The triumphs of Gods revenge against the crying and execrable sinne of (willfull and premeditated) murther VVith his miraculous discoveries, and severe punishments thereof. In thirtie severall tragicall histories (digested into sixe bookes) committed in divers countries beyond the seas, never published, or imprinted in any other language. Histories which containe great varietie of mournfull and memorable accidents ... With a table of all the severall letters and challenges, contained in the whole sixe bookes. Written by Iohn Reynolds.

THE TRIVMPHS OF GODS REVENGE AGAINST THE CRYING, AND EXECRABLE sinne of Murther. (Book 2)

HISTORIE VI.

Victorina causeth Sypontus to stabbe and murther her first Husband Souranza, and shee her selfe poysoneth Fassino her second: so they both being miraculously detected and con∣victed of these their cruell Murthers, hee is beheaded, and shee hang'd and burnt for the same.

WHere Lust takes up our desires, and Revenge and Murther sei∣zeth on our resolutions, it is the true way to make us wretched in this life, and our soules miserable in that to come: for if Cha∣stity and Charity (the two precious Vertues and ornaments of a Christian) steere not our actions on Earth, how shall (nay, how can) we hope to arrive to the harbour of Heaven? or if wee a∣band on these celestiall Vertues, to follow and imbrace those in∣fernall Vices, what doe wee but take our selves from felicity to misery, and consequently give our selves from God to Satan? But did wee seriously (and not trivially) consider that there is a Heaven to reward the Righteous, and a hell to punish the ungodly, wee would neither defile our hearts, nor pollute our soules with the thought, much lesse with the action of such beastly and inhumane crimes: but in this sinnefull age of ours, the number is but too great of lascivious and impious Chri∣stians, who delight in the affection and practice thereof: among whom I here repre∣sent the History of an execrable Gentlewoman, and her wretched and unfortunate Lover, who were both borne to honour, and not to infamy: had they had as much grace to secure their lives, as vanity and impiety to ruine them. The History is blou∣dy, and therefore mournefull: but if we detest their crimes, we need not feare their pu∣nishments: for God is as gracious and propitious to protect the innocent, as just and severe to chastise the guilty.

IN Italy, the beauty of Europe, and in the City of Venice (the glory of Italy, the Nymph of the Sea, and the pearle and diamond of the world) in the latter yeares of the raigne of noble Leonardo Donato, who, as Duke, sate to the helme of that potent and powerfull Estate) so famous for banishing the Iesuits, and for opposing himself against the intrusion and fulminations of Pope Paulus Quintus, in the just defence and mainte∣nance of the prerogatives and priviledges of the Seignory) There was at that time a gen∣tleman,

a younger brother, yet of well neere fifty yeares old, of the noble Fa mily of the Beraldi, named Signior Iacomo Beraldi, who dwelt above the Rialto Bridge (that fa∣mous Master piece of Architecture) upon the Canalla Grando, who in the Aprill of his youth tooke to Wife the Dona Lucia, daughter to Seignior Lorenzo Bursso, a Gentle∣man of Padua, by whom hee had seven Children, foure Sonnes, and three Daugh∣ters; so as his Wife and he esteeming themselves happy in their Issue, past away their time in much content and felicity: but God (for some secret and sacred reasons to his Divine Majesty best knowne) converting his smiles into frownes, within the space of seven yeares, takes away sixe of their Children, so as their eldest daughter onely remained living, being a young Gentlewoman of some eighteene yeares old; named Dona Victoryna.

This young Gentlewoman, being noble, rich, and faire (three powerfull and attra∣ctive Adamants to draw the affections of many Cavaliers) according to her desert, had divers Gallants who sought her in Marriage: but she was of nature proud, chollericke, disdainfull, and malicious; Vices enow to ruine both a beauty and a fortune: but of all her sutors and servants, he whom she best loved and affected, was one Seignior Sypontus, a Gentleman of the City, who was more noble then rich, and yet more debosht and vicious then noble; but otherwise a very proper young Gallant: but the perfections of the body are nothing to bee compared to the excellent qualities and indowments of the minde, for those are but the varnishes and shaddowes of a meete men, but these the perfections and excellencies of a wise man, and therein noble; sith indeed wisedome is one of the truest degrees, and most essentiall parts of Nobility. Now if Victoryna love Sypontus, with no lesse reciprocall flame and zeale doth Sypontus affect Victoryna: for as his eyes behold the delicacie of her personage, and the sweetnesse of her beauty; so his heart loves either, and adores both: yea, so deep an impression hath she ingraven in his thoughts and contemplations, that he is never merry till he see her, nor pleased till he injoy the felicity of her company; which Victorina rejoyceth to see, and observes with infinite content and delectation. Sypontus thus intangled in the snares of Victorina's beauty, and she likewise in those of his perfections, he resolves to court her, and seeke her in Marriage, which he performes with much affection, zeale, and constancie, leaving no industry, care, curiosity, or cost unattempted, to inrich and crowne his desires with the precious and inestimable treasures of her love. I should make this short discourse swell into an ample History, to particularize, or punctually relate the Letters, Sonnets, Presents, Meetings, Dancings, Musicke, and Banquets, which past twixt these two Lovers, and wherewith Sypontus entertained his deare Mi∣stresse Victoryna: I will therfore purposely omit it, and cover my selfe with this excuse, which may satisfy my Reader, to consider that Sypontus (as before) was an Italian, whose custome and nature rather exceede, then come short, in all amorous ceremonies and complements: And therefore againe to resume my History, I must briefely declare, that after the protraction and recesse of a yeares time Victorina consenteth to Sypontus, to bee his Wife, so farre forth as hee can obtaine those of her father and mother: a fit and vertuous answer of a daughter, wherein I know not whether she bewray more mo∣desty and discretion in her selfe, or respect and obedience to her parents.

Sypontus infinitely pleased with this sweet newes and delightfull melody, is as it were ravished and rapt up into heaven wirh joy, when flattering himselfe with this poore hope, that as Victoryna was curteous, so he should finde her parents kinde to him; hee, with much respect and honour, repaires to Beraldi and Lucia, and in faire and discreet termes acquaints them with his long affection to their daughter Victoryna; whom (with as much earnestnesse as humility) hee prayes to bestow her on him for his wife: but this old Couple are as much displeased at Sypontus his motion, as their Daughter

Victoryna rejoyceth thereat, and so they returne him their denyall in stead of their con∣sent; only in generall termes they thanke him for his love and honour, and certifie him that they have otherwise disposed of their daughter. Sypontus bi•…•…es the lip, and Victo∣rina hangs her head at this their bitter and distastfull answer: but hee is too generous and amorous to bee put off with this first repulse. Whereupn he imployes his Parents and kinsfolkes (whereof some were of the chiefest ranke of Senatours and Magnifico's) to draw Beraldi and Lucia to consent to this Match; but in vaine: for they are deafe to those requests, and resolute in their denyall, grounding their refusall upon Sypontus his poverty: for they see he is become poore; because in the last trans-marine Warres, the Turkes tooke from his father and himselfe most of his Lands and Possessions neere Scuttari in Dalmatia: and therefore they resolve to provide a richer husband for their Daughter. The iniquity of our times are as strange as lamentable: for in matters of Marriage, parents, without due regard either to the natures or affections of their chil∣dren, still preferre gold before grace, and many times Riches before Vertue and Nobili∣ty, which concurre and meet in one personage: but diverse of these Marriages, in the end, finde either shame, misery, or repentance, and sometimes all.

Sypontus stormes as much as Victoryna grieves at his refusall: but to frustrate that, and provide for this, Beraldi deales with Seignior Iovan Baptista Souranza to marry his daughter Victorina, who is a Gentleman of a good house, but farre richer then Sypon∣tus; but withall farre different in age: for Sypontus is but twenty eight yeares old, and Souranza neere threescore. So as gold playing the chiefest part in this contract, Souran∣za is sure of Victoryna for his wife, ere he know her, or hardly hath seene her. Beraldi advertizeth his daughter of his will and pleasure herein: so Souranza sees her with af∣fection and joy, and she him with disdaine and griefe: and thus this old Lover the first time entertaines his young Mistresse with kisses, and she him with teares. He is no soo∣ner departed, but Victorina very sorrowfully and pensively throwes her selfe to her Pa∣rent•…•… feet, and with showres of teares very earnestly and passionately beseeches them, that they will not inforce her to marry Souranza, whom (she affirmes) she cannot love, much lesse obey, prayes them to consider what a misery, nay, what a hell it will be to her thoughts and selfe, to have him in her bed, and Sypontus in her heart. When she could no further proceed, because her sighes cut her wordes in pieces, and so griefe daunting her heart, and her feare to Souranza, and affection to Sypontus, casting a milke-white Vayle over her Vermillian cheekes, she sinkes to the earth in a faynting cold swoone: when her hard-hearted and cruell parents (more with astonishment then commisera∣tion and pitty) step to her ass•…•…stance, and againe bring her to her sences: who not for∣getting where her speeches ended, she remembers to beginne and continue them thus: O my deare Parents, name not Souranza for my husband, but if you will needes give me one, then by all that bloud of yours, which streameth in all the veines of my body, of two let me injoy one, either Sypontus, or my Grave; he the beginner of my joyes, or this the ender of all my miseries and sorrowes; neither is it disobedience in mee, but feare of cruelty in your seves, that throwes me on the exigent of this request and resolution: whereon I pray, consider by the bonds of nature, and not by the rules of avarice and inhumanity. But her father and mother (without any respect to her youth and teares, or regard to her affection and prayers) love Souranza's wealth so well, as as they will hate Sypontus his poverty, and in it himselfe: and therefore checking Victo∣ryna for her folly, and taxing her of indiscretion, their command and authority gives a law to her obedience and desires: And to conclude, they are so bitter, and withall, so cruell to her, that within few dayes they violently inforce her to marry Souranza. But this inforced Match will produce repentance and misery of all sides.

As it is a duty in children to honor and obey their parents, so it is no lesse in parents

carefully to regard, and tenderly to affect their children: but in Matches that are con∣cluded with wealth without affection, there Parents ought proceede with judge∣ment, not with passion, with perswasion, not with force: for can there bee any hell upon earth comparable to that of a discontented bed, or is it not a griefe to Parents, through their cruelty, to see their children live in despaire in stead of hope, in affliction in stead of joy; and to dye miserably, whereas they might have lived pleasantly and prosperously? Tis true that young folkes affections are not still well grounded, but for want of advice and counsell many times meet with misery for felicity: yet sith Marriage is a Contract, not for a day, but for ever, not for an houre, but for the tearme and lease of our lives; therefore Parents, in matching their children, should be rather charitable then greedy for the world, and rather compassionate then ridged: but e∣nough of this, and againe to our History.

Wee have seene Victorina, with an unwilling willingnesse, inforc'd to marry Sou∣ranza: wee shall not goe far•…•…e, before we see what sharpe calamities and bitter afflicti∣ons and miseries this Match produceth: The argument and cause briefely is thus; Victo∣rina lyes with her husband Souranza, but cannot love him: from whence (as so many lines from their centre) spring forth many mournsull and disastrous accidents: the litle ring of Matrimony incloseth many great and waighty considerations, and among others this is not one of the least: disparity in yeares makes no true harmony in affections; for there is no affinity twixt Ianuary and May, and it is a matter, though not impossible, yet difficult for youth and age to sympathize: Soranza's best performance of the rites and dueties of Marriage, is but desire; yea, his age cannot sufficiently estimate, much lesse reward the daynties of Victorina's youth; for he is more superstitious then amorous, as delighting rather to kisse an Image in the Church, then his wife in his bed, and not to betray the truth. I must crave leave of modesty, to averre that she findes little diffe∣rence twixt a Mayd and a Wife, so as her lust out-braving her chastity, and sensu∣ality trampling her vertues and honour under foote, whereas her affection should looke from Sypontus to Souranza, both she and it contrariwise looke from Souranza to Sypontus. Dissembling pleasures, which strangle when they seeme to imbrace and kisse us, bitter Pills candide in Sugar, Cordialls to the sence, but Corrosives to the soule! Yea, Victorina in forgetting her modesty, will not remember her vow in Marriage; for had she beene as vertuous as young, or as chast as faire, it had not onely beene her ver∣tue, but her duety, to have smothered the defects, and concealed the imperfections and impotencie of her old husband: Chastity would have perswaded her to this, but incontinencie and lust draw her to a contrary resolution.

Sypontus likewise stormes and grieves at this unwished and unequall Match of old Souranza with his young and faire Victorina; yea, he hates him so much, and loves her so tenderly and dearely, as hee would, but cannot prevent it: for (as before) they are marryed; and hee in stead of the Laurell is inforced to weare the Willow: but his griefe findes this comfort, and her discontent this consolation, that sith Victoryna is not his Wife, she is his Mistresse; and sith Sypontus is not her Husband, hee is her Servant, or (to use the Venetian phrase) shee is his Courtizana, and hee her Enamorata: but such leagues and contracts of vicious affections seldome make happy ends; for as they be∣ginne in lust, so commonly they terminate in infamy and misery. Sypontus often famili∣arizeth with Victoryna, yea, their familiarity is such, as I in modesty will not report, sith in chastity I cannot, and although they beare their affections and pleasures secret, yet custome breeding a habit, and that a second nature, Souranza is now no sooner abroad, but Sypontus is at home, so as in effect Souranza is but the shaddow, and Sypontus the substance of Victoryna's husband: but these lascivious Lovers shall pay deare for their affections; Sypontus for entertaining and keeping another mans Wife, and Victoryna

for breaking her vow in wedlocke to her husband, in defiling his bed, and contamina∣ting her body with the foule sinne of Adultery.

It had bin good & safe for them, if they had not begun these their beastly pleasures, but to give no end to them, must needs prove dangerous & ruinous: to commit this sin of Adultery is odious, but to persevere therein, is most abominable before God: the reason hereof is as true as pregnant; for if the reward of a single sin be death, the re∣doubling thereof must needs be double damnation: but as it is the nature of Adultery to be accompanied and waited on by other sins, so Victoryna is not only content to love Sypontus, but she makes a farther progression in impiety, and will needes hate her hus∣band Souranza; who poore honest Gentleman, sicke with the Gout, and a Cough of the Lungs, is now distastfull, and which is worse, odious to her: so that shee which should be a cordiall to his age, his age is now a corrosive to her youth, and she so farre forgets both her selfe and her duety, as she rather contemnes then loves him, and as he rejoyceth in her sight, so she delights in nothing so much as in his absence, and Sypontus presence: shee makes her discontents and malice to her husband knowne to Sypontus, who doth pitty, but will not remedie them: all her speeches tend to wish her selfe in another world, or her husband not in this. Sypontus is not ignorant whereat she aymes; but although he enjoy the wife, yet he cannot finde in his heart, but is too conscienci∣ous to murther the husband: had hee remained in the constancie of this resolution, he had been happy, and not so miserable and unfortunate to end his dayes with shame and infamy. But now behold, an unexpected accident drawes and throwes him on headlong to perpetrate this execrable Murther, for (as the Gentrie and Nobility of Venice are for the most part Merchants) so Sypontus receiveth sudden and sorrowfull newes of two great losses befalne him, in the Levant Seas, in two severall ships, the one comming from All•…•…∣po, taken by the Turkish Pyrates of Rhodes, the other from Alexandria, taken, as is suppo∣sed, by one of the Duke of Ossunas Neopolitan Gallies, scowring the Ilands of the Archipe∣lagus, in which two Vessels he lost at least seventy thousand Zeckynes, it being the two third parts of his whole estate: and now to maintaine his greatnesse, and beare up his port and reputation, knowing Souranza to be infinitly rich, and his wife Victorina yong, amorous, and faire, he agrees with the devill, and so resolves to murther him, and then to marry her; which he knowes she above any earthly matter chiefely desires. Lo here the foundation and project of a Murther, as lamentable as execrable! Necessi•…•…y in base spirits may be a powerfull, but in those more vertuous and noble, it should never bee a pernicious and prodigious counselour: for there is as much generosity and fortitude in supporting poverty with patience, as there is covetousnesse in being ambitious to purchace wealth with infamy.

