eyght Varlets apprehended hym and hys Men, and carryed
hym into the Chaumber (bound lyke a thefe) wherin the Membres of
hys Myserable Brother were cut of and dispersed, whose corpse
was pitifully gored and arrayed in Bloud. If Cæsar were abashed
to see himselfe bound and taken prysoner he was more astonned
when he perceyued a body so dysmembred, and which as yet he
knewe not. “Alas,” (sayd he) “what sighte is this? Is thys the
bore whych thou hast caused vs to come hyther to hunt within our
very Fort?” The Captayne rising vp, al imbrued wyth bloud, whose
face and voyce promised nothing but Murder to the miserable
young Gentleman sayd: “See Cæsar, the Body of thine adulterous
brother Nicholas, that infamous whoremonger, and marke if this
be not his head: I woulde to God that Conrade were here also
that ye might all three be placed at this sumptuous Banket,
which I haue prepared for you. I sweare vnto thee then, that
this should be the last day of all the Trinicien race, and the
end of your Tirannies and wicked Life. But sith I cannot get the
effect of that whych my heart desireth, my minde shal take
repast in the triumph which Fortune hath ordeined. Curssed be
the mariage and Wedding at Trevio, that hath hyndred me of an
occasion so apte, and of the meanes to dispatch a matter of
sutch importance as is the ouerthrow of so many tirants.” Cæsar
at this sentence stode so stil, as whilom dyd the wyfe of Loth,
by seing the City on fire, and consume into ashes: by the sight
whereof she was conuerted into a stone of Salt. For when he sawe
that bloudy Pageant, and knew that it was his brother Nicholas,
pity and feare so stopt the pipes of his speach, as without
complayning himself or framing one word, he suffred his throte
to be cut by the barbarous captaine, who threw him halfe dead
vpon the corps of his brother, that the bloud of either of them
might cry vp to the heauens for so loud vengeance as that of
Abel dyd, being slain by the treason of his nearest brother.
Beholde the dreadful begynnings of a heart rapt in fury, and of
the mind of him that not resisting his fond affections, executed
the terrible practizes of his owne braine, and preferring his
fantasie aboue reason, deuised sutch ruine and decay, as by
these Examples the Posteritye shall haue good cause to wonder.
The lyke Cruelty vsed Tiphon towards his brother Osyris by
chopping his body in xxvi. gobbets, whereby ensued the decay of
him and his, by Orus whome some doe surname Appollo. And troweth
the Captayne to loke for lesse mercy of the Brother of the other
twayne that were murdered and of the Dukes kindred whome he kept
Prysoner? But he was so blynded with Fury, and it may be, led by
ambition and desyre to be made Lord of Nocera, that he was not
contented to venge his shame on hym whych had offended, but
assayed to murder and extinguysh all the Trinicien bloud: the
enheritaunce only remaining in them. And to come to the end of
his Enterprise, this Italyan Nero, not content wyth these so
many slaughters, but thereunto adioyned a new Treason assaying
to win the Citizens of Nocera to moue rebellion agaynst their
Lord, causing them to assemble before the Forte, vnto whome
vppon the Walles, he vsed this or like Oration: “I haue hitherto
(my Maisters) dissembled the lyttle pleasure that my heart hath
felt to see so many true and faithful Citizens, subiecte vnder
the wyll and unbrydeled lustes of two or three Tyraunts: who
hauing gotten Power and authority ouer vs, more through our owne
folly and cowardyse, than by valiance, vertue and iustice,
either in them or those which haue dispoyled this countrey of
their auncient liberty. I will not deny but pryncipalities of
longe entraunce and Foundation deryued by succession of
inherytaunce, haue had some spyce and kynde of Equity, and that
Lordes of good lyfe and conuersation ought to be obeyed,
defended and honored. But where inuasion and seasure is against
ryght, where the people is spoyled and Lawes violated, it is no
conscience to disobey and abolish sutch monsters of nature. The
Romanes in the prime age of their Common Wealth ful wel declared
the same, when they banished out of their City that proud race
of the Tirant Tarquine, and when they went about to exterminate
al the rootes of cruelty and tyrannical power. Our Neighbors the
Sicillians once dyd the like vnder the conduct of Dion, against
the disruled fury and wilful cruelty of Denis the tyrant of
Syracusa, and the Atheniens against the Chyldren of Pisistratus.
And ye that be sorted from the stocke of those Samnites, which
in times past so long heald vp their Heades against the Romane
force, will ye be so very cowardes and weake hearted for respect
of the title of your seigniorie as ye dare not with me to
attempt a valiant enterprise for reducing your selues into
libertye, and to expell that vermyne broode of Tyraunts which
swarme through out the whole regyon of Italy. Wyll yee bee so
mated and dumped, as the shadow alone of a fond and inconstant
young man, shall holde your Nose to the Grindstone, and drawe
you at his lust lyke an Oxe into the stall? I feare that if ye
saw your Wiues and Daughters haled to the passetyme and pleasure
of these Tirauntes, to glutte the whoredome of those styncking
Goate Bucks, more Lecherous and filthy than the senseles
sparrowes: I feare (I say) that ye durst not make one Sygne for
demonstratyon of your Wrath and dyspleasure. No, no (my maysters
of Nocera,) it is hyghe tyme to cutte of the Hydra hys heads,
and to strangle hym wythin hys Caue. The tyme is come (I say)
wherein it behoueth you to shewe your selues lyke Men, and no
longer to dissemble the case that toucheth you so neare.
Consyder whether it bee good to follow myne aduyse, to repossede
agayne the thyng whych is your owne, (that is) the Freedome
wherein your Auncesters gloryfied so mutch, and for which they
feared not to hazarde theyr Goodes and Lyues. It wyll come good
cheape, if you be ruled by me, it wyll redound to your treble
Fame, if lyke Men ye follow my aduyse, whych I hope to let you
shortely see wythout any great peryll or losse of your Citizens
Bloud. I haue felt the effect of the Trinicien Tirannye, and the
rigor of their vnrighteous gouernment, which hauing begonne in
me, they will not faile, if they be not chastised in time, to
extend on you also, whome they deeme to be their slaues. In lyke
manner I haue first begon to represse their boldnesse, and to
wythstande their leud behauior: yea and if you Mynde to
vnderstande ryght from wrong, an easy matter it will be to
perfourme the rest, the time beinge so commodious, and the
discouery of the thinge whereof I haue made you so priuy, so
conuenient. And know ye, that for the exploit of mine intent,
and to bryng you agayne altogether in Liberty, I haue taken the
two Lords Nicholas and Cæsar prysonners, attending till fortune
do bryng to me the third, to pay him with like money and equals
guerdon, that not onely you may bee free and setled in your
auncient priuiledge, but my heart also satisfied of the wrong
which I haue receiued by their iniustice. Beleue (Maisters) that
the thing whych I haue done: was not wythoute open iniury
receiued, as by keepyng it close I burst, and by telling the
same I am ashamed. I wil kepe it secrete, notwithstanding, and
shal pray you to take heede vnto your selues, that by vniuersal
consent, the mischiefe may be preuented. Deuise what answer you
wyll make me, to the intent that I by following your aduise, may
also be resolued vpon that I haue to do, without Preiudice but
to them to whome the case doth chyefly appertayne.” Duryng al
this discourse, the wycked Captayne kept close the Murder which
hee had committed, to drawe the Worme out of the Nocerines Nose,
and to see of what Mynde they were, that vppon the intellygence
thereof, he myght woorke and follow the tyme accordyngly. Hee
that had seene the Cytizens of Nocera after that sedytious
Oration, would haue thought that he had heard a murmure of Bees,
when issuing forth their Hyues, they light amidst a pleasaunt
Herber, adorned and beautyfied with diuers coloured floures. For
the people flocked and assembled togythers, and began to grudge
at the imprysonment of ther Lord, and the treason committed by
the Lieuetenaunte, thynking it very straunge that he which was a
houshold seruaunt durst be so bold to sease on those to whome he
dyd owe all honour and Reuerence. And do assure you that if he
had ben below, as he was vpon the rampire of the Walles, they
had torne him into so many pieces, as he had made Gobbets of the
Lord Nicholas body. But seing that they could not take him, they
went about to seeke the deliueraunce of them, whome they thought
to be yet aliue: and one of the chyef of the City in the Name of
them all shortly and bryefly, aunswered him thus: “If malice did
not well discouer it selfe in the sugred and Traiterous
composition of thy woordes (O Captayne) it were easy inough for
an inconstant People (bent to chaunge, and desirous of
innouations,) to heare and do that, which sutch a traitor and
flatterer as thou art dost propose: but we hauing til now
indured nothing of the Triniciens that sauoreth of Tiranny,
cruelty, or excesse, we were no lesse to be accused of felony,
than thou art guilty of Rebels cryme, by seasyng vpon the
Persons of thy Lords, if we shoulde yelde credyt to thy Serpents
hissing, or lend aide to thy traiterous practise, thou goest
about against them who innoblyng thee are trayterously berieued
of that which concerned their reputation and greatnesse. We be
an honest People and faithfull Subiects. We wyll not be both
Wicked and vnhappy at once, and without cause expell our heads
out of our common Wealth. No though they should perpetrate the
mischiefes whych thou hast alleadged. Vppon sutch Nouelties and
straunge facts we shall take newe aduise and Councell. To be
short, thou shalt pleasure vs to set our Lordes at Lyberty, and
thou like a wyse man shalt doe thy duety, and satisfy a People
which easily can not endure that a subiecte do wrong to those to
whome he oweth obedience. And feare not to receiue anye euill of
them, nor yet to feele anoyaunce, for wee wyll take vppon vs by
honest meanes to craue pardon for thy fault how haynous so euer
it be. But if thou continue thine offence, be sure that the Lord
Conrade shall be aduertised, and with all our power we shall
succour him by force, to let thee feele the Nature of Treason,
and what reward is incydent to the practizers of the same.” The
Captaine albeit he was abashed with that aunswere, and saw that
it would not be wel wyth him if he did not prouid spedy remedy
and order for his affayres, aswell for the comming of the Lord
Conrade, as of the brother of the Duke Camerino, told the
Citizens that within three or foure dayes he would giue them a
resolute aunswer, and so it might be, yelde vnto theyr wylles,
and delyuer them whom he had in holde. Thys gentle aunswere dyd
nothyng stay the Citizens for the accomplyshment of that which
they thought best to do, knowing also that the gallant had not
commenced that Tragedy, but for other toyes whych his vngracious
head had framed for a further intended Myschiefe, for which
cause they assembled their Councell, and concluded that one
should ryde in poste to the Lord Conrade, (the third and
remnaunt of the Brethren,) that hee myghte come to take order
for the delyueraunce of Nicholas and Cæsar whome they thought he
had reserued still alyue in Captiuity. The Nocerines shewed this
curtesie (not but that they woulde gladly haue bene at lyberty,
if the way had bene better troden,) aswell for the lyttle trust
they reposed in the Captayne, who they thoughte would be no more
gentle and faithfull, than he shewed himselfe to be loyall to
his Maisters, and for that Conrade was well beloued of the
Lordes his Neighbors, and specially of the imprysoned Duke and
his Brother Braccio Montone, who had the Italian men of Warre at
his pleasure, and that the Noble men woulde assiste him wyth all
their power. Wherefore they considered that theyr fairest and
best way, for auoiding of factions, was to kepe themselues
trusty and true, and by not hearkening to a Traitor, to bynd
their soueraigne Lord with sutch duety and obedience, as the
vnkindest man of the world would confesse and acknowledg for the
consequence of a matter of sutch importance. The seditious
captaine on the other side, void of hope, and in greater rage
than hee was before, persisted in hys folly, not without
foreseeyng howe hee myghte saue himselfe, which hee had
pollitikely brought to passe, if God had not shortened his waye,
by payment of Vsury for hys Wyckednesse, and by very dilygence
of them in whome hee reposed his truste, the manner and howe,
immedyately doeth follow. So soone as he had gyuen ouer the
Councell of the Citizens and a lyttle bethought him what he had
to do, he called before him two yong Men, whom aboue al others
he trusted best. To these yong men he deliuered all his Gold,
Syluer and Iewels, that they mighte conuey the same out of the
iurisdiction of his Lords, to the intente that when he saw
hymself in daunger, he myght retire to the place where those
gallants had before carryed his furniture, and mountinge them
vpon two good steedes, he let them forth at the Posterne gate,
praying them so soone as they could to retourne aduertysement of
their abode, and that spedily he would send after them hys
Chyldren and the rest of his moueables, tellyng them that he
specially committed his Lyfe and goodes into their hands, and
that in time and place he would acknowledg the Benefite don vnto
him in that distresse. The two that were thus put in trust for
sauegard of hys thyngs, promised vnto him Golden Hilles and
Miracles: but so soone as they had lost the sight of theyr
maister, they deuised another complotte and determined to breake
faith to him, which was forsworne, and who made no conscience
not onely to reuolt, but also cruelly to kill his soueraigne
Lordes. They thought it better to ryde to Treuio, to tell the
Lord Conrade the pitifull end of his brethren, and the
imprysonment of the Duke of Camerino, than to seeke rest for
him, whome God permitted not to be saued, for his heinous sinne
already committed, and for that which he mente to do vppon hys
Wyfe. For all the dyligence that the Nocerines had made, yet
were the Lieuetenaunte’s Men at Treuio before them, and hauyng
filled the Eares of Conrade with those heauy Newes, and hys Eyes
with Teares, his Mynde with sorrow, and Spyrite with desyre to
be reuenged, and as Conrade was about to mount on horse backe
wyth the Trayne hee had, the Citizens were arryued to disclose
the Imprysonment of his brethren. To whome Conrade made
aunswere: “I would to GOD (my friends) that the tirant had ben
contented with the litle cruelty wherof you speake, for then I
would find the meanes to agree the parties vpon the knowledge of
their variance. But (alas) his malice hath passed further, and
hath beastly slain my brethren: but I swear by the almighty God,
that if he giue me life, I wil take sutch, and so cruell
vengeaunce on him, as he shall be a Glasse to all his lyke, for
punishment of a fault so horrible. Depart my frends, depart and
get you home, dispose your watch and gard about the Castell,
that the traiter do not escape: and assure your selues that this
your loue shall neuer be forgotten, and you shall haue of me not
a Tirant as he maliciously hath protested, but rather sutch a
Lord, and better also, than hytherto ye haue me proued.” If
Conrade had not ben pressed with heauinesse, he had chaunted
goodly Songes against the Treason of the Lieuetenaunt, and would
haue accused his Brother of indiscretion, for trusting him,
whose wyfe hee had abused, and wel did know that he espyed the
same. But what? The businesse requyred other things than Words:
and extreame folly it is to nippe the Dead with taunts, or with
vayne words to abuse the absent, speciall where vltion and
reuenge is easy, and the meanes manifest to chastise the
temerity of sutch, and to be acquited of the wrong done vnto him
that cannot do it hymselfe. Conrade then toke his way to
Tuderto, where then remained the Lord Braccio, and thereof was
Lord and Gouernour, and had also vnder his gouernement Perugia,
and many other Cityes of the Romane Church, and who wyth the
dignity of the great Constable of Naples, was also Prynce of
Capua, to him the Trinicien Brother, all be sprent wyth Teares
and transported wyth choller and griefe, came to demaunde succor
for reuenge of the Lieuetenaunt’s trespasse, saying: “For what
assurance (my Lord) can Prynces and great Lordes hope
henceforth, when their very seruaunts shall ryse, and by
constraining their Maisters, make assay to vsurp their
seigniories wherein they haue no title or interest? Is this a
reuenge of wrong, in steede of one to kill twaine, and yet to
wishe for the third to dispatch the World of our race? Is this
to pursue his ennimy, to seeke to catch hym in trappe, whych
knoweth nothing of the quarell, and to make hym to suffer the
payne? My two Brethren be dead, our Cosin Germaine the Duke is
in pryson, I am heere comfortlesse, all sad and pensife before
you, whome lykewyse this matter toucheth, although not so near
as it doeth me, but yet with lyke dishonor. Let vs go (my Lorde)
let vs goe I beseech you to visite our good hoste that so rudely
intreateth his Ghests which come to visite him, and let vs beare
him a reward, that he may taste of our comming, let vs goe
before hee saue himselfe, that with little trauayle and lesse
harme to an other the ribauld may be punished, who by his
example if he longer liue, may increase courage both in
Seruaunts to disobey, and in Subiects to rebell, without
conscience, agaynst their heads, and gouerners? It is a case of
very great importaunce, and which ought to be followed with all
rigor and cruelty. And he ought neuer to bee supported,
comforted or fauored, which shall by any meanes attempt to
reuolt or arme himselfe agaynst his Prince, or shall constrayne
him or hir that is his Soueraygne Lord, or Mistresse. Is not a
Prynce constituted of GOD to be obeyed, loued, and cherished of
his Subiects? Is it not in him to make and ordaine lawes, sutch
as shalbe thought needefull and necessary for Common wealth?
