The second tome of the Palace of pleasure conteyning store of goodly histories, tragicall matters, and other morall argument, very requisite for delighte and profit. Chosen and selected out of diuers good and commendable authors: by William Painter, clerke of the ordinance and armarie. Anno. 1567.

The Duchesse of Malfi.

¶ The Infortunate mariage of a Gentleman, called ANTO∣NIO BOLOGNA, with the Duchesse of MALFI, and the pitifull death of them bothe.

The. xxiij. Nouel.

THe greater Honor and authoritie men haue in this world. & the grea∣ter their estimation is, the more sensible & no∣torious are the faultes by them committed, & the greater is their 〈◊〉〈◊〉. In lyke manner more difficult it is for y^t man to tolerate and su∣staine Fortune, which

all the dayes of his life hathe liued at his 〈◊〉〈◊〉, if 〈◊〉〈◊〉 chaunce hée fall into any great necessitie, than for hym which ncuer felt but woe, mishappe, and aduersitie. Dyonisius the Tyrant of Sicilia, felte greater payne when hée was expelled his kingdome, than Milo did, being vanished from Rome. For so muche as the one was a Soueraigne Lord, the sonne of a King, a Iu∣sticiarie on earth, and the other but a simple Citizen of a Citie, wherein the people had Lawes, and the lawes of Magistrates had in reuerence. So likewyse the fall of a high and loftie Trée, maketh a greater noyse, than that whiche is lowe and little. Highe Towers and stately Palaces of Princes be séene fur∣ther off, than the poore Cabans and hontely shephierds Shéepecotes. The Walles of loftie Cities salute the viewers of the same farther of, than the simple caues, which the poore doe dig belowe the Mountaine rocks. Wherefore it behoueth the Noble, and such as haue charge of Common wealth, to liue an honest lyfe, and beare their port vpryght, that none haue cause to take ill example vpon dyscourse of their déedes and naugh∣tie life. And aboue all, that modestie ought to be kept by women, whome as their race, Noble birth, authori∣tie and name, maketh them more famous, euē so their vertue, honestie, chastitie, and continencie more praise worthy. And behouefull 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 déede or woorde, or blemishing that bright∣nesse which may commende the same. I greatly feare that all the Princely factes, the exploits and conquests done by the Babylonian Quéene Semyramis, neuer was recōmended with such praise, as hir vice had shame, in records by those which left remēbrāce of ancient acts.

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Thus I say, bicause a woman being as it were the I∣mage of swéetenesse, curtesie & shame fastnesse, so soone as she steppeth out of the right trade, and leaueth the smel of hir duetie and modestie, bisides the denigrati∣on of hir honor, thrusteth hir self into infinite troubles and causeth the ruine of such which should be honored and praised, if womens allurement solicited them not to follie. I wil not here indeuor my self to séeke for ex∣amples of Samson, Salomon or other, which suffred thē selues fondly to be abused by women: and who by meane of them be tumbled into great faults, and haue incurred greater perils. Contenting my self to recite a right pitifull Historie done almost in our time, when the French vnder the leading of that notable 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Gaston de Foix, vanquished the force of Spaine and Na∣ples at the iourney of Rauenna in the time of y^e French king called Levves the twelfth, who married the Lady Marie, daughter to king Henry the seuenth, and sister to the victorious Prince of worthy memory king Hen∣ry the eight, wife (after the death of the sayd Levves) to the puissant Gentleman Charles, late Duke of Suffolke.

In that very time then liued a Gentleman of Na∣ples, called Antonio Bologna, who hauing bene Master of houshold to, Federicke of Aragon, sometime King of Naples, after the French had expelled those of Ara∣gon out of that Citie, the sayde Bologna retired into Fraunce, & thereby recouered the goods, which hée pos∣sessed in his countrey. The Gentleman bisides that he was valiant of his persone, a good man of warre, & wel estemed amongs the best, had a passing numbre of good graces, which made him to be beloued & cherished of e∣uery wight: & for riding & managing of great horse, he had not his fellow in Italy: he could also play excéeding well and trim vpon the Lute, whose faining voyce so

well agréed therunto, that the most melancholike per∣sons wold forget their heauinesse, vpon hearing of his heauenly noise: and bisides these qualities, hée was of personage comely, and of good proportion. To be short, Nature hauing trauailed and dispoyled hir Treasure house for inriching of him, he had by Arte gotten that, which made him most happy & worthy of praise, which was, the knowledge of good letters, wherin hée was so well trained, as by talke and dispute thereof, he made those to blushe that were of that state and profession. Antonio Bologna hauing left Federicke of Aragon in Fraunce, who expulsed out of Naples was retired to king Levves, went home to his house to liue at rest and to auoyd trouble, forgetting the delicates of Courtes and houses of great men, to be the only husband of his owne reuenue. But what: It is impossible to eschue that which the heauēs haue determined vpon vs: and lesse the vnhappe, whych séemeth to followe vs, as it were naturally procéeding from our mothers wombe: In such wise as many times, he which séemeth the wi∣sest man, guided by misfortune, hasteth himself wyth stouping head to fall headlong into his deathe & ruine. Euen so it chaūced to this Neapolitane Gentleman: for in the very same place where he attained his aduāce∣ment, he receiued also his diminution and decay, and by that house which preferred hym to what he had, he was depriued, both of his estate and life: the discourse whereof you shall vnderstand. I haue tolde you alrea∣dy, that this Gentleman was Maister of the King of Naples houshold, & being a gentle person, a good Cour∣tier, wel trained vp, and wise for gouernment of him∣self in the Court and in y^e seruice of Princes, the Du∣chesse of Malfi thought to intreat him that hée would serue hir, in that office which he serued the king. This

Duchesse was of the house of Aragon, & sister to y^t Car∣dinal of Aragon, which thē was a rich & puissant perso∣nage. Being thus resolued, was wel assured y^t she was not deceiued: for so much as she was persuaded, y^t Bo∣logna was deuoutly affected to y^e house of Aragon, as one brought vp there from a childe. Wherfore sending for him home to his house, she vsed vnto him these, or like words:

Master Bologna, sith your ill fortune, nay rather y^e vnhap of our whole house is such, as your good Lord & master hath forgon his state & dignitie, and y^t you ther∣withall haue lost a good Master, wythout other recom∣pence but the praise which euery man giueth you for your good seruice, I haue thought good to intreat you to do me y^t honor, as to take charge of the gouernment of my house, & to vse the same, as you did that of the king your master. I know well that the office is to vnwor∣thy for your calling: notwithstanding you be not ig∣noraunt what I am, and how néere to him in bloud, to whō you be so faithfull and louing a seruant: & albeit y^e that I am no Quéene, endued with great reuenue, yet with that little I haue, I bear a Princely heart: & such as you by experience do knowe what I haue done, and daily do to those which depart my seruice, recōpensing them according to their paine & 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 red of a certain noble gen∣tleman, a Persian borne, called Ariobarzanes, who vsed great exāples of curtesie & stoutnes towards king Ar∣taxerxes; wherwith y^e king wondred at his magnificēce, & confessed himself to be vanquished: you shall take ad∣uise of this request, & I in the mean time do think you will not refuse y^e same, as well for that my demaund is iust, as also being assured, y^e our house & race is so well imprinted in your heart, as it is impossible y^t the me∣mory

therof can be defaced.

The gentleman hearing y^t courteous demaund of the Duchesse, knowing himself how déepely boūd he was to y^t name of Aragon, & led by soure vnknowen prouocation to his great yll luck, an∣swered hir in this wise:

I wold to god madame, y^t with so good reason & equitie I were able to make denial of your 〈◊〉〈◊〉, as iustly you require the same: wherfore for y^t bounden duety which I owe to y^t name & memorie of the house of Aragon, I make promise y^t I shall not only sustain y^e trauail, but also the daunger of my life, daily ready to be offred for your seruice: but I féele in minde I know not what, which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 me to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 my self to liue alone at home at my house, & to be content with the little I haue, forgoing the sūp∣tuouse charge of Princes houses, which life would be wel liked of my self, were it not for the feare that you madame shold be discontented with my refusal, & that you shold conceiue, y^t I disdained your offred charge, or cōtempne your Court for respect of the great Office I bare in the Court of the Kyng; my Lord & Master. For I cānot receiue more honor; than to serue hir, which is of that stock & royall race. Therfore at all aduētures I am resolued to obey your wil, & hūbly to satisfy y^t duty of y^t charge wherin it pleaseth you to imploy me, more to pleasure you for auoiding of displeasure: thē for de∣sire I haue to liue an honorable life in y^t greatest prin∣ces house of y^t world, sith I am discharged from him in whose name resteth my 〈◊〉〈◊〉 & only stay, thinking to haue liued a solitary life, & to passe my 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in rest, ex∣cept it were in y^e pore abilitie of my seruice to y^t house, wherunto I am bound continually to be a faithful ser∣uaunt. Thus Madame, you sée me to be the rediest mā of the world, to fulfill the request, and accomplish such other seruice wherin it shall please you to imploy me.

The Duchesse thanked him very heartily, and gaue him charge of all hir housholde traine, commaunding 〈◊〉〈◊〉 person to do him such reuerence as to hir self, and to obey him as the chief of all hir familie. This Lady was a widow, but a passing faire Gentlewoman, fine and very yong, hauing a yong sonne vnder hir guard & keping, left by the deceased Duke hir husbād, togither with the Duchie, the inheritaunce of hir childe. Now consider hir personage being such, hir easy life and de∣licate bringing vp, and daily séeing the youthely trade and maner of Courtiers life, whether she felt hir 〈◊〉〈◊〉 prickt with any desire, which burned hir heart y^t more incessantly, as the flames were hidden & couert: from the outward shew whereof she stayd hir self so well as she could. But she following best aduise, rather estée∣med the proofe of mariage, than to burne with so little fire, or to incurre the exchange of louers, as many vn∣shame fast strūpets do, which be rather giuen ouer, thā satisfied with pleasure of loue. And to say the truthe, they be not guided by wisdomes lore, which suffer a maiden ripe for mariage to be long vnwedded, or yōg wife long to liue in widdowes state, what assurance so euer they make of their chaste and stayed life. For bookes be so full of such enterprises, and houses stored with examples of such stolne and secrete practises, as there néede no further proofe for assurāce of our cause, the same of it self being so plaine and manifest. And a great follie it is to build the fātasies of chastitie, amid the follies of worldly pleasures. I will not goe about to make those matters impossible, ne yet wil iudge at large, but that there be some maidens & wiues, which wisely can conteine themselues amongs the troupe of amorous suters. But what? the experience is very hard, and the proofe no lesse daungerous, & perchaunce

in a moment the minde of some peruerted, whych all their liuing dayes haue closed their eares frō the wor∣des of those that haue made offer of louing seruice, we néede not run to forayne Histories, ne yet to séeke re∣cords that be auncient, sith we may sée the daily effects of the like, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in Noble houses, and Courtes of Kings and Princes. That this is true, example of this fair Duchesse, who was moued with that desire which pricketh others that be of Flesh and bone. This Lady waxed very weary of lying alone, & grieued hir heart to be without a match, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in the night, when the secrete silēce and darknesse of the same presented be∣fore the eies of hir minde, the Image of the pleasure which she felt in the life time of hir deceased Lord and husband, whereof now féeling hir selfe despoiled, she felt a continuall combat, and durst not attempte that which she desired most, but eschued y^e thing wherof hir minde liked best.