At the next enterview and meeting of Sypontus and Victorina, she like a bad woman, a wicked wife, and a wreched creature, redoubleth him her complaints and discontents against her husband; and because Sypontus knowes it wisedome to strike whiles the Iron is hot, as also that Time must be taken by the forelocke, he like a wretched Poli∣tician layes hold of this occasion and opportunity, and so consenteth to the Murther of her husband, when from this bloudy resolution, they passe to the manner how to ef∣fect it: they consult on this lamentable businesse. Victorina (industrious in her malice) proposeth to poyson him, and so to bury him in her little garden: but Sypontus dislikes this project, and profers her to murther him in his Gondola, as he comes from Luifizi∣na: whereon they agree. So some ten dayes after, Victorina advertiseth him, that her husband is to goe to his house of pleasure in the Countrey, neere Padua, on the banke of the River Brenta, where hee is onely to stay three dayes. Sypontus imbraceth this oc∣casion, and continually wantonizing with his wife in his absence, promiseth her to meet her husband at his returne, and then to dispatch him; which newes with a longing de∣sire

this miserable Curtezan Victorina attends him with as much impatience as impu∣dencie. Sypontus in the meane time (in favour of twice ten Zeckynes) is prepared of two wicked Gondoliers or Watermen, who deepely vow and sweare to conceale this Murther. So the precise day of Souranza's departure from his Countrey house being come, Sypontus, not to faile of his promise to Victorina, in the execution of his bloody and damnable attempt, takes his Gondola, and hovers in the direct passage betwixt Lu∣cifizina and Venice, for Souranza his arrivall, who, poore harmelesse Gentleman, loved his young wife so tenderly and dearely, as hee thought this short time long that hee had wanted from her: but hee hath seene his last of her, and allasse, alasse, hee shall see an end of himselfe: for about five of the clocke in the evening (it being Summer time) his usuall houre of returne, hee takes Gondola at Lucifizina, for Venice, and neere midway twixt both, Sypontus espies him, and the sooner, because it being hot weather, and no wind stirring, Souranza had caused his courtaines to bee withdrawne. Sypontus (inflamed with boyling malice and Revenge) with all possible celerity makes towards his Gondola, the which disguised and masked hee enters, and there with his Ponyard very divellishly stabs him three severall times at the heart, when falling downe to his feet, hee most barbarously cut of his beard, and nose (that hee might not bee knowne) and so throwes him into the Sea; as also his Waterman after him, that they might tell no tales: when having finished these execrable Murthers, hee with his Gondola, with all possible speed hyes first to Murano, and so lands by the Patriarchy, from thence by the Arsenall, and so to his owne house behind Saint Servi's Church, thereby to cast a fayrer varnish on this villany, by landing and comming into the Citie another way, when being arrived at his house, hee that night by a confident servant of his, sends Victoryna this Letter.

SYPONTVS to VICTORYNA.

FAire and deare Victoryna, I have begun, and ended a businesse, which infinitly imports thy good, and my content: the party hath drunke his fill of White and Claret, and is now gone to his eternall rest: so a little time, I hope, will wipe off thy old teares, and confirme thy new joyes: bee but as affectionate, as I secret, and as secret, as till death I will bee affectionate, and thou needst neither feare my fortunes, nor doubt thine owne: judge what I would doe to injoy thee and for thy sake, sith I have already undertaken and acted a businesse of this nature: we must for a time refraine each others company, that wee may the sooner meet, and imbrace, withmore con∣tent, and lesse danger.

SYPONTVS.

Victoryna infinitly rejoyceth at this newes, and the better to cloke her malice, under the vaile of secrecie, shee laments and complaines to her father of her husbands long absence. Souranza's Parents are by Beraldi acquainted herewith, they begin to finde the time of his stay very long, and now resolve to send his nephew, Scignior Andrea Souranza up the river Brenta, to know the cause thereof: hee passeth and repasseth the Sluce of Lucifizina, and brings word that hee departed thence for Venice, in a Gondola, foure dayes since: Victoryna his wife grieves, and weepes at his absence, so doe his owne Parents and friends, who enqui•…•…e of all sides, but finde comfort or newes from none what is become of him. And here, Reader, before thy curiosity carry thee further, I conjure thee to stand astonished and wonder, at the inscrutable and wonder∣full judgement of God, in the detection of this Murther. For Fishermen some eight dayes casting out their nets betwixt the Ilands of La Lazareto and Saint George Majore, bring up this dead body of Murthered Souranza, being well apparelled: but chiefly

for their owne discharge, they bring the dead corps to Venice, and lan•…•… him at Saint Markes stayres; where they extend and expose his body to bee knowne of passengers: now behold further Gods miraculous providence, in the discovery and finding out hereof: for amongst the numberlesse number of spectators and walkers, who dayly and almost hourely frequent and adorne that famous Burse and incomparable P•…•…lace, it happened that Andrea Souranza cast his eye on this dead and sea-withered body: on whom hee lookes with as much stedfastnesse as curiosity, as if Nature had made his li∣ving body a part of that dead; or as if his hot bloud had some sympathy and affinity with that of the dead personage, which long since the coldnesse of the Sea had con∣gealed and frozen: but at last espying a red spot in his necke (under his right eare) that hee brought into the world with him, and which all the influence and vertue of the water of the Sea had not power to deface and wash away: as also observing a wart over his left eye-lid, which Nature had given his birth, and his youth his age: hee passionately cryes out before the world, that it is the body of his Vncle, Seig•…•…ior Iovan Baptista Souranza: so it is visited by his Parents and friends, and knowne to bee the same: so they carry him to an adjoyning house, and there devesting it naked, finde that hee hath t•…•…ree severall wounds in his body, either of a Sword or Ponyard, which gives matter of talke, and administreth cause of admiration in all the City: so they bury him honourably according to his ranke and degree, and all knowing him to bee Murthered, infinitly bewaile his untimely, and lament his mournefull death: but e∣specially his wife Victoryna, who having formerly plaid the strumpet, then the Murthe∣resse, now takes on the maske, and assumes the representation of an Hypocrite; out∣wardly seeming to dye for sorrow, when God, and her foule ulcerated conscience knowes, that inwardly her heart leapes for joy, thus to bee depriv'd and freed of her old husband. Yea, and the more to bleare the eyes, and eclipse the judgement of the world, for casting the least shadow of suspicion on her for this unnaturall Murther: shee and her whole family take on blacke and mourning Attire, and for her selfe in two moneths after, never goes forth her house, except to the Church where her hus∣band was buryed: where her Hppocrisie is so infinitely feigned, and dissembling, that she is often observed to bedew and wash his Tombe with her teares: but these Crocadile teares of hers, and these her false and treacherous sorrowes shall not availe her: for although Gods divine and sacred Majestie bee mercifull in his justice, yet hee is so just in his mercies, as neither the politique secrecie of Sypontus, nor the Hypocri∣ticall sorrowes of Victoryna, for this cruell Murther, shall goe either unmasked or un∣punished: but in their due appointed time, they shall be brought forth in their colours, and made publique examples, as well of infamy, as destruction for the same: the manner is thus:

The deceased Signiour Iovan Souranza hath a younger brother, named Signiour Hi•…•…∣ronymo Souranza: who having carefully and curiously observed, that his sister in law Victoryna, never perfectly nor dearely loved his brother her husband, and that shee was neither so familiar, nor dutifull to him, as it behoov'd her, during the tearme of her marriage: which partly hee attributed to the disparity of their yeares, in respect of the frozennesse of his age, and the heat and freshnesse of her youth. He began vehe∣mently to suspect her of this Murther, which hee often revolv'd and ruminated in his minde, as if the suggestion and perswasion thereof, not onely bore probability but truth with it: to which end, as the affection of a true friend (much more of a brother) should passe beyond the Grave, and not remaine intomb'd, and buried in the dust thereof, hee is resolv'd to put his best wits and invention upon the tenter-hookes, to discover and reveale the same: to which end, hee breakes with Victorina's Gentle∣woman, who wayted on her in her Chamber, and who indeed was his owne Neece Fe∣licia,

to know what Gentlewomen chiefly frequented her Lady. Felicia informes her Vnkle, that Signyor Sypontus is many nights with her, that there is much affection and familiarity betweene them, and that he sends her many Letters. Her Vncle glad-of this glimmering light, which hee hopes will produce a greater and perfecter, conjures her to intercept some of his Letters, for the more effectuall discovery of his brother, and her Vnkles death. So Felicia promiseth her best care and fidelity herein, and shortly effecteth it: for in few dayes after, being sent by her Lady Victoryna to a Cas∣ket of hers, to fetch her a new paire of Romish Gloves, shee opening an Ivory Box, therein findes a Letter; which shee reads, and seeing it signed by Sypontus, shee thinks it no sinne to be false to her Lady, and true to her Vnkle, and so very secretly and safe∣ly sends it him; which indeede was the very Letter wee have formerly seene and read: and now is his jealousie and suspicion confirm'd. So vowing and Sacrifizing Revenge to his dead and Murthered brother, away hee goes to three chiefe Iudges of the forty, who sit on criminall causes, and very passionately accuseth Sypontus and Vi∣ctoryna for the Murther, committed on the person of his Brother Signiour Iovan Bapti∣sta Souranza, at Sea: whereupon they are both committed prisoners, but sequestred in severall Chambers. Sypontus is first examined, then Victoryna: they both very con∣stantly deny the Murther, and with many sugred words, and subtill evasions, intimate and insinuate, their innocencies therein: so the next day the Iudges produce Sypontus his owne Letter; the sight whereof extreamely afflicteth and vexeth him: but hee is constant in his denyall, and resolute in that constancy, and so takes on a brazen face; and with many asseverations and imprecations, againe and againe denies it, averring it is not his hand, but a meere imposture and invention of his enemies, who have counterfaited it, purposely to procure his ruine and destruction: yet inwardly to him∣selfe he feareth all is discovered, and that there is no meanes left him to escape death, whose Image and forme hee now too apparantly and fatally sees before his eyes. So hee is sent backe to his prison, and his Iudges in the interim consult on his fact; where hee is no sooner arrived, but bolting his Chamber privately to himselfe, hee con∣sidering that either Victoryna, or some for her, had betrayed him by his owne Let∣ter, hee in the bitter fury of choller and passion, throwes away his Hat, now crosseth his armes, and then beates his brest, and stamping with his feet, at last very low to him∣selfe bandeth forth these speeches:

And is it possible, that I must now lose my life through Victoryna her folly and treachery, into whose hands I repos'd both my secrets and it? Have I done what I have done for her her sake, and is this the requitall she gives me? And sith there is no other witnesse, must mine owne Letter bee produced in justice against mee? What will I not doe? what have I not done for her sake? Woe is me, that I should live to be rewarded with this monstrous and inhumane ingratitude; when for sorrow and indig∣nation, not able to containe himselfe, hee takes Pen and Paper, and writes Victoryna this ensuing Letter.

SIPONTVS to VICTORYNA.

IS it possible that thy affection to me hath been all this while seigned, and that thou, whom I tru∣sted with all my secrets, art now become the onely woman of the world to betray mee? I have hazarded my life for thy sake, and must I now be so unfortunate and wretched, to lose it through thy treacherrie? When I bore matters with such care and secresie, that no witnesse whatsoever could bee produced against mee, •…•…ust mine owne Letter, which was safely delivered thee, bee brought forth to convict mee of my crime, and so to incurre death, which otherwise I had avoyded? Is this thy reward of my love? Is this thy recompence of my affection? O Victoryna, Victo∣ryna!

Such is my tender esteeme of thy sweet youth and beauty, that had I injoyed a thousaend lives, I would haeve reputed my selfe happy, to have lost them all for thy sake and service: and having but one, wilt thou bee so cruell to deprive mee thereof? But that my loyalty and my affection may shine in thy malice; take this for thy comfort, that as I have ever liv'd, so I will now dye thy true Servant and faithfull Lover.

SYPONTVS.

But observe here the errour of Sypontus his judgement: for whiles hee imputes i•…•… to Victoryna's treachery, that this his Letter will occasion his death; hee is so irreligi∣ous and impious, as hee lookes not up to heaven, to consider that the detection there∣of proceeds from Gods immediate finger and providence. No: No. For the di∣vell yet holds his thoughts so fast captivated and intangled in the snares of Victoryna's beauty, as hee hath not yet the grace to looke from his crime, to his repentance; nor consequently from Earth to Heaven: but like a prophane Libertine and unrege∣nerate person, being within a small point of time neere his end, hee yet thinkes not of his soule, nor of God, but onely dallies away the remainder of his houres, in the mi∣serable contemplation of his fond affection and beastly sensuality.

By this time Victoryna hath receiv'd his Letter; at the newes and reading where∣of, such is the passion of her frenzy, which shee (though unjustly) tearmes love: that shee is all in teares, sighes, and lamentable exclamations: she knowes it impossi∣ble for any other of the world to bee the revealer of Sypontus his Letter, but onely her Mayd Felicia, whom in her uncharitable Revenge, shee curseth to the pit of hell: but that which addes a greater torment to her torments, and a more sensible degree of affliction to her miserable sorrowes, is, to see that her Sypontus (whom by many de∣grees she loves far dearer then her life) finisterly snspecteth her fidelity towards him: yea so farre, as hee not onely calls her affection but her treachery in question: and this indeed seemes to drowne her in her teares. But yet notwithstanding so fervent is her love towards him, as the feare of his death drawes her to a resolution of her owne: so if Sypontus dye, shee vowes shee will bee her owne accuser, and so not live, but dye with him. Strange effects of love, or rather of folly, sith love being irregular, and taking false objects, (in its true character) is not love, but folly: to which end, calling for inke and paper, she bitterly weeping, indites and sends him these few lines, in answer of his.

VICTORYNA to SYPONTVS.

I Were the most wretched and ingratefullest Lady of the world; yea a Lady who should not then deserve either to see or live in the world, if Victoryna should any way prove treacherous to Sypontus, who hath still beene so true and kinde to her. But beleeve mee, Deare Sypontus, and I speake it in presence of God, upon perill of my soule, I am as innocent as that witch, that de∣vill, my mayd Felicia is guilty of the producing of thy Letter; which I feare will prove thy death, and rejoyce that in it, it shall likwise prove mine. For to cleer my selfe of ingratitude & tre∣chery, as I have lived, so I will dye wiyh thee: that as we mutually participated the joyes of life, so we may the torments of death: for although thy Letter accuse me not of my Husband Souran∣za's Murther, yet that my affection may shine in my loyalty, and that in my affection, I will not survive, but dye with thee: for I will accuse my selfe to my Iudges, not onely as accessary, but as author of that Murther: and this resolution of mine I write thee with teares, and will shortly seale it with my bloud:

VICTORYNA.

Sypontus, in the middest of his perplexities and sorrowes, receives this Letter from Victoryna, the sweetnesse of whose affection and constancy, much revives his joy, and comforteth him. For now her innocency defaceth his suspicion of her ingratitude and treachery: and withall hee plainely sees, and truly beleeves, that it was Felicia, not Victoryna, who brought this Letter to Light. But when hee descends to the latter part of her Letter, and finds her resolution to dye with him, then hee condemnes his former errour in taxing her, and in requitall, loves her so tenderly and dearely, that he vowes hee will bee so farre from accusing her, as accessary of her husbands Murther, as both the Racke, and his death shall cleare and proclaime her innocency. Had the ground of these servent and reciprocall affections of Victoryna and Sypontus, beene laid in vertue, as they were in vice; or in chastly, and not in lust and adultery, they would have given cause to the whole world, as justly to prayse, as now to dispraise them, and then to have beene as ambitious of their imitation, as now of their contempt and detestation.

So Sypontus (as before) having fully and definitively resolved not to accuse, but to cleare Victoryna of this Murther, as also that hee would dye alone, and leave her youth and beauty to the injoying of many more earthly pleasures: hee expecting hourely to bee sent for before his Iudges, to sit upon his torment or death, thinking himselfe bound both in affection and honour, to signifie Victoryna his pleasure herein, he craves his •…•…aylors absence, and with much affection and passion, writes her this his last Letter:

SIPONTVS to VICTORYNA.

SWeet Victoryna, thy Letter hath given mee so full satisfaction, as I repent mee of my rash credulity, conceived against thy affection and constancy, and now lay the fault of the discovery of my Letter, where it is, and ought to bee, on Felicia, not on thy selfe. It is with a sorrowfull, but true presage, that I foresee, my life hastens to her period: the Racke is already prepared for my torments, and I hourely expect when I shall bee fetch't to receive them, which for thy sake I will imbrace and suffer, with as much constancy as patience: I will deny mine owne guiltinesse the first time, but not the second: but in my torments and death I will acquit thee of thine, with as true a resolution, as Earth expects to lose mee, and I hope to finde Heaven. Therefore all the by bonds of love and affection that ever hath beene between us, I first pray, then conjure thee to change thy resolution, and to stand on thine innocency. For if thou wilt, or desi∣rest to gratifie mee with thy last affection and courtesie at my death; let mee beare this one con∣tent and joy to my grave, that Victoryna will live for Sypontus his sake, though Sypontus dye for hers.

SYPONTVS.