Ought not he then to be obeyed of his subiectes and vassals?
Ought they then to teach the head, and commaund the chiefest
Member of their body? I do remember a tale (my Lord) recited by
Menenius Agrippa that wyse, and Notable Romayne, who going about
to reconcile the commons with the Senate, alleaged a fit and
conuenable example. In time past (quod he) when the partes of
Mankinde were at variaunce, and euery member would be a Lord
generally conspiring, grudging and alleaging how by their great
trauayle, paynes, and carefull ministery, they prouided all
furniture, and mayntenaunce for the belly, and that he like a
sluggish Beast stoode still, and enioyed sutch pleasures as were
geuen him, in this murmure and mutine, al they agreed that the
hands should not minister, the Mouth should not feede, the Teeth
should not make it seruiceable, the Feete should not trauayle,
nor Heade deuise to get the same: and whylest euery of them did
forsake their seruice and obedience, the belly grew so thin, and
the Members so weake and feeble, as the whole body was brought
to extreme decay, and ruine, whereby (sayd Agrippa) it appeareth
that the seruice due vnto the Belly (as the chiefe portion of
man) by the other Members is most necessary, the obeying and
nurssing of whom doth instil force and vigor into the other
parts through which we doe liue, and bee refreshed, and the same
disgested and dispearsed into the vaynes, and vitall powers
ingendreth mature and fine bloud, and mayntaineth the whole
state of the body, in comely forme and order. By which trim
comparison, applyed to ciuile warre was deflected and mollified
the stout corage and attempts of the multitude. Euen so agreing
with Agrippa, if the Members grudge, and disobey against their
chiefe, the state must grow to ruine. To be short, in certaine
haps a Trayter may be chearished, and that hath falsified his
first fayth: but treason and periury euermore be detested as
vices execrable. In this deede neyther the thing, nor yet the
doer hath any colour of excuse, the trespasse and cause for
which it is don being considered. Suffiseth it Sir, for so mutch
as there is neyther time nor cause of further discourse, what
neede we to decide the matter, whych of it selfe is euident?
Beholde mee heere a poore Trinician Brother without brethren,
ioylesse without a Fort at Nocera. On the other part confider
the Duke of Camerino in great distresse and daunger, to passe
that strait of death my Brethren did. Let vs goe (I pray you) to
deliuer the Captiue, and by reuenging these offenses and
murders, to settle my Citty in former State, and freedome, which
the villayne goeth about to take from me, by encouraginge my
Subiects to reuolt and enter armes, thereby to expel our house
from the Title of the same.” As Conrade spake these woords, and
wyth great grauity, and constancy pronouncing sundry tokens of
sorrow, the Conestable of Naples, wroth beyond measure for these
vnpleasant newes, and full of griefe and choller against the
trayterous Lieutenaunt, swore in the hearing of them all, that
he would neuer rest one good sleepe vntill that quarell were
auenged, and had quited the outrage done to the Lord Conrade,
and the wrong which he felt in him for the imprisonment of the
Duke of Camerino. So he concluded, and the Souldiours were
assembled thorough out all the parts of the Conestable’s Lands,
vpon the ende of the weeke to march against the Fort of Nocera,
the Cittizens whereof had layd diligent Scout, and watch for the
escape of the Captayne, who without bashfulnesse determined with
his men to defend the same and to proue fortune, making himselfe
beleeue that his quarell was good, and cause iust to withstand
them that shoulde haue the heart to come to assayle him. The
Constable in the mean time sent a Trumpet to Nocera to summon
the Captaine to surrender, and to tell the cause of his reuolt,
and at whose prouocation hee had committed so detestable a
Treason. The Captaine well assured and boldned in his
Wyckednesse, aunswered that he was not so well fortified to make
a surrender so good cheape, and for so small a pryce to forgo
his honor and reputation: and furthermore, that his wit was not
so slender, but hee durst deuise and attempt sutch a matter
without the councel of any other, and that all the deedes and
deuises passed till that time, were of his owne inuention. And
to be enen with the wrong done to his honor by the Lord Nicholas
Trinicio, for the violation of his Wiue’s Chastity, he had
committed the Murders (tolde to Braccio) beyng angry, that all
the Tirannous race was not in his hand to spyll, to the end he
mighte deliuer his Countrey, and put the Citizens in Liberty,
albeit that fondly they bad refused the same as vnworthy of
sutch a Benefite, and well deserued that the Tyrants should taxe
them at theyr pleasure, and make them also theyr common slaues
and Drudges. The Trumpet warned hym also to render to hym the
Duke, bicause he was guiltlesse of the facte, whych the Captayne
regarded so little as he did the first demaundes, whych was the
cause (the Company being arriued at Nocera, and the Constable
vnderstandyng the litle accompte the Castell Gentleman made of
his summons) that the battry the very day of theyr arriuall was
laid and shotte against the place with sutch thunder and
dreadfull thumpes of Canon shot, as the hardiest of the
Mortpayes within, began to faint. But the corage and litle feare
of theyr chyefe, retired theyr hearts into theyr bellyes. The
breach being made againe, the Constable who feared to lose the
Duke in the Captaine’s Fury, caused the Trumpet to summon them
wythin to fall to Composition, that Bloudshed might not stirre
theyr Souldioures to further cruelty. But so mutch gayned this
second warnyng as the first, for which cause the nexte day after
the assault was gyuen, where if the assaulte was valiant, the
resistaunce was no lesse than bolde and venturous. But what can
Thirtie or Fortie Men doe agaynste the Force of a whole
Countrey, and where the Generall was one of the most valiaunte,
and wisest Captaynes of hys tyme and who was accompanied with
the floure of the Neapolitane Fotemen. The assault continued
four or fiue Houres, but in the end the Dead payes not able to
sustayne the force of the assaylants, forsooke the Breache, and
assaying to saue themselues, the Lieuetenaunt retired to the
Kipe of the Fort, where his Wife continued prisoner, from the
time that the two brethren were slaine. Whiles they without,
ruffled in together in heapes amonges the defendauntes, the Duke
of Camerino, with his Men, found meanes to escape out of Pryson,
and therewithal began furiously to chastise the ministers of the
disloyal Captaine, which in little tyme were cut al to pieces.
Conrade being within found the Captayn’s Father, vppon whom he
was reuenged, and killed him with his owne hands. And not
content with that, caried into further rage, and fury, he
slashed him into gobbets, and threwe them to the dogs. Truly a
straunge maner of reuenge, if the Captain’s cruelty had not
attempted like inhumanity. To bee shorte, horrible it is to
repeate the murders done in that sturre, and hurly burly. For
they that were of the Captayne’s part, and taken, receyued all
the straungest and cruellest punishment that man could deuise.
And were it not that I haue a desire in nothing to beely the
Author, and lesse will to leaue that which he had wrytten vpon
the miserable end of those that were the ministers and seruaunts
to the barbarous tirrany of the Captayne, I would passe no
further, but conceale that which doth not deserue remembraunce,
except to auoide the example, which is not straunge, the Cruelty
of reuenging heart in the nature of Man, in al times growinge to
sutch audacity, as the torments which seeme incredyble, be
lyable to credite as wel for those we reade in auncient
Historyes, as those we heare tell of by heare say, and chauncyng
in our tyme. Hee that had the vpper hand of his Enimy, not
content to kyll, but to eate with his rauenous teeth the heart
disentraylde from his aduersary, was hee lesse furious than
Conrade, by makinge Anatomy of the Captayn’s Father? And he that
thrust Galleazze Fogase in to the mouth of a Canon, tying his
Head vnto his Knees and causing him to be caried by the violent
force of Gunpouder into the City from whence he came, to bribe
and corrupt certayne of hys enemies army, did he shew himselfe
to be more curteous than one of these? Leaue we a part those
that be past, to touch the miserable ende wherewith Conrade
caused the last tribute of the Captain’s souldyers to bee payd.
Now amongs these some were tied to the Tayles of wilde Horses,
and trayned ouer Hedges, and Bushes, and downe the stiepnes of
high Rocks, some were haled in pieces, and afterwards burnt with
great Martyrdome, some were deuyded and parted aliue in four
quarters, other sowed naked wythin an Oxe Hyde, and so buried in
Earth, vp to the Chin, by whych torments they finished their
Liues with fearful gronings. Will ye say that the Bull of
Perillus, or Diomedes Horsses, were afflictions more cruell than
these? I know not what ye cal cruelty, if these acts may beare
the title of modesty. But all thys, proceeded of wrath and
disdayne of eyther partes. The one dysdayned that the seruaunt
should be his head, and the other was offended, that his
soueraygne Lord should assay to take that from him, which his
duty commaunded him to keepe. Conrade toke in ill part the
treason of the Captayn, who beyond measure was angry, that the
Lord Nicholas had made him a brother of Vulcan’s order, and
regestred him in the booke of husbands, which know that they
dare not speake. In summe, the one had right, and the other was
not without some reason, and notwithstanding both surmounted the
boundes of man’s milde nature. The one ought to content hymselfe
(as I haue sayd) for being reuenged on him that had offended
him, and the other of the murder done, duringe the assault
without shewing so bloudy tokens of cruelty and so apparent
euidence of tiranny, vpon the ministers of the brutall and
bloudy Captayne, who seeing his father put to death with sutch
Martirdome, and his men so straungely tormented, was vanquished
with choller, dispayre and impacyence. And albeit the Captayne
had no greate desire to hurt his Wyfe, yet was he surmounted
with sutch rage, as apprehending hir, and binding hir hands and
feete, she styl crying him mercy, and crauing pardon for hir
faultes at the hands of God and him, he threw hir downe from the
highest Toure of the Kipe vpon the pauement of the Castle
courte, not without teares and abashment of al, which saw that
monstrous and dreadful sight, which the Souldiers viewing, they
fired the Toure, and with fire and smoke forced the Captaine to
come forth, and by lyke meanes made him, his Brother and
Chyldren to tread the daunce that his Wyfe before had don.
