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.

Two Gentlewomen of Venice.

¶ Two Gentlemen of VENICE were honourably decei∣ued of their wiues, whose notable practises, and secrete cō∣ference for archieuing their desire, occasioned diuers acci∣dentes, and ingendred double benefite: wherin also is reci∣ted an eloquent oration, made by one of them, pronounced before the Duke and state of that Citie: with other chaun∣ces and actes concerning the same.

The. xxvj. Nouel.

HEre haue I thoughte good to summon. y. gen∣tlewomen of Venice to apeare in place, and to mount on stage amon∣ges other Italian dames to shewe cause of their bold incountrie against the follie of their two husbandes, that vncha∣ritably against order of neighbourhode, wente about to assayle the ho∣nestie of eythers wife, and wéening they had enioyed others felicitie, by the womens prudence, foresyghte and ware gouernement, were bothe deceiued, and yet attayned the chiefest benefite that mariage state doth looke for: so that yf searche bée made amonges anti∣quities, it is to be doubted whether greater chastitie, and better policie coulde bée founde for 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of an intended purpose. Many dedes haue bene

done by women for sauegarde of their husbands liues, as that of Minyae, a sorte of women whose husbands wer imprisoned at Lacedaemon, & for treason cōdemned who to saue their husbāds, entred into prison the night before they shold die, & by exchange of apparell, deliue∣red them, and remained there to suffre for them. Hip∣sicratea also y^e Quene & wife of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 king of Pon∣tus, spared not hir noble beautie and golden lockes to manure hir self in the vse of armes to kéepe hir husbād company in perils and daungers: and being ouercome by Pompeius, and flying away, neuer left him vnaccō∣panied, ne forsoke such trauel as he him self sustained. The like also of Aemilia, Turia, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Portia, & other Romane dames. But that such haue preuēted their hus∣bands follie, seldome we reade, sauing of Quéene Ma∣rie, y^e wife of Don Pietro king of Arragon, who marking the folie of hir husband, and sorie for his disordred life, honest iealousie opening hir cōtinēt eyes, forced hir to seke meanes to remoue his wanton acts, or at lestwise by policie & wise foresight to make him husband & cul∣ture his own soile, that for want of seasonable tillage was barren & voide of fruite. Wherefore consulting with the lorde Chamberlain, who of custome brought whom the King liked best, was in place of his woman, bestowed in his bed, and of hir that night begate the yong Prince Giacomo, that afterwardes proued a va∣liaunt and wise King. These passyng good policies of women many times abolish the frantik lecherous fits of husbands giuen to superfluous lustes, when first by their chast behauior & womāly pacience they 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that, whiche they bée lothe to sée or heare of, and then demaunding counsell of sobrietie and wisedome, ex∣cogitate sleightes to shunne follie, and expell discur∣tesie, by husbandes carelesse vse. Suche practyses

and deuises, these two Gentlewomen whome I now bring forth, disclose in this discourse ensuing.

In the Citie of Venice, (whiche for riches and faire women excelleth al other within the region of Italie) in the time that Francesco Foscari, a very wise Prince, did gouerne the state, there were two yong gentlemē, the one called Girolamo Bembo, and the other Anselmo Barbadico, betwene whome as many times chaunceth amongs other, grew such great hatred and cruel hosti∣litie, as eche of them by secrete and al possible means deuised to do other shame and displeasure, which kind∣led to such out rage, as it was thought impossible to be pacified. It chaunced that at one time both of them did marie two noble yong Gentlewomen, excellēt & faire, both brought vp vnder one nurse, and loued eche other like two sisters, and as though they had ben both born of one bodie. The wyse of Anselmo, called Isotta, was the daughter of Messer 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Gradenigo, a mā of great estimation in that citie, one of the procuratours of San Marco, whereof there were not so greate numbre in those dayes as there be now, bicause the wisest men & best approued of life were chosen to that great and no∣ble dignitie, none allotted therevnto by bribe or ambi∣tion. The wife of Girolamo Bembo was called Lucia, y^t daughter of Messer Gian Francesco Valerio Caualiere, a Gentleman very well learned, and many times sent by the State, ambassador into diuers countreyes, and after he had bene Drator with the Pope, for his wise∣dome in the execution of the same was in great estima tion with the whole citie. The two Gentlewomen af∣ter they were maried, & heard of the hatred betwene their husbandes, were very sorowfull and pensiue, bi∣cause they thought the friendshyppe and loue betwene them twaine, continued from their tender yeres, could

not be, but with great difficulty kept, or else altogither dissolued & broken. Not withstāding being discrete and wise, for auoiding occasion of their husbands offēce, de∣termined to cease their accustomed conuersation & lo∣uing familiaritie, & not to frequent eche others cōpany, but at places & times conuenient. To whome Fortune was so fauorable, as not only their houses were néere together but also ioyning, in the backsides wherof their gardens also cōfined, seperated only with a litle hedge, y^t euery day they might sée one another, & many times talke togither: Moreouer the seruāts & people of either houses were friendly & familiar, which did greatly cō∣tent the two louing Gētlewomen, bicause they also in the absence of their husbāds, might at pleasure in their gardens disport thēselues. And continuing this order y^t space of. iij. yeres neither of thē both were with childe. In which space Anselmo many times vicwing and ca∣sting his eyes vpō Madonna Lucia, fel earnestly in loue with hir, & was not that day wel at ease, wherin he had not beholden hir excellēt beautie: 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that was of sprite and wit subtil, marked the lokes & maner of Anselmo, who neither for 〈◊〉〈◊〉, ne other cause did render like lokes on him, but to sée to what end his louing chéere & countenāce wold 〈◊〉〈◊〉. Not 〈◊〉〈◊〉 she séemed rather 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to behold him, thā elswher to imploy hir lokes. On the other side the good 〈◊〉〈◊〉, the wise order and pleasant beautie of Madonna Isotta was so excellent & plausible in the sight of master Girolamo, as no louer in the world was better pleased with his Ladie than 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with hir: who not able to liue without the swete sight of Isotta (y^t was a crafty & wily wēch) was 〈◊〉〈◊〉 hir quick∣ly perceiued. She being right honest & wise, and louing hir husband very dearly, did beare that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to Girolamo, that she generally did to any of the 〈◊〉〈◊〉, or

to other stranger y^t she neuer saw before. But hir 〈◊〉〈◊〉 more & more inflamed, hauing lost y^t liberty of him self, wounded & pierced with the amorous arowes of Loue, could not conuert his minde to any other 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to mistresse Lucia. These two womē wonted to heare ser∣uice euery day ordinarily at the church of 〈◊〉〈◊〉, bi∣cause they lay lōg a bed in the mornings, & commonly seruice in y^t church was said somwhat late: their pewes also somwhat distant one frō an other. Whether their y. amorous husbāds cōtinually vsed to folow thē 〈◊〉〈◊〉 off, & to place themselues wher either of thē might 〈◊〉〈◊〉 view his beloued: by which custome they seemed to the cōmon people to be iealous ouer their wiues. But they prosecuted y^t matter in such wise, as either of thē w^eout shipping, sought to send other into Cornouale. It came to passe then, y^t these. 〈◊〉〈◊〉. beloued gētlewomē one knowing nothing of another, determined to cōsider better of this loue, bicause y^e great good wil lōg time borne, shold not be interrupted, Upō a certain day when their 〈◊〉〈◊〉 were abrode, resorting together to talk at their garden hedge according to their wōted maner, they 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to be 〈◊〉〈◊〉 & mery:

and after louing salutations, mistresse Lucia spake these words vnto hir companion. Isotta my dear beloued sister, I haue a tale to tel you of your hus∣band, y^t perchanuce wil seme stranger thā any newes that euer you heard. And I (answered mistresse Isotta) haue a story to tel you, y^t will make you no lesse to wō∣der thā I at y^t which you haue to say, and it may be wil put you into some choler & chafe.