Hee had no sooner sent away this his Letter to Victoryna, but hee himselfe is sent for to appeare before his Iudges, who upon his second examination and denyall, ad∣judge him to the Racke; which hee indures with admirable patience and constancy. Yea, hee cannot bee drawne to confesse, but stands firme in his denyall, and not onely cleares himselfe, but also acquits Victoryna: Hieronym•…•… Souranza doth notwithstanding earnestly follow and solicite the Iudges, and God, out of his immense mercy and pro∣found providence so ordaineth, that their consciences suggest and prompt them, that Sypontus is the actor of this execrable Murther. Whefore the next day they admini∣ster him double torment: when loe, his resolution and strength fayling him, hee ac∣knowledgeth the letter his, and confesseth it was himselfe that had Murthered Seignior

Iovan Baptista Souranza: but withall protesteth constantly that Victoryna is innocent, and no way accessary hereunto. The Iudges rejoyce at Sypontus his confession, as much as they grieve at the foulenesse of his fact: and so, although they were also de∣sirous to hang him, yet considering hee was a Venecian Gentleman, (and consequently had a great voyce in the great Counsell of the Seigniory) they adjudge him the next day to lose his head, betwixt the two Columes at Saint Markes Place, and so for that night send him backe to his prison, to prepare himselfe to dye. Sypontus is no sooner departed from them, but they consult on Victoryna, whether shee were guilty, or in∣nocent of her husband Souranza's Murther, but they differ in opinion: some would likewise have her Racked: but others of them more advised and modest, reply that Sypontus his Letter intimated onely his affection to Victoryna, but no way her malice to her dead husband Souranza, nor that shee was any way guilty or accessary to his Murther: so they resolve to forbeare her, and not to put her to the torment, except Sypontus accuse her at his execution. Now the very night that hee was to die the next morne, hee infinitely desires his Iaylor to permit him to conferre with Victoryna, and to take his last leave of her, which is denyed him, as having received command from authority to the contrary; whereat extreamely grieving, hee is called away by some Divines, whom the charity of that grave Senate send him, to prepare and direct his soule, in her passage and transmigration to Heaven. So passing the night in teares and prayers for the foulenesse of his crime, the morne being come, and nine of the clock strucken, hee is brought to the scaffold, where a world of people concurre and flock from all parts of the City, to see this wretched and unfortunate Gentleman act the last Sceane and part of his life upon this infamous Theater. Heere Sypontus freely confesseth his foule Murther of Souranza, but is yet so vaine and wretched, as hee takes it to his death, that Victoryna is absolutely innocent hereof: hee seemes to bee very repentant and sorrowfull for all his sinnes in generall, and for this Murther in particular.

For expiation and reward hereof, his head is severed from his body: a just recom∣pence and punishment for so vicious and bloudy a Gentleman, who adhering to adul∣tery more then chastity, to revenge then charity, and to the devill then God, forgot himselfe so farre, as to commit this execrable and lamentable Murther.

Now, the order and Decorum of our History, leades us from dead Sypontus, to living Victoryna, who, I know not whether more grieve at his death, or rejoyce, that on the Racke and scaffold hee hath acquitted her of her husbands Murther. In a word, it is remarkeable to behold the vanity and inconstancy of this female Monster: for con∣trary to her vowes, and repugnant to her Letters and teares, Sypontus is no sooner dead, but her affection towards him dyes with him: yea, his bloud is scarce fo soone cold, as her zeale and friendship: for shee now holds it a pure folly to cast away her youth and life, if shee may preserve the one, and save the other; and therefore resolves to try her best art and wit, to make her innocencie passe currant with her Iudges: yea, so desirous and ambitious is shee to live, as her female heart hath drawne on this mascu∣line fortitude and generosity, that if occasion present, shee will constantly both out-dare and out-brave the torments of the Racke, thereby to prevent her death.

Some three daies after Sypontus was executed, the Iudges againe sit and consult on Victoryna, but finding no evidence nor witnesse to accuse her, they at first are of opi∣nion to discharge and free her: onely they deeme it requisite to terrifie, but not to torment her with the Racke, before they give her her liberty: whereunto they all a∣gree. So they send for her, and threaten her with the Racke: but shee vowes, that all the torments of the world shall never inforce her to confesse an untruth, and that

shee never had the least suspicion that Sypontus was guilty of this execrable Murther of her husband: her Iudges will not yet beleeve her; so they cause her to be carryed to the Racke: whereunto shee very cheerefully and patiently permits her selfe to bee fa∣stened, bidding the Executioner doe his worst: which constancie of hers, her Iudges seeing and hearing, they, in pitty and commiseration, as well of her youth and beau∣ty, as to her descent, and the teares and prayers of venerable old Beraldi her father, cause her to bee loosed, and so in open Court acquit and discharge her.

Here wee see this wretched Courtizans Victoryna acquitted of her Iudges for her husbands Murther, so as triumphing more in her good fortune, then her innocencie, shee now thinkes the storme of her punishment past and ore-blowne, and that no fu∣•…•…e can possibly bee reserved for her, or shee for it: but her hopes will deceive her: for although shee have made her peace with Earth, yet shee hath not with Heaven; and although she have deluded the eyes of her Iudges, yet she shall not those of God; but when his appoynted houre, and her due time is come, then her crimes and sins, her adultery and Murther shall draw down vengeance from heaven to her confusion. In the meane time wee shall see this Monster, and disgrace of her sexe, make such bad use of her former danger, as shee will againe adde bloud to bloud, and Murther to Murther; but God will reserve not onely the rod of his wrath for her correction, but the full viols of his indignation for her confusion; as the sequell will shew thee.

Sixe moneths are scarce past, since the Murther of her husband Souranza, and the execution of her Enamorata Sypontus, but shee hath already quite forgotten these two mournefull ard tragicall accidents: and which is more, shee is so frolike and youth∣full, as shee hath throwne off her mourning attire, and drawne on her rich apparell and glittering jewels, whereof the curiosity of the nobler sort of Gentlemen and La∣dies of the Citie take exact observation: and although Beraldi and Lucia, her fathe•…•… and mother, herein taxe her of indiscretion and immodesty, yet shee thinkes he•…•… selfe exempt of their commands, and therefore will doe it, out of the ambitious privi∣ledge of her owne uncontrolable authority and wilfulnesse. Besides, her thought are so youthfull, and her carriage so light, as notwithstanding shee came (as it were but now from burying of her first husband, yet shee is resolved without delay, t•…•… have a second: her father and mother checke her of levity and incivility in imbra∣cing this resolution: but in vaine: for her impudencie returnes them this immodest an∣swer, that shee will not trifle away her time, but marry. They advize her to bee cau∣tious, and to doe nothing rashly in this her second match, that the misfortune an•…•… scandall of her first may no more reflect on her. But shee will make choyce for he•…•… selfe by the eyes of her youth, and not by those of their age; by those of her own•…•… fancie, and not by these of their election. Her husband Souranza dyed rich, both 〈◊〉〈◊〉 lands and monies, and his Widdow Victoryna, without any opposition, injoyeth all: 〈◊〉〈◊〉 shee needs not looke out for Suters, for there are Gallants enow who sue and seek•…•… her: but of them all, hee whom shee best and chiefly affecteth, is one Seignior Loud∣vicus Fassino, a very neat and proper young Gentleman of the Citie, rich, and we•…•… descended; his parents and kinsmen for the most part being Clarissimo's and Senator•…•… and all of them Gentlemen of Venice; and him Victoryna desires, and resolves to mak•…•… her husband, grounding her chiefest reason and affection on this resolution and foun∣dation, that as Souranza was too old for her, so Fassino was young enough, and there∣fore fit to bee her husband, and shee his wife, measuring him wholly by his exterio•…•… personage, and not so much as once prying either into his vices or vertues. Fassin•…•… who carryed a vicious and pernicious heart under a pleasing gesture and tongue, an•…•… loving Victoryna's wealth more then her beauty, observing her affection and respect t•…•… him, seekes, courts, and wins her. Her Parents understanding hereof, as also th•…•…

Fassino is a vicious and debosht Gentleman, with all their possible power and authori∣tie, they seeke to divert their daughter from him. But shee is deafe to their requests, and resolved, that as shee followed the streame of their commands in her first match, so shee will now the current of her owne pleasures and affections in this her second: and so, to the wonder of Venice, and the griefe of all her parents and friends, before shee had above ten dayes conferred with Fassino, shee marries him. But this match shall not succeed according to their desires: for Victoryna shall shortly repent it, and Fassino as∣soone rue and smart for it; sith it is a maxime, that sudden affections proove seldome prosperous: for if they have not time to settle and take root, they are incident assoone to fade as flourish, especially if they are contracted and grounded more for lust then love, and more for wealth then vertue.

The first moneth of this marriage, Fassino keepes good correspondence and obser∣vance with his wife, but thence-foorth hee breakes Pale, and rangeth: for the truth is, although hee were but a young Gentleman, yet (which is lamentable) hee was an old whore-master: which lascivious profession of his, threatens the ruine, not onely of his health, but of his fortune and reputation: so now, when hee should bee at home, he is abroad: yea, not onely by day, but by night, that upon the whole, Victoryna is more a widdow then a wife: at which unlook'd and unwish'd for newes, shee not onely bites the lip, but very often puts finger in her eye and weeps: for it gripes & grieves her at heart, to see her selfe thus slighted, neglected, and abused by Fassino, whom, of all the Gallants of the Citie, shee had elected and chosen for her husband: shee is infinitely grieved hereat, and yet her griefe and sorrow infinitely exceeds her jealousie: and now as gracelesse as shee is, shee thinks God hath purposely sent her this lascivious Fassino for her second husband, as a just plague and punishment, to revenge her adultery com∣mitted against Souranza her first: so, had shee had more grace, and lesse vanitie and im∣pietie, she would have made better use of this consideration, and not so •…•…oone forgotten it, and in it, her selfe.

Now as it is the nature of jealousie, to haue more eyes then Argus, and so to prie and see every where: Victoryna, her curiositie, or rather her malice heerein, finds out, that her Husband Fassino familiarly frequenteth and useth the company of many Courtezans, especially of the Lady Paleriana, one of the most famous and reputed beauties of Venice: and this newes indeed strikes her at the very gall with sorrow and •…•…exation; faine shee would reforme and remedy this vice of her husband, but how shee knowes not, for shee sees little or no hope to reclaime him, sith he not onely ten∣derly loves Paleriana, but which is worse, shee apparantly sees, that for her sake, hee •…•…ontemnes her selfe and her company: for when hee comes home, he hath no delight 〈◊〉〈◊〉 her, but onely in his Lute or Bookes, which is but to passe his melancholly, for his Lady Paleriana's absence, till hee againe revisit her: so as wholly neglected, and as I •…•…ay truly say, almost forsaken of her husband, shee knowes not what to doe, nor how 〈◊〉〈◊〉 beare her selfe in those furious stormes of her griefe, and miserable tempest of her •…•…ealousie. But of two different courses to reclaime him from this his sinne of whore∣•…•…ome, shee takes the worst: for in stead of counselling and distwading her Hus∣•…•…and, shee torments him with a thousand scandalous and injurious speeches: but •…•…is, in stead of quenching, doth but onely bring oyle to the flame of his lust: for if •…•…ee repayred home to her seldome before, now hee scarce at all comes neere her: 〈◊〉〈◊〉 as shee is a Wife, yet no Wife: and hath a Husband, yet no Husband: but this is •…•…ot the way to reclaime him, for faire speeches and sweet exhortations may prevaile, •…•…hen choller cannot.

And now it is, that this wretched and execrable Lady againe assumes bloudy reso∣•…•…ions against her second Husband, as shee had formerly done against her first, vowing

that he shall die, ere shee will live to bee thus contemned and abused of him: yea, her hot love to him is so soone growne cold, and her servent affection already so frozen, that now shee thinkes on nothing else but how to be revenged, and to be rid of him; and is so impious and gracelesse, as she cares not how, nor in what manner soever shee send him from this world to another: for the devill hath drawne a resolution from her, or rather she from the devill, that here he shall not much longer live. Good God! what an impious and wretched fury of hell will Victoryna proove her selfe here on Earth? for the blood and life of one husband cannot quench the thirst of her lust and revenge, but shee must and will imbrue her hands in that of two: as if it were not e∣nough for her to trot, but that shee will needs gallop and ride post to hell. O what pi∣tie is it to see a Lady so wretched and execrable! O what an execrable wretchednesse is it, to see a Lady so inhumane, and so devoyd of pitie! But the devill is strong with her, because her faith is weake with God: therefore she will advance, shee will not re∣tire in this her bloody designe and resolution. Wherefore wee shall shortly see Fassino his adulterie punished with death, by his wife Victoryna's revenge; and this murther of hers justy rewarded and revenged with the punishment of her owne: the bloodyer our actions are, the severer Gods judgements, and the sharper his re∣venge will bee.

Of all sorts and degrees of inhumane and violent deaths, this wretched Lady Victo∣ryna thinks poyson the surest, and yet the most secret to dispatch her husband. This in∣vention came immediately from the devill, and is onely practised by his members: of which number shee will desperately and damnably make herselfe one: her lust and re∣venge, like miserable Advocates, and fatall Orators, perswade her to this execrable at∣tempt, wherein by cutting off her husbands life, she shall find that shee likewise casts a∣way her owne. So neither Grace nor Nature prevailing, shee sends for an Apothecary, named Augustino; and when she hath conjured, and he promised his secrecie, shee ac∣quaints him, that her new husband Fassino keeps Courtisans to her nose, and daily and hourely offereth her many other insupportable abuses and disgraces; in requitall and revenge whereof she is resolved to poyson him, and prayes him to undertake and per∣forme it, and that she will reward him with three hundred Zekynes for his labour.

Of all professions and faculties, there are good and bad: Augustino loves God too wel, herein to obey the devil: he hath too much grace, to be so impious and gracelesse, and vowes, that he will not buy gold at so deare a rate, as the price of blood; so as a good Christian, and true child of God, he not onely refuseth Victoryna's motion and proffer, but in religious termes seeks to divert and perswade her from this her bloody attempt. But she is resolute in her malice, and wilfull in her revenge, and therfore will performe it her selfe, sith this Augustino will not: so (by a second hand) she procures poyson from a strange Empericke, whereof the Citie of Venice, more then other of Italy, aboundeth: so she onely waits for an opportunitie, which very shortly, though, alas, too too soone, presents it selfe; the manner thus:

It is impossible that Fassino his dissolute life, and extreme deboshing can keepe him long from sicknesse; for this punishment is alwayes incident and hereditary to that sinne. Hee complaines thereof to his wife Victoryna, who receives this newes rather with gladnesse, then commiseration and pitie: and so taking his bed, hee prayes her to make him some comfortable hot broath for his stomack: which newes she heares, and imbraceth inwardly with joy, outwardly with disdaine. For albeit shee layes hold of this opportunitie to poyson him, yet she dissembles her malice; and the better to colour her villany, because she knowes it the smoother and shorter way to be reven∣ged in poysoning him, shee will not make the broath herselfe, but commands her maid Felicia to doe it, (of whom wee have formerly spoken, in the discovery of Sypontus his

Letter to her Vnkle Hieronymo Souranza:) which treacherous office of hers, our malici∣ous and devillish Victoryna her Lady and Mistresse, hath now a plot in her head, to re∣quite with an execrable and hellish recompence: for whiles Felicia is boyling of the broath, her Lady Victoryna trips to her chamber and closet, and fetcheth out the poy∣son, inveloped in a paper, whereof shee takes two parts and brings downe with her, and whiles she had purposely sent Felicia from the fire, shee runnes and throwes it into the broath, which for the present no whit altered the colour thereof: so Fassino calling for it, this poore innocent Gentlewoman Felicia, (not suspecting or dreaming of poy∣son) gives it him, which (as ignorant thereof) hee sups up; and this was about nine or ten of the clocke in the morning.

Now whiles Felicia is acting this mournfull Tragedie in Fassino his chamber, her Lady Victoryna is acting another in hers; for shee takes the other third part of the poyson, and secretly opening Felicia's trunke, puts it into a painted boxe which shee found therein, and so lockes it againe, hoping (though indeed with a wretched and hel∣lish hope) that her hu•…•…band being dead, his body opened, and the poyson found in her trunke, shee would give out that Felicia had poysoned him with broath that morne, and this found in her chest, would make her guiltie of the murther; for the which she knew she must needs die. See, see, the devillish double malice of this wretched Ladie Victoryna, as well to her husband Fassino, as her mayd Felicia! But as finely as the de∣vill hath taught her to spinne the thread of this her malice and revenge, yet though her plot have taken effect and hold of her husband, neverthelesse shee shall in the end fayle of hers to innocent Felicia: in the interim, though to the eyes of the world it seeme at first to succeed according to her desires by the bye, yet it shall not in the maine: but that murther, and this treason of Victoryna shall not goe long either unde∣tected, or unpunished.