Alas (said she) is it possible after the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of the value of honest obedience which the wife oweth vnto hir husband, that I should desire to suffer the heat which burneth & altereth the martired minds of those that subdue them selues 〈◊〉〈◊〉 loue? Can such at∣tempt pierce the heart of me to become amorous by forgetting & straying from the limittes of honest life? But what desire is this? I haue a certaine vnacquain∣ted lust, & yet very well know not what it is that mo∣ueth me, and to whome I shall vow the spoile thereof. I am truely more fonde and foolish than euer. Narcislus was, for there is neither shadow nor 〈◊〉〈◊〉, vpō which I can well stay my sight, nor yet simple Imagination of any worldly man, whereupon I can arrest the con∣ceipt of my vnstayed heart, and the desires which pro∣uoke my mind. Pygmalion loued once a Marble piller, and I haue but one desire, the coloure wherof is more

pale than death. There is nothyng which can giue the same so much as one spot of vermilion rud. If I do dis∣couer these appetites to any wight, perhaps they will mock me for my labor, and for all the beautie & Noble birth y^t is in me, they wil make no conscience to déeme me for their iesting stock, & to solace themselues with rehersall of my fond conceits. But sith there is no eni∣mie in the field, & that but simple suspition doth assaile vs, we must breake of the same, and deface the entier remembrance of the lightnesse of my braine. It apper∣taineth vnto me to shew my self, as issued forth of the Noble house of Aragon. To me it doeth belong to take héede how I erre or degenerate from the royall bloud wherof I came.

In this sort that fair widow and yong Princesse fantasied in the nyght vpon the discourse of hir appetites. But when the day was come, séeing the great multitude of the Neapolitan Lords & gentlemen which marched vp & downe the Citie, eying and behol∣ding their best beloued, or vsing talk of mirth with thē whose seruaunts they were, al that which she thought vpō in the night, vanished so sone as y^t flame of burned straw, or the pouder of the Canon shot, & purposed for any respect to liue no lōger in y^t sort, but promised the conquest of some friend that was lustie and discréete. But the difficultie rested in that she knew not, vpon whom to fixe hir loue, fearing to be slaundered, and al∣so that the light disposition and maner of most part of youth wer to be suspected, in such wise as giuing ouer all them whych vauted vpon their Gennets, Turkey Palfreis, & other Coursers along y^e Citie of Naples, she purposed to take repast of other Uenison, than of that fond & wanton troupe. So hir mishap began already to spin the thréede which choked the aire and breath of hir 〈◊〉〈◊〉 life. Ye haue heard before y^t M. Bologna was

one of y^e wisest & most perfect gentlemen that the land of Naples y^t tyme brought forth, & for his beautie, pro∣portion, galantnesse, valiance, & good grace without cō∣parison. His fauor was so swéete and pleasant, as they which kept him cōpanie, had somwhat to do to abstain their affection. Who then could blame this faire Prin∣cesse, if (pressed with desire of matche, to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 y^e tic∣klish instigations of hir wāton flesh, and hauing in hir presence a mā so wise) she did set hir minde on him, or fantasie to mary him? wold not y^t partie for calming of his thirst & hunger, being set at the table before sundry sorts of delicate viands, ease his hunger? Me think the person doth greatly forget himself, which hauing hād∣fast vpō occasion, suffreth y^e same to vanish & flie away, sith it is wel knowne y^e she being bald behinde, hath no place to sease vpon, when desire moueth vs to lay hold vpon hir. Which was the cause y^t the Duchesse becam extremely in loue with y^e master of hir house. In such wise as before al men, she spared not to praise y^e great perfectiōs wherwith he was enriched, whō she desired to be altogether hirs. And so she was 〈◊〉〈◊〉, that it was as possible to sée y^t night to be void of darknesse, as y^t Duchesse without the presence of hir Bologna, or else by talk of words to set forth his praise, y^e continual re∣mēbrance of whome (for that she loued him as hir self) was hir only minds repast. The gentleman y^t was ful wise, & had at other times felt the great force of y^e pas∣sion which procedeth frō extreme loue, immediatly did mark y^t coūtenāce of the Duchesse, & perceiued y^e same so nere, as vnfainedly he knew y^t very ardētly y^t Ladie was in loue w^e him: & albeit he saw y^e inequality & diffe∣rēce betwene thē both, she being sorted out of y^e royal bloud, yet knowing loue to haue no 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉 state or dignity determined to folow his fortune & 〈◊〉〈◊〉 serue 〈◊〉〈◊〉,

which so louingly shewed hir self to him. Then sodain∣ly reprouing his fonde conceit, hée sayd vnto himself:

What follie is that I enterprise, to y^t great preiudice and perill of mine honor and life? Dught the wisdom of a Gentleman to straie and wandre through the as∣saults of an appetite rising of sensuality, and that rea∣son giue place to y^t which doeth participate with brute beastes depriued of all reason by subduing the mynde to the affections of the body? No no, a vertuous man ought to let shine in him self the force of the generosi∣tie of his mynde. This is not to liue according to the spirite, when pleasure shall make vs forget our duetie and sauegard of our Conscience. The reputation of a wise Gentleman resteth not onely to be valiant, and skilfull in feates of armes, or in seruice of the Noble: But nedefull it is for him by discretion to make him∣selfe prayse worthy, and by vanquishing of him self to open the gate to fame, whereby he may euerlastingly make himselfe glorious to all posteritie. Loue pric∣keth and prouoketh the spirit to do wel, I do confesse, but that affection ought to be addressed to some vertu∣ous end, tending to mariage, for otherwise that ver∣tuous image shall be soyled with the villanie of beast∣ly pleasure. Alas said he, how easie it is to dispute, whē the thing is absent, which can bothe force and violent∣ly assaile the bulwarks of most constant hearts. I full well doe sée the trothe, and doe féele the thing that is good, and know what behoueth me to follow: but when I view that diuine beautie of my Ladie, hir graces, wisdome, behauior and curtesie, when I sée hir to cast so louing an eie vpon me, that she vseth so great fami∣liaritie, that she forgetteth the greatnesse of hir house to abase hir self for my respect: how is it possible that I should be so foolish to dispise a duetie so rare and pre∣cious

and to set light by that which the Noblest would pursue with all reuerence and indeuor? Shall I be so much voide of wisedome to suffer the yong Princesse, to sée hir self contempned of me, to conuert hir loue to teares, by setting hir mynde vpon an other, to séeke mine ouerthrow? Who knoweth not y^t furie of a wo∣man? specially of the Noble dame, by séeing hir self despised? No, no, she loueth me, and I will be hir ser∣uaunt, and vse the fortune proffred. Shal I be the first simple Gentleman that hath married or loued a Prin∣cesse? Is it not more honourable for me to settle my minde vpon a place so highe, than vpon some simple wenche by whome I shall neither attaine profit, or ad∣uauncement? Baldouine of Flaunders, did not hée a No∣ble enterprise when he caried away Iudith the daugh∣ter of the French King, as she was passing vpon y^t seas into England, to be married to the king of that Coun∣trey? I am neither Pirat nor aduenturer, for that the Ladie loueth me. What wrong doe I then to any per∣son by yelding loue againe? Is not she at libertie? To whome ought she to make accompt of hir dedes & do∣ings, but to God alone and to hir owne conscience? I will loue hir, and cary like affection for the loue which I know & sée that she beareth vnto me, being assured y^t the same is directed to good end, and that a woman so wise as she is, will not commit a fault so filthy, as to blemish and spot hir honor.

Thus Bologna framed the plot to intertaine the Duchesse (albeit hir loue alredy was fully bēt vpon him) and fortified him self against all mishap and perillous chaunce that might 〈◊〉〈◊〉, as ordinarily you sée that louers cōceiue all things for their aduauntage, & fantasie dreames agreable to that which they most desire, resembling the mad and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 persons, which haue before their eies, the figured

fansies which cause the conceit of their furie, and stay themselues vpon the vision of that, which most trou∣bleth their offēded brain. On the other side, y^e Duchesse was in no lesse care of hir louer, the wil of whom was hid & secrete, which more did vexe & tormēt hir, than y^t fire of loue y^t burned hir so feruētly. She could not tell what way to hold, to do him vnderstand hir heart & af∣fection. She feared to discouer y^e same vnto him, doub∣ting either of some fond & rigorous answer, or of reue∣ling of hir mind to him, whose presēce pleased hir more than all y^t men of the world.