What is that quod y^t one and other. In the end either of thē told what 〈◊〉〈◊〉 & loue their husbands wēt about. Wherat although they were in great rage with their husbands, yet for y^t time they laughed out the matter, and thought y^t they were sufficient (as in very déede they were, a thing not

to be doubted) and able to satisfie their husbands hūger and therwithal began to blame them, and to say y^t they deserued to learn to play of the Cornets, if they had no greater feare of God, and care of honesty thā their hus∣bands had. Then after much talke of this matter, con∣cluded that they shold do well to expect what their hus∣bands would demaunde. Hauing taken order as they thought méete, they agréed daily to espie what shoulde chaunce, and purposed first with swéete and pleasant lookes to baite and lure eche other féere, to put them in hope there 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that they should satisfie their desires, which done for that time they departed. And when at the Church of Sanfantino or other place in Venice, they 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to méete their louers, they shewed vnto them chearefull and mery countenaunce: which the louers well noting, were the gladdest men of the worlde: and séeing that it was impossible in speache to vtter their mindes, they purposed by letters to signify the same. And hauing founde Purciuaunts to goe betwene par∣ties, (whereof this Citie was wont to be full) either of them wrote an amorous letter to his beloued, the content whereof was, that they were very desirous secretely to talke with them, thereby to expresse the burning affectiōs that inwardly they bare them, which without declaration and vtterance by mouthe in their owne presence, woulde bréede them torments more bitter than deathe. And within fewe dayes after (〈◊〉〈◊〉 great difference of time betwéene,) they wrote their letters. But Girolamo Bembo hauing a pregnant wit, who coulde wel endite both in prose and 〈◊〉〈◊〉, wrote an excellent song in the praise of his darling in Italian Meter, and with his letter sent the same vnto hir, the effect wherof both folow.

ALiuely face and pearcing beautie bright Hath linkt in loue my sely sences all: A comely porte, a goodly shaped wight Hath made me slide that neuer thought to fall: Hir eyes, hir grace, hir dedes and maners milde, So straines my heart, that loue hath wit begilde.

But not one darte of Cupide did me wounde, A hundred shafts lights all on me at ones: As though dame kinde some new deuise had founde, To teare my flesh, and crash a two my bones: And yet I feele such ioy in these my woes That as I die, my sprite to pleasure goes.

These new found fits, such change in me doe breede, I hate the day, and draw to darknesse lo: Yet by the lampe of beautie doe I feede In dimmest dayes and darkest nights also, Thus altring state and changing diet still, I feele and know the force of Venus will.

The best I finde, is that I doe confesse, I loue you dame, whose beautie doth excell: But yet a toy doth brede me some distresse, For that I dread you will not loue me well, That loue ye wot shall rest in me alone: And fleshly brest, shall beare a heart of slone.

O Goddesse mine, yet heare my voyce of ruthe, And pitie him, that heart presents to thee: And if thou want a witnesse for my truthe Let sighs and teares my iudge and record be, Vnto the end a day may come in hast, To make me thinke I spend no time in wast.

For nonght preuailes in loue to serue and sue If full effect ioyne not with words at nede, What is desyre or any fansies newe More than the winde? that spreades abrode in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 My words and works, shall bothe in one agree To pleasure hir, whose seruant would I bee.

The subtill dames receiuing those amorous letters and song disdainfully, at the first 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to take them at the bringers hands, as they had determined, yet af∣terwardes they shewed better countenaunce. These letters were tossed one from an other, whereat they made great pastime, and thought that the same would come to very good successe, either of them keping styll their husbandes letter, and agréeing withoute iniurie done one to an other trunly to deceiue their husbands. The maner how, you shal perceiue anone. They deui∣sed to sende worde to their louers, that they were rea∣die at all times to satisfie their sutes, if the same might be secretely done, and safely might make repaire vnto their houses, when their husbands were absent, which in any wise they sayde, muste be done in the night, for feare least in the day time they were discried. Againe these prouident and subtill women had taken order with their maydes, whome they made priuie to theyr practise, that through their gardens they should enter into others house, and be shut in their chambers with∣out light, there to tarie for their husbands, and by any meanes not to be séene or knowne. This order prescri∣bed and giuen, Mistresse Lucia first did hir louer to vn∣derstand, that the night insuing at. iiij. of the clock at the posterne dore, which should be left open, he shoulde come vnto hir house, where hir maide should be redy to bring him vp into the chaumbre, bicause hir husbande

maister Girolamo woulde that night imbarke himselfe to goe to Padoua. The like mistresse Isotta did to mai∣ster Girolamo, appointing him at. v. of the clock which she sayd was a very conuenient time, bicause maister Anselmo that night would sup and lie with certaine of his friendes at Murano, a place besides Venice. Upon these ne wes, the two louers thought them selues the most valiant and fortunate of the world, no enterprise now there was but séemed easie for them to bryng to passe, yea if it wer to expel the Saracēs out of 〈◊〉〈◊〉, or to depriue the great Turke of his kingdome of Constantinople. Their ioy was such, as they coulde not tell where they were, thinking euery houre a whole day before night came. At length the tyme was come so long desired, and the husbandes accordingly gaue di∣ligent attendance, and let their wiues to vnderstand, (or at lest wise beleued they had) that they coulde not come home that night for matters of great importāce. The women that were very wise, séeing their shippe saile with so prosperous winde, fained them selues to credite all that they offered. These yong men toke ei∣ther of them his Gondola (or as we term it their barge) to disport themselues, & hauing supped abrode, rowed in the Canali, which is y^t water that passeth through di∣uers stretes of the citie, expecting their apointed hour. The womē redy at. iij. of the clocke, repaired into their gardens, & after they had talked & laughed together a pretie while, wēt one into an others house, & wer by y^t maids brought vp to y^t chābres. There either of them y^t candle being light, began diligently to view y^t order & situation of the place, & by litle & litle marked the chie∣fest things they loked for, cōmitting y^t same to memo∣rie. Afterwards they put out y^t candle, & both in trem∣bling maner expected y^e cōming of their husbands. And

〈◊〉〈◊〉 at. iiij. of y^t clock y^e maiden of Madōna Lucia stode at the dore to wait for y^t cōming of master Anselmo, who win a while after came, & gladly was let in by y^t maid, & by hir cōducted vp to y^e chāber euē to the bed side. The place there was so dark as hell, & impossible for hym to know his wife. The. ij. wiues wer so like of bignesse & spech, as by dark without great difficultie they coulde, be knowne. When Anselmo had put of his clothes, he was of his wife amorously intertained, thynking the wife of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 had receiued him betwene hir armes, who aboue 〈◊〉〈◊〉. M. times kissed hir very swetely, and she for hir parte swéetely rendred againe to hym so many. What folowed it wer folie to describe. Girolamo lyke∣wise at. v. of the clock appered, and was by the mayde conueyd vp to the chambre, where he lay with his own wife, to their great contentations. Now these. 〈◊〉〈◊〉. hus∣bands thinking they had bē imbraced by their beloued ladies, to séeme braue and valiant men of warre, made greater proofe of their manhod, than they wer wont to do. At what time their wiues (as it pleased God to ma∣nifest by their deliuerie) wer begoten with child of. 〈◊〉〈◊〉. faire 〈◊〉〈◊〉, & they y^e best contented women of y^t worlde. This practise cōtinued betwene thē many times, fewe wekes passing but in this sort they lay together. Ney∣ther of them for al this, perceiued themselues to be de∣luded, or cōceiued any suspitiō of collusion by reason y^t chāber was stil without light, & in the day y^e womē cō∣monly failed not to be togither. The time was not lōg but their bellies began to swel, wherat their husbands were exceding ioiful, beleuing verily that one of them had fixed hornes vpon an others head. Nowbeit y^e pore mē for al their false belief had bestowed their labor vp on their own soil, watred only w^t y^e course of their pro∣pre foūtain. These. 〈◊〉〈◊〉. ioly wēches seing thēselfs by this