This poyson working in Fassino his stomacke and body, begins by degrees to cut off his vitall spirits, so as his strength failes him, his red cheekes already looke pale and earthly, and his body infinitely swels: he cals for his wife Victoryna, who with all haste and expedition tells her secretly, that hee feares, Felicia hath poysoned him with the broath she gave him in the morning; and so requesteth her to send for his Parents and friends to bee present at his death, for live hee could not. Victoryna, like a dissembling shee-devill, teares her hayre for anger, and for meere sorrow seemes to drowne her selfe in her teares at this newes, kisseth and fawnes on her husband, and in all possible haste sends away of all sides for his kinsefolkes and friends, who hastily repayre thi∣ther, and finde Fassino almost dead: so they, with teares, inquire his sicknesse; when with open voyce his wife Victoryna cries out, that her wretched mayd Felicia had with broath, that morne, poysoned him; which Fassino his memory and tongue yet serve him to confesse and averre, word for word, as his wife Victoryna had related them: whereat they are all sorrowfull, and weepe, and then, and there cause Felicia to bee ap∣prehended and shut fast in a chamber; who (poore harmelesse yong Gentlewoman) is amazed at the terrour and strangenesse of this newes, and cries out and weepes so bit∣terly, as she seemes to melt her selfe into teares, only she knowes herselfe innocent, and yet feares that this malice and revenge proceeds to her from her Lady Victoryna. Whiles Felicia is thus under sure keeping, her Master Fassino dyes: which newes is soone dispersed and divulged abroad, to the griefe and admiration of the whole Citie. The next morne the criminall Iudges are advertised hereof, who repaire to Fassino his house, who by this time is dead, & there see his breathles carkasse, which they o•…•…daine to be opened: the poyson is apparantly found on his stomack, in its naturall & pristine colour; when examining first Fassino, then Victoryna's parents, they report Fassino his owne words uttered a little before his death, that Felicia had that morne poysoned him

with broth: which is averred by Victoryna, who saith, she saw her give it him. So they send away poore Felicia to priso•…•…, but yet with a vehement suspicion, that this poyso∣ned arrow came out of Victoryna her owne quiver, which they the sooner beleeve, in respect of her former troubles, and •…•…spicion for the murther of her first husband Sou∣ranza: So the Iudges returne and b•…•…ake themselves, that very instant, to their Tribu∣nall of Iustice, in the Dukes Palace of Saint Markes: where they send for Felicia, who is brought them, unaccompanied of any: for as misfortune would, both her Vnkle Hieronymo, and her Cousin Andrea 〈◊〉〈◊〉, w•…•…re then at Corfu, imployed in some pub∣like affaires for the Seigniory. The Iudge•…•… examine Felicia, concerning the broth and poyson she gave her Master. Shee bitterly sighing and weeping, confesseth the broath, but denies the poyson; vowing by h•…•…r part and hope of heaven, shee never touched nor kn•…•…w what poyson was, and desired no favour of them, if it were found or proo∣v•…•…d against he•…•…; withall, she acquaints them, that she feares it is a tricke of malice and revenge, clapt on her by her Lady Victoryna, for the discovery of Sypontus his letter. And to speake truth, the Iudges in their hearts partly adhere and concurre with her in this opinion: they demand her whether her Lady Victoryna touched this broath, either by the fire, or the bed? Shee, according to the truth, answers, that to her knowledge or sight, she touched it not, nor no other but her selfe. So they send her againe to prison, and retur•…•…e speedily to Fassino his house; where committing Victoryna to a sure guard, they ascend her chamber and closet, search all her trunkes, caskets and boxes, for poy∣son, but find none: and the like they doe to Felicia's trunkes, which they breake open, shee having the key; and in a boxe find a quantitie of the same poyson, whereby it was apparant shee absolutely poysoned her Master Fassino. The Iudges having thus found out and revealed, as they thought, the true author of this murther, they descend, a∣gaine examine Victoryna, and so acquit her. Poore Felicia is advertised hereof; where∣at shee is amazed and astonished, and thinkes that some witch or devill cast it there for her destruction. Shee is againe sent for before her Iudges, who produce the poyson found in her trunke: she denies both the poyson and the murther, with many sighs and teares: so they adjudge her to the racke, wh•…•…ch torment she suffereth with much pati∣ence and constancie; notwithstanding, her Iudges considering that shee made and gave Fassino the broath, that none touched it but her selfe, that hee dyed of it, and that they found the remainder of the poyson in her trunke, they thinke her the murtherer; so they pronounce sentence, that the next morne shee shall bee hanged at Saint Markes place. Shee poore soule is returned to her prison; she bewailes her misfortune thus to die, and be cast away innocently, taxing her Iudges of injustice, as her soule is ready to answere it to God.

All Venice pratleth of this cruell murther committed by this yong Gentlewoman; but for her Lady Victoryna, shee triumphs and laughs like a Gypsey, to see how with one stone shee hath given two strokes, and how one poore drug hath freed her this day of her husband Fassino, and will to morrow of Felicia, of whom she rejoyceth in her selfe, that now shee hath cryed quittance for the discovery of Sypontus his Letter, which procured his death: but her hopes may deceive her, or rather, the devill will deceive both her and her hopes too. How true or false, righteous or sinfull our actions bee, God in his due time will make them appeare in their naked colours, and reward those with glory, and these with shame.

The next morne, according to the laudable custome of Venice, the mourners of the Seigniory accompany our sorrowfull Felicia to the place of execution, where she mo∣destly ascendeth the ladder, with much silence, pensivenesse & affliction: at the sight of whose youth and beautie, most of that great infinitie of Spectators cannot refraine from teares, and commiserating and pitying, that so sweet a young Gentlewoman should

come to so infamous and untimely a death: when Felicia lifting up her hands, and e∣recting her eyes and heart towards heaven, she briefly speaks to this effect: Sheetakes Heaven & earth to witnesse, that she is innocent of the poysoning of her Master Fassino, and ignorant how that poyson should bee brought into her Trunke; that as her know∣ledge cannot accuse, so her Conscience will not acquit her Lady Victorina of that fact, onely she leaves the detection and judgement thereof to God, that being ready to for∣sake the world, si•…•…h the world is resolved to forsake her, shee as much triumphs in her innocencie, as grieves at her misfortune: and that she may not only appeare in Earth, but be found in Heaven a true Christian, shee first forgives her Lady Victorina, and her Iudges, and then beseecheth God to forgive her all her sinnes, whereunto shee humbly and heartily prayes all that are present, to adde their prayers to hers: and so shee begins to take off her band, and to prepare her selfe to die.

Now, Christian Reader, what humane wisdome, or earthly capacitie would here con∣ceive or thinke, that there were any sublunary meanes left for this comfortlesse Gentle∣woman Felicia, either to hope for life, or to flatter her selfe that she could avoid death? But loe, as the children of God cannot fall, because he is the defender of the innocent, and the protector of the righteous, therefore we shall see to our comforts, and finde to Gods glory, that this innocent yong Gentlewoman shall be miraculously freed of her dangers, and punishment, and her inveterate arch enemy Victoryna brought in her stead, to receive this shamefull death, in expiation of the horrible murthers of her two hus∣bands, which God will now discover, and make apparant to the eyes of the world: for as the Fryers and Nunnes prepare Felicia, to take her last farewell of this world, and so to shut up her life in the direfull and mournfull Catastrophe of her death; Behold, by the providence and mercie of God, the Apothecarie Augustino (of whom this ou•…•… Hi∣storie hath formerly made an honest and religious mention) arrives from Cape •…•…stria: and having left his ship at Malmocco, lands in a Gondola at Saint Markes stayres; when knowing and seeing an execution towards, he thrusts himselfe in amongst the crowd of people: where beholding so young and so faire a Gentlewoman, ready to die: he demaunds of those next by him, what shee was, and her crime: when being answe∣red, that her name was Felicia, a wayting Gentlewoman to the Lady •…•…orina, who had poysoued her Master Fassino: at the very first report of the 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 Victoryna, and her husband Fassino, Augustino his blood flasheth up in his face, and his heart be∣gan to beat within him, when demanding if no other were accessary to this murther: hee was informed, that her Lady Victoryna was vehemently suspected thereof: but she was cleared, and onely Felicia, this young Gentlewoman found guiltie thereof: which words were no sooner delivered him, but God putting into his heart and remem∣brance, that this Lady Vectorina would have formerly seduced him for three hundred Zeckynes, to have poysoned her husband Fassino, hee confidently beleeving this young Gentlewoman innocent heereof, with all possible speed, as fast as his legges could drive, hee runnes up to the Southeast part of the corner of the Gallery of the Dukes Palace, where the Officers sit to see execution done; the which he requesteth for that time to stop, because he hath something to say concerning the murther of Signiour Fas∣sino. Whereupon they call out to the Executioner to forbeare: which b•…•…ed inf•…•… ad∣miration in all the Spectators, as wondring at the cause and reason therof, when in con∣stant and discreet termes, Augustino informes the Iudges, that hee thinks 〈◊〉〈◊〉 inno∣cent, and her Lady Victoryna guiltie of this murther, and so 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 •…•…m •…•…er, time, and place where Victorina her selfe seduced him to poyson her 〈◊〉〈◊〉 F•…•…no, how she proffered him three hundred Zeckynes to performe it, which hee refused, and to the utmost of his power, sought to disswade her from thi•…•… bloody and execrable businesse. The Iudges are astonished at the strangenes of this newes, which they begin

confidently to beleeve, and so blesse the houre of Augustino's arrivall, that hath with∣held them from spilling the innocent bloud of Felicia, when commanding her from the place of execution, to her prison, they instantly give order for the Lady Victoryna's apprehension, who already had built trophees and triumphs of joy in her heart, to see that all her bloudy designes so well succeeded. But now is the Lords appoynted time come, wherein al her cruell Murthers, whoredome, treachery, and hypocrisie, shall be brought to light and punished: yea, now it shall no longer be in her power, or in that of the devill, her Schoolmaster & Seducer, either to diminish the least part of her punish∣ment, or to adde the least moment or poynt of time to her life. Shee is all in teares at her apprehension, but they rather ingender envie, then pittie in her Iudges: And so from the delights and pleasures of her house, she is hastily conveyed to prison.

Her Iudges, in honour to the sacred dignity of Iustice (the Queene of Earth, and the daughter of Heaven) confront her with Augustino, who averres his former deposi∣tion, as constantly in her face, as shee denies it impudently in his. But this will not prevaile her: for now God hath made the probabilities, or rather the sight of her crime too apparant. So without any regard to her prayers, teares, or exclamations, they ad∣j•…•…dge her to the Racke, where the tendernesse of her limbs, the sharpnesse of her tor∣ments, but especially the griefes and pinches of her conscience, make her acquit Feli∣cia, acknowledge Augustino his evidence, and condemne her selfe to be the author both of her first husbands stabbing, as also her seconds poysoning: her Iudges as much praise God for her confession, as they detest and are astonished at the falsenesse of these her horrible crimes. So with much joy they first free innocent Felicia of her unjust impri∣sonment; and then knowing it pitty that so wretched a Lady as Victoryna should live a∣ny longer, they, for her abominable cruelties and inhumanities, condemne her the next morne to be hang'd and burnt on Saint Markes Place. At the knowledge and divulging of which newes, as her father, mother, and kinsfolkes extreamely grieve, so all Venice blesse and glorifie God, first, that innocent Felicia is saved, and guilty Victoryna detected and condemned to the shame and punishment of a deserved death.

The same night the Priests and Friers deale with her about the state of her soule, and its pilgrimage and transmigration to heaven: they find that her youth, lust, and revenge hath taken a strange possession of the devill, and hee in them: for she still loves the memory of Sypontus, and envies and detests that of her two husbands, Souranza and Fassino: but they deale effectually with her, and in their speeches depainting her forth the joyes of heaven, and the torments of hell, they at last happily prevaile, and so make her forsake the vanity and impiety of these her passions, by rellishing the sweet shown of Gods mercies: so the next morne shee is brought to her execution; where the world expecting to heare much matter from her, she is very pensive and contempla∣tive, and sayes little, onely she prayes Felicia to forgive her; as also all the Parents of her two Husbands, Souranza and Fassino, and likewise of Sypontus; but chiefly shee in∣vokes God her Saviour and Redeemer, to pardon these her horrible sinnes of adulte∣ry and murther, and beseecheth all that are present to pray for her soule; and so ac∣cording to her sentence, she is first hang'd, then burnt: whereat all that great affluence and concourse of people praise the providence and justice of God, in cutting off this female monster and shame of her sexe Victoryna: whose tragicall and mournefull Hi∣story may we all reade and remember, with detestation, that the example hereof bee our forewarning and caveat, not to trust in the deceiveable lusts of the flesh, and the treacherous tentations of the devill, but to rely on the mercies and promises of God which will never faile his elect, but will assuredly make them happy in their lives, bles∣sed in their deathes, and constantly glorious in their resurrections.

GODS REVENGE AGAINST THE CRYING AND EXE∣crable sinne of Murther.

HISTORIE VII.

Catalina causeth her Wayting Mayd Ansilva two severall times attempt to poyson her ••wne Sister Berinthia; wherein fayling, shee afterwards makes an Empericke, termed Sarmi∣ata, poyson her said Mayd Ansilva: Catalina is killed with a Thunder-bolt, and Sarmi∣ata hang'd for poysoning Ansilva. Antonio steales Berinthia away by her owne consent▪ whereupon her Brother Sebastiano fights with Antonio, and kills him in a Duell: Be∣rinthia in revenge hereof, afterwards murthereth her Brother Sebastiano; she is adjudged to be immured betwixt two Walls, and there languisheth and dyes.

HOw foolishly and impiously doth our malice betray our selves, or the devill our soules, when we maliciously betray others? for wee are as farre from Grace as Wisedome, when wee permit either irre∣gular affection, or unlawfull passion, to hale us on to choller, chol∣ler to revenge, and revenge to Murther: Nay, how exempt are we of Religion, and devoyd of all Christian piety and charity, when our thoughts are so eclipsed, and our judgements darkened, when our consciences are so defiled, and our soules so polluted with revenge, that the eldest sister seekes to poyson her younger, and this younger afterwards murthereth her owne and only brother, be∣cause in a Duell he had formerly slaine her Lover? Alasse, alasse, these are bloudy acci∣dents, which not only fight against Grace, but Nature, not only against earth, but Hea∣ven, and not only against our soules, but against God; neither are these the only Tra∣gedies that our insuing History reporteth and relateth: for wee shall therein farther see a wretched Wayting-gentlewoman poysoned by her more wretched Lady and Mi∣stresse, together with her execrable Agent, a bloudy and gracelesse Empericke: and all justly revenged, and severely punished by the sword of Gods wrath and indignati∣on. Wherein the Christian Reader may observe, as well to Gods glory, as his owne consolation, that never pretended or actuall Murthers were either contrived more se∣cretly, perpetrated more closely, detected more miraculously, or punished more strangely and severely: so as if the devill have not fully possest our hearts and soules, or if our thoughts and resolutions doe yet retaine the least sparke of Grace and Chri∣stianity, we shall flie their crimes by the sight and feare of their punishments, refetch

our wandring and erronious senses, from hell to earth, purposely to erraise them from Earth to Heaven; and so religiously to give and consecrate, both them, and our selves, and soules, from sinne to righteousnesse, and consequently (with as much felicitie as glorie) from Satan to God.

THere dwelt in the Citie of Avero in Portugall, an ancient Nobleman, termed Don Gasper de Vilarezo, rich in either qualitie of earthly greatnesse, as well of blood as revenewes, who was neerely allied to the Marquesse of Denia (in Spaine) as marrying a Neece of his named Dona Alphanta, a Lady exquisitely endued with the ornaments of Nature, and the perfections of Grace: for she was both faire and vertuous, that adding lustre to these, and these returning and reflecting embellishment to that, which made her infinitely beloved of her husband Vilarezo, and exceedingly honoured of all those who had the honour to know her; and to crowne the felicitie of their affections and marriage, they had three hopefull children, one sonne, and two daughters: he termed Don Sebastiano, and they the Donas, Catalina, and Berinthia: Hee having attained his fifteenth yeare, was by his Father made Page to Count Manriques de Lopez, and con∣tinually followed him at Court, and they from their tenth to their thirteenth yeares, lived sometimes at Coimbra, otherwhiles at Lisbone, but commonly at Avero with their Parents, who so carefully trained them up in those qualities and perfections, requisite for Ladies of their ranke, as they were no sooner seene, but admired of all who saw them.

But before wee make a farther progression in this Historie, (thereby the better to unfold and anatomize it) I hold it rather necessarie then impertinent, that wee take a cursory, though not a curious survey of both these young Ladies perfections and im∣perfections, of their vices and vertues, their beautie and deformitie: that as objects are best knowne by the opposition of their contraries: so by the way of comparison wee may distinguish how to know, and know how to distinguish of the disparitie of these two sisters, in their inclinations, affections, and delineations.

Catalina was somewhat short of stature, but corpulent of body: Berinthia tall, but slender: Catalina was of taint and complexion, more browne then faire: Berinthia not browne, but sweetly faire, or fairely sweet: Catalina had a disdainefull, Berinthia a gracious eye: Catalina was proud, Berinthia humble. In a word, Catalina was of hu∣mour extreamely imperious, ambitious, and revengefull, and Berinthia modestly cour∣teous, gracious and religious. So these two young Ladies growing now to bee capa∣ble of marriage, many gallant Cavaliers of Avero become Servants and Suiters to them, as well in respect of their Fathers Nobilitie and wealth, as for their owne beau∣ties and vertues: yea, their fame is generally so spread, that from Lisbone, and most of the chiefest Cities of Portugall, divers Nobles and Knights resort to their Father Don Vilarezo's house, to proffer up their affections to the dignitie and merits of his daugh∣ters. But his age finding their youth too young to bee acquainted with the secrets and mysteries of marriage▪ puts them all off, either in generall termes, or honourable excu∣ses, as holding the matching of his daughters of so eminent and important considera∣tion, as hee thinkes it fit hee should advisedly consult, and not rashly conclude them: which affection and care of Parents to their Children, is still as honourable as com∣mendable.