Alas said she, am I happed into so strāge misery, y^t with mine own mouth I must make request to him, which with al humilitie ought to offer me his seruice? Shall a Ladie of such bloud as I am, be cōstrained to sue, wher all other be required by importunat instāce of their suters? Ah loue, loue, what so euer he was y^t clothed thée with such puissāce, I dare say he was the cruel enimie of mans fredom. It is im∣possible that thou hadst thy being in heauen, sith y^t cle∣mencie & courteous influence of y^e same, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 mā with better benefits, than to suffer hir nourse children to be intreated with such rigor. He lieth which sayth y^t Venus is thy mother, for the swéetenesse & good grace y^t resteth in y^t pitifull Goddesse, who taketh no pleasure to sée louers perced with so egre trauails as that which afflicteth my heart. It was some fierce cogitatiō of Sa∣turne, that brought thée forth, & sent thée into the world to breake the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of them which liue at rest without any passion or grief. Pardon me Loue, if I blaspheme thy maiestie, for the stresse and endlesse grief wherein I am plunged, maketh me thus to roue at large, & the doubts which I conceiue, do take away the health and soūdnesse of my mind, the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 experiēce in thy schole causeth this amaze in me, to be solicited with desire y^t

countersayeth the duetie, honor, and reputation of my state: the partie whome I loue, is a Gentleman, ver∣tuous, valiant, sage, & of good grace. In this there is no cause to blame Loue of blindnesse, for all y^t inequalitie of our houses, apparāt vpon the first sight and shew of the same. But frō whence issue the Monarches, Prin∣ces & greater Lords, but frō the naturall and common mosse of earth, wherof other men doe come? what ma∣keth these differēces betwene those y^t loue eche other, if not the sottish opinion which we conceiue of great∣nesse, and preheminence: as though naturall affections be like to that ordained by the fantasie of men in their lawes extreme. And what greater right haue 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to ioyn with a simple gentlewoman, than y^e Princesse to mary a Gentleman, and such as Anthonio Bologna is, in whome heauen & nature haue forgotten nothing to make him equall with them which marche amongs the greatest. I thinke we be the daily slaues of the fōd and cruell fantasie of those Tyraunts, which say they haue puissance ouer vs: and that straining our will to their tirannie, we be still bound to the chaine like the galley slaue. No no, Bologna shall be my husband, for of a friend I purpose to make him my loyall and lawfull husband, meaning therby not to offend God & men to∣gither, & pretend to liue without offēse of conscience, wherby my soule shall not be hindred for any thing I do, by marying him whō I so straūgely loue. I am sure not to be deceiued in Loue. He loueth me so much or more as I do him, but he dareth not disclose the same, fearing to be refused & cast off with shame. Thus two vnited wils, & two hearts tied togithers w^e equal knot cannot choose but bring forth fruites worthie of such societie. Let men say what they list, I will do none o∣therwise than my head and mind haue alredy 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Semblably I néede not make accompt to any 〈◊〉〈◊〉 for my fact, my body, and reputation being in ful liber∣tie and fréedome. The bond of mariage made, shall co∣uer the fault which men would déeme, & leauing mine estate, I shall do no wrong but to the greatnesse of my house, which maketh me amōgs men right honorable. But these honors be nothing worth, where the minde is voide of contentation, and where the heart prickt forward by desire leaueth the body and mind restlesse without quiet.

Thus the Duchesse founded hir enter∣prise, determining to mary hir housholde Maister, sée∣king for occasion and time, méete for disclosing of the same, & albeit that a certaine naturall shame 〈◊〉〈◊〉, which of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 accompanieth Ladies, did close hir mouth, and made hir to deferre for a certaine time the effect of hir resolued minde. Yet in the end vanquished with loue and impacience, she was forced to breake of silence, and to assure hir self in him, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 feare cō∣ceiued of shame, to make hir waie to pleasure, which she lusted more thā mariage, the same seruing hir, but for a Maske and couerture to hide hir follies & shame∣lesse lusts, for which she did the penance that hir follie deserued. For no colorable dede or deceitful trompery can serue the excuse of any notable wickednesse. She then throughly persuaded in hir intent, dreamyng and thinking of nought else, but vpon the unbracement of hir Bologna, ended and determined hir conceits & pre∣tended 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 〈◊〉〈◊〉, hauing prospect into a garden, she knew not how to begin hir talk: (for the heart being seased, y^e minde troubled, and the wittes out of course, the tongue fai∣led to doe his office,) in such wise, as of long time she

was vnable to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 one onely woord. Hée surprised with like affection, was more astōned by séeing the al∣teration of his Ladie. So the two Louers stoode still like Images beholding one another, without any me∣uing at all, vntil the Ladie the hardiest of them bothe, as féeling the most vehement and greatest grief, tooke Bologna by the hād, and dissembling what she thought, vsed this or such like language:

If any other bisides your self (Gentleman) should vnderstand the secretes which now I purpose to disclose, I doubt what spéeche were necessary to colour my woords: But being assu∣red of your discretion and wisdom, and with what per∣fection nature hath indued you, and Arte, hauing accō∣plished that in you, which nature did begin to work, as one bred and brought vp in the royall Court of the se∣cond Alphonse, of Ferdinando and Federick 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 〈◊〉〈◊〉 my reasons, and tast y^t light which I bring for the for me, easily you may 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that mine 〈◊〉〈◊〉 cannot be other, than iust and reasonable. But if your conceits shall straye from that which I shal speak, & déeme not good of that which I determine, I shall be forced to thinke & say that they which estéeme you wise & sage, and to be a man of good and ready 〈◊〉〈◊〉, be maruelously deceiued. Notwithstā∣ding my heart foretelleth that it is impossible for mai∣ster Bologna, to wandre so farre from equitie, but that by and by he wil enter the lystes, & discerne the white from black, and the wrong from that which is iust and right. For so much as hitherto I neuer saw thing done by you, which preposterated or peruerted y^e good iudge∣ment that all the world estéemeth to shine in you, the same well manifested & declared by your tongue, the

right iudge of the mind: you know and sée how I am a widow through the death of that noble Gentleman of good remembrance, the Duke my Lord & husband: you be not ignoraunt also, that I haue liued and gouerned my self in such wise in my widow state, as there is no man so hard and seuere of iudgement, that can blason reproche of me in y^t which appertaineth to the honesty & reputation of such a Ladie as I am, bearing my port so right, as my conscience yeldeth no remorse, suppo∣sing that no man hath where with to bite & accuse me. Louching the order of the goods of the Duke my sōne, I haue vsed them with such diligence and discretion, as bisides the dettes which I haue discharged sithens the death of my Lord, I haue purchased a goodly Manor in Calabria, and haue annexed the same to the Duke∣dom of his heire: and at this day doe not owe one pen∣nie to any creditor that lent mony to the Duke, which he toke vp to furnish the charges in the warres, which he sustained in the seruice of the Kings our soueraine Lords in the late warres for the kingdome of Naples. I haue as I suppose by this meanes stopped the slaun∣derous mouth, and giuen cause vnto my sonne, during his life to accōpt himself bound vnto his mother. Now hauing till this time liued for other, and made my self subiect more than Nature could beare, I am entended to chaunge both my life and condition. I haue till thys time run, trauailed, & remoued to the Castels & Lord∣ships of the Dukedome, to Naples and other places, be∣ing in mind to tary as I am a widow. But what? new affaires and new councel hath possest my mind. I haue trauailed and pained my self inough, I haue too long a∣bidden a widowes life, I am determined therefore to prouide a husband, who by louing me, shal honor & che∣rish me, according to the loue which I shal bear to him,

& my desert. For to loue a man without mariage, God defend my heart should euer think, & shall rather die a hundred thousand deathes, thā a desire so wicked shald soile my conscience, knowing well y^t a woman which setteth hir honor to sale, is lesse than nothing, & deser∣ueth not y^t the cōmon aire shold breathe vpō hir, for all the reuerence y^t men do beare or make them. I accuse no person, albeit y^t many noble women haue their for∣heds marked, with the blame of dishonest life, & being honored of some, be neuerthelesse the cōmon fable of y^e people. To the intent then y^t such mishap happē not to me, & perceiuing my self vnable stil thus to liue, being yong as I am, & (God be thāked) neither deformed nor yet painted, I had rather be the louing wife of a simple féere, than y^t Concubine of a king or great Prince. And what? is the mightie Monarche able to wash away the fault of his wife which hath abādoned him cōtrary to y^t duty & honest which y^e vndefiled bed requireth? no les thē Princesses y^t whilom trespassed w^t those which wer of baser stuffe than thēselues. Messalina w^e hir imperial robe could not so wel couer hir faults, but y^t the Histo∣riās do defame hir with y^t name & title of a cōmon wo∣man. Faustina the wife of y^t sage Monarch Marcus Au∣relius, gained lyke report by rendring hir self to others pleasure, bisides hir lawful spouse. To mary my self to one that is mine equall, it is impossible, for so much as there is no Lord in all this Countrey méete for my de∣grée, but is to olde of age, y^t rest being dead in these la∣ter warres. To mary a husband that yet is but a child, is follie extréeme, for the inconueniences which daily chaūce therby, & the euil intreatie y^t Ladies do receiue whē they come to age, & their nature waxe cold, by re∣son wherof, imbracements be not so fauorable, & their husbāds glutted w^t ordinary meat vse to rū in exchāge.

Wherefore I am resolued without respite or delay, to choose some wel qualitied and renoumed Gentleman, that hath more vertue than richesse, of good Fame and brute, to the intēt I may make him my Lord, espouse, and husband. For I cannot imploy my loue vpon trea∣sure, which may be taken away, where richesse of the minde do faile, and shall be better content to sée an ho∣nest Gentleman with little reuenue to be praised and cōmended of euery man for his good déedes, than a rich carle curssed and detested of all the world. Thus much I say, and it is the summe of all my secretes, wherin I pray your Councell and aduise. I know that some wil be offended wyth my choise, & the Lords my brothers, specially the Cardinall will think it straunge, and re∣ceiue the same with ill digesture, that muche a do shall I haue to be agréed with them and to remoue the grief which they shall conceiue against me for this mine en∣terprise: wherefore I would the same should secretely be kept, vntil without perill and daunger either of my self or of him, whome I pretende to mary, I may pu∣blish and manifest, not my loue but the mariage which I hope in God shall soon be consummate and accompli∣shed with one, whome I doe loue better than my self, and who as I full well do know, doeth loue me better than his owne proper life.