amorous practise to be with childe, beganne to deuise how they might breake of the same, doubting lest some slaunder and ill talke shoulde rise: and thereby the ha∣trede and malice betwene their husbandes increase to greater furie. And as they wer about this deuise, an oc∣casion chaunced, vtterly to dissolue their 〈◊〉〈◊〉 méetings but not in that sort as they wold haue had it. For the women determined as merily they had begon so iocundly to ende: but Fortune the guide of humane life disposeth all enterprises after hir owne pleasure, who like a puissant Ladie carieth with hir the successe of eche attempt. The beginnyng she offereth fréely to him that list, the end she calleth for, as a ransom or tri∣bute payable vnto hir. In y^e same streate, or as they cal it Rio, & Canale, not farre from their houses, there dwel∣led a yong woman very faire and comely, not fully xx. yeares of age, which then was a widow, and a little be∣fore the wife of M. Niccolo Delphino, and the daughter of M. Giouanni Moro, called Gismonda. She besides hir fathers dowrie (which was more thā a thousand 〈◊〉〈◊〉) had left hir by hir husband, a greate porcion of money, iewels, plate, and houshold furnitures. With hir fell in loue Aloisio Foscari, the nephew of the Duke, who making great sute to haue hir to wyfe, consumed the time in beholding his Ladie, and at length had brought the matter to so good passe, as one nighte she was con∣tented at one of the windowes of hir house directly o∣uer againste a little lane to heare him speake. Aloisio maruellous glad of those desired newes 〈◊〉〈◊〉 appoin∣ted night about v. or. vj. of the clock with a ladder made of roapes (bicause the window was very high, wente thither alone. Beyng at the place making a signe con∣cluded vpon betwene them, attended when the gentle woman should throwe downe a litle corde to draw vp

the ladder accordingly as was appointed, which not long after was done. Gismonda when she had receiued the ende of the ladder, tied it fast to the iawme of the window, and gaue a token to hir louer to mount, he by force of loue being very venturous, liuely and lustely scaled the window. And when he was vpon the top of the same, desirous to cast himself in, to embrace his La∣die, and she not ready to receiue him, or else vpon other occasion, he fel downe backward, thinking as he fell to haue saued himself twice or thrice by catching hold vpō the ladder, but it wold not be. Notwithstāding, as God wold haue it, the poise of his body fel not vpō the paue∣ment of the streate fully, but was stayed by some lets in the fal, which had it not bene so, no doubt he had ben slaine out of hand, but yet his bones were sore brused, and his head déepely wounded. The infortunate Louer séeing himself sore hurt with that pitifull fall, albeit he thought that he had receiued his deaths woūde, and im∣possible to liue any longer, yet the loue that he bare to the widow, did so far surmoūt the paine by him sustai∣ned and the grief of his body sore crushed and broken, that so well as he could, he raised himself vp, and with his hands stayed the bloud that ranne from his head, to the intent it might not raise some slaunder vpon the widow that he loued so wel: and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 alongs the streat towarde the houses of Girolamo and Anselmo aforsaid. Being come thither with great difficultie, not able to goe any further for very paine and griefe, he fainted and fell downe as deade, where the bloud issued in such aboundance, as the ground therewith was greatly im∣brued and arayed, and euery one that saw him thought him to be void of life. Mistresse Gismonda excéeding so∣rowful for this mischaunce, doubted that he had broken his necke, but when she saw him depart, she comforted

him so wel as she could, and drew vp the ladder into hir chāber. Such chaunces happen to earnest louers, who when they think they haue scaled y^e top of their felicity sodainly tōble down into the pit of shame or reproche, that better it had bene for them leisurely to expect the grace of their Ladies at conuenient place and hour, thā hardily without prouidēce to aduenture like desperate soldiers to clim the top of the vamure, without measu∣ring the height of the wals, or viewing the substāce of their ladders, do receiue in the end cruel repulse, & fall downe hedlong either by presēt death or mortal woūd, to receiue euerlasting reproche and shame. But turne we againe now to this disgraced Louer, who lay gas∣ping betwéene life and death. And as he was in this so∣rowful state, one of the captaines, a Noble man apoin∣ted to sée orders obserued in the night, with his bande (which they call Zaffi) came thither. And finding him lying vpon the grounde, knew that it was Aloisio Fos∣cari, & causing him to be taken vp from the place where he lay, thinking he had bene dead, commaunded that he should be conueyed into the Church harde adioyning, which immediately was done. And when he had well considered the place where he was founde, he doubted that either Girolamo Bembo or Anselmo Barbadico, be∣fore whose dores he thought the murder cōmitted, had killed him, which afterwards he beleued to be true, bi∣cause he heard a certaine noise of mennes féete at one of their doores. Wherfore he deuided his company, pla∣cing some on the one side of their houses, and some on the other besieging the same so wel as he could. And as fortune wold, he found by negligence of the maids, the dores of the. ij. houses open. It chaunced also that night that the two louers one in others house were gone to lie with their Ladies, who hearing the hurly burly, &

stur made in the house by y^e sergeants sodainly the wo∣men lept out of their beds, & bearing their apparel vpō their shoulders, wēt home to their houses throughtheir gardeins vnséene of any, and in fearful wise did attēd what should be the end of y^e same. Girolamo & Anselmo not knowing what rumor & noise that was, although they made hast in y^e darke to cloth themselues, were by the officers w^tout any field fought, apprehended in eche others chamber, & remained prisoners at their mercy: wherat the captaine and his band did greatly maruell, knowing the hatred betwene them. But when Tor∣ches and lights were brought, and the two Gentlemen caried out of doores, the wonder was the greater for that they perceiued them almost naked, and prisoners taken in eche others house. And besides this admirati∣on, such murmur and slaunder was raised, as the quali∣tie of euery vulgar head could secretely deuise or ima∣gine, but specially of the innocent women, who how faultlesse they were, euery man by what is sayd before may conceiue, and yet the cancred stomakes of that troupe conceiued such malice against them, as they 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and brawled against them like curres at straunge Dogges whome they neuer saw before. The Gentle∣men immediately were caried to prison, ignorant vp∣on what occasion. Afterwards vnderstāding that they were committed for the murder of Aloisio Foscari, and imprisoned like theues, albeit they knew themselues guiltlesse of murder or Theft, yet their griefe and se∣rowe was very great, being certaine that all Venice shoulde vnderstand howe they betwéene whome had bene mortall hatred, were nowe become copartners of that which none but the true professours ought to 〈◊〉〈◊〉. And although they coulde not abide to speake

together, like those that deadly did hate one another, yet both their mindes were fixed vpon one thought. In y^e end, cōceiuing fury & despite against their wiues, the place being so dark y^t no light or sunne could pierce into the same, whereby without shame or disdaine one of them began to speake to another, and with terrible othes they gaue their faith to disclose y^e trothe in what sort either of them was taken in others chamber, and frākly tolde the way and meane how eche of them en∣ioyed his pleasure of others wife: wherupon the whole mater (according to their knowledge) was altogether by little & little manifest and knowne. Then they ac∣cōpted their wiues to be the most arrant strūpets w^tin the whole Citie, by dispraising of whome their olde rā∣cor began to be forgotten, & they agréed together like two friends, who thought y^t for shame they shold neuer be able to looke mē in the face, ne yet to shew thēselues openly within the City, for sorow wherof they déemed death the greatest good turne and benefit y^t could chāce vnto them of any thing in y^t world. To be short, séeing no meanes or occasion to cōfort & relieue their pensiue and heauy states, they fell into extréeme dispaire, who ashamed to liue any longer, deuised way to rid them∣selues of life, concluding to make themselues guilty of the murder of Aloiso Foscari. And after much talke vt∣tred betwene them of that cruell determination, still approuing the same to be their best refuge, they expec∣ted nothing else, but when they should be examined be∣fore the Magistrates.