Conrade by and by caused those bodies to be throwne forth for
Foode to the Wolues, and other raueninge Beasts, and Byrdes
liuing vpon the pray of Carrion, causing also his Brethren
honourably to bee buryed, and the Gentlewoman that had home the
penaunce worthy for hir fault. Sutch was the end of the most
myserable, and worst gouerned loue, that I thinke man hath euer
red in wryting, and which doth clearely witnesse, that there is
no pleasure so great but Fortune by chaunging and turning hir
Wheele maketh a hundred times more bitter than desire of sutch
ioy doth yelde delyght. And farre better it were (besides the
offence done to God) neuer to cast Eye on Woman, than to bord or
proue them, to rayse sutch Sclaunders and Facts which cannot be
recounted but with the horrour of the Hearers, nor wrytten but
to the great griefe of those that muse and study vpon the same:
Notwithstanding for instruction of our life, both good and bad
Examples bee introduced and offred to the view of ech degree,
and state. To the end that Whoredome may bee auoyded, and bodily
Pleasure eschued, as most Mortal and pernicious Plagues that doe
infect as well the Body and Reputation of man, as the integrity
of the Minde. Besides that ech man ought to possesse his own
Vessel, and not to couet that is none of hys, vnseemely also it
is to solicite the Neyghbor’s Wyfe, to procure thereby the
disiunction and defaite of the whole bond of mariage, which is a
Treasure so deare and precious, and carieth so greate griefe to
him that seeth it defaced, as our Lord (to declare the grauity
of the Fact) maketh a comparison of his Wrath agaynste them
which run after straunge GODS, and applyeth the honour due vnto
him to others that doe not deserue the same, with the iust
disdayne, and ryghtfull Choller of a Iealous Husbande, Fraught
wyth despyght to see himselfe dispoyled of the Seasure, and
Possession onely giuen to him, and not subiect to any other,
whatsoeuer he be. Learne here also (O yee husbands) not to fly
with so nimble Wing, as by your owne authority yee seeke reueng
without fearing the follies and sclaunders that may insue. Your
sorrow is iust, but it behoueth that reason doe guide your
fantasies, and bridle your ouer sodayne passions, to the intent
that yee come not after to sing the doleful Song of repentaunce,
like vnto this foolish man, who hauing done more than he ought,
and not able to retire without his ouerthrow, threw himselfe
into the bottomlesse gulfe of perdition. And let vs all fixe
fast in memory, that neuer vnruled rage, and wilful choller
bringeth other benefit than the ruine of him that suffereth
himselfe to runne headlonge into the same, and who thinketh that
all that is naturall in vs, is also reasonable, as though Nature
were so perfect a worckwoman, as in man’s corruption she could
make vs Aungels, or halfe Gods. Nature following the instinct of
that which is naturall in vs, doth not greatly stray from
perfection, but that is giuen to few, and those whom God doth
loue and choose. And Vertue is so seldome founde, as it is
almost impossible to imitate that perfection. And briefly to
say, I will conclude with the Author of this present Hystory.
Angre is a fury short,
To him that can the same excell:
But it is no laughing sport
In whom that senselesse rage doth dwell.
That pang confoundeth ech man’s wits
And shameth him with open shame,
His honour fades in frantike fits,
And blemisheth his good name.
THE THIRTY-FOURTH NOUELL.
_The horrible and cruell murder of Soltan Solyman, late the
Emperor of the Turkes and father of Selym that now raigneth,
done vpon his eldest Sonne Mvstapha, by the procurement,
and meanes of Rosa his mother in lawe, and by the speciall
instigation of one of his noble men called Rvstanvs: where
also is remembred the wilful death of one of his Sons named
Giangir, for the griefe he conceiued to see Mvstapha so
miserably strangled._
Twenty two yeares past or thereabouts I translated this present
Hystory out of the Latine tongue. And for the rarenes of the
Fact, and the disnaturall part of that late Furiose Enemy of
God, and his Sonne Christ: I dedicated the same to the right
honorable, my speciall good Lord, with al vertues, and nobility,
fully accomplyshed, the Lord Cobbam Lorde Warden of the cinque
Portes, by the name of Sir VVilliam Cobham Knyght. And bycause I
would haue it continue in man’s remembraunce thereby to renue
the auncient detestation, which we haue, and our Progenitors had
against that horrible Termagant, and Persecutor of Christyans,
I haue insinuated the same amongs the rest of these Nouels. For
of one thing I dare make warrantise, that auncient Writers haue
not remembred, nor old Poets reported a more notorious or
horyble Tragedy or fact executed against nature, then that
vnnaturall murder done by the sayd enemy of Christianity,
the late Soltan Solyman, otherwyse called the great Turke.
I remember the description of Nero’s Parricide vppon his louynge
Mother, of purpose to behold the place of his byrth. I call to
memory also the wycked Murther of Orestes, on hys Mother
Clytemnestra. I also consider the vnfatherly part of Tantalus,
who wyth the flesh of his owne sonne Pelops, feasted the Gods.
All which are not farre dyfferent from this pestiferous Fury,
and may wyth the same, and the lyke bee comparable by any Man
heeretofore committed. This Hellysh Champyon hys owne Sonne, of
hys owne Seede, Naturally conceaued wythin hys mother’s Wombe,
vnnaturally in his owne presence moste Myserably did kill.
O pityfull case, But alas, voyde of pitty to a pyttylesse man.
O cruell fact, but not ouer cruell to him that liued a cruell
Man. What Beast be he neuer so woode, or Sauage, can suffer his
Yonglings to take harme, mutch lesse to doe them hurte himselfe?
What fierce Lyonesse can infeste hir owne Whelpe, which with
Naturall paines brought it into light? But what doe I stand vpon
Lamentation of the case and leaue the brutenesse of this Madman
far bruter then Lyons vnconsidered? The brutenesse of this fury
so farre ecceedeth Beasts, as Reasonable passeth Vnreasonable.
The fury of the Deuill, whom he serueth, so raged in his
tirannous life, as loe, he slue his owne Sonne. The care of God,
and Christe was so farre out of his Sighte as hee subuerted
Nature. The libidonous lustes os this Lecherous Infidell, so
surmounted the bounds of reason, as the fire thereof consumed
his owne flesh. This Enemy of Christe was so bewytched as the
dotage of his infidelity consented to murder. And as tiranny
like a Lord possessed his Brayne in huntinge after the bloud of
Christians, so Tiranny like an Enchaunter with the Sorcery of
Feminine adulation shed the bloud of his owne begotten. Thus as
tiranny was the Regent of his life most wicked, so Tiranny was
the Plague of his owne generation. For as the Wryter of this
Hystory reporteth, it was thoughte that the same was done by
Diuyne Prouydence. And lyke as this vnhappy Father was a deadly
Enemy vnto Chryst and hys Church, so this yonge Whelpe was no
lesse a sheder of Christian Bloud. No doubt a very froward Impe,
and a towarde Champion for the diuel’s Theatre: and as it is
sayd hereafter, so goodly a yong man in Stature and other
externe qualities of the body, as Nature could not frame a
better. So excellent, and couragious in Feates of armes as
Bellona hirselfe could not procreate a lustier. This History in
the Latin tongue is written by Nicholas Moffan a Burgonian
borne, a man so well in the warfare of good learning (as it
appeareth) as in the seruice of the warres well expert. Who
being a Souldiour in Hercules warres (the old Champyon of
Christendome, and Pagan Enimy, Charles the fifte) was sore
wounded and taken Prysoner in Bulgaria, in the yeare of our Lord
1552, and continued Captiue till September, 1555, almost three
yeares. Whose Misery, Trouble, Famine, Colde, and other Torments
by him sustayned, during the sayd time if it should bee
declared, perhaps woulde seeme incredible. But when the Turke
had kept him in miserable bandes two yeares, and saw he could
not obtayne the Raunsome, whych he immesurably requyred, at
length sent him to the Castell of Strigon, where for a certayne
time he remayned hampered with double chaynes vpon his Necke,
Handes, and Feete. And within sometime after hys comming thither
he was made to toile in the day, like a common slaue, to hew and
carry Woode, keepe Horse, sweepe Houses, and sutch other
busines. Which Drudgery, he was glad to doe aswell for exercyse
of his Members, which with colde yrons were benommed, as also to
get Breade to relieue his hunger. For when hee had done his
stinte, his Maister gaue him Bread, Onions, Garlicke, Cheese,
and sutch other fare: and at Night he was sent agayne to Pryson,
where he was matched with a Mate, that for Debte was condempned
to perpetual Pryson, of whom he learned many things, aswel of
their Lawes, Religion, warlike Affayres, and other maners of the
Turkes, as also of the order of this horrible Fact don by
Solyman. And by the report of his sayd Companion in pryson, he
digested the same into the forme of this history. And after this
man had payed hys Raunsome, and was set at lyberty, he arriued
into the partes of Chrystedome. The Verity of whych is sutch, as
it is not onely credyble bycause thys Man dyd wryte it, who was
three Yeares there resiaunt, and in manner aforesaid, heard the
truth thereof, but also is warranted, by sundry Marchant Men,
Trauellers into farre Countreyes, faythfully verifiing the same
to bee true. And before I drawe to the dyscourse of the Story,
I will set downe some of the manners of Solyman’s greatest
states and fauorites, and the pryncipal offices and honors of
that hellish Monarchy. As Mustapha, Machomet, Baiasith, Selim,
Gianger, Chrustam, and Hibrahim. This Hibrahim was so dearely
beloued with the Emperour Solyman as he exercysed the Office of
Vesiri, whych is nexte to the Emperour, the chyefest in degree
of honor. Who by increase of that Office, became more wealthy in
Treasure then Solyman himselfe, whych when he perceyued, without
any respect of the honorable office, or the honor of the party,
neglecting in respect of richesse (according to the natural
desire of Auarice, wherewith the greedy Appetites of the stocke
are endued) all religion, honour, Parents, countrey, friends or
amity, he caused in his own presence, his head to be striken of,
adding the treasures of the said Hibrahim to his owne Coafers,
and placed one Rustanus to succeede in his office. Besides which
honorable places ther be diuers degrees of honor, as Mutchty,
which is of that honor with them as the chief bishop or Pope in
other Countreies, and of sutch authority with the Emperour, that
aswel in time of Peace, as also in Warres, he determineth vppon
nothing without the counsel of Muchti. Bascha (which we commonly
call VVascha) is the Lieuetenaunt of a Prouince. But forsomutch
as all other offices and dignities, depend only vpon the
Emperor, and are bestowed as he listeth, none of them hauing any
thing proper that he may call his owne: the sayd Baschas in all
Prouinces, euery three yeare are chaunged after the disposition
of the Emperour, and continue no longer Gouernors, than the sayd
terme, without his special decree, and commaundement. And this
chaunge and seueral mutation, is done for two causes. First that
notwithstanding the sayd Offices are bestowed by turnes, yet
they which are most excellente in prowes of Armes, and
Valiaunce, are best in fauour, and are placed in the most
fertile Countreyes. But the maner in the disposition of the same
Office is now degenerated, for where in tyme paste the same were
bestowed vppon the best Captaynes and Souldyers, in these Days,
are through Fauoure and Money, throughly corrupted. So that now
amonges them all thynges for Money are venalia, ready to be
solde, and yet the same vnknowen to the Emperour him selfe. The
other cause, of the alteration and chaunge of the sayd Baschæ,
and the Chyefest cause, as I haue learned is, least through
theyr longe abode in the sayd Prouinces so to them assigned, by
some incydent occasion they myght entre familiarilie wyth the
Christians, and in successe of tyme be conuerted. The Turkes
haue also amonges them certayne Noble Men which in theyr
Language they call Spahy, and it is the first degree of honour,
but it hath no discent or succession to the Posterity, and they
only deserue the tytle thereof, whych in Warrelyke Affayres
behaue them selues moste Manfully, and who at length are
preferred to another degree of honour, and are called Subasche,
which worde so farre as I can vnderstande, may be referred to
the Title of Baron. Next to the same Subaschæ here is another
called Begg. But here is meete to be knowne howe that woorde is
taken amonges them two wayes, for generally all they which
excell other in any promotion are called Beggi. That is to say
Lordes or Maysters: but if it be meant singularly or properly,
then it signifieth not simply a Captaine (for they call a
Captaine Aga) but also an Earle. And if the sayd Begg chaunce to
be endued by the Emperour with the order of Knyghthoode, then
hee is called Sanggakbegg. And they likewise are accustomed to
bee transposed from County to county, as the Baschæ are, and the
same do not descend to the heires, but when the Earle is deade.
And then both the promotion and county, are by the Emperour
giuen to another. And hereby it appeareth that no man hath any
thynge proper or his own, and therfore they cal themselues,
Padiscahumcullari. That is to say, the Emperour’s bondmen. Here
also I ought to entreat of the manners of the Turkes in theyr
Warres, and the sundry offices therein. In what sorte they leuy,
and muster their Souldiers, the order of their marching, the
order in putting the same in array, and by what diligence they
vse their Skouts, and Wardes, all which had bene necessary to
haue bene spoken of, but that I might not be tedious. And yet of
one thing for a conclusion I entend to speake of, which is of
the Ianischari. The sayd Ianischari are the whole strength of
the Turkes battell, who neuer obtayne victory, but the same is
astributed to their valiaunce. They bee very expert, and
skilfull in the vse of small shot, and great Ordinaunce, and in
that kinde of defence and munition, they chiefly excell. And as
I haue red, the Turke hath continually in wages thirty
M. of the sayd Ianischari. They haue aboue other many
singuler Pryuiledges, in so mutch as the name of a Ianischarus
is in sutch reuerence amongs them, that notwithstanding any
offence, or crime, done by them worthy capitall death, they in
no wise shalbe punished, except before the committing of the
offence, they be depriued of their estate by their Captaynes.