Maister Bologna, which till then harkned to the Dration of the Duchesse without mouing, féeling himself touched so néere, and hearing y^t his Ladie had made hir approche for mariage, stode stil astonned, his tongue not able to frame one word, only fantasied a thousand 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in the aire, and formed like numbre of imaginations in his minde, not able to coniecture what hée was, to whome the Duchesse had vowed hir loue, & the possession of hir beauty. He could not thinke that this ioy was prepared for himself for y^t

his Ladie spake no woord of him, and he lesse durst opē his mouth, and yet was wel assured that she loued him beyōd measure. Not withstāding knowing the fickle∣nesse and vnstable heart of women, he sayd vnto him∣self that she would chaunge hir minde, for seing him to be so great a Cowarde, as not to offer hys seruice to a Ladie by whome he saw himself so manie times bothe want only looked vpon, & intertained with some secre∣sie more thā familiar. The Duchesse which was a fine and subtile dame, séeing hir friend rapt with the passi∣on, and standing stil vnmoueable through feare, pale & amazed, as if hée had bene accused and condempned to die, knew by that countenaunce & astonishment of Bo∣logna, y^t she was perfectly beloued of him: and so mea∣ning not to suffer hym any longer to continue in that amaze, ne yet to further fear him, wyth hir dissembled and fained mariage of any other but with him, she toke him by the hand, and beholding him with a wāton and luring eye, (in such sort as the curious Philosophers themselues would awake, if such a Lāpe and torch did shine within their studies,) she sayde thus vnto hym:

Seignor Anthonio, I pray you be of good chéere, & tor∣ment not your self for any thing y^t I haue said: I know well, and of long time haue perceyued what good and faithfull loue you beare me, & with what affection you haue serued me, sithens first you vsed my companie. Thinke me not to be so ignorant, but that I know ful wel by outward signes, what secretes be hid in the in∣ner heart: and that coniectures many times doe giue me true and certaine knowledge of concealed things. And am not so foolish to thinke you to be so vndiscrete, but that you haue marked my countenaunce & maner, and therby haue knowen that I haue bene more affec∣tioned to you, than to any other. For that cause (sayd

she, straining him by y^e hād very louingly, & with chere∣full coloure in hir face) I sweare vnto you, & doe pro∣mise y^t if you so thinke méete, it shall be none other but your self whom I wil haue, & desire to take to husband and lawfull spouse, assuring my self so much of you, as the loue which so long time hath ben hidden & couered in our hearts, shal appeare by so euident proofe, as only death shal end & vndoe the same.

The gentleman hea∣ring such sodain talk, & the assurāce of y^t which he most wished for, albeit he saw y^t daunger extréeme wherun∣to he laūched himself by espousing this great Ladie, & the enimies he shold get by entring such aliance: not∣withstanding building vpon vaine hope, and thinking at length that the choler of the Aragon brother would passe away if they vnderstoode y^t mariage, determined to pursue y^t purpose, & not to refuse that great prefer∣ment, being so prodigally offred, for which cause he an∣swered his Lady in this maner.

If it were in my pow∣er madame, to bring to passe y^t, which I desire for your seruice by acknowledging of y^e benefits & fauors which you depart vnto me, as my mind presenteth thāks for the same, I wold think my self the happiest Gentlemā y^t lyueth, & you the best serued Princesse of the world. For one better beloued (I dare presume to say, and so long as I liue wil affirm) is not to be found. If til this time I delayed to opē that which now I discouer vnto you, I beséeche you Madame to impute it to the great∣nesse of your estate, and to the duetie of my calling & office in your house, being not séemely for a seruant to talk of such secretes with his Ladie and mistresse. And truely y^t pain which I haue indured to holde my peace, and to hide my griefe, hath bene more noysome to me than one hundred thousand like sorowes together, al∣though it had ben lawfull to haue reuealed thē to some

trusty friend: I do not deny madame, but of long time you did perceiue my follie and presumption, by addres∣sing my minde so high, as to the Aragon bloud, and to such a Princesse as you be. And who cā beguile the eye of a Louer, specially of hir, whose Paragon for good minde, wisedom & gentlenesse is not? And I cōfesse to you bisides, that I haue most euidently perceiued how certain loue hath lodged in your gracious heart, wher∣with you bare me greater affection, thā you did to any other within the compasse of your familie. But what? Great Ladies hearts be fraught w^t secretes & conceits of other effects, than the minds of simple womē, which caused me to hope for none other guerdon of my loyal & faithfull affection, than death, & the same very short, Sith y^t litle hope accompanied with great, nay rather extreme passion, is not able to giue sufficiēt force, both to suffer & to stablish my heart with constancie. Now for so much as of your motion, grace, curtesie & libera∣litie the same is offred, & that it pleaseth you to accept me for yours, I hūbly beseche you to dispose of me not as husband, but of one which is, & shalbe your seruaunt for euer, & such as is more ready to obey, thā you to cō∣maund. It resteth now Madame, to consider how, & in what wise our affairs are to be directed, y^t things being in assurāce, you may so liue without peril and brute of slaunderous tongues, as your good fame & honest port may continue without spot or blemish.

Beholde the first Acte of the Tragedie, and the pro∣uision of the fare which afterwardes sent them bothe to their graue, who immediately gaue their mutuall faith: and the houre was assigned the next day, that the fair Princesse shold be in hir chamber alone, atten∣ded vpon with one only Gentlewoman which had ben brought vp with y^e Duchesse frō hir cradle, & was made

priuie to the heauy mariage of those two louers which was consummate in hir presence. And for the present time they passed y^t same in words, for ratificatiō wher∣of they wēt to bed togither. But y^t pain in the end was greater than the pleasure, and had ben better for them bothe, yea and also for the third, that they had shewed them selues so wyse in the déede, as discrete in keping silence of that which was done. For albeit their mari∣age was secrete, and therby politikely gouerned them selues in their stelthes and robberies of loue, and that Bologna more oft held the state of the steward of the house by day, than of Lord of y^e same, and by night sup∣plied that place, yet in y^e end, the thing was perceiued which they desired to be closely kept. And as it is im∣possible to till and culture a fertile ground, but y^t the same must yelde some frute, euen so the Duchesse af∣ter many pleasures (being ripe and plentiful) became with child, which at the first astonned the maried cou∣ple: neuerthelesse the same so well was prouided for, as the first childbedde was kept secrete, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 did know thereof. The childe was nourced in the towne, and the father desired to haue him named Federick, for remembraunce of the parents of his wife. Now for∣tune which lieth in daily waite and ambushment, & li∣keth not y^t men shold long loiter in pleasure and passe∣time, being enuious of such prosperity, cramped so the legges of our two louers, as they must néedes change their game, and learne some other practise: for so much as the Duchesse being great with childe again, and de∣liuered of a girle, the businesse of the same was not so secretely done, but that it was discouered. And it suffi∣sed not that the brute was noised through Naples, but that the sound flew further off. As eche mā doth know that rumor hath many mouthes, who with the multi∣tude

of his tongues and Trumps, proclaimeth in di∣uers and sundry places, the things which chaunce in al the regions of the earth. Euen so that babling foole, ca∣ried 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 Ara∣gon brothers had, by hearing the report of their sisters facte. I dare presume to say, that albeit they were ex∣tremely wroth with this happened 〈◊〉〈◊〉, & with y^t dishonest fame whych y^t Duchesse had gotten through∣out Italie, yet farre greater was their sorrow & grief, for that they did not know what hée was, that so cour∣teously was allied to their house, and in their loue had increased their ligneage. And therfore swelling wyth despite, & rapt with furie to sée themselues so defamed by one of their bloud, they purposed by all meanes whatsoeuer it cost them, to know the lucky louer that had so wel tilled the Duchesse their sisters field. Thus desirous to remoue that shame from before their eyes, and to be reuenged of a wrong so notable, they sent espial round about, and scoutes to Naples, to view and spy the behauior & talk of the Duchesse, to settle some certaine iudgement of him, whych stealingly was be∣come their brother in law. The Duchesse Court being in thys trouble, shée dyd continually perceiue in hir house, hir brothers men to mark hir countenance, and to note those that came thither to visite hir, & 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 companie, without shewing any signe of their affectiō, yet they purposed to chaūge their estate for a time, by yelding truce to their pleasures. Yea, & although Bologna was a wise and prouidēt personage,

fearing to be surprised vpon the fact, or that the Gen∣tlewoman of the Chamber corrupted with Money, or forced by feare, shold pronoūce any matter to his hin∣derance or disauantage, determined to absent himself from Naples, yet not so sodainly but that hee made the Duchesse his faithfull Ladie & companion priuie of his intent. And as they were secretely in their chāber to∣gither, hee vsed these or such like woords:

Madame, al∣beit the right good intent and vnstained conscience, is free from fault, yet the iudgement of men hath further relation to y^t exterior apparance, than to vertues force and innocencie it self, as ignorant of the secrets of the thought: and so in things that be wel done, we must of necessitie fall into the sentence of those, whom beastly affection rauisheth more, than ruled reason. You sée the solempne watch and garde which the seruaunts of the Lords your brothers do within your house, & the suspi∣cion which they haue cōceiued by reason of your secōd childbed, & by what meanes they labor truely to know how your affaires procéede, and things do passe. I feare not death where your seruice may be aduaūced, but if herein the maiden of your chāber be not secrete, if she be corrupted, and if she kepe not close that which she ought to do, it is not ignorant to you that it is y^e losse of my life, and shall die suspected to be a whoremonger & varlet, euen I, (I say) shall incurre that perill, which am your true and lawfull husband. Thys separation chaunceth not by Iustice or desert, sith the cause is too righteous for vs: but rather your brethrē will procure my death, when I shall thinke the same in greatest as∣surāce. If I had to do but with one or two, I wold not change the place, ne march one step from Naples, but be assured, that a great band, and the same wel armed will set vpon me. I pray you madame suffer me to re∣tire

for a time, for I am assured that when I am ab∣sent, they will neuer soile their hands, or imbrue their, sweards in your bloud. If I doubted any thing at al of, perill touching your owne person, I had rather a hun∣dred hundred times die in your companie, than liue to sée you no more. But out of doubt I am, y^t if the things were discouered, & they knew you to be begottē with childe by me, you should be safe, where I shold sustaine the penaunce of y^t fact, committed w^tout 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, vntil it pleaseth God to mitigate the rage of your brethren, and recouer their good wils to consent to our mariage. But I meane not to doe or conclude any thing without your aduise. And if this intent doe not like you, giue me councell Madame, what I were best to doe, that both in life and death you may knowe your faithfull seruaunt and louing husband is ready to obey and please you.

This good Ladie hearing hir husbands discourse, vn∣certain what to doe, wept bitterly, as wel for grief to lose his presence, as for that she felt hir self with child the third time. The sighes and teares, the sobbes and heauie lookes, which she threwe forth vpon hir sorow∣full husband, gaue sufficient witnesse of hir paine and grief. And if none had heard hir, I thinke hir playntes woulde haue well expressed hir inwarde smarte of minde. But like a wise Ladie, séeing the alleaged rea∣sons of hir husband, licensed him, although against hir minde, not without vtterance of these few words, before hée went out of hir Chamber:

Deare husband, if I were so well assured of the affection of my bre∣thren, as I am of my maides fidelitie, I would entreat

you not to leaue me alone: specially in the case I am, being with childe. But knowing that to be iust & true which you haue sayd, I am content to force my wil for a certaine time, that hereafter we may liue at rest to∣gether, ioyning our selues in the companie of our chil∣dren and familie, voide of those troubles, which great Courts ordinarily beare within the compasse of their Palaces. Of one thing I must intreat you, that so oftē as you can by trustie messenger, you send me woord & intelligence of your health and state, bicause the same shal bryng vnto me greater pleasure & contentation, than the welfare of mine owne: and bicause also, vpon such occurrentes as shall chaunce, I may prouyde for mine owne affaires, the suretie of my self, and of our childrē.