Foscari as is before declared was layd into y^t Church for dead, and y^t Priest straitly charged w^t the keping of the same, who caused him to be cōueyed into y^e mids of the church, setting. 〈◊〉〈◊〉. torches a light, y^t one at his head, & the other at his féete, & when the cōpany was gon, he

determined to goe to bed the remnant of the night to take his rest. But before he went, séeing y^t the Torches were but short, and could not last past. ij. or. iij. houres, he lighted two other, and set them in the others place, for that it shoulde séeme to his friends, if any chaunced to come, what care and worship he bestowed vpō him. The priest readie to depart, perceiued the bodie some∣what to moue, with that looking vpon his face, espied his eyes a litle to begin to open. Wherewithal some∣what afraid, he crying out, ran away: Notwithstāding his courage began to come to him again, and laying his hand vpon his breast, perceiued his heart to beate, and then was out of doubt that he was not dead, although by reason of losse of his blood, he thought litle life to re∣main in him. Wherfore he with one of his felow prie∣stes which was a bed, and the clerke of the parishe, ca∣ried maister Foscari so tenderly as they coulde into the priests chamber, which adioined next the church. Then he sent for a surgeon that dwelt hard by, and required him diligently to search the wounde, who so wel as he coulde, purged the same from the corrupte blood, and perceiuing it not to be mortall, so dressed it with oiles and other precious oyntments, as Aloisio came again to himselfe. And when he had anointed that recouered bodie with certaine precious and comfortable oyles, he suffred him to take his rest. The priest also wente to bed and slepte till it was daye, who so soone as he was vp, went to séeke the Captaine to tell him of the good newes that maister Aloisio Foscari was recouered a∣gaine, who by the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Captaine was committed to him in charge. The Captain at that time was gone to the pallace at San Marco, to gyue the Duke aduertise∣ment of this chaunce, after whome the priest went, & was let in to the dukes chamber, to whom he declared

what he had done to maister Aloisio. The Duke verie glad to heare tell of his nephewes life, although then verie pensiue for the newes broughte vnto him by the Captaine, intreated one of the Signor de notte, to take with him two of the best surgions, and to call him that had alreadie dressed his nephew, to go visite the woun∣ded Gentleman, that he might be certified of the truth of that chaunce. All whiche together repaired to the priestes chamber, where finding hym not a sléepe, and the wounde faire ynough to heale, dyd thervnto what their cunning thoughte méete and conuenient. And then they began to inquire of hym, that was not yet full recouered to perfecte speache, howe that chaunce happended, tellyng him that he myght frankly confesse vnto them the trouthe. The more diligent they were in thys demauude, bicause the Surgeon that dressed hym fyrst, alleaged, that the wounde was not made wyth sworde, but receyued by some great fal or blow with mace or clubbe, or rather séemed to come of some high fall from a wyndowe, by reason his head was so grieuously brused. Aloisio hearyng the Surgeons so∣daine demaunde, presentely aunswered, that he fell downe from a window, and named also the house. And he had no sooner spoken those wordes, but he was very angry with hym selfe and sorie: And therewithal hys dismayde spirites began to reuiue in such wyse, as so∣dainly he chose rather to die than to speake any thyng to the dishonour of mistresse Gismonda. Then the Sig∣nior di notte, asked him what he dyd there aboute that time of the night, and wherfore he did climbe vp to the windowe, béeing of so great a height: which he could not kéepe secrete, by reason of the authoritie of the Magistrate that demaunded the question, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 hée thought that if his tongue 〈◊〉〈◊〉 runne at large, and

committed a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 by rashe speaking, his body should therfore suffer the smart. Wherfore before he wold in any wyse spot the name of 〈◊〉〈◊〉, whom he loued better than his owne life, determined to hazarde his lyfe and honour, to the mercie of Iustice, and sayd:

I declared euen now, whyche I can not denye, that I fell downe from the windowe of mistresse Gisinonda Mora. The cause thereof (beyng nowe at state, wherein I know not whether I shall lyue or die) I wyll truly disclose. Mistresse Gismonda being a widow, & a yong woman, without any man in hir house, bycause by reporte she is verie rych of iewels and money, I purposed to robbe and dispoyle. Wherfore I deuised a ladder to climbe vp to hir wyndowe, wyth mynde full bent to kyll all those that shoulde resiste me. But my 〈◊〉〈◊〉 was suche, as the ladder beyng not well fastened fell, and I my selfe therwithall, and thinking to recouer home to my lodgyng with my ladder made of corde, my 〈◊〉〈◊〉 beganne to faile, and fell downe I wotte not where.

The Signor de notte, whose name was Dome∣nico Mariperto, hearyng him say so, maruelled great∣ly, and was very sorie, that all they in the chamber, which were a great number, as (at such chaunces com∣monly be) dyd heare those wordes: and bycause they were spoken so openly, he was forced to saye vnto hym:

Aloisio I am very sorie that thou hast commit∣ted suche follie, but for so muche as sorrow now wil not serue to remedie the trespasse, I must nedes she we myself both faithful to my countrey, & also carefull of mine honor, without respect of persōs. Wherfore thou shalt remain here in such safe custody as I shal apoint, & when thou art better amēded thou must according 〈◊〉〈◊〉 desert be referred to y^t gaole.

Leauing him then there vnder sure keping, he wēt to the counsell of the Dieci,

(which magistrates in that citie be of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 autho∣ritie) and finding the lordes in counsell, he opened the whole matter vnto them. The presidents of the Coun∣sell which had hearde a great numbre of complaintes of many thefts done in the night within the Citie, toke order that one of the captains that were appointed to the diligent watche and kéeping of Aloisio, remaining in the priests house, should cause him to be examined, & with tormentes forced to tell the truthe, for that they did verily beleue that he had cōmitted many robberies besides, or at lest wise was priuieand accessarie to the same, and knew where the theues wer become. After∣wardes the sayd Counsell did sitte vpon the matter of Girolamo Bembo and Anselmo Barbadico, found at mid∣night naked in eche others chambre, and committed to prison as is before remembred. And bicause they 〈◊〉〈◊〉 many matters besides of greater importaunce, to in∣treate vpon, amongs which the warres betwene them aud Philippo Maria Vesconte, duke of Milane, the afor∣said causes were deferred till an other time, notwith∣standing in the mean while they were examined. The Duke himselfe that time being in counsell, spake most seuerely againste his nephew. Neuerthelesse he didde hardly beleue that his nephew being very rich, and in∣dewed with great honestie, woulde abase him selfe to a vice so vile and abhominable as theft is, wherevpon he began to consider of many thinges, and in the ende talked with hys nephewe secretely alone, and by that meanes lerned the trouth of the whole matter. In like maner Anselmo and Girolamo were examined by com∣missioners appointed by the state, what one of them did in an others chamber, at that houre of the nighte, who confessed that many tymes they had séene Aloisio Foscari, to passe vp & down before their houses at times

inconuenient, & that night by chaunce one of them not knowing of another, espied Aloisio, thinking y^t he lin∣gered about their houses, to abuse one of their wiues, for which cause they went out, and so soone as they 〈◊〉〈◊〉 taken him, they killed him. Which confession they opē∣ly declared accordingly, as wherupō before they were agréed. Afterwardes with further circumstance being examined vpon the Article of being one in anothers 〈◊〉〈◊〉, it appeared y^t their first tale was vtterly vn∣true. Of al which contradictions the Duke was aduer∣tised, and was driuē into extréeme admiration, for that the truth of those disorders could not be vnderstanded and knowne. Whereupon the Dieci, and the assistants were againe assembled in coūcell according to the ma∣ner, at what time after all things throughly were de∣bated and ended, the Duke being a very graue man, of excellent wit, aduaunced to the Dukedome by the cō∣sent of the whole state, as euery of thē were about to rise vp, sayd vnto them:

My Lordes there resteth one thing yet to be moued, which peraduenture hitherto hath not bene thought vpon. There are before vs two complaints, the effect whereof in my iudgement is not throughly cōceiued in the opinions of diuers. Anselmo Barbadico and Girolamo Bembo, betwene whome there hath bene euer continuall hatred, left vnto them as a man may say euen by fathers enheritance, both of thē in either of their chambers, were apprehēded in a ma∣ner naked by our Sergeants, and without torments, or for feare to be racked vpon the onely interrogato∣ries of our ministers, they haue voluntarily confessed that before their houses they killed Aloisio our Ne∣phew. And albeit that our sayd Nephew yet liueth, & was not striken by them or any other as shold apeare, yet they 〈◊〉〈◊〉 themselues guiltie of the murder.