Don Sebastiano their brother, being often both at Madrid, Vallidolyd and Lisbone, be∣comes very intimately and singularly acquainted with Don Antonio de Rivere•…•…, a noble and rich young Cavalier, by birth likewise a Portugall, of the Citie of Elvas, who was first and chiefe Gentleman to the Duke of Bragansa; and the better to unite and per∣petuate their familiaritie, hee proffers him his eldest sister in marriage, and prayes him

at his first conveniencie, to ride over to Avero to see her, offering himselfe to accom∣pany him in this journey, and to second him in that enterprize, as well towards his father as sister. Don Antonio very kindly and thankfully listeneth to Don Sebastiano's courteous and affectionate proffer; and knowing it so farre from the least disparage∣ment, as it was a great happinesse and honour for him to match himselfe in so noble a Family, they assigne a day for that journey, against when, Don Antonio makes readie his preparatives and traine in all respects answerable to his ranke and generositie. They arrive at Avero, where Don Gasper de Vilarezo, for his owne worth, and his sonnes report, receives Don Antonio honourably, and entertaines him courteously: he visiteth and saluteth, first the mother, then the two young Ladies her daughters: and although hee cannot dislike Catalina, yet so precious and amiable is sweet Ber•…•…nthia in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 eye, as hee no sooner sees, but loves her: yea, her piercing eye, her vermillion ch•…•…ke, and delicate stature, act such wonders in his heart, as hee secretly proclaimes himselfe her Servant, and publikely shee his Mistresse: to which end hee takes time and opportu∣nitie at advantage, and so reveales her so much in termes, that intimate the servencie of his zeale, and endeare the zeale of his affection and constancy. Berinthia entertaines his motion and speeches with many blushes, which now and then cast a rosiat vaile ore the milke-white lillies of her complexion; and to speake truth, if Antonio bee inamou∣red of Berinthia, no lesse is shee of him: so as not only their eyes, but their contemp•…•…∣tions and hearts seeme already to sympathize, and burne in the flame of an equall af∣fection. In a word, by stealth hee courts her often. And not •…•…o de•…•…aine my Reader in the intricate Labyrinth of the whole passages of their loves, Antonio for this time finds Berinthia in this resolution, that as she hath not the will to grant, so she hath not the power to deny his suit: the rest, time will produce.

But so powerfully doe the beautie and vertues of sweet Berinthia worke in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his affections, that impatient of delayes, hee findes out her father and mother, and in due termes (requisite for him to give, and they receive) demaunds their daughter Be∣rinthia in marriage. Vilarezo thanking Antonio for this honour, replies, that of his two daughters, hee thinkes Berinthia his younger as unworthy of him, as Catalina his eldest worthily bestowed on him. Antonio answeres, that as he cannot deny but Catalina is faire, yet hee must confesse that Berinthia is more beautifull to his eye, and more plea∣sing to his thoughts. Vilarezo lastly replies, that he will first match Catalina, ere Berin∣thia, and that he is as content to give him the first, as not as yet resolved to dispose of the second: and so for this time, they on these termes depart, Vilarezo taking Antonio and his sonne Sebastiano with him to hunt a Stag, whereof his adjacent Forrest hath plentie. But whiles Antonio his body pursues the Stag, his thoughts are flying after the beautie of his deare and faire Berinthia; who as the Paragon of Beautie and Nature, sits Em∣presse, and Queene-Regent in the Court of his contemplations and affections: hee is wounded at the heart with Vilarezo his answere, and Berinthia to the gall, when he cer∣tified her of her fathers resolution, onely modestie (that sweet companion, and preci∣ous ornament of Virgins) to the extremitie of her power, endeavored to keepe A•…•…to∣nio from perceiving or suspecting so much. Antonio prayes his deare friend Sebastiano to perswade his father to give him his sister Berinthia to wife: hee performes the true part of a true friend and a Gentleman, but in vaine: for his father Vilarezo is resolute, first to marry Catalina; when Antonio, not of power so soone to leave the sight and presence of his sweet Berinthia, must invent some matter for his stay. And indeed as Love is the whetstone of wit to give an edge to Invention; so Antonio, to in•…•…oy the presence of his faire Berinthia, is inforced to make shew that hee neglects her, and affe∣•…•…teth Catalina: and so converseth often with her; but still in generall termes, wherea•…•… hee builds many castles of hope and content, in the ayre of her thoughts. For i•…•… Be∣rinthia

loved Antonio, no lesse doth Catalina; strange effects of affection, where two si∣sters deeply and dearely love one Gentleman, and when but one, and peradventure nei∣ther of them shall enjoy him.

But as Catalina is the pretext, so Berinthia is both the sole object and cause of An∣tonio's stay, whom hee courts and layeth close siege to, as often as opportunitie makes him happie in the desired happinesse and felicitie of her company: Shee gives him blushes for his sighes, and sometimes (although a man) the fervencie of his affection was such, as hee cannot refraine from returning her teares for her blushes: when albeit love perswades him to stay longer in Avero, yet discretion calls and commaunds him away to Lisbone: and all the fruit of his journey that he shall carry thither with him, is this, that for injoying of faire Berinthia to his wife, hee conceives farre more reason to hope, then to despaire. Next death, there is no second affliction so grievous or bit∣ter to Lovers, as seperation and parting: this Berinthia feeles, but will not acknow∣ledge; and this Antonio acknowledgeth, because feeles. After Supper, taking her to a window, hee secretly prayes her to honour him with the acceptance of a poore Scarfe, and plaine paire of Gloves (which notwithstanding were infinitely rich, and wonder∣fully faire) in token of his affection; and she, the morne of his departure, by Diego his Page, sends him a Handkerchiefe, curiously wrought with hearts and flames of silke and gold, in signe of her thankfulnesse: he promiseth Berinthia to write, and see her shortly; and Catalina intreats him to be no stranger to Avero. To Catalina hee gives many words, but few kisses; to Berinthia many kisses, but more teares: His depar∣ture makes Berinthia sad, as grieving at his absence; and Catalina joyfull, as hoping of his returne: Catalina triumphs for joy, hoping that Antonio shall be her husband; and Berinthia now begins to looke pale with sorrow, fearing shee shall not bee so happy to bee his wife. By this time breakfast is served in, when Sebastiano comes, takes Anto∣nio and his two sisters, and carries them to the Parlour, where Vilarezo and his wife Alphanta attend Antonio's comming. They all sit downe; and although their fare bee curious, yet Antonio's eyes feed and feast upon more curious dainties; as the sparkling eyes, flaxen haire, and vermillion cheekes of Berinthia's incomparable beautie, which is observed of all parts, except of Berinthia, who is so secret and cautious in her carri∣age, as although her affection, yet her discretion will not permit her modestie either to observe or see it. Breakfast ended, Antonio taking Vilarezo, and his wife Alphanta apart, first gives them infinite thankes for his honourable and courteous entertainment, and then very earnestly againe prayes them not to reject his suit for their daughter Berinthia. Vilarezo and his wife pray Antonio to excuse his bad reception, which they know comes many wayes short of his deserts and merits, and also request him to imbrace their motion for their daughter Catalina. Thus after many other comple∣ments, he takes his conge of Vilarezo, kisseth his wife and two daughters, first Catali∣na, then Berinthia, who though last in yeares, yet is the first Lady in his desires and thoughts, and the onely Queene of his affections. So they are as it were inforced to make a vertue of necessitie, and to take a short farewell, in stead of a more solemne, which either of them wished, and both desired; but their eyes dictate to their hearts, what their tongues cannot expresse: and so Antonio and Sebastiano take Coach, and away for Lisbone, Antonio as much triumphing in the beautie of his faire Berinthia, as his friend Sebastiano grieves, that of his two Sisters, Antonio would not accept of Ca∣talina, nor his father consent to give him Berinthia for his wife: notwithstanding, they confirme their familiaritie and friendship with many interchangeable and reciprocall protestations; that sith they cannot be brothers, they will live and die deare and inti∣mate friends: but I feare the contrary.

Being arrived at Lisbone, Antonio feeles strange alterations in his thoughts and pas∣sions.

For now hee is so intangled in the fetters of Berinthia's beautie and vertues, that hee will see no other object but her Idea, nor (almost) speake of any Lady, but of her selfe; and in these his amorous contemplations hee both rejoyceth and triumpheth; but againe remembring the assurance of Vilarezo his refusall, and the incertaintie of Berinthia's affection and consent, his hopes are nipt in their blossomes, and his joyes as soone fade as flourish; he wisheth that Avero were Lisbone, and either himselfe in Avero with Berinthia, or shee in Lisbone with him. To attempt the one, hee holds it as great a folly, as a vanitie to wish the other: But hee bethinkes himselfe of a remedie for this his perplexitie, and reputes himselfe obliged in the bonds, as well of respect, as love, to write to his faire Berinthia: and then againe hee feares that it will find a diffi∣cult passage and accesse to her, because of her Fathers distaste, and Sisters jealousie: but the Sunne of his affection doth soone dispell and dissipate these doubts, or rather disperse them as clouds before the winde: and now to prevent those who might at∣tempt to intercept his Letters, hee bethinkes himselfe of an invention, as worthy, as commendable in a Lover: hee writes Berinthia a letter, and accompanying it with a rich Diamond, sends it her by Diego his owne Page to Avero, whom purposely and feignedly hee causeth to arme himselfe with this pretext and colour, that he is in love with Ansilva the Lady Catalina's wayting Gentlewoman, and hath now gotten leave of his Master to come to Avero to seeke her in marriage: where after some fifteene dayes he arrives, and very secretly delivers his Masters Ring and Letter to Berinthia, who (sweet Lady) was then tost with the winde of feare, and the waves of sorrow, that in all this time shee heard not from Antonio, doubting indeed lest the change of ayre, places, and objects might have power to change his affection, when now blushing for joy, as much as before shee looked pale for sorrow, she takes the Ring and Letter, and kissing both, secretly flies to her Chamber, when bolting the doore, shee with as much affection as impatience breaking up the seales, therein finds these lines:

ANTONIO to BERINTHIA

SWeet Berinthia, wert thou as courteous as faire, thou wouldest rest as confident of my af∣fections, as I doe of thy beautie, and then as much rejoyce in that, as I triumph in this: but as my tongue lately wanted power, so now doth my pen art, to informe thee, how dearely I love thy beautie, and honour thy vertues: so as could thy thoughts prie into mine, or my heart be so hap∣pie to dictate to thine, those should know, and this see, that Antonio is ambitious of no other earthly felicitie, then either to live thy husband, or dye thy Martyr. Thinke with thy selfe, how farre thou undervaluest, and unrequitest my zeale, when I will despaire of loving Catalina, and yet cannot hope that Berinthia will affect mee: onely therefore in thee (sweet Lady) it re∣maines, either to crowne my joyes by thy consent, or to immortalize my torments by thy refusall: hee pleased therefore, faire Berinthia, to signifie mee thy resolution, that I may know my doome, and prepare my selfe, eyther to wed thee or my grave.

ANTONIO.

Berinthia having againe and againe perused and ore-read this Letter, gives it a thou∣sand kisses for his sake who wrote and sent it her, and so very secretly lockes it up in her Casket, as also the Diamond, and now attends an opportunitie to conferre pri∣vately with Diego, when hee will resolve to returne to his Master at Lisbone, that shee may returne him an answere, though not so sweet as hee expects, yet not so bitter as hee feares: in the meane time Diego delivereth her father Vilarezo his Masters letter, in favour of his (pretended) sute to Ansilva, as also in thankfulnesse of his entertaine∣ment,

without naming either Catalina, or Berinthia his daughters, or once mentioning his returne to Avero: whereat Vilarezo grieves, and Catalina bites the lip. But Berinthia cannot but smile to see Antonio his invention, for the safe delivery of his letters, nor yet refraine from laughing in her selfe, to see how cunningly his Page Diego courts An∣silva: for hee makes such demonstration of love to her, and shee is so enamoured of him, that Catalina thinkes a short time will finish this match, but hee and her sister Be∣rinthia know the contrary. Diego at the end of three dayes is desirous to depart, and Berinthia extremely glad of his resolution to stay no longer: so shee takes her selfe to her chamber, and writes this letter to her Antonio in answer of his.

BERINTHIA to ANTONIO.

HAd I not been more courteous to thee, then I am faire in my selfe, thou hadst not tasted so much of my affection, nor I so many of my fathers frownes: and although thy tongue and penne have acquainted me with thy rich zeale intended and devoted to my poore merits, yet judge with thy selfe, whether it bee fit for mee to requite thee with observance; or him that gave mee my being with disobedience. As I desire not to have thee dye my Martyr, so my father will not permit thee to live my husband: and yet, as it is out of my power to remedy the first, so it is not impossible for time to effect and compasse the last; not that I resolve to give thee too much hope; rather that I ayme to take away some of thy despaire, to the end that I may find thee as constant in thy affection, as thou mee sincere in my constancie. My sisters jealousie of mee, and my fathers distaste of thee, invite thee to manage this favour of mine with as much secrecie as circum∣spection.

BERINTHIA.

Having folded up and sealed her Letter, shee findes out Diego, and beckens him to follow her to the garden; where, in one of the Bowers shee delivers him this letter, together with a Rose of Opales, the which in token of her love, shee conjures him with safetie and speed to deliver to his Master Don Antonio. Diego having his dispatch of Berinthia, soone gives Ansilva hers, promising to returne some three weekes after; at which time hee prayes her to expect him: when thanking Vilarezo for his kind en∣tertainment, and he bidding him tell his Master hee would be glad to see him in Avero, he leaps to horse, and so poasts away for Lisbone.

I cannot relate with what incredible and infinite joy Antonio receives this Letter and Ring from Berinthia: and to write the truth, I thinke the letter scarce contained so many sillables, as hee often read it over and kissed it: hee sees Berinthia's modestie re∣splend and shine in her affection, and her affection in her modesty towards him, where∣in hee glories in that, rejoyceth in this, and triumphs in both: but although hee bee sure of her affection, yet hee is not of himselfe; for hee sees her Letter containeth many verball complements, but all of them not one reall promise: and therefore hee cannot repute his tranquillitie and felicitie complete, ere hee bee crowned with this happinesse: besides, hee feares that his absence and her fathers presence, may in tract of time by degrees coole the fervencie of Berinthia's affection; and yet then, hee as soone checkes his owne timiditie, in conceiving the least suspicion of her constancie: now hee thinkes to acquaint his intimate friend and her deare brother Sebastiano with their affections, but then hee condemnes that opinion, and revokes it as erronious and dangerous, and contrary to the rules of love, in sailing without the compasse of Berinthia's advice and commands, by the which hee holds it both safetie and discre∣tion to steere his course and actions: Againe, hee so infinitely and earnestly longs to resee his deare and sweet Mistresse, as hee resolves to ride over againe to Avero: but

the obstinacie of Vilarezo, and the jealousie of Catalina, make him end that journey ere hee began it. In this perplexitie and contestation of reasons, hee is irresolute what, or what not to doe; but in fine, considering that delayes are dangerous in mat∣ters of this nature, hee packes up his baggage, and taking his farewell of Sebastiano, under pretext of his health, leaves Lisbone and the Duke his Lord and Master, and retires to his owne home at Elvas, (where his father dying some three yeeres before, had left him sole heyre to many rich Mannors and Possessions) purposely heereby to bee neere to Avero, that hee might give order for all things, and let slip no occa∣sion in the processe and prosecution of his affection. The second day after his arri∣vall to Elvas, it being welneere a moneth since hee sent his first, and till then his last Letter to Berinthia, hee now againe dispatcheth his Page Diego with his second Letter to her, by whom hee sends her a chaine of rich pearle, and a paire of gold bracelets richly enammeled. Diego's arrivall is pleasing to Ansilva, but extremely joyfull to Be∣rinthia; onely it nipt Catalina's hopes, because shee could not understand by him any certaine resolution or assurance of his Masters comming thither. Diego hath no soo∣ner saluted his Ansilva, but (as his more important businesse) hee seekes meanes to speake with Berinthia, which shee her selfe proffereth him: he delivers her his Masters tokens and letter, which sh•…•…e very joyfully receiveth, and so trips away to her cham∣ber; where opening the seales, shee therein finds these words:

ANTONIO to BERINTHIA

IT is impossible for my penne to expresse the joyes my heart received at the reading of thy Letter: and as I dispraise not thy obedience to thy Father, so I infinitely both praise and prize thy affection to mee: a thousand times I kissed thy lines, and as often blest the hand that wrote them; and although they gave mee hope for despaire, yet, not to dissemble, these hopes have brought mee doubt, and that doubt, feare; not that thou lovest mee, for that were to disparage •…•…y judgement, in seeking to prophane thy affection, but that thou wilt not please to accept of my promise, nor to returne mee thine: wherein if thou weigh the fervencie of my love, I hope thou wilt not taxe the incredulitie of my feare; for till I am so happie, not onely to hope, but to assure my selfe that Berinthia will bee Antonio's, as Antonio is alreadie Berinthia's, I must needs feare, and therefore cannot truely rejoyce. I have left Lisbone, to reside at Elvas; therefore faire and deare Lady, I beseech thee destinate mee, dispose my service, and commaund both. I long to enjoy the felicitie of thy presence: for I take heaven to witnesse, thy absence is my hell upon earth.