In saying so, she embraced him very amorous∣ly, and he kissed hir wyth so great sorrow and grief of heart, as the soule thought in that extasie out of his bo∣dy to take hir flight, sorowful beyōd mesure so to leue hir whome he loued, for the great curtesies and honor which he had receiued at hir hands. In the end, fearing that the Aragon espials wold come and perceiue them in those priuities, Bologna tooke his leaue, and bad hys Ladie and spouse Farewell.

And thus was the second Acte of this Tragicall Hi∣storie, to sée a fugitife husband secretely to mary, espe∣cially hir, vpon whom he ought not so much as to loke but with feare and reuerence. Beholde here (O ye foo∣lish louers) a Glasse of your lightnesse, and ye women, the course of your fonde behauior. It behoueth not the wise sodainly to execute their first motiōs and desires of their heart, for so much as they may be assured that pleasure is pursued so neare with a repentāce so sharp to be suffred, and hard to be digested, as their voluptu∣ausnesse shall vtterly discontent them. True it is, that

mariages be done in Heauen, and performed in earth, but that saying may not be applied to fooles, which go∣uerne themselues by carnall desires, whose scope is but pleasure, & the reward many times equal to their follie. Shall I be of opinion that a housholde seruaunt ought to sollicite, nay rather suborne the daughter of his Lord without punishment, or that a vile and abiect person dare to mount vpon a Princes bed? No no, pol∣licie requireth order in all, and eche wight ought to be matched according to their qualitie, without making a pastime of it to couer our follies, & know not of what force loue and desteny be, except the same be resisted. A goodly thing it is to loue, but where reason loseth his place, loue is without his effect, and the sequele rage & madnesse. Leaue we y^t discourse of those which beleue that they be constrained to folowe the force of their minde, and may easily subdue themselues to y^e lawes of vertue and honesty, like one that thrusteth his head into a sack, and thinks he can not get out, such people do please themselues in their losse, and think all well that is noisom to their health, daily folowing their cō∣trarie. Come we againe then to sir Bologna, who after he had left his wife in hir Castell, went to Naples, and hauing sessed a rent vpon his landes, and leuied a good summe of money, he repaired to Ancona, a Citie of the patrimonie of the Romane Church, whither he caried his two children, which he had of the Duchesse, causing the same to be brought vp with such diligēce and care, as is to be thought a father wel affectioned to his wife would doe, and who delighted to sée a braunche of the trée, that to him was the best beloued fruit of y^e world. There he hired a house for his train, and for those that waited vpon his wife, who in the meane time was in great care, & could not tell of what woode to make hir

arowes, perceiuing that hir belly began to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and grow to the time of hir deliuerie, séeing that from day to day, hir brothers seruaunts were at hir back, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of councel and aduise, if one euening she had not spokē to the Gentlewoman of hir chāber, touching the douts and peril wherin she was, not knowing how she might be deliuered from the same. That maiden was gentle & of a good minde and stomake, and loued hir mistresse very derely, & séeing hir so amazed and tormenting hir self to death, minding to fray hir no further, ne to re∣proue hir of hir fault, which could not be amended, but rather to prouide for y^e daunger wherunto she had hed∣long cast hir self, gaue hir this aduise:

How now Ma∣dame (said she,) is that wisdom which from your child∣hode hath bene so familiar in you, dislodged from your brest in time, when it ought chiefly to rest for incoun∣tring of those mishaps y^t are cōming vpon vs? Thinke you to auoid y^e dangers, by thus tormenting your self, except you set your hands to the work, thereby to giue the repulse to aduerse fortune? I haue heard you many times speake of the constancie & force of minde, which ought to shine in the dedes of Princesses, more clerely than amōgs those dames of baser house, & which ought to make thē appere like the sunne amid y^t litle starres. And yet I sée you now astonned, as though you had ne∣uer forséene, y^t aduersitie chaunceth so wel to catch the great within his clouches, as y^t base & simple sort. Is it but now, y^t you haue called to remembraunce, y^t which might insue your mariage with sir Bologna? Did hys only presence assure you against the waits of fortune, & was it the thought of paines, feares & frights, which now turmoileth your dolorous mind? Ought you thus to vexe your self, when nede it is to think how to saue both your honor, and the frute within your 〈◊〉〈◊〉?

If your sorow be so great ouer sir Bologna, and if you feare your childbed wil be descried, why séeke you not meanes to attempt some voyage, for couering of the sad, to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the eyes of them which so diligently do watch you? Doth your heart faile you in that matter? Whereof do you dreame? Why sweat and freat you before you make me answer? Ah swéete heart (answe∣red the Duchesse,) if thou feltest the paine which I do suffer, thy tongue wold not be so much at will, as thou shewest it now to be for reprofe of my smal cōstancie, I do sorow specially for y^t causes which thou alleagest, and aboue all, for that I know wel, that if my brethrē had neuer so litle intelligence of my being with child, I were vndone & my life at an end, and peraduenture poore wench, thou shouldest beare the penaūce for my sinne. But what way can I take, that stil these cādles may not giue light, and I may be voided of the traine which ought to wayt vpon my brethren? I thinke if I should descend into Hel, they would know, whither a∣ny shadowe there were in loue with me. Now gesse if I should trauaile the Realme, or retire to any other place, whither they wold leaue me at peace? Nothing lesse, sith they would sodainly suspect, that the cause of my departure procéeded of desire to liue at libertie, to dallie wyth him, whome they suspect to be other than my lawfull husbande. And it may be as they be wicked and suspicious, and will doubt of my great∣nesse, so shall I be farre more infortunate by trauai∣lyng, than here in miserie amidde myne anguishe: and you the rest that be kéepers of my Councell, shall fal into greater daunger, vpon whome no doubt they wil be reuenged, and flesh themselues for your vnhap∣py waiting and attendance vpon vs. Madame said the bolde maiden, be not afraide, and follow mine aduise,

For I hope that it shall be the meanes both to sée your spouse, & to rid those troublesome verlets out of your house, & in like manner safely to deliuer you into good assuraunce. Say your minde sayd the Ladie, for it may be, that I will gouerne my self according to the same. Mine aduise is then, sayd y^t Gentlewoman, to let your houshold vnderstand, that you haue made a vow to vi∣site the holy Temple of our Lady of Loretto, (a famous place of Pilgrimage in Italie) and that you commaund your traine to make themselues ready to waite vpon you for accōplishment of your deuotion, & from thence you shall take your iourney to soiorne at Ancona, whi∣ther before you depart, you shall send your moueables and plate, with such money as you shall think necessa∣rie. And afterwardes God will performe the rest, and through his holy mercy will guide & direct all your af∣faires. The Duchesse hearing the maydē speake those woords, and amazed of hir sodaine inuention, could not forbeare to embrace and kisse hir, blessing the houre wherin she was borne, and that euer she chaunced in∣to hir companie, to whome afterwardes she sayd. My wēch, I had well determined to giue ouer mine estate and noble porte, ioyfully to liue like a simple Gentle∣woman with my deare and welbeloued husband, but I could not deuise how I should conueniently departe this Countrey wythout suspition of some follie: and sith that thou hast so well instructed me for bringing y^t same to passe, I promise thée that so diligently thy coū∣cel shal be performed, as I sée the same to be right good and necessarie. For rather had I sée my husband, being alone without title of Duchesse or great Lady, than to liue without him beautified with the graces and foolish names of honor and preheminence.

This deuised 〈◊〉〈◊〉 was no soner groūded, but she gaue such order for exe∣cution

of the same, & brought it to passe wyth such 〈◊〉〈◊〉, as y^t Ladie in lesse than. viij. dayes had conuey∣ed and sent the most part of hir moueables, and speci∣ally the chiefest and best to Ancona, taking in y^t meane time hir way towards Loretto after she had bruted hir solempne vow made for that Pilgrimage. It was not sufficiēt for this foolish woman to take a husband, more to glut hir libidinous appetite, than for other occasion, except she added to hir sinne, an other execrable impie∣tie, making holy places and dueties of deuotion, to be as it were the ministers of hir follie. But let vs consi∣der the force of Louers rage, which so soone as it hath seased vpon the minds of men, we sée how maruelious be the effects thereof, and with what straint and puis∣saunce that madnesse subdueth the wise and strongest worldlings. Who wold think that a great Ladie wold haue abandoned hir estate, hir goods and childe, would haue misprised hir honor and reputation, to folow like a vagabond, a pore and simple Gentleman, and him bi∣sides that was the houshold seruaunt of hir Court? And yet you sée this great and mightie Duchesse trot & run after the male, like a female Wolfe or Lionesse (whē they goe to sault,) and forget the Noble bloud of Ara∣gon wherof she was descēded, to couple hir self almost with the simplest person of all the trimmest Gentle∣men of Naples. But turne we not the example of fol∣lies, to be a matter of cōsequence: for if one or two be∣come bankrupt of their honor, it foloweth not good La∣dies, that their facte should serue for a matche to your deserts, & much lesse a patron for you to folow. These Histories be not written to train and trap you, to pur∣sue the thousand thousand slippery sleightes of Loues gallantise, but rather carefully to warn you to behold the semblable faultes, and to serue for a drugge to dis∣charge