Thys Priuiledge also they haue aboue others, that vnlesse they
lye in Campe, they bee neuer compelled to watch nor warde,
without great necessity do force them. And for this they be
hatefull and odious to other Souldiours. It is sayd, that all
they be Christian men’s children. And in those countreyes which
he vanquisheth, he chooseth out the Boyes of the same, sutch as
he thinketh meete, and carrieth them away, and bringeth them vp
in his owne trade, and lawes, with exercise of feates in armes,
and being growen to ripe yeares, and man’s state, they be
alloted amongs the number of Ianischari. And thus mutch touching
the maners, dignities, and offices of that Turkish broode: Now
to the Hystory. Bee it knowne therefore, that Solyman had of a
certayne bonde Woman this Mustapha, to whom from his Youth hee
gaue in charge the Countrey of Amasia. Who with his Mother
continually resiaunt in the sayd countrey, became so forwards in
Feates of armes, as it was supposed of all men, that hee was
gieuen vnto their countrey by some heauenly prouidence. This
Mustapha, with his Mother being placed in the said Countrey,
it chaunced that the Kynge his Father was beyonde measure wrapt
with the beauty of another of his Concubins called Rosa, of whom
hee begat foure sonnes, and one daughter. The eldest of the
Sonnes was called Machomet, to whom the Prouince of Caramania
was assigned. The second, Baiasith, who enioyed the countrey of
Magnesia. The third called Selymus, to whom after the death of
Machomet the eldest, the sayd Countrey of Caramania was
appoincted. The fourth Iangir, whose surname, by reason hee was
croke backed, notwithstanding his pregnant wit, was Gibbus. And
the daughter he bestowed in mariage vppon Rustanus Bascha, who
when Hibrahim was put to death, exercised the office of Vesiri
as is aforesayd (which office we vse to call the President of
the Counsayle) and according to his natural disposition to
couetousnesse, abusing the sayd office, altered and chaunged all
maner of thinges belonging to the same. He diminished the
Souldiours wages, being by them called Ianischari. He abated the
stipends of the Captayns, whom they nominate Saniachi. Hee also
seassed vpon the Prouinces yearely Taxes and Tributs. And
herewith being not satisfied, he ordayned a stint vpon the
charges of the kings houshold, wherby he sought, but to
accumulate vnto himselfe, infinite treasures, gotten by
deceiptfull extortion, through occasion whereof, he was supposed
to be faythfull, and diligent Seruaunte, and thereby greatly
insinuated himselfe into the king’s fauour, little regardinge
the hatred and displeasure of others. In the meane time, this
Rosa of whom mencion is made before, perceyuing hir selfe before
others to be beloued of the Kinge, vnder the Cloake of devotion
declared vnto Muchty (which is the chiefe Bishop of Machomet’s
religion) that she was affected with a Godly zeale to builde a
Temple, and Hospitall for straungers, to the chiefe God, and
honor of Machomet: but she was not minded to attempt the same
without his aduice. And therefore shee asked whether the same
would bee acceptable to God, and profitable for the health of
her soule. Whereunto Muchty aunswered: that the worke to God was
acceptable, although to hir soule it was nothing auaileable.
Adding further, that not onely all hir Substance was at the
Kinge’s disposition, but hir Life also, being a Bondwoman. And
therefore that worke woulde be more profitable to the Kinge.
With which aunswere the woman in hir mind dayly being troubled,
became very pensiffe, like one that was voyde of all comfort.
The King being aduertised of hir sorrow very gently began to
comfort hir, affirming that shortely he would finde sutch
meanes, as she should enioy the effect of hir desire. And
forthwith manumised hir and made hir free, a writing and
instrument made in that behalfe, according to their custome,
to the intent she might not be at commaundement any more to be
yoked in bondage. Hauinge in this sorte obtayned this fauoure,
the sayd Rosa, with a great Masse of Money determined to
proceede in hir entended purpose. In the meane season, the Kyng
wythout measure being incensed with the desire of the sayd Rosa,
as is aforesayd, sent for hir by a messenger, willing hir to
repayre to the Court. But the crafty Woman, vnskilful of no
pollicy, returned the Messenger with subtile aunswere, which
was, that he should admonish the King hir Lord and Soueraygne,
to call to his remembraunce aswell the lawe of honesty, as also
the precepts of his owne lawes, and to remembre she was no more
a Bondwoman and yet she could not deny but hir life remained at
the disposition of his maiesty, but touching Carnall copulation
to be had agayne with his person, that could in no wise be done,
without committing of sinne most heynous. And to the intent he
should not thinke the same to be fayned or deuised of hir selfe,
she referred it to the iudgement of Muchty. Which aunswere of
repulse, so excited the inflamed affections of the Kyng, as
setting all other businesse a part, he caused the Muchty to be
sent for. And giuing him liberty to aunswere, he demaunded
whether his Bondwomen being once manumised, could not be knowen
carnally without violation of the lawes? Whereunto Muchty
aunswered: that in no wise it was lawfull, vnlesse before he
should with hir contract matrimony. The difficulty of which Lawe
in sutch sorte augmented the Kyng’s desires, as being beyond
measure blinded with Concupiscence, at length agreed to the
marriage of the sayd manumysed woman, and after the Nuptial
writinges according to the custome were ratified, and that he
had giuen vnto hir for a Dowry 5000 Soltan Ducats, the marriage
was concluded, not without great admiration of all men,
especially for that it was done contrary to the vse of the
Ottomane Ligneage. For to eschew Society in gouernment, they
marry no free or lawfull Wyues, but in their steades to satisfy
theyr owne pleasures, and libidinous Appetites (wherein most
vily, and filthely aboue any other Nation they chiefly excell)
they chose out of diuers Regions of the World the most
Beautifull, and fayrest Wenches, whom after a Kyngly sorte very
honourably they bring vp in a place of their Courte, which they
call Sarai: and instruct them in honest, and ciuile maners, with
whom also they vse to accompany by turnes, as theyr pleasure
most lyketh. But if any of them do conceyue, and bring forth
childe, then she aboue all other is honoured, and had in
reuerence, and is called the Soltanes most worthy. And sutch
after they haue brought forth childe, are bestowed in marriage
vppon the Pieres and Nobility, called Baschæ, and Sangacæ.
But now to returne to our purpose. This manumised Woman being
aduaunced through Fortune’s benefit, was esteemed for the chiefe
Lady of Asia, not without great happinesse succeeding in al hir
affayres. And for the satisfiyng of hir ambicious entents, there
wanted but only a meane and occasion, that after the death of
Solyman, one of hir own children might obtayne the Empire. Where
vnto the generosity and good behauiour of Mustapha was a great
hinderaunce, who in deede was a yong man of great magnanimity,
and of Wit most excellent, whose Stomach was no lesse
couragious, than he was manly in person, and force. For which
qualities he was meruaylously beloued of the Souldiours and Men
of warre, and for his wisedome and iustice very acceptable to
the people. All which things this subtile woman considering,
she priuely vsed the counsayle of Rustanus for the better
accomplishing of hir purpose, knowing that he would rather seeke
th’aduauncement of his kinsman and the brother of his owne Wyfe
as reason was, then the preferment of Mustapha, with whom she
certaynely knew that Rustanus was in displeasure. For in the
beginning, as he sought meanes to extenuate the liuings of all
other (as is aforesayd) so also he went about (but in vayne) to
plucke somewhat from Mustapha. Whereby he thought that if he
should once obtayne the gouernment, he would skarce forget sutch
an iniury, and thereby not only in hazarde of his Office, and
dignity, but also in daunger of losse of his heade. All which
thinges, this wicked woman pondering in hir vngratious Stomacke
went about to insert into the King’s mynde, no small suspitions
of Mustapha, saying that he was ambitiouse and bolde vpon the
Fauour and good wil of all men (wherewith in deede he was
greatly endued) and reioysing in his force, let no other thing
to be expected, then oportunity of time to aspire to the
Kingdome, and to attempt the slaughter of his Father. And for
the better cloaking of the matter, she caused Rustanus at
conuenient tyme, more at large to amplifie and set forwards hir
mallice, who alwayes had in charge all principall and weyghty
affayres. In whom also was no lacke of matter to accelerate the
accusation and death of the yong man. Moreouer to sutch as were
appoyncted to the administration of the countrey of Syria, he
priuely declared, that Mustapha was greatly suspected of his
Father, commaunding euery of them dilligently to take heede to
his estate, and of all sutch things as they eyther saw or
perceyued in him, with all expedition to send aduertisement,
affirming that the more spightfully they wrote of him, the more
acceptable it should be to the Kinge. Wherefore diuers time
Rustanus being certified of the kingly Estimation, Magnanimity,
Wysedome, and Fortitude of Mustapha, and of his beneuolence and
liberality towards all men, wherewith he greatly conciled their
fauour, and how the ardent desires of the People, were inclined
to hys election: he therefore durst not take vppon him to be the
first that should sow the seede of that wicked conspiracy, but
deliuering his Letters to the vngratious Woman, left the rest to
the deuise of his vnhappy brayne: But Rosa espying oportunity of
time to succeede hir vnhappy desyre, ceased not to corrupt the
Kyng’s mynde, sometimes with promise of the vse of other Women,
and sometimes with sundry other adulations. So that if mention
was made of Mustapha at any time, she woulde take sutch occasion
to open the Letters, as might serue most apt for hir purpose.
And she was not deceyued of hir expectation. For taking a
conuenient time not without teares (which Women neuer want in
cloaked matter) she admonished the Kinge of the pearill wherein
he stoode, remembring amongs other thinges, how his Father
Selymus, by sutch meanes depryued his owne Father both from his
kingdome, and Life, instantly requiringe him by that example to
beware. But these Arguments of suspition, at the first brunt
seemed not probable to the Kyng, and therefore by this meanes
the deuilishe Woman could little preuayle, which when hir
enuious Stomacke perceyued, she began to direct hir mischieuous
mynde to other deuises, seeking meanes with poyson to destroy
the yonge man. And there wanted not also, gracelesse persons,
prompt and ready to accomplish that mischieuous fact, had not
diuine prouidence resisted the same. For Rosa sent vnto Mustapha
a sute of Apparell in the name of his Father, which by
marueylous craft was enuenimed with Poyson. But Mustapha in no
wyse would weare the sayd apparell before one of his slaues had
assayed the same, whereby he preuented the Mischiefe of his
vngratious Stepmother, opening to all men the deceipt of the
poyson. And yet this pestilent Woman ceased not to attempt other
Enterprises. She went about to purchase vnto hir the good will
and familiarity of the Kyng in sutch sort as the like neuer
obtayned in the Courte of Ottoman, (for she vsed certayne
Sorceries through the helpe of a Woman a Jewe borne, which was a
famous Enchauntresse, to wyn the loue of the Kyng, and thereby
perswaded hir selfe to procure greater things at his hands) in
so mutch as she obtayned that hir Children by course should be
resiant in their Father’s Courte, that by theyr continuall
presence and assiduall flattering, they might get the loue of
their Father. So that if Mustapha did at any time come to the
Court, by that meane she might haue a better meanes to rid him
of his life, if not, to tary a time, wherein he should be
dispatched by the help of others. But Mustapha not repayring to
the Courte (for the Kyng’s chyldren do not vse to go out of
their Countreys assigned vnto them, without their Father’s
knowledge, nor to repayre to Constantinople with any number of
men of Warre, to receyue their Inheritance till their Father be
deade) she deuised another mischiefe. For enioying hir former
request, she recouered another, also hauing brought to passe
that not onely in the Citty, but also in the countrey, hir
children should attend vppon theyr Father. Yea, and Giangir the
crokebacked should alwayes attend on his father in his Warres.
But the Stepmother’s deuise for certayne yeares hanging as it
were in ballance, at length Fortune throughly fauoured hir
wicked endeuours. For the Bascha which had the protection of
Mustapha, and the gouernment of the Prouince of Amasia, (For
euery one of the Kyng’s chyldren haue one Bascha, that is to say
a Liutenaunt, which doe aunswere the people according to the
lawes and gieue orders for the administration of the Warres, and
also euery one of them haue a learned Man to Instruct them in
good dyscipline, and Pryncely qualities) the sayd Bascha I say
deuised Letters wherein was contayned a certayne treatise of
Marriage, betwene Mustapha and the Kyng’s Daughter of Persia,
and how he had referred the matter to the Ministers of the
Temple, to the intent that if it had not good successe, he
should be free from all suspition, and sent the same Letters to
Rustanus who greatly reioysed for that he hoped to bring his
desyred purpose to good effect. And fearing the matter no
longer, incontinently he vttered the same to Rosa, who both
togethers, forthwith went into the Pallace, and discouered the
whole matter to the King. And to the intent they might throughly
incense the Kyng’s mynde with suspicions, that before was
doubtefull, and deliberatiue in the matter, to put him out of
all doubt, they affyrmed that Mustapha like an ambitiouse man,
sought meanes to conspyre his death being incensed like a Madman
to the gouernment of his large Empyre, contrary to nature, and
Law diuine. And to the intent better creadit might be gieuen to
their subtile Suggestions, they alleaged the Treaty of Marriage
betwene Mustapha and the Kyng of Persia, the deadly and auncient
enimy of the Ottoman Ligneage. For respect whereof, he ought
diligently to take heede least by conioyning the power of the
Persians with the Sangachi, and Ianischari, which are the
Captayns, and Souldiours, whose good willes he had with his
lyberality already tyed to his fauour, in short time, would go
about to depriue him of his Kyngdome and Lyfe. With these
accusations and sutch lyke they had so farre sturred the king,
as he himselfe sought the Death of his owne Sonne, in manner as
foloweth. Therefore in the yere of our Lord 1552, he caused to
be published with al expedition throughout his prouinces, that
the Persians had made their vauntes how they woulde inuade the
Countrey of Syria, win the Cityes there, and carry away the
Captiues, and also would destroy euery place with fier and
Sword, in sutch sort as no man should withstand them. Wherefore
to prouide against the sayd proude and haultie Bragges, hee was
forced to send Rustanus thyther with an Armie. The Souldiours
being leuied, hee pryvily commaunded Rustanus in as secret
manner as hee could and without any Tumulte to lay handes vpon
Mustapha, and to bryng hym bound to Canstantinople. But if he
could not conueniently bryng that to passe, then to dispatch hym
of hys Lyfe by sutch meanes as he could. Rustanus receyuyng thys
wycked and cruell Commaundement, marched towardes Syria wyth a
power. Wher when he arryued Mustapha, hauing knowledge thereof
setting all other businesse a parte, beying accompanyed with the
Lustyest and best appoynted Men of Warre in al Turkey to the
Numbre of seuen Thousande, hee directed his Iorney also towardes
Syria. Whereof when Rustanus had vnderstandynge, and perceyued
hee could not well accomplysh the wycked desire of the Kyng,
immedyately retourned backe agayne to Constantinople in sutch
haste that hee durste not abyde the sight of the Duste rered
into the Ayre by Mustaphae’s Horse Men, and mutch lesse hys
commyng. When the Souldyers were retired Rustanus declared to
all Men that the Countrey was in good quyet, and pryuely
repayred to the Kynge, and vttered to hym the cause of hys
retourne, addynge further, that as farre as hee could see by
manyfeste Sygnes, and Coniectures, the good Wylles of all the
Armye were inclyned to Mustapha, and for that cause in so
daungerous an Enterpryse, hee durste not aduenture with open
Warres, but lefte all to the consideration of hys Maiesty. This
reporte bred to the cruell Father (who nothynge degenerated from
the Naturall Tirannye of hys Auncestors) greater Suspicions: for
reuengement whereof he most wickedly toke further aduise. The
yeare folowyng he commaunded an huge Army to be leuied once
againe makyng Proclamation that the Persians with a greater
Power would inuade Syria, and therefore thought it mete that he
himself for the Common sauegarde of them all, ought personally
to repayre thyther with a power to withstande the indeuors of
his Ennimies. The Army being assembled, and al furnitures
prouyded in that behalfe, they marched forwardes, and within
fewe dayes after the cruell Father folowed. Who beynge come into
Syria, addressed a messenger to Mustapha, to commaund him
forthwith to repayre vnto him, then being encamped at Alepes.