What shall be sayd thē to the matter, doth it not séeme doubtfull? Our Nephew againe hath declared, that in going about to robbe the house of Mistresse Gismonda Mora, whome he ment to haue slaine, he fell downe to the ground from the toppe of a window, wherefore by reason so many robberies haue bene discouered with∣in the Citie, it may be presumed that he was the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and malefactor, who ought to be put to the torments, that the truthe may be knowne, and being found guil∣tie, to féele the seuere punishment that he hath deser∣ued. Moreouer when he was founde lying vpon the ground, he had neither ladder nor weapon, whereupon may be thought that the fact was otherwise done, than hitherto is confessed. And bicause amongs morall ver∣tues, temperāce is the chiefest and worthy of greatest commendation, and that iustice not righteously exerci∣sed, is iniustice & wrong, it is méete and conuenient for vs in these strange accidents, rather to vse temperāce than the rigor of iustice. And that it may appere that I do not speake these words without good ground, mark what I shal say vnto you. These two most mortal eni∣mies do cōfesse that which is impossible to be true, for that our Nephew (as is before declared) is a liue, and his wounde was not made by sworde, as hée himself hath confessed. Nowe who can tell or say the contra∣ry, but that shame for being taken in their seuerall Chambers, and the dishonesty of bothe their wiues, hathe caused them to despise life, and to desire death? We shall finde if the matter be diligently inquired and searched, that it will fall out otherwise than is already supposed by common opinion. For the con∣trariety of examinations, vnlikelihoode of circum∣stances, and the impossibility of the cause, rendreth the

matter doubtful. Wherfore it is very néedful diligēt∣ly to examine these attempts, and thereof to vse more aduised consideration. On the other side, our Nephew accuseth himself to be a 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and which is more, that he ment to kill mistresse Mora when he brake into hir house. Under this grasse my Lords as I suppose, some other Serpent lieth hidden, that is not yet thought of. The Gentleman ye know before this time was neuer defamed of such outrage, ne suspected of the least offēse that may be obiected. Besides that, all ye doe knowe, (thanks therefore be giuen to almightie God) that he is a man of great richesse and possessions, and hath no néede to robbe. For what necessitie should driue him to robbe a widowe, that hath of his owne liberally to be∣stow vpon the succour of widowes? Were there none else of substance in the Citie for him to giue attempt, but to a widowe a comfortlesse creature, contented with quiet life to liue amongs hir family within the boundes of hir owne house? What if hir richesse, Iew∣els and plate be great, hath not Aloisio of his owne to redouble the same? But truely this Robberie was done after some other manner than he hath confes∣fessed. To vs then my Lords it appertaineth, if it so stande with your pleasures, to make further in∣quirie of the same, promising vnto you vppon oure Faith, that we shal imploy our whole diligence in the true examination of this matter, and hope to bring the same to such good ende, as none shall haue cause to blame vs, the finall sentence whereof shall be reser∣ued to your iudgement.

This graue request and wise talke of the Duke pleased greatly the Lords of the Councel, who referred not only the examination, but also the finall sentence vnto him.

Wherupon the wise Prince being fully enformed of y^t chaunce happened to his Nephewe, attended only to make search, if he could vnderstand the occasion why Bembo and Barbadico so folishly had accused thēselues of that which they neuer did. And so after much coun∣saile & sundry deuises examined and made, his nephew then was wel recouered, and able to goe abrode, being set at libertie. After sundry examinations I say, he also had learned the trothe of the case touching the other two prisoners which he cōmunicated to the Lords of the aforesaid councel called Dieci. Then he caused with great discretion, proclamation to be made throughout Venice, that Anselmo and Girolamo should be beheaded betwene the two Pillers, and Aloisio hanged, wherby he thought to know what sute the women wold make, either with or against their husbands, & what euidence mistresse Gisinonda would giue against Aloisio. The brute hereof dispersed throughe Venice, diuers talke therupon was raised, & no communication of any thing else in open streats and priuate houses, but of the put∣ting to death of those men And bicause all thrée were of honorable houses, their kinsmē & friends made sute by all possible meanes for their pardon. But their con∣fessions published, y^t rumor was made worse, (as it dai∣ly chaūceth in like cases) than the mater was in déede, & the same was noised how Foscari had confessed so ma∣ny theftes done by him at diuers times, as none of his friends or kin durst speake for him. Mistresse Gismon∣da which bitterly lamented y^e mischaunce of hir louer, after she vnderstode the confession hée had made, and euidently knew that bicause he would not blemish hir honor, he had rather willingly forgo his own, and ther∣withall his life, felt hir self so inflamed w^t feruent loue toward him, as she was ready presently to surrēder hir

ghost. Wherfore 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sent him word y^t he shold comfort himselfe, bicause she was determined to manifest the very trouth of the matter, and hoped vpon hir decla∣ration of true euidence, sentence shoulde be reuoked, for testimonie wherof, she had his louing letters yet to 〈◊〉〈◊〉, written to hir with his owne hands, and would bring forth in the iudgement place, the corded ladder, which she had kept still in hir chamber, Aloisio hearing these louing newes, and of the euidēce which his La∣die would giue for his defense, was the gladdest man of the world, and caused infinite thanks to be rendred vnto hir, with promise that if he mighte be rid and dis∣charged out of prison, he woulde take hir for his louing spouse and wife. Wherof the Gentlewoman concey∣ued singular contentation, louing hir dere friend with more entier affection than hir owne soule. Mistresse Lucia and mistresse Isotta, hearing the dispercled voice of the death of their husbands, and vnderstanding the case of mistresse Gismonda by an other woman, layde their heades together likewise to deuise meanes for sauing their husbandes liues: and entring into theyr barge or Gondola, wente to séeke mistresse Gismonda, and when they had debated vpon the trouthe of these chaunces, concluded with one assente to prouide for the sauegarde and deliuerie of their husbands, wherin they shewed them self both wise and honest. For what state is more honorable and of greater comforte than the maried life, if in déede they that haue yoaked them∣selues therin be conformable to those delights, and cō∣tentation which the same conduceth? Wealth and ri∣ches maketh the true vnited couple to reioyce in the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of Fortune, graunted by the sender of the same, either of them prouiding for disposing thereof, against the decrepite time of olde age, and for the be∣stowing

of the same vpon the fruite accriued of their bodies. Pouerty in any wise doth not offend them, both of them glad to labor and trauaile like one body, to su∣staine their pore and néedy life, either of them comfor∣tably doth minister comfort in the cruel time of aduer∣sitie, reudring humble thanks to God for his sharp rod and punishment enflicted vpon thē for their manifolde sinnes committed against his maiestie, trauailing by night & day by sweating browes to get browne bread, & drink ful thin to cease the cries and pitifull crauings of their tēder babes, wrapt in cradle & instant on their mother to fill their hungry mouthes. Aduerse fortune maketh not one to forsake the other. The louing 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ceaseth not by painful sute to trot and go by night and day in heat & calde to relieue the misery of hir husband. He likewise spareth not his paine to get and gaine the liuing of them both. He abrode and at home according to his called state, she at home to saue the lucre of that labor, and to do such necessary trauaile incident to the maried kinde. He carefull for to get, she héedefull for to saue. He by 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and Arte, she by diligence and hou∣sholde toile. O the happy state of maried folke: O sur∣passing delites of mariage bed: which maketh these. 〈◊〉〈◊〉. pore gentlewomen, that by honorable policie saued the honor of themselues and honestly of their husbands, to make hūble sute for their preseruation, who were like to be berieued of their greatest comforts.

But come we againe to declare the last acte of this Tragedie. These maried women, after this chaūce be∣fell, vpon their husbands imprisonmēt, began to be ab∣horred of their friends and parents, for that they were suspected to be dishonest, by reason wherof dolefully la∣menting their misfortune, not withstāding, their owne conscience voide of fault, did bid thē to be of good chéere

and comfort. And when the day of execution came they did their friends and parents to vnderstand that their conceiued opinion was vntrue, & prayed them to for∣beare their disdaine and malice, till the truth should be throughly manifested, assuring thē that in y^e end their owne innocencie and the guiltlesse crime of their hus∣bands should openly be reuealed to the worlde. In the meane time they made request vnto their friends, that one of the Lordes called Auogadori might be admitted to vnderstand their case, the rest to be referred to thē∣selues, wherein they had no néede either of Proctor or Aduocate. This request séemed very straunge to their friends, déeming their case to be shameful and abhomi∣nable. Neuerthelesse diligētly they accomplished their request, & vnderstanding that the Councel of the Dieci had cōmitted the mater wholy to the Duke, they inade a supplication vnto him in y^t name of y^t. iij. Gentlewo∣men, wherin they craued nothing else but their mater might be herd. The Duke 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his aduise like to take effect, assigned a day when y^t same shold be heard, commaunding them at y^t time before him & the Lords of the Councel & all the college of the state to appeare. The day being come, all y^t Lords assembled, desirous to sée to what issue this matter would grow. On the mor∣ning the thrée Gentlewomen honestly accompanied w^t other Dames, went to the palace, and going along the strete of San Marco, diuerse people 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to vtter many railing words against thē. Some cried out (as we sée by vnstable order the vulgare people in like cases vse to do) and doing a certaine curtesie by way of disdaine and mockery:

Beholde y^t honest women, y^t without sending their husbāds out of Venice, haue placed thē in y^e castell of Cornetto, and yet the arrant whores be not ashamed to shewe them selues abrode, as thoughe they had done

a thing that were honest and prayse woorthie.