the poyson which gnaweth and fretteth the in∣tegritie and soūdnesse of the soule. The wise & skilfull Apothecary or compositor of drugges, dresseth Uipers flesh to purge the patient from hote corrupted bloude, which conceiueth and engendreth Leprosie within his body. In like manner, the fonde loue, & wicked ribaul∣drie of Semiramis, Pasiphae, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Faustina, and Ro∣mida is shewed in wryt, that euery of you should feare to be numbred and recorded amōgs such common and dishonorable women. You Princes and great Lordes read the follies of Paris, the adulteries of Hercules, the daintie and effeminate life of Sardanapalus, the tiran∣nie of Phalaris Busiris, or Dionysius of Scicile, and sée the History of Tiberius, Nero Caligula, Domitian and Helio∣gabalus, & spare not to numbre them amongs our 〈◊〉〈◊〉 youthes which soile thēselues with such villanies more filthily than the swine do in the durt. Al this in∣tendeth it an instruction for your youth to follow the infection and whoredome of those 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Better it were all those bokes were drēched in bottōlesse depth of seas, than christiā life by their meanes shold be cor∣rupted: but the exāple of y^t wicked is induced for to es∣chue & auoid them as y^t life of the good & honest is remē∣bred to frame & addresse our behauior in this world to be praise worthy & cōmēded. Otherwise y^e holinesse of sacred 〈◊〉〈◊〉 shold 〈◊〉〈◊〉 for an argument to y^e vnthrifty & luxurious to confirm & approue their heastly & licen∣cious wickednesse. Come we again thē to our purpose: the good Pilgrime of Loretto went forth hir voyage to atchieue hir deuotions, & to visite the Saint for whose Reliques she was departed y^t Countrey of y^t Duke hir sonne. When she had done hir suffrages at 〈◊〉〈◊〉, hir people thought y^t the voyage was at an end, & that she wold haue returned again into hir Countrey. But she

said vnto them: that sith she was so néere 〈◊〉〈◊〉, being but. xv. miles off, she would not returne before she had séen y^t auncient & goodly city, which diuers Histories do greatly recōmend, as wel for the antiquitie, as for the pleasant 〈◊〉〈◊〉 therof. All were of hir aduise, & went to sée y^t antiquities of Ancona, & she to renue y^e pleasures which she had before begon w^t hir Bologna, who was aduertised of all hir determination, resting now like a God, possessed w^t the iewels & richesse of the Duchesse, & had taken a faire palace in the great streat of the Ci∣tie, by y^t gate wherof the train of his Ladie must passe. The Harbinger of the Duchesse posted before to take vp lodging for the traine: but Bologna offred vnto him his Palace for the Lady. So Bologna which was alrea∣dy welbeloued in Ancona, and entred new amitie and great acquaintance with the Gentlemen of the Citie, with a goodly troupe of them, went forth to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his wife, to whome he 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his house, and besought hir that she and hir traine would vouchsafe to lodge with him. She receiued the same very thākfully, and with∣drew hir self vnto his house, who conducted 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thither, not as a Husband, but like hym that was hir humble and affectionate seruaunt. But what néedeth much dis∣course of woordes? The Duchesse knowing that it was impossible but eche man must be 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to hir facte, and know what secretes hath passed betwéene hir and hir Husband, to the ende that no other opinion of hir Childebed should be conceyued, but that which was good and honest, and done since the accomplish∣ment of the mariage, the morrowe after hir arriuall to Ancona, assembled all hir traine in the Hall, of purpose no longer to kéepe secrete that syr Bologna was hir Husbande, and that already she had had two Children by him, and againe was great with childe.

And when they were come together after dinner, in y^t presence of hir husbād, she spake vnto thē these 〈◊〉〈◊〉:

Gentlemen, and al ye my trusty and louing seruants, highe time it is to manifest to euery of you, the thing which hath ben done before the face, and in y^e presence of him who knoweth the most obscure & hyddē secrets of our thoughts. And néedefull it is not to kepe silent y^t which is neither euill done ne hurtfull to aný person. If things could be kept secrete and still remaine vn∣known, except they were declared by the doers of thē, yet would not I commit the wrong in cōcealing that, which to discouer vnto you doth greatly delite me, and deliuereth my mind 〈◊〉〈◊〉 excéeding grief, in such wise as if y^t flames of my desire could breake out with such violence, as the fire hath taken heat within my mind, ye shold sée the smoke mount vp with greater smoul∣der than that which the mount Gibel doeth vomit forth at certaine seasons of the yeare. And to the intent I may not kéepe you long in this suspect, this secrete fire within my heart, and that which I will cause to flame in open aire, is a certain opinion which I conceiue for a mariage by me made certaine yeares past, at what time I chose and wedded a husband to my fantasie and liking, desirous no longer to liue in widow state, and vnwilling to doe the thing that should 〈◊〉〈◊〉 & hurt my conscience. The same is done, and yet in one thing I haue offended, which is by long kéeping secrete the performed mariage: for the wicked brute dispearsed through the realme by reason of my childbed, one yere past, hath displeased some, howbeit my conscience 〈◊〉〈◊〉 comfort, for that the same is frée from fault or blot. Now know ye therfore what he is, whome I ac∣knowledge for my Lord and spouse, and who it is that lawfully hath me espoused in the presēce of this Gen∣tle woman

whom you sée, which is the witnesse of our Nuptials & accorde of mariage. This gentleman here present Antonio Bologna, is he to whom I haue sworn and giuen my faith, and hée againe to me hath ingaged his owne. He it is whom I accompt for my spouse and husband, (& with whome henceforth) I meane to rest and continue. In consideration wherof, if there be any héere amongs you all, that shall mislike of my choise, & is willing to wait vpon my sonne the Duke, I meane not to let them of their intent, praying them faithful∣ly to serue him and to be carefull of his person, and to be vnto him so honest and loyall, as they haue bene to me so long as I was their mistresse. But if any of you desire stil to make your abode with me, and to be par∣takers of my wealth and woe, I wil so entertain him, as hée shall haue good cause to be contented, if not, de∣part ye hence to Malfi, and the steward shall prouide for either of you according to your degrée: for touching my self I do minde no more to be termed an infamous Duchesse: rather had I be honored with the title of a simple Gentle woman, or with that estate which she can haue that hath an honest husband, and with whom she holdeth faithfull and loyall companie, than reuerē∣ced with the glory of a Princesse, 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 integritie of my Conscience, wherefore I pray you bring forth our children, y^t eche man may beholde the fruites raised of our alliance.

Hauing spoken those words, and the children brought forth into the hall, all the companie stode stil so astonned with that new suc∣cesse and tale, as though hornes sodainely had started forth their heads, and rested vnmoueable and amazed, like the great marble piller of Rome called Pasquile,

for so much 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 & blou∣die end of this Tragedie. For of all the Duchesse ser∣uaunts, there was not one that was willing to conti∣nue with their auncient mistresse, who with the faith∣ful maiden of hir chamber remained at Ancona, enioy∣ing the ioyful embracements of hir husband, in al such pleasure & delights as they doe, which hauing liued in feare, be set at liberty, & out of al suspition, plunged in a sea of ioy, & fleting in the quiet calme of al passetime, where Bologna had none other care, but how to please his best beloued, & she studied nothing else but how to loue and obey him, as the wife ought to do hir husband. But this faire weather lasted not long, for although y^t ioyes of mē do not long endure, and wast in litle time, yet delights of louers be lesse firme & stedfast, & passe away almost in one moment of an hour. Now the ser∣uaunts of the Duchesse which were retired, and durst tary no longer with hir, fearing the fury of the Cardi∣nal of Aragon brother to the Ladie, the very day they departed from Ancona, deuised amongs themselues y^t one of them shold ride in post to Rome, to aduertise the Cardinal of the Ladies mariage, to the intent that the Aragon brethren shold conceiue no cause to accuse thē of felonie & treason. That determination spedily was accomplished, one posting towards Rome, and the rest galloping to the Countrey and Castels of the Duke. These newes reported to the Cardinal & his brother, it may be considered how grieuously they toke y^t same, & for that they were not able to digest thē with 〈◊〉〈◊〉, the yōgest of the brethren, yelled forth a thousand cursses & despites, against y^e simple sere of womākind.

Ha said y^t Prince (trāsported with choler, & driuen in to deadly furie,) what law is able to punish or restrain y^e foolish indiscretiō of a womā, that yeldeth hir self to hir own desires? What shame is able to bridle & with∣drawe hir from hir minde & madnesse? Or with what seare is it possible to snaffle thē frō execution of their 〈◊〉〈◊〉? There 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 milde the strong and proud, and to ouertake the swif∣test beast and foule, or otherwise to attaine the high∣est and déepest thing of the world: but this incarnate diuelish beast the woman, no force can surmount hir, no swiftnesse can approche hir mobilitie, no good mind can preuent hir sleights and deceites, they séeme to be procreated and borne against all order of nature, and to liue without law, which gouerneth all other things indued wyth some reason and vnderstanding. But what a great abhomination is this, that a Gentlewo∣man of such a house as ours is, hath forgotten hir e∣state, and the greatnesse of hir aliance, besides the no∣bilitie of hir deceased husband, with the hope of the to∣warde youth of the Duke hir sonne and our Nephew. Ah false and vile bitch, I sweare by the almightie God and by his blessed wounds, that if I can catch thée, and that wicked knaue thy chosen mate, I will pipe ye both such a galiarde, as ye neuer felt the lyke ioy and mirthe. I will make ye daunce such a bloudy bar∣genet, as your whorish heate for euer shall be cooled. What abuse haue they committed vnder title of ma∣riage, which was so secretely done, as their Children do witnesse their filthy: embracements, but their pro∣mise of faith was made in open aire, and serueth for a cloke and visarde for their most filthy whoredoine.

And what if mariage was concluded, be we of so little respect, as the carion beast would not vouchsafe to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 vs of hir entent? Or is Bologna a man worthy to be allied or mingled with the royall bloud of Ara∣gon and Castille? No no, be hée neuer so good a Gentle∣mā, his race agréeth not with kingly state. But I make to God a vewe, that neuer will I take one sound and restfull sléepe, vntill I haue dispatched that infamous fact from our bloud, and that the caitife whoremonger be vsed according to his desert.