And yet Solymane could not keepe secret the mortall hatred he
bare to hys Sonne from others, although he imployed dilygent
care for that purpose, but that the knowledge thereof came to
the Eares of one of the Baschæ, and others of Honour. Emonges
whome Achmet Bascha pryuily sent Woorde to Mustapha, to the
intent he myght take the better heede to hymself. And it seemed
not without Wonder to Mustapha, that his Father, wythout
necessary cause, shoulde arryue in those partes wyth so great a
Number. Who notwithstanding, knowing hymselfe innocente,
althoughe in extreame sorrow and pensifenes of mynd determyned
to obey hys Father’s Commaundement although he shoulde stand in
Daunger of hys Lyfe. For hee esteemed it a more honest and
laudable part to incurre the Peryll of death in Obedience to hys
Father, than to lyue in contumelye by disobedyence. Therefore in
that great anxietye and care of Mynde, debatyng many thinges
wyth hymselfe: At length he demaunded of a learned Man whych
contynually was conuersaunt wyth hym in his House (as is
aforesayde,) whether the Empyre of the whole World or a vertuous
Lyfe ought rather to be wyshed for. To whom this Learned Man
most Godly aunswered. That hee which dilygently weyed the
Gouernement of this Worlde, shall perceiue no other Felycitye
therein then a vayne and foolysh apparence of goodnesse. “For
there is nothyng” (quod he) “more frayle or vnsure then the
Worlde’s prosperity. And it bryngeth none other Fruicts but
Feare, sorrow, troubles, suspicions, murders, Wickednesse,
vnrighteousnes, spoyle, Pouerty, Captiuity, and sutch lyke whych
to a man that affecteth a blessed Lyfe, are in no wyse to be
wyshed for. For whose sake who so list to enioy them, leaseth
the happines of that Lyfe. But to whome it is gyuen from aboue
to way and consider the frayltye and shortnes of thys state
(which the Common People deemeth to be a Lyfe) and to resist the
vanityes of the World, at length to embrace vertue, to them
truely in heauen there is a Place assigned and prepared of the
highest GOD, where hee shall inherite perpetuall Ioyes, and
Felicity of the Lyfe to come.” Wyth whych aunswer Mustapha beyng
somwhat prycked in conscience wonderfully was satisfied, as
being tolde of him which seemed by a certaine Prophecy to
pronosticate his end. And tarrying vppon no longer disputation,
immedyately dyrected his Iourney towards his cruell Father. And
vsing that expedition he could, arriued at the place where his
Father encamped, and not farre from the same he pitched his
pauilion. But this expedite arriuall of Mustapha did inculcat a
greater suspicion in the wycked Father. And Rustanus was not
behynde wyth lyes, and other subtill informacions to set
forwardes the same. And after he had called together the common
Souldiours and the chiefe men of Warre in the Army, hee sente
them to meete wyth Mustapha, who without any tarrying most
readily obeyed his commaundement, to put themselues in readines.
In the mean time this crafty Verlet, shewing by outward
countenance the hid enuy that lay secrete in his heart,
forthwith repaired into the Kynge’s Pauilion, and without shame
or honesty told the King, howe almost euery one of the
principall Souldiours of their owne accorde went to meete
Mustapha. Then the King being troubled in mind, went forth of
his tent, and persuaded with himself that Rustanus Wordes were
true. Now Mustapha lacked not sondry tokens of his vnhappy fate:
For not thre daies before he should take his iorney about the
breake of day in the morning being in slepe, he dreamed that he
saw Machomet clad in gorgious apparel, to take him by the hand,
and lead him into a most pleasant place beutified with sundry
turrets and sumptuous buildinge hauing in it a most delectable
gardein, who shewing him al those things with his finger, spake
these wordes: “Here” (quod he) “doe they rest for euer, which in
the World haue lyued a Godly and iust Life, and haue bene
Aduauncers of Law and Iustice, and contempners of vice.” And
turning his face to the other syde, he saw two swifte and broad
Riuers, the one of them boiled more blacke then Pitch. And in
the sayd Riuers many were drowned, whereof some appeared aboue
Water crying with horrible voices, Mercy, Mercy. “And there”
(quod he) “are tormented all sutch, which in the World most
wyckedly haue committed Mischiefe.” And the chiefe of them he
sayed were Prynces, Kinges, Emperours, and other great Men. With
that Mustapha awaked and callyng the saied learned Man vnto him,
vttered his dreame. And pausyng a lyttle whyle (for the
supersticious Machometistes attribute mutch Credite to dotage of
dreames) being ful of sorrow and pensifnesse, at length answered
That the vision was very dreadful, for that it pronosticated
extreame peril of his life. Therefore he required him to haue
diligent respect thereunto. But Mustapha beynge of great
valiaunce and fortitude, hauing no regard to the aunswer
aforesaid, couragiously replied with these wordes: “Shall I
suffer my self to be vanquished with vaine and childish feare?
Nay I wil rather take a good heart, and make hast to my Father.
For I am assured that alwayes from time to time I haue honored
his maiesty accordyng to my duety, in so mutch as neyther Fote
trauelled, nor Eye looked, mutch lesse heart thought agaynst his
will to desyre or couet to raigne, except it had pleased the
highe GOD to haue called hys Maiesty from thys Lyfe to a better.
And besydes that my Mynde was neuer bente after hys Death to
beare rule, excepte Generall Electyon of all the Army, to the
intent I myghte entre the Imperiall Seate wythout slaughter,
Bloudshed, or any other cruell fact, and thereby preserue the
friendship of my Brethren inuiolat, and free from any spot of
hatred. For I alwayes determyned, and chose rather (since my
Father’s pleasure is so) to end my Life like an obedyent Child,
than continually to raigne, and be counted of al men, obstinate
and disobedient, especially of mine enimies.” When he had spoken
those wordes, he made hast to his father. And at his arriual to
the Campe, so sone as he had pitched his Tent he apparelled
himself al in white, and putting certain letters into his
bosome, which the Turkes vse to do, when they go to any place
(for in supersticions they vse maruailous dotage) he proceded
towards his father, entending wyth reuerence (as the manner is)
to kisse his hand. But when hee was come to the entry of the
tent, he rememberd himself of his Dagger which he wore about
him, and therefore vngirding himself he put it of for auoiding
of al suspicion. Which don, when he was entred the Tent, he was
very curteously (with sutch reuerence as behoued) welcomed of
his father’s Eunuches. And when he saw no man else, but the seat
royal, where his father was wont to sitte readye furnished, with
a sorrowful heart stode stil, and at length demaunded where his
Father was. Who answered that forthwith hee would come in
presence. In the meane season he saw seuen dombe men (which the
Turke vseth as Instruments to kepe his secrets, and priuily to
do sutch murthers as he commaundeth) and therewith immediately
was wonderfully mased saying: “Beholde my present Death.” And
therewith stepped aside to auoide them, but it was in vaine, For
being apprehended of the Eunuches and garde, was by force drawen
to the place appointed for him to loose hys Lyfe, and sodainly
the domb Men fastened a Bowstryng about his Necke. But Mustapha,
some what striuing, requyred to speak but two Wordes with his
Father. Which when the wicked parricide his Father hearde,
beholding the Cruell Spectacle on the other side of the Tente,
rebuked the dombe Men, saying: “Wil you neuer execute my
Commaundement, and doe as I bid you? Wyll you not kyll the
Traitor, which these ten years space would not suffer me to
slepe one quyet Night?” Who when they harde him speake those
cruell Woordes, the Eunuches and dombe Men threw him prostrate
vpon the ground, and cording the string with a double knot most
pitifully strangled him. Which wycked and cruell facte being
done, the Bascha that was Lieuetenaunt of Amasia was also
apprehended by the Kynge’s Commaundement, and likewyse beheaded
in hys owne Presence. This Facte also commytted, he caused to be
called before hym Gianger the Crokebacke, who was Ignoraunte of
that was done, and Iestynge wyth hym as though hee had done a
thynge worthie commendation, bad him to go and meete his Brother
Mustapha: who with a ioyful cheere made hast to meete him. But
when he came to the place and saw his infortunate Brother ly
strangled and dead vpon the earth, it is impossible to tell with
what sorrow he was affected. And he was scasce come to the
place, but his wicked Father sent Messengers after him, to tell
him that the Kyng had giuen him all Mustapha, his Treasures,
Horsemen, Bondmen, Pauilions, Apparell: Yea, and moreouer the
Prouince of Amasia. But Giangir conceyuing extreme sorrow for
the cruell murder of his deere brother, with lamentable teares
spake these words. “Oh cruell and wicked Dogge: yea, and if I
may so call my father, Oh Traytor most pestilent, do thou enioy
Mustapha, his Treasures, his Horses, Furnitures, and the sayd
Countrey to. Is thy heart so vnnaturall, cruell, and wicked,
to kill a yongue man so notable as Mustapha was, so good a
Warriour, and so worthy a Gentleman as the Ottoman house neuer
had or shall haue the like, without any respect of Humanity or
Zeale naturall? By Saynct Mary I neede to take heede least
hereafter in like maner thou as impudently do triumph of my
death, being but a crokebacke and deformed man.” When hee had
spoken theese wordes, plucking out his Dagger, he slew himselfe.
Whereof when the Emperor had aduertisement, he conceyued
inspeakable sorrow. But for al that, his sorrowfull heart
vanquished not his couetouse minde. For he commaunded all
Mustaphe’s Treasure, and other Furnitures to bee brought into
his Tent. And the Souldiours thincking the same should be gieuen
amongs them made as mutch haste to dispatche his commaundement.
In the meane tyme Mustaphe’s Souldiours (not knowing what was
become of their Mayster) seeing sutch a number runne in heapes
without order came forth of their Camp to withstande their
foolishe tumult, who very manfully, not without mutch slaughter
withstoode the same. And when the Fame of that Tragicall tumult
was bruted amongs the King’s souldiers, (who perceyuing the same
more and more to waxe hot,) they went forth to succour their
fellowes, but the Onset being gieuen on all sides, the fight on
both parts was so fierce, as in short space there were slayne
very neere the number of two thousande men besides the hurt and
wounded, whereof the number was greater. Howbeit this Broyle had
not bene thus ended, had not Achmat Bascha, a graue and wise
man, and for his experimentes in the Warres of great aucthority
amongs the souldiers driuen them back, and repressed their fury.
Who turning himself towards Mustaphe’s souldiers with smiling
countenaunce and milde words appeasing their furious stomacks
spake these wordes: “Why my deere brethren and freends wil yee
now degenerate from your olde accustomed wisedome, sufficiently
tried in you these many yeares past, and will now resist the
commaundment of the great Soltan the lord and soueraigne of vs
all? I cannot chuse (as God shal help me) but meruayle what
should mooue you whom hitherto I haue proued to be so notable
and valiant men, and in this ciuile conflict, you should bende
your force vpon your own frends, and raise vp sutch a spectacle
to the Ottoman enemy, against whom heretofore you haue very
prosperously and manfully fought, and therewith by mutuall
slaughter to make them reioyse whom heretofore with the like,
you haue made heauy and pensive. Therefore my fellowes as you
tender your own valiaunce and Magnanimity, take heede, that by
your own folly you do not lese the estimation of your wonted
fortitude and wisedome, wherein hitherto you haue excelled all
men. And reserue your force, which you now more than inough haue
vsed amongs your owne Fellowes till you come against your
Enemies, where you shall haue a more laudable, and better
occasion to vse it.” With these woordes and the like spoken by
Achamat Basca, the Souldiours were somewhat appeased, and all
thinges were franckely suffered to bee carried out of Mustapha
hys Pavylion to the Kynge’s. But when the death of Mustapha came
to the knowledge of the Ianischari, and the rest of the Army,
forthwith began another sedition. And after the Trumpets had
blowen the onset, there was sutch a Tumult and styrre amongs the
Souldiours, mixte wyth sundry Lamentations, and Teares, that
like Madmen with great violence, they ran into the Courte, with
theyr Swords naked in theyr hands ready bent to strike. And this
renued and sudden styrre so terrified the Kyng, that hee wiste
not what to do who for all the dampes would needes haue fled.
But being persuaded of his Counselloures to tarry, hauing
throughe Necessity, gotten occasion to attempt that whych in the
tyme of hys most security he durst scarce haue enterprysed, went
forth, and with sterne Countenaunce, spake to hys Souldyers in
this manner. “What rumors, what tumultes, and what mad partes
are these, wherewith so proudely in this sort ye disquiet me?