ANTONIO.

Berinthia having read this Letter, shee approoves of Antonio's feare, and attributes it to the fervencie and sinceritie of his affection: shee esteemes her selfe infinitely happy in her good fortune, and choyce of so brave a Cavalier for her servant, whom shee hopes a little time will make her husband; to which end shee will no longer feed him with delayes, but now resolves, by his Page Diego at his returne to signi∣fie him so much: and in a word, to send him her heart, as shee hath already received his. But shee knowes not what the Interim of this time will bring forth.

Passe wee from Berinthia to her Sister Catalina, whose affection is likewise such to Antonio, as by this time shee hath perswaded and induced her Father Vilarezo to write him a Letter in her behalfe by Diego, thereby to draw his resolution, whether hee intend to seeke her for his wife or no; or at least to invite him to Avero. And al∣though his affection to her sister Berinthia be kept from her, yet she not onely suspects, but feares it. Glad shee is of the opportunitie of Diego his being there, to convey her

Fathers Letter to his Master: and yet that joy of hers is soone dissolved into griefe, because all this time he never vouchsafed to write to her: her affection to him flattreth her still with hope, and yet her judgement in her selfe still suggesteth her despaire; for shee hath alwayes the image of this conceit in her imagination, that Antonio loves her Sister Berinthia, and not her selfe: her suspicion makes her subtill, and so shee deales with Ansilva, to draw the truth heere of from Diego, who having learned his lesson, acteth his part well, and I know not, whether with more fidelitie or discretion, flatly denies it: but loe, here betides an accident, which bewrayes the whole mysterie and History of their affections. On a Sunday morning, when Berinthia was descended to the garden to gather flowers, against her going to Church with her Father and Mo∣ther, her Sister Catalina rusheth into her Chamber, to seeke the Historie of Cervan∣tez, which the day before shee had lent her; and not finding it either on the Table, or the Window, seekes in the pocket of her gowne, that shee wore the day before; and there unwittingly, and unexpectedly finds the last Letter that Antonio had sent her; whereby shee perceived, it was in vaine for her to hope to enjoy Antonio, sith shee now apparantly saw that hee was her sister Berinthia's, and shee his. Catalina is hereat both sorrowfull and glad; sorrowfull, that shee should lose Antonio, and glad that shee had found his Letter. And now to shew her affection to him, and her malice to her sister, shee will trie her wits, to see whether shee can frustrate Berinthia, and so obtaine Antonio for her selfe. The passions of men may easily be found out and detected, but the secrets and malice of women difficultly. To which end Catalina shewes this letter to her Father, who exceedingly stormes hereat, and with many checkes and frownes curbes Berinthia of her libertie, and resolves in his first letter to Antonio, to forbid hi•…•… his house, and her company, except hee will leave Berinthia, and take Catalina: and suspecting that his Page Diego's courting of Ansilva, was but onely a policie and co∣lour, thereby to convey Letters betwixt his daughter Berinthia and his Master; he once thought to give him his Conge, and prohibit him his house, had not Catalina prayed the contrary, who would no way displease her wayting-Gentlewoman Ansilva, because she was to use her aid and assistance in a matter of great importance: the unlocking and dilating whereof is thus:

Catalina her affection to Antonio, and consequently her malice to her sister Berinthi•…•… is so violent, that as her father hath bereaved her of a great part of her libertie, so she is so bloudy and cruell, as she vowes to deprive her of her life: a hellish resolution i•…•… any woman, but a most unnaturall and damnable attempt of one Sister to another but wanting Faith, which is the foundation and bulwarke; and Religion, which is the preservative and Antidote of our soules, she runnes so wilfully hood-wink'd from God to the devill, as she will advance, and disdaines to retire, till her malicious and jealous thirst be quenched with her sisters blood: to which end she perswades and bribes An∣silva with a hundred duckets, to poyson her sister Berinthia, and promiseth her so much more, when she hath effected it: whereunto this wretched and execrable yong waiting Gentlewoman consenteth, and in briefe, promiseth to performe it: But God hath o∣therwise decreed and ordained. To which end she sends into the City for some strong poyson by an unknowne messenger, which is instantly brought her in a small galley pot. But let us heere both admire and wonder at Gods miraculous discovery and prevention thereof: For that very night, when Ansilva had determinately resolved to have poysoned the Lady Berinthia, Diego seekes out his Mistresse Ansilva, and finds her solitarily alone in one of the close over-shadowed Bowers of the garden, whom hee salutes and entertaine; with many amorous discourses, and more kisses; in the mid∣dest whereof his nose fell suddenly on bleeding, whereat hee admired, and shee grie ved; till at last having bloodied all his owne handkerchiefe, Ansilva rusheth hastily t•…•…

her pocket for hers for him, which suddenly drawing forth, her affection to Diego ha∣ving made her quite forget her poyson, shee with her handkerchiefe drawes out the galley-pot, which falling on the floore of the bower, (that was paved with square stones) it immediatly burst in pieces; when Diego's Spaniell licking up the poyson, in∣stantly sweld, and died before them. Whereat Diego grew amazed, but farre more An∣silva, who blushing with shame, & then growing pale for feare, could not invent either what to say or doe, at the strangenesse and suddennesse of this accident. Diego presseth her to know for whom this poyson was provided, and of whom shee had it, Her an∣sweres are variable, and are so farre from agreeing, as they contradict each other, which breeds in her the more feare, and in him astonishment. Hee conjures her by all the bonds of their affection, to discover it, with many millions of protestations pro∣fesseth it shall dye with him; hee addes vowes to his requests, oathes to his vowes, and kisses to his oathes, so as mayds can difficultly conceale any thing from their Lovers; but especially fearing that hee might peradventure suspect that this poyson was meant and intended him: shee at last vanquished with his importunacy, and this consideration, discovereth (as we have formerly understood) that her Lady Catalina had wonne her, therewith to poyson her sister Berinthia, because shee suspected shee was better beloved of his Master Don Antonio then her selfe. Diego is infinitely astonished at the strangenesse of this newes, and like a true and faithfull Page to his Master, ha∣ving drawne this worme from Ansilva's nose, and this newes from her tongue, un∣der colour to seeke a remedy to stop his blood, giving her many kisses, and promising her his speedy returne, hee leaves her in the garden, and so very speedily finds out Be∣rinthia, to whom (with as much truth as curiositie) hee from poynt to poynt re∣veales it, praying her to bee carefull not to receive any thing, either from Catalina, or Ansilva, and withall to write, for the next morne hee will hye to Elvas, to re∣veale it to his Master. Berinthia trembles at the report of this strange and unexpected newes: so having first thanked God for the discovery of this poyson, and her Si∣sters malice, shee promiseth him a Letter to his Master, and heartily thankes him for his fidelitie and affection towards her, the which shee voweth to requite; and for a pledge and earnest thereof, drawes off a Diamond from her finger, and gives it him for this good office.

No sooner hath Aurora leapt from the watry bed of Thetis, and Phoebus discovered his golden beames in the azured Firmament of Heaven, but Diego causeth his Horse to bee made ready, and tells Ansilva, that his father hath sent for him to meet him at la Secco, and that hee will not fayle to bee backe with her within three dayes, being ready to depart.

Hee, under colour of giving order for his horse, leaves her, and steales into Berin∣thia's Chamber, whom (poore Lady) feare would not permit to take any rest or sleepe that night, the which shee had partly worne out and imployed in writing her minde to her deare Antonio, and knowing her selfe not safe in Avero with her father and sister, shee resolved to commit her honour and her life into his protection: yea, she had no sooner finished and sealed her Letter to that effect, but Diego comes and knockes softly at her chamber doore. Berinthia in her night gowne and attire is ready for him: shee admits him, commends his care, gives him her Letter to his Master, and prayes him to use all possible diligence in his returne: and so having received all her com∣mands, hee secretly descends the stayres; and taking leave of Vilarezo, and lastly, kis∣sing his Mistresse Ansilva, hee leapes to horse, rides the first Stage, there leaves his Gennet, and takes Poast.

Leave we Diego poasting towards Elvas, and come we to Catalina, whose malice fin∣ding no rest, nor her revenge remedy, shee that very morne, assoone as Ansilva came

into her chamber, demands whether shee be prepared to performe her owne promise, and her hopes? She answereth her Lady, that lesse then three dayes shall effect it, and give a period to all her sister Berinthia's. Whereat shee is exceedingly glad, but all this while ignorant what Diego hath seene, and Berinthia knowes to this effect. Ansil∣va presuming on Diego his sidelity, and building on his secresie; and therefore lesse suspecting his journey to Eluas, remaines still so gracelesse and impious in her bloudy resolution, as shee now not onely presumes, but assures her selfe that Berinthia is neere the ebbe of her dayes, and the setting of her life: and therefore like an execrable A∣gent of the Devill, she hath now made ready and provided her selfe of a second poy∣soned potion, which shee no way doubts but shall send her to her last sleepe. But this female Monster, this bloudy shee-Empericke may bee deceived in her art.

In the interim of which time Diego arrives at Eluas, and findes out his Master, to whom hee very hastily delivers Berinthia's Letter; the which Antonio having kissed, breakes off the seales, and there, contrary to his hopes, but not to his desires, reades these lines:

BERINTHIA to ANTONIO.

MY sister Catalina's malice is so extreme to mee, sith my affection is such to thee, as shee de∣generates not onely from Grace, but Nature, and seekes to bereave me of my life. This bearer, thy Page, who I pray'love for my sake, sith hee, under God, hath now preserved mee for thine, will more fully and particularly acquaint thee with the manner thereof. So, sith there is no safetie for mee in my Fathers house, into whose armes and protection shall I throw my selfe, but onely into thine, of whose true and sincere affection I am so constant and confident, as I rest assured thou wilt shew thy selfe thy selfe, in preserving my life with mine honour, and mine honour with my life? It is no poynt of disobedience in mee to my Father, but of deare respect 〈◊〉〈◊〉 mine owne life; and therefore to thee, for, and by whom I live, that makes mee so earnestly de∣sire both thy assistance and sight, sith the first will leade mee from despayre, the second to hope and joy, and both to content; till when, feare and love, with much impatiencie, make m•…•… thinke houres yeares, and minutes moneths.

BERINTHIA.

Antonio is amazed at this strange and unexpected newes, and curiously gathers all the circumstances thereof from his Page, when love, feare, hope, sorrow, and joy act their severalll parts, as well in his heart as countenance; when prizing Berinthia's life and safetie a thousand times before his owne, hee with great expedition dispatcheth away Diego the same night to Avero, with this ensuing letter, which he commands him deliver his Mistresse Berinthia, with all possible speed and secrecie.

ANTONIO to BERINTHIA.

AS the Sunne, breaking foorth of an obscure cloud, shines the clearer, so doeth thy true affe∣ction to mee, in that damnable malice of thy Sister Caralina to thy selfe for my sake, in such sort, as I know not whether I more rejoyce at the one, then detest the other. Having therefore first thanked God for thy happie and miraculous preservation, I next commend my Page, as the second cause of the discovery thereof: and this fidelitie of his shall neither bee forgotten or unre∣quited. Thinke how tedious time is to mee, sith I blame and envy this short Letter of mine, for taking up and usurping any part thereof, till I enjoy the honour to see thee, and the felicitie to assist thee. I returne it thee Poast by Diego, who brought mee thine; and my Coach-man tells mee, I shall rather flie then runne towards thee. Let the precise houre, I beseech thee, bee on Mun∣day

night at twelve of the clocke, when I will awayt thy selfe, and expect thy commaunds at the Posterne of thy Fathers Arbour: where, let the light of the candle bee my signet, and the re∣port of my Pistoll shall bee thine. I am throwing away my penne, were it not to signifie thee, that my sword shall protect thy life, and mine honour preserve thine: as also that Anto∣nio thinkes himselfe the most unfortunate man of the world, till Berinthia bee impaled in his armes, or hee encloystered in hers.

ANTONIO.

Whiles Diego is poasting to Avero, Antonio his Master is preparing to follow him, taking (the next morne) his Coach with six horses, and three resolute Gentlemen his friends to assist him, with each his Rapier and case of Pistols. Diego first arrives at Avero, yea, a day and two nights before him. Ansilva checks him for his long stay; and Berinthia a thousand times thanks him for his speedy returne. He delivers her his Masters Letter, and prayes her to prepare her selfe against the prefixed houre. Shee reades her Antonio's Letter with much joy and comfort, which her lookes testifie, and her heart proclaimeth to her thoughts: shee will not be slacke or backwards in a mat∣ter which so deeply imports her well-fare and content; and so with all possible secre∣sie packes up the chiefest of her apparell and jewels in a small trunke, or casket, and wisheth the houre come, that shee were either in Antonio's armes, or he in hers: and for Diego, he casteth so subtill a mist & vaile before Ansilva's eyes, as it is impossible either for her, or her Lady Catalina to perceive any thing. But loe, a second treachery is pro∣vided, to effect that which the first could not: and indeed, which went neere to have performed it, had not God miraculously and indulgently reached forth his hand to pre∣vent it: for Catalina still persevers in her inveterate and deadly malice towards her sister Berinthia, as if God had not yet taught her, or rather, that she would not learne the way from Satan; or Grace instructed and directed her from the impietie of so foule a sinne, as the murthering of her owne and onely sister. For the very night that Antonio had promised and assigned to fetch Berinthia, as shee had by times retired her selfe to her chamber, under colour to go to bed, and ready to put on her night abiliments, in comes Ansilva, sent by her good and kinde (or rather wicked and cruell) sister, with a sweet Posset, (or rather a deadly poyson in her hand, in a silver covered cup) telling her, that her Lady had drunk the one halfe, and sent her the other, it being (as she affirmed) very cold and refreshing for the liver, against the hotnesse of the weather. But Berinthia be∣ing forewarned, is armed by her former danger; yet shee seemes joyfull thereof, and so accepts it, returning her sister Catalina thanks, saying, shee will drinke it ere shee goe to bed; onely she prayes Ansilva first to fetch her prayer booke and gloves, which in the morne shee had left in her sisters chamber. So whiles shee is wanting, shee privately powres it into a silver bason in her Studie, and washing the cup three or foure seve∣rall times, shee fills some Almond milke therein; and Ansilva being returned, takes the said cup, and prayes her to tell her Sister, that shee drinkes it to her health, and withall, gives her the good night: and so likewise doth Ansilva to her. But what a good night thought shee in her heart and conscience, when shee knew Berinthia should never see day more? So away shee trips to her Lady Catalina, who demaunds her if the businesse bee dispatched, and her sister gone to her rest? Who replies, shee hath drunke her last, and is gone to her eternall rest. But they are both deceived in their malicious Arithmaticke: For although Catalina extremely rejoyce in the confi∣dent and assured death of her sister, yet God ordaineth, that their bloody hopes shall deceive them: as marke the sequell, and you shall see how.