The Cardinall also was ont of quiet, grinding his téeth togither, chatte∣ring forthe Jacke an Apes Pater noster, promising no better vsage to their Bologna than his yonger brother did. And the better to intrap them both (without fur∣ther sturre for that time) they sent to y^t Lord Gismon∣do Gonsago the Cardinal of Mantua then Legate for Pope Iulius the second at Ancona, at whose hands they enioyed such friendship, as Bologna and all his familie were commaūded spedily to auoide y^e Citie. But for al y^e the Legate was able to do, of long time he could not preuaile. Bologna had so great intelligēce w^tin Ancona. Neuerthelesse whiles he differed his departure, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 caused the most part of his train, his children & goods to be conueyed to Siena, an auncient Citie of Thoscane, which for the state and liberties, had long time bene at warres with the Florentines, in such wise as the ve∣ry same day that newes came to Bologna that he shold departe the Citie within. xv. dayes, hée was ready, and moūted on horseback to take his flight to Siena, which brake for sorrow the hearts of the Aragon brethren, séeing that they were deceiued and frustrate of their intent, bicause they purposed by the way to apprehend Bologna, and to cut him in pieces. But what? the time of his hard luck was not yet expired, and so y^e marche

from Ancona, serued not for the Theatre of those two infortunate louers ouerthrow, who certain moneths liued in peace in Thoscane. The Cardinal night nor day did sléepe, and his brother stil did wayt to performe his othe of reuenge. And séeing their enimie out of feare, they dispatched a post to Alfonso Castruccio, the Cardi∣nall of Siena, that he might entreat the Lord Borgliese, chief of the seignorie there, that their sister and Bolog∣na should be banished the Countrey and limits of that Citie, which with small sute was brought to passe. These two infortunate, husbād and wife, were chased from al places, and so vnlucky as whilom Acasta was, or Oedipus, after his fathers death and incestuous ma∣riage w^t his mother, vncertain to what Saint to vow themselues, and to what place to take their flight. In the end they determined to goe to Venice, and to take their flight to Ramagua, there to imbarke themselues for to retire to the sauegarde of the Citie, enuironned with the sea Adriaticum, the richest in Europa. But the poore soules made their reconing there without their hoste, failing half the price of their banket. For being vpon the territorie of Forly, one of the train a farre off, did sée a troupe of horsenien galloping towardes their cōpany, which by their countenaunce shewed no signe of peace or amitie at all, which made them cōsider that it was some ambush of their enimies. The 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Gentleman séeing the onset bending vpon them, begā to fear death, not for that he cared at all for his mishap and ruine, but his heart began to cleaue for heauinesse to sée his wife and litle children ready to be murdered, and serue for the passetime of the Aragon brethrens eyes, for whose sakes he knew himself already prede∣stinate to die, and that for despite of him, and to acce∣lerate his death by the ouerthrow of his, he was assu∣red

that they wold kil his childrē before his face & 〈◊〉〈◊〉. But what is there to be done, where counsell & meanes to escape do faile? Ful of teares therfore, asto∣nishment & fear, he expected death so cruel as mā could deuise, & was alredy determined to suffer the same 〈◊〉〈◊〉 good corage, for any thing y^t the Duchesse could say 〈◊〉〈◊〉 him. He might well haue saued himself & his eldest sonne by flight, being both wel moūted vpon two good Turkey horsses, which ran so fast, as y^t quarrel dischar∣ged forth of a croshow. But he loued too much his wife & children, and wold kéepe them companie both in life and death.

In the end the good Ladie sayd vnto him: or for all the ioyes & pleasures which you can doe me, for Gods sake saue your self & the little infant next you, who can wel indure y^e galloping of the horse. For sure I am, y^t you being out of our cōpanie, we shal not néede to fear any hurt. But if you do tary, you wil be y^e cause of the ruine and ouerthrow of vs all, & receiue therby no profit or aduaūtage: take this purse therfore, & saue your self, attending better Fortune in time to come.

The poore gentleman Bologna knowing that his wife had pronounced reason, & perceiuing y^t it was impossi∣ble from that time forth that she or hir traine could es∣cape their hāds, taking leaue of hir, & kissing his childrē not forgetting the money which she offred vnto him, willed his seruants to saue thēselues by such meanes as they thought best. So giuing spurrs vnto his horse, he began to flée amaine, and his eldest sonne séeing his father gone, began to followe in like sorte. And so for that time they two were saued by breaking of the in∣tended yll luck like to light vpon them. And in a place to rescue himself at Venice, hée turned another way, & in great iourneys arriued at Millan. In the meane time the horsemē were approched 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Duchesse,

who séeing that Bologna had saued himself, very cour∣teously began to speake vnto the Ladie, were it that the Aragou brethren had giuen them that charge, or feared that the Ladie wold trouble them with hir im∣portunate cries & lamentatiōs. One therfore amongs them sayd vnto hir:

Madame, we be commaunded by the Lordes your brethren, to conducte you home vnto your house, that you may receiue again the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of the Duchie, and the order of the Duke your sonne, & doe maruell very much at your folly, for giuing your self thus to wander the Countrey after a man of so small reputation as Bologna is, who whē he hath glut∣ted his lusting lecherous mind with the comelinesse of your Noble personage, wil despoil you of your goods & honor, and then take his legs into some strange coun∣trey.

The simple Ladie, albeit grieuous it was vnto hir to heare such spéech of hir husbād, yet held hir peace and dissembled what she thought, glad and well contē∣ted with the curtesy done vnto hir, fearing before that they came to kill. hir, and thought hir self already dis∣charged, hoping vpon their courteous dealings, that she and hir Children from that time forth should liue in good assuraunce. But she was greatly deceyued, and knew within shorte space after, the good will hir bre∣thren bare vnto hir. For so soone as these gallants had conducted hir into the kingdome of Naples, to one of the Castels of hir sonne, she was committed to prison with hir children, and she also that was the secretarie of hir infortunate mariage. Till this time Fortune was contented to procéede with indifferent quiet 〈◊〉〈◊〉 those Louers, but benceforth ye shall heare the issue of their little prosperous loue, and how pleasure hauing blinded them, neuer forsoke them vntill it 〈◊〉〈◊〉 giuen them the 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

It booteth not héere to recite fables or histories, conti∣ting my self that ladies do read without too many we∣ping teares, the pitiful end of that miserable princesse, who séeing hir self a prisoner in the companie of hir li∣tle children and welbeloued Maiden, paciently liued in hope to see hir brethren appaised, comforting hir self for the escape of hir husband out of y^t hands of his mor∣tal foes. But hir assurance was changed into an horri∣ble feare, & hir hope to no expectation of suretie, when certain dayes after hir 〈◊〉〈◊〉, hir Gaoler came in, and sayd vnto hir:

Madame I do aduise you hence∣forth to consider vpon your conscience, for so much as I suppose that euen this very day your life shall be ta∣ken from you. I leaue for you to thinke what horrour and traunce assailed the feeble heart of this pore Lady, and with what eares she receiued those cruell newes, but hir cries and mones together with hir sighes and lamentations, declared with what chéere she receiued that aduertisement. Alas (sayd she) is it possible that my brethren should so farre forget themselues, as for a fact nothing preiudiciall 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 all right and equitie be put to death before the Judge or Magistrate haue made trial of my life, & known the vnright eousnesse of my cause? Ah God most righteous, and bountiful father, beholde the malice of my brethren, and the tyrannous crucltie of those which wrongfully doe séeke my bloud. Is it a sinne to mary? Is it a fault to flie and auoide the sinne of whoredome? What lawes be these, where mariage bed and ioyned matrimony is pursued with like seue∣ritie, as murder, theft and aduoutrie? And what Chri∣stianitie in a Cardinall, to shed y^t bloud which he ought

to 〈◊〉〈◊〉? What profession is this, to assaile the inno∣cent by the hie way side, in place to punish théeues and murderers? O Lord God thou art iust, & dost al things right cously, I sée well that I haue trespassed against thy Maiestie in some other notorious crime than by mariage: I most humbly therfore beséeche thée to haue compassion vpon me, and to pardon mine 〈◊〉〈◊〉, ac∣cepting the confession and repentance of me thine 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉 for satisfaction of my sinnes, which it plea∣sed thée to wash away in the precious bloud of thy sōne our Sauior, that being so purified, I might appere at y^e holy banket in thy glorious kingdome. When she had thus 〈◊〉〈◊〉 hir prayer, two or thrée of the ministers which had taken hir 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Forly, came in, and sayd vn∣to hir: Now Madame make ready your self to goe to God, for beholde your houre is come. Praised be that God (sayd she) for the wealth and woe which it plea∣seth him to send vs. But I beséeche you my friendes to haue pitie vpon these lyttle children and innocēt crea∣tures. Let thē not feele the smarte which I am assured my brethrē beare against their poore vnhappie father. Well well Madame sayd they, we will conuey them to such a place, as they shal not want. I also recōmend vnto you (quod she) this poore maiden, and entreat hir wel, in consideration of hir good seruice done to the in∣fortunate Duchesse of 〈◊〉〈◊〉. As she had ended those woords, y^t two Ruffians did 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a corde about hir neck, and strangled hir.

The mayden 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the piteous tra∣gedie commensed vpon hir 〈◊〉〈◊〉, cried out a main, and cursed the cruell malice of those tormenters, and besought God to be witnesse of y^t 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and crying 〈◊〉〈◊〉 vpon his diuine Maiestie, she besought him to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his iudgement against them which causelesse (being no 〈◊〉〈◊〉,) hadde killed such innocent. creatures.

Reason it is (said one of the tyrants) that thou be par∣taker of the ioy of thy mistresse innocencie, sith 〈◊〉〈◊〉 hast bene so faithfull a minister, and messanger of hir follies. And sodainly caught hir by the hair of the head, & in stead of a carcanet placed a roape about hir necke. How now (quod she,) is this the promised faith which you made vnto my Ladie? But those woords flew in∣to the air with hir soule, in companie of the miserable Duchesse.