What meane these enflamed countenances? What signify these
haulty gestures, these proude and angry lokes? Doe you not
remembre that I am your King that hath Power and Authority to
gouerne and rule you? Are you determyned in this sort to spot
your Auncyent and inuincible valiaunce, and the notable
Warrefare of your predecessours, with the bloud of your
Emperour?” And while the King was speaking these Words, the
souldiers boldly answered, how they confessed him to be the
same, whome many yeares ago they chose to be their Kinge, and
for that hee alleaged how they had with their good seruice in
the Warres acquired vnto him many great conquests and had
diligently kepte the same: all that they did of purpose that he
should vse towards them againe a godly Authority and iust
Gouernment, and not vnaduisedly should lay his bloudy handes
vppon euery iuste Man, and so to staine and defile himselfe with
the Bloud of Innocents. And againe, where he laide to their
charge, that they were issued from their Cabanes armed with
Weapon, they affirmed the same to be done in a iust quarell,
euen to reuenge the slaughter of innocent Mustapha, and for that
they ought not to haue sutch a Kynge as should worke his anger
vppon them that had not deserued it. Further they required that
they might cleare themselues openly of the offence of Treason,
whereof falsly they were accused by Mustapha, his Enimies, and
to haue their accuser to be brought forth in open presence. And
sayde more that before he personally did appeare before the
Indgement Seat Face to Face to giue euidence, _sub talionis
pœna_, accordinge to the Law, they would not vnarme nor yet
disasemble themselues. [And whiles these things were debated
betwene the emperor and the souldiers, the cruelty of the fact,
so moued] all men to teares, that the Kyng him selfe seemed to
take great repentaunce for his horrible deede, and promysed the
Souldiours that they should haue their requests, and went about
with fayre perswasions to mittigate (as mutch as lay in him)
their furious stomakes. Howbeit the Souldiours gaue diligent
heede to their watch and warde euery man in his place appoynted,
that the king might not secretly conuey himselfe away, and so
deceyue theym of his promisses, and the expectation of their
requests. In the meane time the Kyng depriued Rustanus of all
his offices, and promotions, and tooke away from him the priuy
Signet whereof he had the keeping, and deliuered it to Achmat
Bascha. Rustanus amased with the terror and feare of the
Souldiours, thinking himselfe scarce in good security amongs his
owne men, secretly conueyed himselfe to Achmat Bascha his
Pauilyon, and asked counsell of him what was best to be done in
so doubtfull, and daungerous a case. Who aduised him therein to
haue the kyng’s aduice, and as he commaunded him so in any wyse
to doe. Which counsayle marueylously satisfied the mynde of
Rustanus. And without any longer delay by certaine Messengers
which were his faythfull, and familier Freends required the
King’s aduise. Whereunto the King aunswered that forthwith
without longer tariaunce he should auoyde his syght, and absent
himselfe from his Campe. Who replied that without Money and
other furnitures, he could not conueniently execute hys
commaundement. But the King had hym to do what hee list, for he
woulde in no wise gieue hym leaue to haue any longer time or
space to deliberate the matter. At length Rustanus without
further stay, as guilty of his cursed deuises, accompanied with
eyght of his trustiest Frends directed his Iorney to
Constantinople, and vsing mutch expedition (as feare in
fearefull matters putteth spurres to the horse) came to
Constantinople: and there with Rosa and other the Conspiratours
expected the euents of Fortune not without daunger of their
liues. Moreouer it was sayd that Solyman, whose Conscience
bewrayed the beastlynes of his abhominable facte, being pricked
with a supersticious repentance, determined to trauel on
pilgrimage to Mecha, and proceding in his voiage, he was driuen
by meanes of the Persians force to go to Hierusalem there to
offer sacrifice for the death of his Sonne, which they call
Corba. But now to conclude, and somewhat to speake of Mustapha
or rather by way of admonition this one thing to say of him,
that the sayde Mustapha was so acceptable and well beloued of
all men for his warlike experience, and for his redinesse to
sheade Christian bloud, that they supposed the like would neuer
be in the Ottoman house more towards to enlarge, and amplyfie
their Empyre, or promysed greatter thinges for the perfourmance
thereof. In so mutch as then they dispayred so of their
Enterprises, as this Prouerbe rose vp amongs them, Gietti Soltan
Mustapha, which signifieth an vtter dispayre in thinges which
they thought before to goe about. Therefore we haue good cause
to reioyce for the death of thys cruell enimy that should haue
raygned, and to thinck the slaughter of him not to be done
without God’s speciall prouidence, who in this sorte hath
prouided for vs. And at length to be wise, and abstayne from
ciuile Warre and dissencions. And with common Force to set vppon
this wicked Tarmegant, considering that he is not only a
generall Ennimy to our Countrey and Lyfe, but also to our
Soules. Which thing if we do, it will not be so hard a matter to
withstand the force of this enemy of Christendome, as if we doe
not, it wyll be daungerous through our continuall discorde to
gieue him occasion to inuade the rest of Europe, and so with his
tiranny bring the same to vtter destruction, which God that is
omnipotent forbid, who bring vs to vnity through his Sonne Iesus
Christe, Amen.
THE THIRTY-FIFTH NOUELL.
_The great curtesie of the Kyng of Marocco, (a Citty in
Barbarie) toward a poore Fisherman, one of his subiects, that
had lodged the Kyng, being strayed from his Company in
hunting._
For somutch as the more than beastly cruelty recounted in the
former Hystory, doth yelde some sowre taste to the minds of
those that be curteous, gentle and well conditioned by nature,
and as the Stomacke of him that dayly vseth one kinde of meate,
be it neuer so delycate and daynty, doth at length lothe, and
disdayne the same, and vtterly refuseth it: I now chaunge the
Diet, leauing murders, slaughters, despayres, and tragicall
accidents, and turne my stile to a more pleasaunt thing, that
may so well serue for instruction of the noble to follow vertue,
as that which I haue already written, may rise to their profit,
warely to take heede they fal not into sutch deformed and filthy
faults, as the name and prayse of man be defaced, and his
reputation decayed: if then the contraries be knowne by that
which is of diuers natures, the villany of great cruelty shalbe
conuerted into the gentlenesse of milde curtesie, and rigor
shalbe condempned, when with sweetenesse and generosity, the
noble shall assaye to wyn the heart, seruice, and affected
deuotion of the basest sorte: So the greatnesse and nobility of
man placed in dignity, and who hath puissaunce ouer other,
consisteth not to shew himselfe hard, and terrible, for that is
the manner of Tyraunts, bicause he that is feared, is
consequently hated, euyll beloued, and in the ende forsaken, of
the whole World, which hath bene the cause that in times past
Prynces aspiring to great Conquests, haue made their way more
easie by gentlenesse and Curtesie, than by fury of armes,
stablishing the foundations of their dominions more firme and
durable by those meanes, than they which by rigor and cruelty
haue sacked townes, ouerthrowne Cities, depopulated Prouinces,
and fatted Landes with the bodies of those, whose liues they
haue depriued by dent of sword, sith the gouernement and
authority ouer other, caryeth greater subiection, than
puissance. Wherefore Antigonus, one of the successors of great
Alexander (that made all the Earth to tremble vppon the recitall
of hys name) seeing that hys Sonne behaued himselfe arrogantly,
and wythout modesty to one of hys Subiects, reproued and checked
hym, and amongs many wordes of chastisement and admonition, sayd
vnto him: “Knowest thou not my Sonne, that the estate of a Kyng
is a noble and honourable seruitude?” Royall wordes (in deede)
and meete for Kyng: For albeit that eche man doth reuerence to a
Kyng, and that he be honoured, and obeyed of all, yet is hee for
all that, the Seruaunt, and publike Mynister, who ought no lesse
to defend hys Subiect, than the Subiect to do him honour and
Homage. And the more the Prynce doth humble himselfe, the
greater increase hath his glory, and the more wonderfull he is
to euery Wyght. What aduaunced the Glory of Iulius Cæsar, who
first depressed the Senatorie State of gouernment at Rome? Where
his Victoryes atchieued ouer the Galles and Britons, and
afterwardes ouer Rome it selfe, when he had vanquished Pompee?
All those serued his tourne, but his greatest fame rose of his
Clemency and Curtesie: By the whych Vertues hee shewed himselfe
to be gentle, and fauorable euen to those, whom hee knewe not to
loue him, otherwise than if hee had beene their mortall Enimy.
His Successors as Augustus, Vespasianus, Titus, Marcus Aurelius,
and Flauius were worthily noted for clemency: Notwithstanding I
see not one drawe neere to the great Courage, and Gentlenesse,
ioyned wyth the singuler Curtesie of Dom Roderigo Viuario the
Spanyarde Surnamed Cid, towarde Kyng Pietro of Aragon that
hindred his expedityon agaynst the Mores at Grenadoe. For hauing
vanquyshed the sayde King, and taken hym in Battell, not onely
remitted the reuenge of his wrong, but also suffered hym to go
wythout raunsome, and tooke not from him so mutch as one Forte,
esteemyng it to bee a better exploite to winne sutch a King with
curtesie, than beare the name of cruell in putting him to Death,
or seasing vpon his land. But bicause acknowledging of the
poore, and enriching the smal, is commendable in a Prynce, than
when he sheweth himselfe gentle to his lyke, I haue collected
this discourse and facte of Kynge Mansor of Marocco, whose
Chyldren (by subtile and fained religion) Cherif succeded, the
Sonne of whom at this day inioyeth the kingdomes of Su, Marocco,
and the most part of the isles confinynge vpon Æthiopia. This
history was told by an Italian called Nicholoso Baciadonne,
who vppon this accydent was in Affrica, and in trafike of
Marchandyse in the Land of Oran, situated vppon the coast of the
South seas, and where the Geneuois and Spanyards vse great
entercourse, bicause the countrey is faire, wel peopled, and
wher the inhabitants (although the soyle be barbarous) lyue
indifferent ciuilly, vsing great curtesie to Straungers, and
largely departing their goodes to the poore, towards whom they
be so earnestly bente, and louing, as for theyr Lyberality and
pytiful almesse, they shame vs Christians. They meinteine a
grest numbre of Hospitalles, to receiue and intertaine the poore
and neady, wherein they shew themselues more deuout than they
that be bounde by the law of Iesus Christe, to vse Charity
towardes theyr brethren, with more curtesie and greater
myldnesse. These Oraniens delight also to record in wryting the
successe of thinges that chaunce in their time and carefully
reserue the same in Memorie, whych was the cause that hauyng
registred in theyr Chronicles, (wrytten in Arabie letters, as
the most part of those Countreyes do vse) this present history,
they imparted the same to the Geneuois marchants of whom the
Italian author confesseth to haue receyued the copie. The cause
why the Geneuois marchant was so diligent to make the enquirie,
was by reason of a City of that prouince, builte through the
chaunce of thys Historye, and which was called in theyr Tongue,
Cæsar Elcabir, so mutch to say as, A great Pallace. And bycause
I am assured, that curteous Myndes will delyght in deedes of
Curtesie, I haue amonges other the Nouelles of Bandello, chosen
by Francois de Belleforest and my self, discoursed thys, albeit
the matter be not of great importance. For greater thynges and
more notorious curtesies haue bene done by our own Kinges and
Prynces. As that of Henry the eight a Prynce of notable memorye
in hys Progresse into the North the XXXIII. yeare of
his raigne, when he dysdayned not a pore Miller’s house being
stragled from his trayne, busily pursuing the Hart, and ther
vnknowne of the Miller, was welcomed with homely cheare, as hys
mealy house was able for the time to minister, and afterwardes
for acknowledging his willing Mynde, recompenced him wyth
daynties of the Courte, and a Pryncely rewarde. Of Edwarde the
thyrde, whose royall Nature was not displeased pleasauntly to
vse a Waifaring Tanner, when deuyded from his Company, he mette
hym by the way not far from Tomworth in Staffordshire, and by
cheapening of his welfare steede (for stedinesse sure and able
to carry him so farre as the stable dore) grewe to a price, and
for exchaunge the Tanner craued fiue shillings to boote betwene
the Kings and his. And when the King satisfied with disport,
desired to shew himself by sounding his warning blaste,
assembled all hys Traine, and to the great amaze of the poore
Tanner, (when he was guarded with that Troupe) he well guerdoned
his good Pastime and familiar dealing, with the order of
Knighthoode and reasonable reuenue for the maintenaunce of the
same. The lyke Examples our Chronicles, memory, and reporte
plentifully doe auouche and witnesse. But what? this Hystory is
the more rare and worthy of notyng, for respect of the People
and Countrey, where seldome or neuer Curtesie haunteth or
findeth harborough, and where Nature doth bryng forth greater
store of monsters, than thinges worthy of praise. This great
King Mansor then was not onely the Temporall Lord of the
Countrey of Oran and Marocco, but also (as is saide of Prete
Iean,) Byshop of his Law and the Mahomet Priest, as he is at
thys Day that raighneth in Feze, Sus, and Marocco. Now thys
Prynce aboue all other pleasure, loued the game of Hunting. And
he so mutch delighted in that passetime, as sometime he would
cause his Tentes in the myd of the desertes to be erected, to
lye there all Nyght, to the end, that the next day he might
renew his game, and defraud his men of idlenesse, and the Wild
beasts of rest. And this manner of Life he vsed still, after he
had done Iustice and hearkened the complaintes for which his
Subiectes came to disclose thereby theyr griefes. Wherein also
he toke so great pleasure, as some of our magistrates do seeke
their profite, whereof they be so squeymishe, as they be
desirous to satisfy the place whereunto they be called, and
render all men their righte due vnto them. For wyth theyr
Bribery and Sacred Golden Hunger, Kings and Prynces in these
dayes be ill serued, the people wronged, and the wycked out of
feare. There is none offence almost how villanous so euer it be,
but is washed in the Water of Bribery, and clensed in the holly
drop, wherewith the Poets faine Iupiter to corrupt the daughter
of Acrifius fast closed within the brasen Toure. And who is able
to resist that, which hath subdued the highest powers? Now
returne we from our wanderings: This greate Kynge Mansor on a
day assembled his People to hunt in the marish and fenny
Countrey, that in elder age was not farre of from the City of
Alela, which the Portugalles holde at this present, to make the
way more free into the Isles of Molucca, of the most part wherof
their King is Lord. As he was attentife in folowing a Beare, and
his pastime at the best, the Elements began to darke and a great
tempest rose, such as with the storme and violent Winde,
scattered the trayne far of from the King, who not knowing what
way to take, nor into what place he might retire, to auoid the
tempest, the greatest that he felt in al his life, would with a
good wil haue ben accompanied as the Troiane Æneas was, when
being in like pastime and fear he was constrayned to enter into
a Caue wyth his Queene Dido, where he perfourmed the Ioyes of
hys vnhappy Maryage. But Mansor beeynge without Companye, and
wythout any Caue at Hande, wandered alonges the Champayne so
carefull of hys Lyfe for feare of Wylde Beastes, whych flocke
together in those desertes as the Courtiers were pensiue, for
that they knew not whether theyr Prynce was gone. And that which
chiefly grieued Mansor was hys being alone without guide: And
for all he was well mounted, he durst passe no further for fear
of drownyng, and to be destroyed amiddes those Marshes, whereof
all the Countrey was very ful. On the one side he was fryghted
with Thunderclaps, which rumbled in the ayre very thicke and
terryble: On the other side the lightning continually flashed on
his face, the roring of the Beastes apalled him, the ignoraunce
of the way so astonned him, as he was affraide to fall into the
running Brokes, which the outragious raignes had caused to swell
and ryse. It is not to be doubted, that orisons and prayers vnto
hys greate prophet Mahomet were forgotten, and doubtfull it is
whether he were more deuout when he went on Pilgrimage to the
Idolatrous Temple of Mosqua. Hee complayned of ill lucke,
accusing Fortune, but chiefly hys owne folly, for giuing
himselfe so mutch to hunting, for the desire whereof, hee was
thus straggled into vnknowen Countreyes. Sometimes he raued and
vomytted his Gall agaynst his Gentlemen and houshold seruaunts,
and threatned death vnto his guarde. But afterwards, when reason
ouershadowed his sense, he saw that the tyme, and not their
neglygence or little care caused that disgrace. He thoughte that
his Prophet had poured downe that tempest for some Notable
sinne, and had brought him into such and so dangerous extremity
for his faults. For which cause he lifted vp his Eyes, and made
a thousand Mahomet mowes, and Apish mocks (according to theyr
manner.) And as he fixed his eyes aloft vp to the heauens,
a flash of lightning glaunced on his Face so violently, as it
made him to holde downe his head, lyke a lyttle Chyld reproued
of his maister. But he was further daunted and amazed, when he
saw the night approche, which with the darkenes of his cloudy
Mantell, stayed hys pace from going any further, and brought him
into such perplexitye, as willingly he would haue forsaken both
his hunting and company of his Seruants to be quit of that
Daunger. But God carefull of good Myndes (with what law so euer
they be trayned vp,) and who maketh the Sunne to shine vpon the
iust and and vniuste, prepared a meanes for his sauegarde, as
you shal heare. The Affricane King beyng in his traunce, and
naked of all hope, necessity (which is the clearest loking
glasse that may be found,) made him diligently to loke about,
whether he could see any persone by whome he might attayne some
securitie. And as he thus bent himselfe to discry all the partes
of the Countrey, he saw not far of from him, the glimpse of a
light which glimmered out at a little Window, whereunto he
addressed himselfe, and perceiued that it was a simple Cabane
situate in the middest of the Fennes, to which he approached for
his succor and defense in the time of that tempest. He reioysed
as you may think, and whither his heart lept for ioy, I leaue
for them to iudge which haue assayed like daungers, how be it I
dare beleue, that the saylers on the seas feele no greater ioy
when they arriue to harborough, than the king of Marocco dyd:
or when after a Tempest, or other peril, they discrye vppon the
prowe of their shyppe, the bryghtnesse of some clyffe, or other
land. And thys king hauing felt the tempest of Wind, raine,
haile, lyghtenyng, and Thunder claps, compassed round aboute
with Marshes and violent streames of little Riuers that ran
along his way, thought he had found Paradise by chauncing vpon
that rusticall lodge. Now that Cotage was the refuge place of a
pore Fisher man, who lived and susteined his Wife and children
with Eeles which he toke alongs the ditches of those deepe and
huge Marshes. Mansor when he was arrived at the dore of that
great pallace couered and thacked with Reede, called to them
wythin, who at the first would make no answer to the Prynce that
taried there comming at the Gate. Then he knocked againe, and
with louder voyce than before, which caused this fisher man,
thinkynge that he had bene some rippier (to whom he was wont to
sell hys ware, or else some straunger strayed out of his way,)
spedily went out, and seeinge the Kinge well mounted and richlye
clothed, and albeit he tooke him not to be his soueraigne LORD,
yet he thought he was some one of his Courtly Gentlemen.