About an houre after Ansilva's departure, by Berinthia's order and appoyntment,

in wonderfull secret sort in comes Diego to her Chamber, to awayt the houre of his Masters arrivall, and to assist her in her escape and departure. Berinthia acquaints him with the potion her Sister Catalina had right now sent her by Ansilva: hee is asto∣nished at this newes, as being assured it was poyson, and humbly prayes her to make proofe hereof on Catalina's Parrot, which that afternoone shee had brought with her into her Chamber: and so by her consent Diego takes the Parrot, and with a spoone forceth some downe its throat: who poore harmelesse bird, immediately swells and dyes before them. They both wonder hereat, and Berinthia at one instant both grieves and rejoyceth, grieves at her Sister Catalina's malice and crueltie, and rejoyceth for her happie deliverance: first praysing God as the Author, then thanking Diego as the instrument thereof: and so they throw the remainder of the poyson out at the win∣dow, and lay the dead Parrot on the table. And now Berinthia attending and away∣ting the houre of her happinesse, which is that of her Antonio's arrivall, and of her owne departure, with as much desire as impatiencie; Diego often looking on the houre∣glasse, and Berinthia a thousand times on her Watch. So at last with a longing, lon∣ging desire, the joyfull houre of twelve is come, wherein Antonio arrives: hee sees the happy light of her candle, and shee heares the sweet musicke of his Pistoll, which re∣viveth and ravisheth these two Lovers, in the heaven of unexpressable joy and con∣tent, when all things being hush'd up in silence, and every person of the house soundly sleeping, Diego softly takes up the small trunke, and Berinthia as secretly followes him: and so they wonderfull privately slip into the first Court, and from thence to the po∣sterne doore of the garden, where Antonio with a thousand kisses receives her in his armes, having no other light but the lustre of her eyes to light them: for the Moone, that bright Cynthia, had conspired and consented to Berinthia's escape, and therfore pur∣posely withdrawne her brightnesse by hiding and invelloping her selfe in the darke∣nesse of an obscure cloud. Antonio locking this sweet prize, this his deare and swee•…•… Berinthia in his armes, hee with the three Gentlemen his friends, conduct her to the end of the street; and Diego following them with the Casket, where they all privatly and silently take Coach, and having opened the Citie gate with a silver key, away they speed for Eluas with all possible celerity; but I write with griefe, that as these affecti∣ons of Antonio and Berinthia begin in joy, so (I feare) they will end in as much sorrow and misery.

Leave we them now in their journey for Eluas: and returne we to Avero to bloudy Catalina, and wretched Ansilva, who lying remote from Berinthia's Chamber, could not possibly heare so much as the least step of her descent and departure: although their malice were so extreame as to write the truth, they all that night could not sleepe for joy that Berinthia was dispatched: so they prepare themselves against the morne, to heare some pittifull out-cries in the house for Berinthia's death: but seeing it neere ten of the clocke, and no rumour nor stirre heard, they both (as they were accustomed) went into her Chamber, thinking to feast their eies upon the lamentable object of this breathlesse Gentlewoman: but contrary to their bloudy hopes, they finde the nest, I meane the bed, emptie, and Berinthia not dead, but escaped and flowne away: Onely Catalina, in stead of her Sister, findes her owne Parrot dead on the table: they are a∣stonished at this newes, and looke fearefully and desperately each on other. Ansilva for her part protests and vowes, that shee saw Berinthia drinke the poyson. But finding Berinthia's small trunke wanting, and hearing Diego gone, then Catalina knowes for cer∣taine, that shee was escaped, and her poysoning plot detected and prevented. So they give the alarum in the house, and shee goes directly and acquaints her Father, Mother, and Brother of her Sister Berinthia's flight, but speakes not a word of the poyson, or of the Parrots death. Vilarezo grieves to see himselfe robbed of his daugh∣ter,

and Sebastiano of his Sister: but when they understand that Diego was gone with her, then they are confidently assured, that Antonio hath carried her away, which is confirmed them by the Porter of the Citie, who told them, that 'twixt twelve and one, a Coach with a Lady, and foure Cavaliers, and a Page (drawne by sixe horses) past the gate very speedily. Vilarezo and his sonne Sebastiano storme at this affront and disgrace: they consult what to doe herein: so first they resolve to send one to Elvas, to know yea or no, whether Berinthia bee there with Antonio? The messenger sent, returnes, and assures them thereof, as also, that Antonio is retyred from Elvas, to a Castle of his without the walls of the Citie, where it is reported hee keepes the Lady Berinthia with much honour and respect. Had old Vilarezo had his health and strength, he would himselfe in person haue undertaken this journey, but being sicke of the Gowt, he sends his sonne Sebastiano to Elvas, accompanied with six resolute Gen∣tlemen, his neere allies and friends, to draw reason of Antonio for this affront and dis∣grace, and so either by Law, Force, Policie, or perswasion, to bring backe Berinthia. Sebastiano knowing Berinthia to bee his Sister, and Antonio his former ancient and in∣timate friend, with a kind of unwilling willingnesse accepts of this journey: he comes to Elvas, and findes his former intelligence true, hee repayres to Antonio's Castle, ac∣companied with his sixe associates. Antonio admits them all into the first Court, and onely two more of them into the second; where hee salutes them kindly, and bids them all welcome to his Castle. Sebastiano layes before him the foulenesse of his fact, in stealing away his Sister in that clandestine and base manner, the scandall which hee hath layd upon her, and consequently on all their family and blood, tells him that his father and himselfe are resolued to have her againe at what price soever; and therefore conjures him, by the respect of his owne honour, and by the conside∣ration and remembrance of all their former friendship, to deliver him his Sister Be∣rinthia. Antonio answereth Sebastiano, that it was an honourable affection, and no base respect which led him to assist his Sister Berinthia in her flight and escape: that he ne∣ver was nor would bee a just scandall either to her, her family, or blood; that his malicious Sister Catalina was the authour and cause thereof, who by her wayting Gentlewoman Ansilva had twice sought to poyson her: and therefore, sith he could not deliver her with her owne safetie, and his honour and conscience, hee was re∣solved to protect her in his Castle, against any whosoever, that should seeke either to enforce or offend her.

Sebastiano is perplexed at this strange newes, and wondereth at Antonio's resolution: so doe the two Gentlemen with him: hee desires Antonio that hee may see and speake with his Sister Berinthia; the which hee freely and honourably grants: and so taking him by the hand, they enter the Hall: where Berinthia having notice hereof (accom∣panied with two of Antonio his Sisters) assoone comes, and with a cheerefull coun∣tenance advanceth towards her Brother: hee salutes her, and shee first him, then the other two Gentlemen her Cousins. Sebastiano prayes Antonio, that hee may conferre apart with his Sister. Antonio replies, that his Sister Berinthia's pleasure shall ever bee his. Shee willingly consents hereeunto, when hee taking her by the hand, conducts her to the farthest window, and there shewes her her disobedience to her Father, her dishonour to her selfe, and griefe to her friends, for this her unadvised and rash flight, and so perswades her to returne: and that if shee intend to marry Antonio, this is not the way, but rather a course as irregular as shamefull. His Sister Berithia delivers him at full the cause of her departure, and very constantly confirmes what An•…•… had formerly told him of her Sister Catalina's two severall attempts to poyson her by her wayting Gentlewoman Ansilva, though with more ample circumstance and dilation: and to testifie the truth, Diego is produced, who vowes and protests the

same. Sebastiano checkes her of folly and crueltie, shewes her, that in seeking to wrong others, shee onely wrongs her selfe; that in inventing and casting a feigned crime on her Sister Catalina, shee makes her owne conspicuous and true; that she hath no safetie but in her returne: whereunto with many reasons hee seekes to perswade and induce her.

His Sister Berinthia againe answereth him, that there is no safetie for her in Avero, and that she cannot expect greater then shee finds in Elvas: shee prayes him to thinke charitably and honourably of her departure: and if ever her Father will love her, shee requests him not to hate, but to love Antonio, whose Castle shee finds a Sanctua∣ry, both for her honour and life; taking God and his Angels, her conscience and soule to witnesse, that her Sister Catalina's crime is true and not feigned. Sebastiano seeing Antonio resolute, and his Sister wilfull and obstinate, begins to take leave, tel∣ling her, that hee will leave her to her folly, that to her shame, and her shame to her repentance, and so concludes to goe into the Citie, to resolve on what hee hath to doe, for her good and his owne honour. Antonio prayes him to dine in his Castle with his Sister: but hee refuseth it, saith hee hath given the first breach to their friendship, and his owne honour, which hee shall repent, if not repaire, and so departs. Being come into the Citie, hee consults this businesse with the Gentlemen his associats, and both himselfe and they are of opinion to send one poast to acquaint his Father here∣with, and so to crave his pleasure and resolution, how hee shall beare himselfe heere∣in. It is ever an excellent poynt both of wisedome and discretion, for a sonne to steere his actions by the compasse of his Fathers commands. His cousin Villandras undertakes this journey to Avero. Old Vilarezo is perplexed and grieved at this re∣port, and in stead of comfort, receives more affliction, his care, curiositie, passion and griefe: severally examineth first Catalina, then Ansilva, who (like theeves in a faire, or murtherers in a Forrest) hee findes equally constant in their deniall, being so devoyd of grace, and repleat of impietie, as they confirme and maintaine their innocencies with many bitter oathes and asseverations: so hee returnes Villandras to Elvas, with this Letter to his sonne Sebastiano.

VILAREZO to SEBASTIANO.

I Commend thy wisedome, as much as I dispraise Antonio's resolution, and grieve at thy Sister Berinthia's folly and disobedience: I have carefully and curiously examined the two parties, whom I finde as innocent as constant in the true deniall of their falsely objected crimes: I have consulted with Nature and Honour, how heerein I might bee directed by them, and consequently, thou by mee; so they suggest mee this advice, and I advise thee this resolution, ei∣ther by the Law of the kingdome, or by that of thy sword, with expedition to returne mee my Daughter, thy Sister Berinthia, and let not the Oratorie either of Antonio's tongue, or her teares perswade thee to the contrary: for then as shee is guiltie of our dishonours, so wee shall bee accessary to hers: Let me understand the proceeding heerein, and according as occasion shall present, if my sicknesse and weaknesse will not leave mee, I notwithstanding will leave Avero, to see Elvas.

VILAREZO.

Whiles Sebastiano is consulting how to free his Sister Berinthia from the power of Antonio, speake wee a little of Catalina, who (as skilfull in subtiltie as malice) seeing her treachery and bloodie intents revealed, thinkes it now high time to make away and poyson Ansilva; grounding her resolution on this maxime, both of policie and estate, That dead folkes doe neither harme, nor tell tales. Behold heere the justice and pro∣vidence

of God! she, who laid snares for others, must now be taken in them her selfe: a punishment which the sinne of this wretched Gentlewoman findes, because deser∣veth: there is no vice nor malice, but have their pretexts and colours. Catalina finds fault with too or three red pimples that Ansilva hath in her face, which she wil have ta∣ken away. She sends for an Empericke, one Pedro Sarmiata, and proffereth him one hun∣dred Duckets to poyson her, which like a limbe of the devill he undertakes; and in∣fusing poyson in some potions, hee administreth it her: shee the very next day dyes: a fit reward and punishment for so gracelesse and bloody a Gentlewoman, who (as we have formerly seene) made no religion nor conscience, to attempt two severall times to poyson the faire and vertuous Berinthia.

Whiles this Tragedie is acting at Avero, Sebastiano begins to act another in Elvas, but a thousand times lesse impious, and more honourable: For having received his Fathers order by Villandras, hee now sends him into the Castle, to take Antonio's, and Berinthia's last resolution; hee is admitted to them: Villandras directs his speech first to Berinthia, then to Antonio, to whom hee relateth his message, and Sebastiano's plea∣sure. Berinthia returnes him this answere: Cousin Villandras, recommend mee cour∣teously to my brother Sebastiano, and tell him, my first answere and resolution is, and shall be my last. And (quoth Antonio) I pray ye likewise informe him from me, that Berinthia's will is my law, and her resolution mine, and that I will bee as carefull, as willing and ready, to lose my life in defence and preservation of hers. Villandras re∣turnes, and acquaints Sebastiano with this their last resolutions; from which hee allea∣geth it is impossible for them to bee disswaded or diverted. Sebastiano is beaten with two contrary and irresolute windes, what to doe in a businesse of this nature, either to recover his sister by Law, or by Armes: by Law, he holds it a course both coward∣ly and prejudiciall: by Armes, hee sees hee must kill himselfe or his friend: to un∣dertake the first, would bee the laughter of Antonio; and not to attempt the second, the shame of all Portugall and Spaine: hee therefore preferres generositie before rea∣son, and passion above judgement, and so resolves to fight with Antonio: to which end hee makes choyce of his Cousin Villandras for his Second, and the next morne sends him to the Castle with this Challenge:

SEBASTIANO TO ANTONIO.

I Must either returne my Sister Berinthia to Avero, or lose my life heere at Elvas: for I had rather dye, then live to see her dishonour, sith hers is mine: neither doe I first infringe or vi∣olate the bonds of our familiaritie, rather thy selfe, sith thou art both the authour and cause thereof: wherefore of two things resolve on one: Either before to morrow morning sixe of the clocke render mee my Sister Berinthia, or else at that houre meet mee on foot, with thy Second, in the square greene Meadow under thine owne Castle, where the choyce of two single Rapiers shall awayt or attend thee. If thou art honourable, thou wilt grant my first; if generous, not denie my second request.

SEBASTIANO.

Antonio receives this Challenge, beares it privately, from all the world, especially from his sweet Berinthia, who (poore Lady) little imagines or suspects her brother and lover are rushing foorth for her sake: Hee returnes this answere by Villandras, that hee cannot graunt Sebastiano his first request, nor will not denie him his second. So hee chuseth a Cousin-germane of his, a valiant young Gentleman, tearmed Don Belasco, who willingly and freely ingageth himselfe in this quarrell. So hee and Villan∣dras

that night (with as much friendship as secresie) meet in the Citie, and resolve on the Rapiers; and other ceremonies requisite in Duels. The morne appeares, when our Combatants leape from their beds to the field; where, a little before sixe (being the appointed houre) all parties appeare: the Seconds performe their office in visiting the Principals, who cast off their doublers and draw, and so traversing their ground, they, with judgement and generositie, fall to their businesse; at the first cloze, Antonio is wounded in the right arme, and Sebastiano in the left side, which glaunced on a rib: at the second, Sebastiano wounds Antonio 'twixt the breast and shoulder, a little aboue his right pap, and hee him cleane thorow the body, of a large and dangerous wound, whence issued foorth abundance of blood: so they divide themselves and take breath: They againe fall to it, and at this third close, Sebastiano repayes Antonio with a mournfull and fatall interest: for hee runnes him thorow the body on the left side, a little below the heart; whereof staggering, he falls, and so Sebastiano dispatcheth him, and nailes him to the ground starke dead. Villandras congratulates with him for his victory, which Sebastiano with much modestie, ascribes to the power and providence of God, and not to the weaknesse of his owne arme. Bellasco is no way daunted with the misfortune and death of his Principall, but rather like a generous Gentleman and valiant Second, resolves to sell it dearely to Villandras. They are not long unsheathing of their Rapiers: for as soone as Bellasco hath covered up Antonio with his cloake, they approach at their very first meeting. Bellasco slightly hurts Villandras in the right shoul∣der, and Villandras him thorow the bodie and reynes with a fatall wound, wherewith his sword fell from him, and hee to the ground; when fearing and presaging his death, he with a faint language begs his life of Villandras, who at the sight and hearing hereof, throwes away his owne Rapier, and stoupes to assist him. But in vaine; for it is not in his power to give him his life: for by this time hee is dead, and his soule departed to another world. This tragicall newes is soone knowne and bruited in Elvas, whereof the Criminall Iudges of that Citie remit Sebastiano with as much ease, as Villandras with difficultie (in favour of money and friends) and obtaine their pardons. And now the newes hereof likewise flies to Antonio's Castle, where his dead body, and that of Bellasco, are speedily conveyed and brought, to the griefe and sorrow of all those of the Castle, who bitterly weepe for the disaster of their Lord and Master. But all these teares are nothing to those of Antonio's two sisters; nor theirs any thing, in comparison of these of our sweet Berinthia, who is no sooner advertised hereof, but shee falls to the ground with sorrow, and there wrings her hands, beats her breast, and teares off her haire, in such mournfull and pitifull sort, that Crueltie her selfe could not refraine from teares, to see the numberlesse infinitie of hers: Counsell, advice, perswasion cannot perswade her to give a moderation to her mourning, or limits to her sorrowes: for they are so violent, as their extremitie exceeds all excesse. Shee will see the dead body of her deare Antonio; all those of the Castle are not capable to divert her eyes from this wofull and pitifull object; at the sight whereof shee falles to the ground on her knees, and gives his breathlesse body a thousand kisses: yea, shee washeth his sweet cheekes with a whole deluge and inundation of her salt teares: shee cannot speake for sighing, nor utter a word for weeping; onely wringing her hands, shee at last breathed foorth these mournfull and passionate speeches: O my deare Antonio, my sweet and deare Antonio, Antonio, would God my death had ransomed and preven∣thine, O my Antonio, my Antonio.

Leave we Berinthia to her passionate sorrowes, and sorrowfull passions, from which her brother Sebastiano will soone awake her; who by this time, as Victor and Con∣queror, is come to the Castle gate, and demaunds her, where he sees himselfe refused, and the draw-bridges and approaches drawne up, and rampired with Barricadoes: he

craves ayd of the Criminall Iudges, who send the Provost with an armed company of Souldiers: so they force the Castle gate with a Petard, where sorrowfull Berinthia is delivered into the handes of her joyfull and rejoycing brother Sebastiano, who with sweet perswasions and advice seeks to exhale and dry up her teares: but her affection is so great, as she is not capable of consolation. In a word, shee cannot looke on her Brother with the eye of affection, but of revenge and indignation; yea, shee wish∣eth her selfe metamorphosed from a Virgine to a man, that shee might bee revenged of her Brother for the death of her deare Lover Antonio. Sebastiano leaving the dead bodies of Antonio and Belasco to their Graves, takes Coach with his incensed and sor∣rowfull Sister Berinthia; and so leaves Elvs and returnes towards Avero: where his Father Vilarezo and his Mother Alphanta welcome him home with prayse, and their Daughter Berinthia with checkes and frownes, who (the best she may) smothers her discontents; but yet vowes to be revenged of her Brother, for killing the life of her joy, and joy of her life, Antonio. But all vowes of this bloudy nature and quality are better broken then kept, which if Berinthia had had the grace to have considered, and made good use of, doubtlesse her hand had proved more joyfull, and not so fatall and miserable.