Other shot forth their boltes, and with their prouerbes proce∣ding from their malicious mouthes, thwited the poore women at their pleasure. Other also seyng mistresse Gismonda in their companie, thought that she went to declame againste maister Aloisio Foscari, and none of them all hapned on the trouth. Arriued at the pallace, ascending the marble staires or steps of the same, they were brought into the great hall, where the Duke ap∣pointed the matter to bée heard. Thither repaired the friendes and those of nerest kinne to the three Gentle∣women; and before the matter did begin, the duke cau∣sed also the thrée prisoners to be brought thither. Thi∣ther also came many other Gentlemen, with great de∣sire to sée the end of those euents. Silence being made, the duke turning his face to y^e womē, said vnto them:

Ye Gentlewomen haue made request by supplicati∣on to graunt you publike audiēce according to iustice, for that you do alleage that lawe and order doth so re∣quire, and that euery wel ordred common wealth 〈◊〉〈◊〉 deumeth no subiecte without due answere by order of lawe. Beholde therfore, that we desirous to do iustice, be readie in place to heare what ye can say.

The two husbands were very angrie and wrathful against their wiues, & the more their stomackes did 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with cho∣ler and disdaine to sée their impudent and shamelesse wiues with 〈◊〉〈◊〉 audacitie to appeare before the maie∣stie of a counsell so honorable and dreadfull, as though they had ben the most honest and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 women of the worlde. The. 〈◊〉〈◊〉. honest wiues perceiued the anger and displesure of their husbands, and for all that were not afrayde ne yet dismayde, but smiling to thē selues and somewhat mouing their heads in decent wise, sée∣med vnto them as though they had mocked them. An∣selmo

more angry and impacient than Girolamo, brake out into such furie, as had it not ben for the maiestie of the place, and the companie of people to haue stayed him, would haue killed them: and seyng he was not a∣ble to hurt them, he began to vtter the vilest wordes, that he possibly coulde deuise against them. Mistresse Isotta hearing hir husband so spitefully to spit forth his poison in the presence of that honourable assemblie, cō∣ceiued courage, and crauing licence of the Duke to speake, with mery countenance and good vttrance be∣gan thus to say hir minde:

Most excellent Prince, and ye right honorable lor∣des, perceiuing how my deare husband vncomely and very dishonestly doth vse himselfe against mée in this noble companie, I do thinke maister Girolamo Bembo to be affected with like rage & minde against this gen∣tlewoman mistresse Lucie his wife, although more tē∣perate in wordes, he do not expresse the same. Against whom if no replie be made, it may séeme that he hath spoken the trouthe, and that we by silence should séeme to condemne our selues to be those moste wicked wo∣men whom he alleageth vs to be. Wherfore by youre gracious pardon and licence (moste honourable) in the behalfe of mistresse Lucie and my selfe, for our defense I purpose to declare the effect of my mind although my purpose be cleane altered from that I had thought to say, beyng now iustly prouoked by the vnkinde beha∣uiour of him, whome I doe loue better than my selfe, which had he bene silent and not so rashly runne to the ouerthrow of me and my good name, I wold haue con∣ceiled and onely touched that, which shoulde haue con∣cerned the purgation and sauegard of them both, which was the onely intent & meaning of vs, by making our, hūble supplication to your maiesties. Neuerthelesse, so

so farre as my féeble force shall stretch, I will assay to do both the one and the other, although it be not appro∣priate to our kinde in publike place to declame, or yet to open such bold attempts, but that necessitie of mat∣ter and oportunitie of time and place, dothe bolden vs to enter into these termes, wherof we craue a thousād pardons for our vnkindely dealings, and rēder double thanks to your honors, for admitting vs to speake. Be it knowne therfore vnto you, y^t our husbandes against duetie of loue, lawes of mariage, and against all rea∣son, do make their heauie complaints, which by & by I wil make plaine and euident. I am right well assured, that their extreme rage & bitter heartes sorow do pro∣céede of. y. occasions: The one, of y^e murder wherof they haue falsly accused thē selues: y^e other of iealosy, which grieuously doth gnawe their hearts, thinking vs to be vile & abhominable womē, bicause they were surprised in eche others chāber. Concerning the murder, if they haue soiled their hāds therin, it appertaineth vnto you my lords to rēder their desert. But how can y^e same be layd to our charge, for somuch as they (if it wer done by thē) cōmited y^e same without our knowlege, our help & coūsel? And truly I sée no cause why any of vs ought to be burdened with y^t outrage, and much lesse cause haue they to lay the same to our charge. For méete it is y^t he that doth any vnlawful act, or is accessarie to the same, shold suffer y^t due penaltie & seuere chastisement accor∣dingly as the sacred lawes do prescribe, as an example for other to abstein from wicked facts. But herof what néede I to dispute, wherin the blind may sée to be none offense, bicause (thanks be to God) Maister Aloisio li∣ueth, which declareth the fond cōfession of our vngitle husbands, to be cōtrary to trouth? And if so be our hus∣bāds in dede had done such an abhominable enterprise,

reason and duetie had moued vs to sorowe and lament them, bicause they be borne of noble blood, and be gen∣tlemen of this noble citie, which like a pure virgin in∣uiolably doth cōserue hir laws & customs. Great cause I say, had we to lamēt them, if like homicides & murde∣rers they had spotted their noble blood with such fowle 〈◊〉〈◊〉, therby deseruing death, to leaue vs yong wo∣mē widowes in woful plight. Now it behoueth mée to speake of the iealoufis they haue conceiued of vs, for that they were in ech others chāber, which truly is the doubtful knot & scruple that forceth al their disdaine & griefe. This I knowe well is the naile that pierceth their heart: other cause of offense they haue not: who like men not well aduised, without examination of vs and oure demeanour, bée fallen into despaire, and like men desperate, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 wrongfully accused themselues. But bicause I may not consume words in vain, to stay you by my long discourse from matters of greater im∣portāce, I humbly beséech you (right excellent prince) to cōmaunde them to tel what thing it is, which so bit∣terly doth tormēt them. Then the Duke caused one of the noble men assistant there, to demaund of them the question: who answered, y^t the chiefest occasion was, bicause they knew their wiues to be harlots, whō they supposed to be very honest: & for somuch as they knew them to be such, they conceiued sorow and grief, which with suche extremitie did gripe thē at y^t heart, as not a∣ble to sustain y^t great infamy, ashamed to be sene of mē wer induced through desire of deth to cōfesse y^t they ne∣uer did. Mistresse Isotta hering thē say so, begā to speke againe, turning hir self vnto them: Were you offen∣ded then at a thing which ye thought incōueniēt & not mete to be done? We then haue greatest cause to cō∣plaine. Why then 〈◊〉〈◊〉 husbande went you to the

chamber of mistresse Lucie at that time of the night? What had you to do there? what thyng thought you to finde there more than was in your own house? And you master Girolamo, what cōstrained you to forsake your wiues bed to come to my husbands, wher no man euer had, or at this present hath to do but him self? were not y^t shetes of the one so white, so fine, neat & swéet as the other? I am (moste noble Prince) sorie to declare my husbands folie, and ashamed that he should forsake my bed to go to an other, that did accompt my selfe so wel worthy to entertaine hym in myne owne, as the best wife in Venice, and now through his abuse, I abstaine to shewe my selfe amongs the beautiful and noble da∣mes of this Citie. The like misliking of hir selfe is in mistresse Lucie, who (as you sée) may bée numbred a∣mongs the fairest, Either of you ought to haue ben cō∣tented with your wiues, & not (as wickedly you haue done) to forsake them, to séeke for better bread than is made of wheate, or for purer golde than whereof the Angel is made: O worthy dede of yours, that haue the face to leaue your owne wiués, that be comely faire & honest, to séeke after strange carrion. O beastly order of men that can not content their lust within the boū∣des of their owne house, but must go hunt after other women as beasts do after the next of their kinde that they chaunce vpon. What vile affection possessed your harts to lust after others wife? You make complainte of vs, but wée with you haue right good cause to bée of∣fended, you ought to be grieued with youre owne dis∣order, and not with others offense, and this youre af∣fliction paciently to beare, bycause you wente about to beguile one an others loue, like them that be weary and glutted with their owne fare, séeking after other dainties more delicate if they were to bée founde.