Wherefore hee sayde: “What Fortune hath dryuen you (sir) into
these so deserte and solytarye Places, and sutch as I maruell
that you were not drowned a hundred tymes, in these streames,
and bogges whereof this Marrish and fenny Countrey are full?”
“It is the great God” (aunswered Mansor) “which hath had some
care of me, and will not suffer me to perysh without doynge
greater good turnes and better deedes than hitherto I haue don.”
The King’s comming thither, seemed to Prognosticate that whych
after chaunced, and that God poured downe the Tempest for the
Wealth of the Fisher man, and commodity of the Country. And the
straying of the Kyng was a thyng appoynted to make voyde those
Marshes, and to purge and clense the Countrey: Semblable
chaunces haue happened to other Prynces, as to Constantine the
great, besides his City called New Rome, when he caused certayne
Marshes and Ditches to be filled vp and dryed, to build a fayre
and sumptuous Temple, in the Honor and Memory of the blessed
Virgin that brought forth the Sauior of the World. “But tel me
good man” (replyed Mansor) {“}canst thou not shew me the way to
the Court, and whether the King is gone, for gladly (if it were
possible) would I ride thither.” “Verily” (sayd the Fisher Man)
“it will be almost day before ye can come there, the same beinge
ten leagues from hence.{”} “Forsomutch as thou knowest the way”
(aunswered Mansor) “doe me so great pleasure to brynge me
thither, and be assured that besides the good turne, for which I
shall be bound vnto thee, I will curteously content thee for thy
paynes.” “Sir” (sayd the poore man) “you seeme to be an honest
Gentleman, wherfore I pray you to lyght, and to tarry heere this
Night, for that it is so late, and the way to the City very
euyll and combersome for you to passe.” “No, no,” (sayd the
King) “if it be possible, I must repayre to the place whither
the King is gone, wherefore doe so mutch for me as to bee my
guide, and thou shalt see whether I be vnthankfull to them that
imploy their paynes for mee.” “If Kyng Mansor” (sayd the Fisher
man) “were heere hymselfe in Person and made the lyke request,
I would not be so very a foole, nor so presumptuous, (at this
time of the Nyght) to take vppon me without Daunger to bryng hym
to his Palace.” “Wherefore?” (sayed the Kyng) “Wherefore? (quod
you), bicause the Marshes bee so daungerous, as in the Day tyme,
if one know not wel the way, the Horse, (be hee neuer so stronge
and Lusty,) may chaunce to sticke fast, and tarry behynd for
gage. And I would be sorry if the King were heere, that he
should fall into Peryl, or suffer any anoyance and therewythall
would deeme my selfe vnhappy if I did let hym to incur sutch
euyll or incombrance.” Mansor that delighted in the
communication of this good man, and desirous to know the cause
that moued him to speak with sutch affection, said vnto him:
“And why carest thou for the Life, health, or preseruation of
the Kynge? What hast thou to doe wyth him that wouldest be so
sorry for hys state, and carefull of his safety.” “Ho, ho,” said
the good man, “doe you say that I am carefull for my Prince?
Verily I loue him a hundred tymes better than I do my selfe, my
Wife or children whych God hath sent me: and what sir, do not
you loue our Prince?” “Yes that I doe” (replyed the Kyng,) “for
I haue better cause than thou, for that I am many times in his
company, and liue vpon his charge and am entertayned with his
wages. But what nedest thou to care for hym? Thou knowest him
not, hee neuer did thee anye good turne or pleasure: nor yet
thou nedest not hope henceforth to haue any pleasure at his
hands.” “What?” (said the Fisher man) “must a Prince be loued
for gaine and good turnes, rather than for hys Iustice and
curtesie? I see wel that amongs you maister Courtiers, the
benefits of kings be more regarded, and their gifts better liked
than their vertue and nobility, which maketh them wonderful vnto
vs: and ye do more esteme the gold, honor and estates that they
bestow vpon you, than their health and sauegard, which are the
more to be considered, for that the King is our head, and GOD
hath made him sutch one to kepe vs in Peace, and to be carefull
of our states. Pardon me if I speake so boldly in your
presence.” The kyng (which toke singular delight in this
Countrey Philosopher,) answered him: “I am not offended bicause
thy words approche so neare the troth: but tel me what benefit
hast thou receiued of that King Mansor, of whome thou makest
sutch accompt and louest so wel? For I cannot thinke that euer
he dyd thee good, or shewed thee pleasure, by reason of thy
pouerty, and the little Furnyture within thy house in respect of
that which they possesse whome hee loueth and fauoreth, and vnto
whome he sheweth so great familyaritye and Benefite.” “Doe tell
me sir” (replyed the good man) “for so mutch as you so greatly
regard the fauoures which Subiects receiue at theyr Prynces
handes, as in deede they ought to doe, What greater goodnesse,
richesse, or Benefite ought I to hope for, or can receyue of my
King (being sutch one as I am,) but the profite and vtility that
all we whych be his vassalles do apprehend from day to day in
the Iustyce that he rendereth to euery Wyghte, by not suffering
the puissant and Rich to suppresse and ouertread the feeble and
weake, and him that is deuoid of Fortune’s goods, that
indifferency be maintayned by the Officers, to whom he
committeth the gouernement of his Prouinces, and the care which
he hath that his people be not deuoured by exactions, and
intolerable tributes. I do esteeme more his goodnesse, clemency
and Loue, that he beareth to his subiects, than I doe all your
delycates and ease in following the Court. I most humbly honor
and reuerence my king in that he being farre from vs, doeth
neuerthelesse so vse his gouernment as we feele his presence
like the Image of God, for the peace and vnion wherein we
through him do lyue and enioy, without disturbaunce, that lytle
whych GOD and Fortune haue gyuen vs. Who (if not the king) is he
that doeth preserue vs, and defend vs from the incursions and
pillages of those Theues and Pirates of Arabie, which inuade and
make warre with their neighbours? and there is no friend they
haue but they would displease if the King wysely did not forbyd
and preuent their villanies. That great Lord which kepeth his
Court at Constantinople and maketh himself to be adored of his
people like a God, brideleth not so mutch the Arabians, as our
king doth, vnder the Protection and sauegard of whome, I that am
a poore Fisher man, do ioy my pouerty in peace, and without fear
of theeues do norish my litle family, applying my selfe to the
fishing of Eeles that be in these ditches and fenny places,
which I carry to the market townes, and sell for the sustenance
and feeding of my wife and children, and esteeme my self right
happy, that returning to my cabane, and homely lodge at my
pleasure, in whatsoeuer place I do abide, bicause (albeit far of
from Neighboures,) by the benefite and dilygence of my Prince,
none staye my iourney, or offendeth me by any meanes, whych is
the cause (sayd he lifting vp his hands and eyes aloft,) that I
pray vnto God and his great Prophet Mahomet, that it may please
them to preserue our King in health, and to gyue him so great
happe and contentation, as he is vertuous and debonaire, and
that ouer hys Ennimies (flying before him,) he may euermore be
victorious, for noryshing his people in peace, and his children
in ioy and Nobility.” The King seeing that deuout affectyon of
the paisaunte, and knowyng it to be without guile or Hypocrisie,
would gladly haue discouered himself, but yet willyng to reserue
the same for better opportunity, he sayd vnto him: “Forsomutch
as thou louest the king so well, it is not impossible but those
of his house be welcome vnto thee, and that for thy Mansor’s
sake, thou wilt helpe and do seruice to his Gentlemen.” “Let it
suffise you” (replyed he) “that my heart is more inclined to the
King, than to the willes of those that serue him for hope of
preferment. Now being so affectionate to the king as I am,
thynke whyther hys householde Seruauntes haue power to commaund
me, and whither my willing mynde be prest to doe them good or
not. But mee thynke ye neede not to stay heere at the gate in
talke, being so wet as you be: Wherefore vouchsafe to come into
my house, which is youre owne, to take sutch simple lodging as I
haue, where I wyl entreat you, (not according to your merite)
but with the little that God and his Prophet haue departed to my
pouerty: And to morrow morning I will conduct you to the City,
euen to the royall Palace of my Prynce.” “Truly” (answered the
King) “albeit necessity did not prouoke me, yet thine honesty
deserueth well other reputation than a simple Countrey man, and
I do thinke that I haue profited more in hearing thee speake
than by hearkenyng to the flattering and babbling tales of
Courting triflers, which dayly employ themselues to corrupte the
eares of Prynces.” “What sir?” (sayd the Paysant) “thynke you
that thys poore Coate and simple lodging be not able to
apprehend the Preceptes of Vertue? I haue sometimes heard tell,
that the wise auoyding Cityes and Troupes of Men, haue
wythdrawne themselues into the desertes, for leysure to
contemplate heauenly thynges.” “Your skyll is greate,” replyed
Mansor: “Goe we then, sith you please to doe me that Curtesie as
this night to be myne hoste.” So the king went into the Rustical
Lodge, where insteede of Tapistery and Turkey hangings, he sawe
the house stately hanged with fisher Nets and Cordes, and in
place of rich seeling of Noble mens houses, he beheld Canes and
Reedes whych serued both for the seeling and couering. The
Fisher man’s Wife continued in the kitchen, whilest Mansor
hymself both walked and dressed his owne horse, to which horse
the Fisher man durste not once come neare for his Corage and
stately trappour, wyth one thing he was abundantly refreshed,
and that the moste needefull thing which was fire, whereof there
was no spare, no more then there was of Fishe. But the king
which had been dayntely fed, and did not well taste and lyke
that kynde of meat, demaunded if hys hunger could not be
supplyed with a lytle Flesh, for that his stomacke was anoyed
with the onely sauoure of the Eeles. The poore man, (as ye haue
somewhat perceiued by the former discourse) was a pleasaunt
fellow, and delighted rather to prouoke laughter than to prepare
more dainty meat, said vnto the king: “It is no maruell, though
our kinges do furnishe themselues with Countrey men, to serue
them in their Warres, for the delicate bringing vp and litle
force in fine Courtiers. Wee, albeit the Raine doth fal vppon
our heads, and the Winde assaile euery part of our bodies all
durtie and Wet, doe not care either for fire or Bed, wee feede
vpon any kinde of meate that is set before vs, withoute seeking
Sauce for increasing of our appetite: and we (beholde) are
nimble, healthy, lusty, and neuer sicke, nor our mouth out of
tast, where ye do feele sutch distemperaunce of stomacke, as
pity it is to see, and more ado there is to bring the same into
his right order and taste, than to ordeine and dresse a supper
for a whole armie.” The king who laughed (with displayed
throte,) hearing his hoste so merily disposed, could haue been
contented to haue heard him still had not his appetite prouoked
him, and the time of the Night very late. Wherefore he said vnto
him: “I do agree to what you alleage, but performe I pray thee
my request, and then wee will satisfie ourselues with further
talke.” “Well sir” (replied the king’s Hoste,) “I see well that
a hungry Belly hath no luste to heare a merry song, whereof were
you not so egre and sharpe set, I could sing a hundred. But I
haue a lytle Kidde which as yet is not weaned, the same wil I
cause to bee made ready, for I think it cannot be better
bestowed.” The supper by reason of the hoste’s curtesie, was
passed forth in a thousand pleasant passetimes, whych the
Fisherman of purpose vttered to recreate hys Guest, bicause he
sawe hym to delight in those deuyses. And vppon the end of
Supper, he sayd vnto the King: “Now sir, how like you this
banket? It is not so sumptuous as those that be ordinarily made
at our Prynce’s Court, yet I thynke that you shal slepe wyth no
lesse appetyte than you haue eaten with a god stomack, as
appeareth by the few Woords you have vttered in the tyme of your
repast. But whereunto booteh it to employ tyme, ordeyned for
eating, in expense of talke, whych serueth not but to passe the
tyme, and to shorten, the day? And meats ought rather to be
taken for sustentation of Nature then for prouocation or motion
of thys feeble and Transitorye Fleshe?” “Verily” (sayd the King)