But hearken now the most sorowfull scene of all y^t tragedie. The litle children which had séene all the fu∣rious game done vpon their mother and hir maide, as nature prouoked thē, or as some presage of their mis∣hap led them therunto, kneled vpon their knées before those tyrants, and embracing their legs, wailed in such wise, as I think that any other, except a pitilesse heart spoiled of all humanitie, wold haue had cōpassion. And impossible it was for them, to vnfold the embracemēts of those innocent creatures, which séemed to forethink their death by the wilde lokes and countenāce of those roisters. Wherby I think that néedes it must be cōfes∣sed, that nature hath in hir self, and vpon vs imprinted some signe of diuination, and specially at the hour and time of death, in such wise as y^t very beasts féele some cōceits, although they sée neither sword nor staffe, and indeuor to auoyde the cruell passage of a thing so fear∣ful, as the separation of two things so néerely vnited, euen the body and soule, which for the motion y^t chaū∣ceth at the very instant, she weth how nature is con∣strained in that monstruous separation, & more than horrible ouerthrow. But who can appease a heart de∣termined to do euil, & hath sworn the death of another forced the runto by some special cōmaundement? The Aragon brethrē ment hereby nothing else, but to roote

out y^t whole name & race of Bologna. And therfore the two ministers of iniquitie did like murder & slaughter vpon those two tender babes, as they committed vpon their mother, not without some motion of horror, for doing of an act so detestable. Behold here how far the crueltie of man extēdeth, whē it coueteth nothing else but vengeance, and marke what excessiue choler the minde of thē produceth, which suffer themselues to be forced & ouerwhelmed with furie. Leaue we apart the crueltie of Euchrates, the sonne of the king of Bactria, & of Phraates the sōne of the Persian Prince, of Timon of Athens, & of an infinite nūbre of those which were ru∣lers and gouerners of the Empire of Rome: and let vs match with these Aragon brethrē, one Vitoldus Duke of Litudnia, the crueltie of whom, constrained his own subiects to hang thēselues, for fear least they shold fall into his furious & bloudy hands. We may confesse also these brutal brethrē to be more butcherly thā euer O∣tho erle of Monferrato, & prince of Vrbin. was, who cau∣sed a yeoman of his chamber to be wrapped in a shéete poudred with sulpher & brimstō, & afterwards kindled with a candle, was scalded & cōsumed to death, bicause only he waked not at an hour by him apointed. Let vs not excuse them also frō some affinity with Maufredus the sonne of Henry y^t second Emperor, who smoldered his own father, being an old mā, betwene y. couerleds. These former furies might haue some excuse to couer their crueltie, but these had no other cause but a cer∣tain beastly madnesse which moued thē to kil those li∣tle childrē their neuews, who by no meanes could pre∣iudice or anoy y^e duke of Malfi or his title, in y^e successiō of his Duchie, the mother hauing w^tdrawn hir goods, & was assigned hir dowry: but a wicked hart must néedes bring forth semblable works according to his malice.

In the time of these murders, the infortunate 〈◊〉〈◊〉 kept himself at Millan wyth his sonne Federick, and vowed himself to y^t Lord Siluio Sauello, who that time belieged the Castell of Millan, in the behalf of Maxi∣milian Sforcia, which in the end he conquered and reco∣uered by composition with y^e French within. But that charge being archieued, the generall Sauello marched from thence to Cremona with his campe, whither Bo∣logna durst not folow, but repaired to the Marquize of Bitonte, in which time y^t Aragon brethren so wrought, as his goods were confiscate at Naples, and he driuē to his shifts to vse the golden Duckates which the Du∣chesse gaue him to relieue him self at Millan, whose Death althoughe it was aduertised by many, yet hée coulde not be persuaded to beleue the same, for that diuers which went about to betray him, and feared he should flie from Millan, kept his beake in the water, (as the Prouerbe is,) and assured him both of the life & welfare of his spouse, and that shortly his brethren in law wold be reconciled, bicause that many Noble mē fauored him well, and desired his returne home to his Countrey. Fed and filled with that vaine hope, he re∣mained more than a yeare at Millan, frequenting the companie, and well entertained of the richest Mar∣chants and Gentlemen of the Citie: and aboue all o∣ther, he had familiar accesse to the house of the Ladie Hippolita Bentiuoglia, where vpon a day after dinner, taking his Lute in hand, wheron he could exceedingly wel play, he began to sing a certain Sonnet, which he had composed vpon the discourse of his misfortune, the tenor whereof is this.

The song of Antonio Bologna, the husband of the Duchesse of Malfi.

If loue, the death, or tract of time, haue measured my distresse, Or if my beating sorrowes may my languor well expresse: Then loue come sone 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 rolling course, for to prolong mine ease, To thend I shall enioy my loue, and heart himself appease. A cruell Darte brings happy death, my soule then rest shall finde: And sleping body vnder tombe, shall dreame time out of minde. And yet the Loue, the time, nor Death, lokes not how I decrease: Nor giueth eare to any thing of this my wofull peace. Full farre I am from my good happe, or halfe the ioy I craue, wherby I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 my state with teares, & draw full nere my graue. The courteous Gods that giues me life, nowe moues the Planets all: For to arrest my groning ghost, and hence my sprite to call. Yet from them still I am separd, by things vnequall here, Not mēt the Gods may be vniust, that bredes my chāging chere. For they prouide by their foresight, that none shall doe me harme: But she whose blasing beuty bright, hath brought me in a charm. My mistresse hath the powre alone, to rid me from this woe: whose thrall I am, for whome I die, to whome my sprite shall goe. Away my soule, go from the griefs, that thee oppresseth still, And let thy dolor witnesse beare, how much I want my will. For since that loue and death himself, delights in guiltlesse bloud, Let time trāsport my troubled sprite, where destny semeth good.

His song ended, the poore Gentleman could not for∣beare frō pouring forth his luke warme teares, which aboundantly ran downe his heauie face, and his pan∣ting sighes truely discouered y^t alteration of his mind, which moued eche wight of that assembly to pitie his

mournefull state: and one specially of small acquain∣taunce, and yet knew the deuises which the Aragon brethren had trained and conspired against him: that vnacquainted Gentleman his name was Delio, one very well learned and of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 inuention, and very excellently hath endited in the Iralion vulgar tongue. Who knowing the Gentleman to be husbande to the deceased Duchesse of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 came vnto him, & taking him aside, sayd:

Sir, albeit I haue no great acquain∣tance with you, this being the first time that euer I saw you, to my remembrance, so it is, that vertue hath such force, and maketh gentle mindes so amorous of their like, as when they doe beholde 〈◊〉〈◊〉 other, they féele thēselues coupled as it were in a bande of minds, that impossible it is to diuide the same. Now knowing what you be, and the good and commendable qualities in you, I compte it my duetie to reueale that which may chaunce to bréede you damage. Know you then, that I of late was in companie with a Noble man of Naples, which is in this Citie, banded with a certaine companie of horsemen, who tolde me that hee had a speciall charge to kill you, and therfore prayed me (as he séemed) to require you not to come in his sight, to the intent hée might not be constrained to doe that, which should offende his Conscience, and grieue the same all the dayes of his life. Moreouer I haue worse tidings to tell you, which are, that the Duchesse your wife is deade by violent hand in prison, and the moste parte of them that were in hir companie. Besides this assure your self, that if you doe not take héede to that which this Neapolitane captaine hathe differred, other will doe and execute the same. This much I haue thought good to tell you, bicause it woulde verie much grieue me, that a Gentleman so excellent as you be,

should be murdered in that miserable wife, and would déeme my selfe vnworthy of life, if knowing these practises I should dissemble the same. Wherunto Bo∣logna answered: Syr Delio I am greatly bounde vn∣to you, and giue you heartie thankes for the good will you beare me. But of the conspiracie of the brethren of Aragon, and the death of my Ladie, you be decey∣ued, and some haue giuen you wrong intelligence. For within these two dayes I receiued letters from Naples, wherein I am aduertised, that the right hono∣rable and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Cardinall and his brother be al∣most appeased, and that my goodes shall be rendred a∣gaine; and my deare wife restored. Ah syr sayd Delio, how you be beguiled and fedde with follies, and nou∣rished with sleights of Courte. Assure your self that they which wryte these tristes, make such shamefull sale of you, as the Butcher doeth of his flesh in the shambles, and so wickedly betray you, as impossible it is to inuent a Treason more detestable: but be thinke you well thereof.

When he had sayde so, hée tooke his leaue, and ioyned himself in companie of fiue and pregnant wittes, there assembled togither. In the meane tyme, the cruell spryte of the Aragon bre∣thren were not yet appeased with the former mur∣ders, but néedes must finish the last acte of Bologna his Tragedie by losse of his life, to kéepe his wife and Children companie, so well in an other worlde, as hée was vnited with them in Loue in this fraile and transitorie passage. The Neapolitan gentleman before spoken of by Delio, which had taken an enterprise to satisfie the barbarous Cardinal, to bericue his Coun∣treyman of life, hauing changes his minde, and differ∣ring from day to day to sorte the same to effect, which hée had taken in hande, it chaunced that a Lombarde

of larger conscience than the other, inuegled with Co∣uetousnesse, and hired for readie money, practised the death of the Duchesse pore husband. This bloudy beast was called Daniel de Bozola that had charge of a cer∣taine bande of footemen in Millan. This newe Iudas and assured manqueller, within certaine dayes after, knowing that Bologna oftentimes repaired to heare seruice at the Church and couent of S. Fraunces, secret∣ly conueyed himself in ambush, hard bisides the church of S. Iames whether he came, (being accompanied with a certaine troupe of souldioures) to assaile the infortu∣nate Bologna, who was sooner slaine than hée was able to thinke vpon defense, & whose mishap was such, that he which killed him had good leisure to saue himself by reason of the little pursuite made after him. Beholde héere the Noble facte of a Cardinall, and what sauer it hath of Christian puritie, to commit a slaughter for a facte done many yeares past vpon a poore Gentleman which neuer thought him hurte. Is this the swéete ob∣seruation of the Apostles, of whom they vaunt them∣selues to be the successors and folowers? And yet we cannot finde nor reade, that the Apostles, or those that slept in their trace, hired Kuffians and Murderers to cut the throtes of them which did thē hurt. But what? It was in the time of Iulius the second, who was more marshall than christian, and loued better to shed bloud than giue blessing to the people. Such ende had the in∣fortunate mariage of him, which ought to haue contē∣ted himself with that degrée and honor that hée had ac∣quired by his déedes and glory of his vertues, so much by eche wight recōmended. We ought neuer to clime higher than our force permitteth, ne yet surmount the bounds of duety, and lesse suffer our selues to be haled 〈◊〉〈◊〉 forth with desire of brutal sensualitie. The sinne

being of such nature, that hée neuer giueth ouer y^t par∣tie whome he mastereth, vntil he hath brought him to the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of some Notable follie. You sée the misera∣ble discourse of a Princesse loue, that was not very wise, and of a gentleman that had forgottē his estate, which ought to serue for a loking glasse to them which be ouer hardie in making of enterprises, and doe not measure their abilitie with the greatnesse of their at∣temptes: where they ought to maintaine themselues in reputation, and beare the title of wel aduised: fore∣séeing their ruine to be example to all posteritie, as may be séene by the death of Bologna, and of all them which sprang of him, and of his infortunate spouse his La∣die and mistresse.

But we haue discoursed inoughe hereof, sith diuersitie of other Histories doe call vs to bring the same in place, which were not much more happie than those, whose Histo∣rie ye haue already tasted.