But praised be God and our prouident discretion, if a∣ny hurt or shame hath chaunced, the same doth light on you. Moreouer I know no cause why men should haue more libertie to doe euil than we women haue: albeit through the weakenesse and cowardise of our sexe, ye men will doe what ye lift. But ye be now no Lordes, nor we seruaunts, and husbands we do you cal, bicause the holy lawes of Matrimony (which was the first Sa∣crament giuen by God to men after the creation of the world) doe require equall faith, and so well is the hus∣band bound to the wife as she vnto him. Goe to then & make your complaint: the next Asse or beast ye méete, take hir to be your wife. Why doe ye not know that the balance of Iustice is equall, and wayeth downe no more of one side than of other? But let vs nowe leaue of to reason of this matter, and come to y^t for which we be come hither. Two things (most righteous Prince) haue moued vs to come before your maiestie, & all this honorable assembly, which had they not bene, we wold haue bene ashamed to shew our faces, & lesse presumed to speake or once to open our lippes in this Noble au∣dience, which is a place only méete for them y^t be most expert and eloquent orators, and not for vs, to whom the néedle & distaffe be more requisite. The first cause that forced vs to come forth of our owne house, was to let you vnderstand y^t our husbāds be no murderers, as is supposed, neither of this Gentleman present master Aloisio, ne yet of any man else: and therof we haue suf∣ficient and worthy testimonie. But héerein we néede not to trauaile much, or to vse many woords: for nei∣ther maister Aloisio is slaine, ne any other murdred, y^t is knowne or manifest hitherto. One thing resteth, which is that Madonna Lucia and I do humbly beséeche your excellent Maiestie, that your grace and the autho∣ritie

of the right honourable Lords here present, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 vouchsafe to reconcile vs to our husbāds, that we may obtaine pardon and fauor at their handes, bicause 〈◊〉〈◊〉 haue so manifestly made their actes to appeare, and for that we be the offense, and they the offenders, and yet by their owne occasions, we haue committed the error (if it may be so termed.) And now to come to the con∣clusion, I doe remember 〈◊〉〈◊〉 I was a childe, that I haue heard the Gentlewoman my mother saye (whose soule God pardon) many times vnto me, and other my sisters, & to mistresse Lucia, that was brought vp with vs, being by hir instructed in diuers good and vertuous lessons, that all the honor a womā can do vnto hir hus∣band, whereby shée beautifieth him and his whole race and familie, consisteth in hir honest, chast, and vertu∣ous life, without which, she oughte rather to die than liue. And that a Gentlemans wife when she hath gi∣uen hir bodie to the vse of an other man, is the cōmon marke for euery man to point at in the streate where she goth, hir husband therby incurring reproch & shame which no doubt is the greatest iniuric and scorne that an honest Gentleman can receiue, and the most shame∣full reproche that can blemish his house. Which lesson we so wel remembring, desirous not to suffer the care∣lesse and vnbrideled appetites of our 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 vnrained, and runne at large to some dishonest ende, by a faithfull and commendable policie, did prouide for the mischiefe that myghte ensue. I néede not héere re∣herse the enimitie and debate that many yeares did raigne betwéene our husbandes fathers, bycause it is knowne and manifest vnto the whole Citie. We two therfore here present, the wiues of those noble Gentle men, brought vp together from our Cradle, perceiuing the malice betwene our husbandes, made a vertue of

necessitie, déemyng it better for vs to lose our swete & anncient conuersation, than to minister occasiō of dis∣quietnesse. But the nerenesse of our houses would not that naturall hatred shoulde defrande and take awaye 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ingrafted amitie. Wherefore many tymes when our husbands were gone forth, we met together, & tal∣ked in our gardens, betwene which there is but a thin hedge beset with primme and roses, which commoditie in their absēce we did discretely vse. And as somtimes for pleasure we walked with oure husbandes there, ye (she turning vnto them) did cast your eyes vpon eche o∣thers wife, and were straighte waye in loue, or else perchance you fained your selues to be, which espied by vs, many tymes betwene our selues dyd cōmen of the same, and red your amorous letters and song sent vn∣to vs. For which dissoyaltie & treson towards vs your wiues, we sought no dishonour to your persones, wée wer content to suffer you to be abused with your fond loue, we blabbed it not abrode to our gossips, as many leude and fantasticall women be wont to doe, therby to raise slaunder to our husbandes, and to sturre vp ill reporte vpon them, whose infirmities it becommeth vs to conceile and hide. Wée deuised meanes by some other way to let you vnderstande your fault, and dyd cast vpon you many times right louing lookes. Which although it were against our own desire, yet the cause and full conclusion of the same, was to practise, if it were possible, to make you friends. But consideryng that thys loue and allurementes of either parts, could not tend to other end, as we coniectured, but to increse displeasure, and to put the swords into your hands, we therfore consulted betwene our selues, & vniformly in one mind did agrée for 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉 & satisfaction of all partes, at suche nightes as ye fained to go into diuers

places about earnest affaires as ye alleaged, Mistresse Lucie with the helpe of Cassandra my maid, through the Gardeine came into my chambre, and I by meanes of Iane hir maide by like way repaired vnto hirs. And yt poore mē guided by our maids were brought vnto your chambers where ye lay with your owne wiues, and so by tilthe of others land in strange soile (as ye beleued) ye lost no labour. And bicause your embracemēts then, were like to those atchieued by amorous Gentlemen, vsing vs with more earnest desire than you were wōt to doe, both we were begotten with child: which ought to be very gladsome and gratefull vnto you, if ye were so faine to haue childrē as ye shewed your selues to be. If then none other offense doth grieue you, if remorse of conscience for other cause doth not offēd you, if none other sorow doth displease you: Giue ouer your griefe. Remit your displeasure. Be glad and ioyfull. Thanke vs for our policie, and pleasant disport y^t we made you. If hitherto ye haue bene enimies, hēceforth be friends, put of that auncient malice so long cōtinued, mitigate your hatefull moode, and liue ye from henceforthe like friendly Gentlemen, yelde vp your rancor into the lap of your Countrey, y^t she may put him in exile for euer, who like a pitifull and louing mother would gladly sée all hir children of one accorde and minde. Which if ye doe, ye shall do singulare pleasure to your friendes, ye shal do great discōfort to your foes, ye shal do singular good to the cōmon wealth, ye shal do greatest benefit to your selues, ye shal make vs humble wiues, ye shal en∣crease your posterity, ye shall be praised of all men, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 finally shall depart the best contented men y^t euer the world brought forth. And now bicause ye shall not thinke that we haue piked out this tale at our fingers ends, thereby to séeke your sauegard and our fame and

praise, beholde the letters which you sent vs, beholde your owne hands subscribed to the same, beholde your seales assigned therunto, which shall rendre true testi∣monie of that which vnfainedly we haue affirmed.

Then both deliuered their letters, which viewed and séene, were wel known to be their own husbāds hāds, and the same so wel approued hir tale, as their husbāds were the gladdest men of the world, and the Duke and seignorie maruelously satisfied & contēted. In so much as the whole assēbly with one voice, cried out for their husbands deliueraunce. And so with the consent of the Duke & the whole seignorie they were clerely dischar∣ged. The parents, cosins and friends of the husbands & wiues were wonderfully amazed to here this long hi∣storie, and greatly praised the maner of their deliuery, accompting the women to be very wise, and mistresse Isotta to be an eloquent gentlewoman, for that she had so well defended the cause of their husbands & of them∣selues. Anselmo and Girolamo openly in the presence of all the people embraced and kissed their wiues with great 〈◊〉〈◊〉. And then the husbandes shaked one an other by the hands; betwene whome began a brotherly accorde, and from that time forth liued in perfect ami∣tie and friendship, exchaunging the wanton loue that either of thē bare to others wife into brotherly friend∣ship, to the great cōtentation of the whole Citie. Whē the multitude assembled to heare this matter through∣ly was satisfied, the Duke with chéereful countenance loking towarde Gismonda, sayd thus vnto hir: And you faire Gentlewoman, what haue you to say?