“your reason is good, and I doe meane to ryse from the Table, to
passe the remnant of the Nyght in rest, therewyth to satisfie my
selfe so well as I haue wyth eatyng, and do thanke you heartily
for your good aduertysement.” So the King went to Bed, and it
was not long ere hee fell a sleepe, and contynued tyll the
Mornynge. And when the Sunne dyd ryse, the Fisherman came to
wake hym, tellyng hym that it was tyme to rise, and that hee was
ready to bryng him to the Court. All this whyle the Gentlemen of
the kinge’s Traine were searching round aboute the Countrey to
fynde his Maiesty, makyng Cryes and Hues, that he myghte heare
them. The kyng knowyng their voices, and the noyes they made,
went forth to meete them, and if his People were gladde when
they founde him, the Fisherman was no lesse amazed to see the
honor the Courtyers did vnto his Guest. Which the curteous king
perceiuing, sayd vnto him: “My Friend, thou seest here, that
Mansor, of whome yesternight thou madest so great accompt, and
whome thou saidst, that thou didst loue so well. Bee assured,
that for the Curtisie thou hast done him, before it bee longe,
the same shall be so well acquyted, as for euer thou shalte haue
good cause to remembre it.” The good man was already vpon his
marybones beseeching the King that it would please him pardon
hys rude entertainement and his ouermutch familiarity whych hee
had vsed vnto him. But Mansor causing him to rise vp, willed hym
to depart, and sayed that within few dayes after he shoulde
heare further Newes. Now in these Fennish and marrysh groundes,
the Kyng had already builded diuers Castles and lodges for the
pleasure and solace of hunting. Wherefore he purposed there to
erect a goodly City, causing the waters to be voyded with greate
expedition, whych City he builded immediately, and compassyng
the circuite of the appoynted place, with strong Walles and depe
Ditches, he gaue many immunities and Pryuiledges to those, that
would repayre to people the same, by meanes whereof, in litle
tyme, was reduced to the state of a beautifull and wealthy City,
whych is the very same that before we sayd to be Cæsar Elcabir,
as mutch to say: “The great Palace.” This goodly worke beinge
thus performed Mansor sent for his host, to whome hee sayde: “To
the end from henceforth thou mayest more honourably entertaine
Kyngs into thy House, and mayest intreate them wyth greater
sumptuositie, for the better solacyng of them wyth thy curtesy
and pleasaunt talke, beholde the City that I haue buylded, which
I doe gyue vnto thee and thyne for euer, reseruing nothyng but
an acknowledgement of good wil, to the end thou mayst know that
a Gentleman’s mind nousled in villany, is discouered, when
forgetting a good turne, he incurreth the vice of Ingratitude.”
The good man seeing so liberall an offer and present worthy of
sutch a king fell downe vppon his knees, and kyssing his foote
with al humility, sayd vnto him: “Sir if your Liberality did not
supply the imperfection of my Meryte, and perfourmed not what
wanted in me, to attayne so great estate, I would excuse my
selfe of the charge whych it pleaseth you to gyue mee, and
whereunto for lacke of trayning vp, and vse of sutch a Dignity,
I am altogether vnfit. But sith that the graces of GOD, and the
gyftes of Kynges ought neuer to bee reiected, by acceptynge thys
Benefite wyth humble thankes for the clemencye of your royall
Maiestye, I rest the Seruaunt and slaue of you and yours.” The
king hearing hym speake so wisely, took hym vp, and imbraced
him, saying: “Would to God and his great Prophete, that all they
which rule Cityes, and gouerne Prouinces, had so good a Nature
as thine then I durst be bolde to say, that the People shoulde
lyue better at theyr ease, and Monarches without charge of
conscience, for the ill behauyors of theyr Officers. Lyue good
man, lyue at thine ease, maynteine thy people, obserue our
lawes, and increase the Beauty of the City, whereof from this
time forth wee doe make the possesser.{”} And truly the present
was not to bee contempned, for that the same at this day is one
of the fairest that is in Affrica, and is the Land of the blacke
People, sutch as the Spaniards call Negroes. It is very full of
Gardeins, furnished with aboundance of Spyces brought from the
Moluccas, bicause of the martes and faires ordeined there. To be
short, Mansor shewed by this gift what is the force of a gentle
heart, which can not abyde to bee vanquished in curtesie, and
lesse suffer that vnder forgetfulnesse the memorye of a receyued
good turne be lost. King Darius whilome, for a little garment,
receiued in gift by Silofon the Samien, recompenced him wyth the
gaine and royall dignity of that City, and made him soueraine
Lord thereof, and of the Isle of Samos. And what greater vertue
can illustrate the name of a noble man, than to acknowledge and
preferre them, which for Natural shame and bashfulnesse, dare
not beholde the Maiesty of their greatnesse? God sometymes with
a more curteous Eye doth loke vpon the presents of a poore man,
than the fat and rych offerings of him that is great and
wealthy? Euen so a benefite, from what hand soeuer it procedeth,
cannot chose but bryng forth the fruicts of his Liberality that
giueth the same, who by vsing largesse, feleth also the like in
him to whom it is employed. That magnificence no long time past
vsed the Seigniorie of Venice, to Francesco Dandulo, who after
he had dured the great displeasures of the Pope, in the name of
the whole City, vpon his returne to Venice, for acknowledgment
of his pacyence, and for abolishmente of that Shame, was wyth
happye and vniforme Acclamatyon of the whole state elected, and
made Prince, and Duke of that Common wealth. Worthy of prayse
truly is he, that by some pleasure bindeth another to his
curtesie: but when a Noble man acknowledgeth for a benefit, that
which a Subiect is bounde to gieue him by duty and seruice,
there the proofe of prayse carryeth no Fame at all. For which
cause I determined to display the Hystory of the barbarous King
Mansor, to the intent that our Gentlemen, noryshed and trained
vp in great ciuilytie, may assay by their mildenesse and good
education, to surmount the curtesie of that Prynce, of whom for
this time wee purpose to take our Farewell.
The
CONCLUSION,
with
AN ADUERTISEMENT TO THE READER.
What thou hast gained for thy better instruction, or what
conceiued for recreation by reading these thirty fiue Nouells,
I am no Iudge, although (by deeming) in reading and perusing,
thou mayst (at thy pleasure) gather both. But howsoeuer profite,
or delight, can satisfy mine apoyntment, wherefore they were
preferred into thy hands, contented am I that thou doe vouchsafe
them Good lessons how to shun the Darts, and Prickes of
insolency thou findest in the same. The vertuous noble may sauor
the fruits and taste the licour that stilleth from the gums or
buds of Vertue. The contrary may see the blossoms fall, that
blome from the shrubs of disloialty and degenerat kinde. Yong
Gentlemen, and Ladies do view a plot founded on sured grounde,
and what the foundation is, planted in shattring Soyle, with a
fashion of attire to garnish their inward parts, so well as
(sparelesse) they imploy vpon the vanishing pompe. Euery sort
and sexe that warfare in the fielde of humayne life, may set
here the sauourous fruict (to outwarde lyking) that fansied the
sensuall taste of Adam’s Wyfe. They see also what griefts sutch
fading fruicts produce vnto posterity: what likewise the lusty
growth and spring of vertue’s plant, and what delicates it
brauncheth to those that carefully keepe the slips thereof,
within the Orchard of their mindes. Diuers Tragical shewes by
the pennes description haue bene disclosed in greatest number of
these Hystories, the same also I haue mollified and sweetened
with the course of pleasaunt matters, of purpose not to dampe
the deynty mindes of those that shrinke and feare at such
rehearsall. And bicause sodaynly (contrary to expectation) this
Volume is risen to greater heape of leaues, I doe omit for this
present time sundry Nouels of mery deuise, reseruing the same to
be ioyned with the rest of an other part, wherein shall succeede
the remnaunt of Bandello, specially sutch (suffrable) as the
learned French man François de Belleforrest hath selected, and
the choysest done in the Italian. Some also out of Erizzo, Ser
Giouani Florentino, Parabosco, Cynthio, Straparole, Sansouino,
and the best liked out of the Queene of Nauarre, and other
Authors. Take these in so good part with those that haue and
shall come forth, as I do offre them with good will curteously
correcting sutch Faults, and Errors, as shall present
themselues, eyther burying them in the Bosome of Fauor, or
pretermitting them with the beck of Curtesie.
FINIS.
BALLANTYNE PRESS: EDINBURGH AND LONDON.
* * * * *
* * * *
Errors and Inconsistencies:
The printed book did not include an Errata list. It is therefore
impossible to tell whether irregularities of spelling, punctuation and
typography in the primary text are unique to the Jacobs edition (1890),
or whether they were deliberately carried over from Haslewood (1813)
and/or Painter (1566 and later).
As noted above, missing spaces, punctuation--chiefly quotation
marks--and single letters are shown in {braces} without further
annotation.
Other possible errors, including superfluous punctuation, are listed
here.
Novel 23
causeth ruine os sutch whych should bee honoured and praysed
[_error for “ruine of”_]
sheweth how narure is constrained in that monstrous diuision
[_error for “nature”_]
whych had taken this enterprise to satissie the barbarous Cardinall
[_error for “satisfie”_]
Novel 24
deuided from curtefie and Ciuility [_error for “curtesie”_]
no more stable than a woman’s wyll: for vnder sutch habite
and sexe Painters and Poets describe hir)
[_mismatched punctuation unchanged_]
Novel 25
But minding to put in proose what he thought [_error for “proofe”_]
which hath vouchsafed to bryng the forth into this world
[_spelling “the” for “thee” occurs frequently_]
so grieuous is to me his extreme old age.’
[_text at page-end has single quote for expected double_]
a dreame or fantasie that appeared before his eyes
[_error for “hir eyes”_]
the two deade Bodies should he erected vppon a stage
[_error for “should be”_]
Novel 26
I abstayne to shewe my selse amonges the Beautifull
[_error for “my selfe”_]
for neyther maister Alosio is slayne [_error for “Aloisio”_]
beholde you owne handes subscribed to the same
[_error for “your owne”_]
Novel 27
“I aske no more at your haudes [_error for “handes”_]
and of colour meetely freshe for the tyme hee left his Bed.”
[_superfluous close quote_]
tooke the Letters, and breakinge the Seale
[_error for “Letter” (singular)_]
and the somme of hys reuenge.”
[_misplaced close quote for open quote_]
Novel 28
“Why (my Lord) do you chase and rage againste mee?
[_error for “chafe”_]
Novel 29
_The name “Diego” occurs often enough to establish consistency.
In three places it is printed “Deigo”._
For going many times to see Gienura with the hauke on his fist
[_error for “Gineura”_]
God desende that Gineura should goe aboute to hynder thy follyes
[_error for “defende”_]
and which was the way to Barcelone. [_error for “Barcelona”_]
“For somutch” (quod he) [_no space_]
a new sprouted Rose diuiuely blowen forth [_error for “diuinely”_]
Novel 30
his Victor and unsatible greedy gutte Iulius Cæsar
[_spelling “unsatible” unchanged_]
“God forbid” (sayd Montaine) [_error for “Montanine”_]
theyr were vnworthy of the title of chaste and vertuous
[_error for “they”_]
where hast thou bestowrd the Eye of thy foreseeing mynde
[_error for “bestowed”_]
Novel 32
The intire Discourse of whom you shall briefly and presently
vnderstand. Camiola a widow of the City of Siena
[_handwritten ¶ sign at sentence break_]
caried into the Citty at their pleasure all their victualles.
which they brought wyth them [_. for ,_]
and Ihon the Captayne Generall taken Prysoner
[_spelling “Ihon” may be an error, but occurs in other texts of
similar age_]
Novel 33
to loue and cherysh his liuetenaunt that faithfullye and trustily
had kept his Castell and Forte
[_spelling “liuetenaunt” occurs twice, “lieuetenaunt” once_]
The lyke Cruelty vsed Tiphon towards his brother Osyris by chopping
his body in xxvi. gobbets
[_anomalous lower-case numeral unchanged_]
Novel 34
And he was scasce come to the place [_error for “scarce”_]
Novel 35
seeing that hys Sonne behaued himselfe arrogantly
[_i in “seeing” invisible_]
to shine vpon the iust and and vniuste
[_word repetition at mid-line in original_]
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Palace of Pleasure - Volume 3" ***
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