Be bolde to vtter your minde, and we will gladly heare you. Mi∣stresse Gismonda bashful to speake, began wonderfully to blush, into whose chekes entred an orient rud, inter∣mixed with an Alablaster white, which made hir coun∣tenaunce

more 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thā it was wont to be.

After she had stode still a while 〈◊〉〈◊〉 hir eyes declined towards the ground, in comly wise lifting thē vp again w^t shamfast audacitie she begā to say:

If I most noble prince, in opē audiēce shold attēpt to speake of loue, wherof I neuer had experience, or knew what thing it was, I should be doubtful what to say therof, and peraduēture durst not open mouth. But hering my father (of worthy me∣morie) many times to tel y^t your maiestie in y^e time of your youth disdained not to opē your hert to receiue y^e amorous flames of loue, & being assured y^t ther is none but that doth loue litle or much, I do not doubt but for the words which I shal speake, to obtain both pitie and pardon. To come then to y^e matter: God I thank him of his goodnesse, hath not permitted me to be one of y^t sort of women, y^t like hipocrites do mumble their Pater no∣sters to saincts, appering outwardly to be deuout & holy and in fruite do bring forth deuils, and all kindes of vi∣ces, specially ingratitude, whiche is a vice that dothe suck & drie vp the foūtain of godly pietie. Life is deare to me (as naturally it is to all) next which I estéeme mine honor, that peraduēture is to be preferred before life, bicause without honor life is of no reputatiō. And where mā & woman do liue in shame notorious to the world, y^e same may be termed a liuing death rather thā a life. But y^e loue y^t I beare to mine onely beloued ma∣ster Aloisio here present, I do esteme aboue al y^t iewels & treasures of the world, whose personage I do regard more thā mine owne life. The reson y^t moueth me ther to is very great, for before y^t I loued him, or euer mēt to fire my minde y^t way, he derely regarded me, conti∣nually deuising which way he might win & obtain my loue, sparing no trauell by night & day to seeke y^e same. For which tender affectiō shold I shew my self vnkind

and froward? God forbid. And to be plaine with your honors, he is more deare & acceptable vnto me, than y^t balles of mine owne eyes, being the derest things that appertaine to y^t furniture of the body of man, without which no earthly thing can be gladsom and ioyfull to y^e sense and féeling. Last of all, his amorous and affectio∣nate demonstration of his loue towards me, by decla∣ring him self to be careful of mine honor, rather more willing to bestow his owne, than to suffer the same to be touched with the left suspicion of dishonestie, I can not choose, but so faithfully imbrace, as I am readie to guage my life for his sake, rather than his finger shold ake for y^t offense. And where hath there ben euer foūd such liberalitie in any louer? What is he that hath ben euer so prodigall, to employ his life, the moste speciall pledge in this worlde, rather than he would suffer his beloued to incurre dishonoure? Many histories haue I red, and Chronicles of our time, and yet I haue founde fewe or none comparable vnto thys Gentleman, the like of whom be so rare and seldome as white crowes or swannes of color blacke. O singular liberalitie, ne∣uer heard of before. O fact that can neuer be sufficient∣ly praised. O true loue most vnfained. Maister Aloi∣sio rather thā he wold haue my fame any one iote to be impaired, or suffer any shadow of suspition to blemish the same, frankly hath confessed himself to be a théefe, regarding me & mine honor more than himselfe & life. And albeit that he might a thousand wayes haue saued himself without the imprisonment & aduersitie which he hath sustained: neuerthelesse after he had said, being then past remēbrāce through the fal, that he fel downe frō my window, & perceiued how much that confession would preiudice and hurt my good name, and spotte the known honestie of the same, of his good wil chose to die rather than to speake any words that might bréede yll

opinion of me, or the least thing of the worlde y^t might ingendre infamie & slaunder. And therefore not able to cal back the words he had spoken of the fal, nor by any meanes could coloure y^e same, he thought to saue y^t good name of another by his own hurt. If he then thus redi∣ly & liberally hath protruded his life to manifest dāger for my benefit & sauegard, preferring min honor aboue the care of himself, shall not I abandon all that I haue, yea & therwithall hazard mine honor for his saluation? But what? Shal I disdaine bountifully to imploy my self & al the endeuor of my friends for his deliuery? No no (my Lords) if I had a thousand liues, & so many ho∣nors at my commaundement, I wold giue them al for his relief and comfort, yea if it were possible for me to recouer a fresh. x. C. M. liues, I wold so frankly bestow them all, as euer I desired to liue, that I might enioy mine own Aloisio. But I am sory, and euer shalbe sory, for that it is not lawful for me to do more for him, thā y^t which my smal power and possibilitie is able. For if he shold die, truly my life could not endure: if he were de∣priued of life, what plesure should I haue to liue in this world after him? wherby (most honorable & righteous iudge,) I beleue before the honest, not to lose any one iote of mine honor, bicause I being (as you may sée) & yong woman & a widow desirous to mary againe, it is lawful for me to loue and to be beloued for none other intent (whereof God is the only iudge) but to attaine a husband according to my degrée. But if I should lose my reputation and honor, why should not I aduenture the same for him, that hath not spared his owne for my sake? Nowe to come to the effect of the matter, I doe say with all duetifull reuerence, that it is an accu∣sation altogither false and vntrue, that euer master A∣loisio came to my house as a Théefe against my will.

For what nede he to be a thefe, or what would he doe with my goodes, that is a lorde and owner of. xx. times so muche as I haue? Alas good Gentleman, I dare de∣pose and guage my life, that he neuer thoughte, much lesse dyd any robberie or thing vnlawfull, wherewith iustly he may be charged. But he repaired to my house with my consent, as a louing and affectionate louer, the circumstance whereof, if it be duely marked, must ad∣uouch the same to be of trouthe infallible. For if I had not giuen him licence to come, how was it possible for him to conuey his ladder so high, that was made but of ropes, and to fasten the same to the iaume of the win∣dow, if none within did helpe hym. Againe, how could the window of the chamber be open at that time of the night, which is still kept shut, if it had not bene by my consent. But I with the helpe of my mayde threwe downe to him a litle rope, whervnto he tied his ladder and drew the same vp, and making it so fast, as it could not vndo, and then made a signe for maister Aloisio to come vp. But as bothe our ill fortune wold haue it, be∣fore I could catch any hold of him, to mine inestimable grief and hearts sorrowe he fell downe to the ground. Wherfore (my lordes) I beséeche your honours to re∣uoke the confession wherein he hath made him selfe to be a thefe. And you maister Aloisio declare the trouth as it was, sith I am not ashamed in this honorable as∣semblie to tel the same. Behold the letters (my lords) whiche so many times he wrote vnto me, wherein hée made sute to come to my speach, and continually in the same doth call me wife. Behold the ladder, which till nowe, did still remaine in my chamber. Beholde my maide, which in all mine affaires, is as it were myne owne hande and helper.

Master Aloisio being here vp∣pon demaunded of the Lords of the articles, which she

in hir tale had recited, cōfessed them all to be true: who at the same instant was discharged. The Duke great∣ly commended them both, hir for hir stoute audacitie, in defense of an innocent Gentleman, and him for his honor and modestie, séeking to preserue the fame and good reporte of the Gentlewoman. Whiche done, the Counsell disassembled and brake vp. And the friendes of bothe the parties accompanied them home to the house of mistresse Gismonda, where to the greate re∣ioyce and pleasure of al men, they were solemnely ma∣ried in sumptuous and honorable wise, and maister A∣loisio with his wyfe liued in greate prosperitie long time after. Mistresse Lucia and mistresse Isotta, at the expired time were deliuered of two goodly sonnes, in whome the fathers toke great ioy and delight. Who with their wiues after that tyme lyued very quietly and well, one louing an other like naturall brethren, many times sporting among them selues discretely at the deceipts of their wiues. The wisedom of the Duke also was wonderfully extolled and cō∣mended of all men, the fame whereof was increased and bruted through∣out the region of Italy, And not without cause. For by hys prudence and aduise, the dominion of the state and Common wealth was amplified and dila∣ted. And yet in the ende béeing olde and impotent, they vnkindely deposed hym from his Dukedome.