Come we now to Catalina, who seeing the object of her affection, Antonio, dead, and her Sister Berinthia returned, who, for his sake, was that of her living malice, she secret∣ly confesseth her fault to her sister, in seeking formerly twice to have poysoned her by Ansilva, craves pardon of her, vowing henceforth to convert her malice to affection, and so reconciles her selfe to her; whereunto her Sister Berinthia willingly con∣descendeth. Catalina hath made her peace with her Sister, but shee hath not contra∣cted and concluded it with God for Ansilva's death. Earth may forget this Murther, but Heaven will not. Gods judgements are as just as secret, and as true as wonder∣full; for hee hath a thousand meanes to punish us, when wee thinke our selves safe and furthest from punishment: which our wretched Catalina, and her execrable Em∣pericke Sarmiata shall see verifyed in themselves. For the smoke of this their blou∣dy Crime of Murther hath pierced the Vaultes and Windowes of Heaven, and is ascended to the Nostrells of the Lord, who hath now bent his Bowe, and made ready his Arrowes to revenge and punish them. The manner is thus:

A Sister of Ansilva's, named Isabella, is to be marryed in Avero, who invites the Ladies Catalina and Berinthia to her Wedding. Berinthia is too sorrowfull to bee so merry, as desirous rather to goe to her owne Grave, then to any others Nuptialls: so shee stayes at home, onely her Sister Catalina takes Coach, with an intent to accom∣pany the Bride-woman to Church: but see the Providence and Iustice of God, how it surpriseth and overtakes this wtetched Gentlewoman Catalina! for as shee was in her way, the Sunne is instantly eclipsed, and the Skyes overcast, and so a terrible and fearefull Thunder-bolt pierceth her thorow the brest, and layes her neere dead in her Coach: her Wayting-mayds and Coach-man having no hurt, are yet amazed at this strange and dismall accident; so they thinke it fit to returne. Catalina is for a time speechlesse, he Parents are as it were dead with griefe and sorrow hereat, shee is committed to her bed, and searched, and all her body above her wast is found cole∣blacke: the best Physicians and Chirurgians are sent for, they see her death-strooken with that Planet, and therfore adjudge their skill but vaine: her strength and senses fall from her, which Catalina having the happinesse to perceive, and grace to feele, will no longer be seduced with the devils temptations. The Divines prepare her soule for Heaven, and now shee will no longer dissemble with man or God; shee will not charge her conscience with so foule a Crime as Murther, the which shee knowes will prove a stop to the fruition of her felicity. She confesseth, shee twice procured her

Wayting-gentlewoman Ansilva to poyson her Sister Berinthia; and since that, she hath given Sarmiata one hundred Duckets to poyson the said Ansilva, which he performed, and whereof shee humbly begs pardon of all the world, and religiously of God, whom shee beseecheth to bee mercifull to her soule: and so, though shee lived pro∣phanely and impiously, yet shee dyed repentantly and religiously. Vilarezo and Al∣phanta, her old parents, grieve and storme at her death, but more extreamely at the manner thereof, and especially at the confession of her bloudy crimes, as well towards living Berinthia, as dead Ansilva, onely their Daughter Berinthia is silent hereat; glad, that shee is freed of an enemy, sorrowfull, to have lost a Sister: they are infinitely vexed to publish their daughter Catalina's crimes, yet they are inforced to it, that there∣by this Sarmiata, this Agent of Hell, may receive condigne punishment for his blou∣dy offence here on earth. So they acquaint the Criminall Iudges hereof, who de∣cree order and power for his apprehension. Sarmiata is revelling and feasting at Isa∣bella's wedding; to which hee is appoynted and requested to furnish the Sweet-meats for the Banquets: but hee little thinkes what sowre sawce there is providing for him. Wee are never neerest danger, then when wee thinke our selves furthest from it: and although his sinnefull security was such, as the Devill had made him forget his mur∣ther of Ansilva, yet God will, and doth remember it; and lo, here comes his storme, here his apprehension, and presently his punishment. By this time the newes of Ca∣talina's suddaine death (but not of her secret confession) is published in Avero, and ar∣rived at the Bride-house, which gives both astonishment and griefe to all the world; but especially to Sarmiata, whose heart and conscience now rings him many thunde∣ring peales of feare, terrour, and despaire: his bloudy thoughts pursue him like so many bloudhounds, and because he hath forsaken God, therfore the devill will not for∣sake him; he counselleth him to flie, and to provide for his safety; but what safety so unsecure, dangerous, or miserable for a Christian, as to throw himselfe into the De∣vills protection? Sarmiata hereon fearing that Catalina had revealed his poysoning of Ansilva, very secretly steales away his Cloake, and so slips downe to a Posterne doore of the little Court, hoping to escape; but hee is deceived of his hopes: for the eye of Gods providence findes him out. The House is beleaguerd for him by Officers, who apprehend him as hee is issuing forth, and so commit him close priso∣ner. In the afternoone the Iudges examine him upon the poysoning of Ansilva, and the receipt of one hundred Duckets, to effect it, from Catalina, which shee at her death confessed. Hee addes sinne to sinne, and denyes it with many impious oathes and fearefull imprecations; but they availe him nothing: his Iudges censure him to the Racke, where, upon the first torment hee confesseth it, but with so gracelesse an impu∣dencie, as he rather rejoyceth then grieves hereat: where we may observe how strong∣ly the Devill stickes to him, and how closely hee is bewitched to the Devill: so for reparation of this foule crime of his, hee is condemned to be hanged, which the next morne is performed right against Vilarezo his house, at a Gallowes purposely erected; and which is worse then all the rest, as this lewd villaine Sarmiata liv'd prophanely, so hee dy'd as desperately, without repenting his bloudy fact, or imploring pardon or mercy of God for the same. O miserable example! O fearefull end! O bloudy and damnable miscreant! Wee have seene the Theater of this History gored with great variety of bloud, the mournefull and lamentable spectacle whereof is capable to make any Christian heart relent into pitty, compassion, and teares. But this is not all, wee shall yet see more, not that it any way increaseth our terrour, but rather our con∣solation, sith thereby wee may observe that Murther comes from Sathan, and its pu∣nishment from God.

Catalina's confession and death is not capable to deface or wash away Berinthia's

malice and revenge to her brother Sebastiano, for killing of her deare and sweet Love Antonio. Other Tragedies are past, but this as yet not acted, but to come: Lo now at last (though indeed too too soone) it comes on the Stage. The remembrance of Antonio and his affection is still fresh in her youthfull thoughts and contemplations, yea, his dead Idea is alwayes present and living in her heart and brest: 'tis true, Seba∣stiano is her brother; 'tis as true she saith, that if hee had not kill'd Antonio, Antonio had beene her husband. Againe shee considereth, that as Antonio's life preserved hers from death; so her life hath beene the cause of his: and as hee lost his life for her sake, why should not she likewise leave hers for his? or rather, why should shee per∣mit him to live, who hath bereaved her of him? But her living affection to her dead friend is so violent, and withall so prejudicate and revengefull, as shee neither can, nor will see her Brother, who kill'd him, but with malice and indignation. In stead of consulting with nature and grace, shee onely converseth with choller and passion; yea, she is so miserably transported in her rage, and so outragiously wilfull in her resolu∣tion, as she shuts the doore of her heart to the two former vertues, to whom she should open it, and openeth it to the two latter vices, 'gainst whom shee should shut it. A mi∣sery equally ominous and fatall, where Reason is not the Mistresse of our Passions, and Religion the Queene of our Reason. Shee sees this bloudy attempt of hers, where∣into shee is entring, is sinfull and impious; and yet her faith is so weake towards God, and the Devill so strong with her, as shee is constant to advance, and resolute not to re∣tire therein. Oh that Berinthia's former Vertues should bee disgraced with so foule a Vice! and oh that a face so sweetly faire should bee accompanyed and linked with a heart so cruelly barbarous, so bloudily inhumane! for what can shee hope from this a•…•…mpt in killing her brother, but likewise to ruine her selfe? nay, had shee had any sparke of wit or grace left her, shee should consider, that for this foule offence her body shall receive punishment in this world, and her soule, without repentance, in that to come: but shee cannot erect her eyes to heaven, shee is all set on revenge; so the Devill hath plotted the Murther of her brother Sebastiano, and shee, like a most wret∣ched and inhumane sister, will speedily act it. The manner is thus; (the which I can∣not remember without griefe, nor pen without teares) Shee provides her selfe of a long and sharpe knife, the which, some ten daies after the death o•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sister Catalina, 'twixt foure and five of the clocke in the morning, shee hides in o•…•… of her sleeves; and the better to cover and overvaile her villany, shee in the same hand takes her Lute, and so enters her brothers Chamber, and findes him sleeping, being a pretty way di∣stant from hers, and his Page Philippo in a lower Chamber under him, resolving that if shee had found him waking, she would play on her Lute, and affirme, she came to give him the good morrow. But Sebastiano his fortune, or rather his misfortune was such, that hee was then soundly sleeping, without dreaming, or once thinking what should befall him; when his wretched and execrable sister Berinthia, stalkes close to him, and laying her Lute softly on the window, drawes out her devillish knife foorth her sleeve, and as a shee-devill incarnate, cuts his throat, to the end hee might neither crye nor speake; and so, though with a female hand, yet with a masculine courage, she (with as much malice as hast) gives him seven severall wounds thorow the body, and as neere the heart as shee could▪ whereof hee twice turning himselfe in his bed, n•…•… ver sprawled more: and then taking up her Lute, and leaving him reeking in his bloud, shee after this her hellish fact, hyes her selfe to her Chamber.

This cruell Murther is not so closely perpetrated and acted, but Philippo, Sebastiano's page, hears some extraordinary stirring & struggling in his Masters chamber, & so leaps out of his bed, & taking his cloak on his shoulders, & his Rapier in his hand, he a•…•…ends the Stay•…•…; where Berinthia hath not made so grea•…•… speed▪ but hee sees h•…•… •…•…ing

her Chamber, and throwing her doore after her: whence running to his Masters Chamber, hee findes the doore open, and his Master most cruelly murthered in his bed, of eight severall wounds; at which bloudy and lamentable spectacle hee makes many bitter and pittifull outcryes, whereat all the house is in allarum, and the folkes and servants repaire thither of all sides. By this time Berinthia hath shifted her out∣ward Taffeta gown, sprinkled all with bloud, and wrapt her bloudy knife close in it, and for the more secrecie, throws it into her Closestool, and so awayts the comming up of her Father and Mother, whom the mournfull eccho and sorrowfull newes of their son Sebastiano's cruell m•…•…ther, had with an ocean of teares wafted to his Chamber, with whom Berinthia likewise, all blubber'd with teares, enters. They are all amazed at the sight of this bloudy and breathlesse corps, and wringing their hands, Father, Mo∣ther, Daughter, and Servants looke one on another in this calamity, and at this sor∣rowfull disaster. They search every Chamber, Vault, and Doore of the House, and finde no body, nor print of drops of bloud whatsoever; when Philippo the Page cries out, that hee feares it is the Lady Berinthia, who hath murthered her Brother, and his Master Sebastiano, for that hee saw her flying to her Chamber as hee ascended the Stayres. Vilarezo and Alphanta his wife are doubly amazed at this report, but grace∣lesse Berinthia is no way daunted or astonished hereat, but affirmes, she likewise heard some stirring in her Brothers Chamber, which made her arise and come to the Stayr•…•… head, where seeing Philippo, she being in her night attire, modesty made her retire to her Chamber. They all believe the sugar of her words, and the circumstance of her excuse; yet they will not proclaime her innocencie, till they have searched her Cham∣ber, and all her Trunks, where they finde no Knife, Stilletto, Dagger, or any other offe•…•…∣sive Weapon; and so her Father and Mother acquit her: but God will not. Not∣withstanding they must advertise the Criminall Iudges of this lamentable and blo•…•… dy murther of their sonne, which they doe. So they arrive, visit the dead body, and cause all the House to bee searched: but as soone as they heard Philippo's speeches and suspicion of Berinthia, then, considering her affection to Antonio, and her brother Se∣bastiano's killing of him at Elvas, they attribute this to bee her fact, as proceeding from passionate revenge; when the sequell and circumstances thereof being apparent in themselves, the•…•… •…•…t regarding her Fathers prayers, her Mothers requests, and her owne teares, seiz•…•… her, and so send and commit her close Prisoner: where, wret∣ched Gentlewoman, shee hath a whole night left and given her, to see and consider the foulnesse of her fact, and to prepare her selfe to her answer: which whether it will breede in her confession or denyall, obstinacie or repentance, as yet I know not. So from her imprisonment, come we to her answer.

Avero rings with the newes of this foule and bloudy Murther. All bewayle, all lament the death of Sebastiano, as a Gentleman, who was truely noble, truely gene∣rous: but his Father Vilarezo and Mother Alphanta seeme to drowne themselves in their teares, at these mournefull accidents, strange crosses, and unheard of afflictions of theirs▪ For though they will not believe, yet they deepely feare, that their daugh∣ter Berinthia was the murtherer of her brother Sebastiano: and as affection seemes to di•…•…ert them from this opinion, so reason indeavoureth to perswade and confirme them in the contrary. The next mo•…•…e the Iudges sit, and send for Berinthia, who comes accompanyed with her parents, and many of her kinsfolkes: they againe examine her, and confront her with Philippo; shee is firme in her denyall, and her Iudges finde circu•…•…tances, but no probability nor witnesse against her, sufficient to convict her of this crime; yet directed by the finger of God, they condemne her to the Racke. One of her Iudges pittying her descent, youth, and beauty, as much as he detests this Murther, intreats that her Chamber may be first curiously searched, ere shee exposed

to the Racke. This advice and request is heard and followed with approbation. Hee, and two other Officers, accompanyed with some of her friends, repaire to Vilarezo his house, and Berinthia her Chamber; they leave no place, Trunke, Chest, or Boxe unsearched: yea, their curiositie, or to say truer, their zeale and fidelity to Iustice de∣scends so low, as to visite her Close-stoole, which, for want of the key, they breake open; and behold the providence and Iustice of God! here they finde Berinthia's bloudy Gowne, and therein very closely wrapt up that hellish Knife, wherewith shee perpetrated this inhumane murther on her onely brother. They praise and glorifie God for the discovery hereof, and so returne to their Tribunall of Iustice, bringing these bloudy evidences with them, which Berinthia mought all this while have remo∣ved, if God, to his glory, and her shame, had not all this time purposely blinded the eyes of her judgement to the contrary. At the sight hereof shee, without any tor∣ment, confesseth the Murther, and with many teares repents herselfe of it; adding withall, that her affection to Antonio led her to this revenge on her brother: and ther∣fore beseecheth her Iudges to have compassion on her youth. But the foulenesse of her fact, in those grave and just personages, wipes off the fairenesse of her request: So they consult, and pronounce Sentence against her, That for expiation of this her cruel mur∣ther on the person of her brother, she the next morne shall bee hanged in the publike Market place. So all praise God for the detection of this lamentable Murther, and for the condemnation of this execrable Murtheresse: and those, who before looked on her youth and beauty with pitty, now behold her foule crime with hatred and dete∣station; and as they applaud the sincerity of her former affection to Antonio, so they farre more detest and condemne this her inhumane cruelty to her owne brother Sebastiano. But what griefe is there comparable to that of her Father and Mother? whose age, content, and patience is not onely battered, but razed downe with the se∣verall assaults of affliction; so as they wish themselves buryed, or that their Chil∣dren had beene unborne: for it is rather a torment then a griefe to them, that they, whom they hoped would have beene props and comforts to their age, should now prove instruments and subjects to shorten their dayes, and consequently to draw their age to the miseries of an untimely and sorrowfull grave. But although they have ta∣sted a world of griefe and anxiety, first for the death of their Daughter Catalina, and then of their onely Sonne Sebastiano; yet it pierceth them to the h•…•…rt and gall, that this their last Daughter and Child Berinthia should passe by the passage of a hal∣ter, and end her dayes upon so ignominious and shamefull a Stage as the Gallowes; which would adde a blemish to the lustre of their bloud and posterity, that time could never have power either to wipe off, or wash away: which to prevent, Vilarezo and his wife Alphanta use all their friends and mortall powers, towards the Iudges, to con∣vert their Daughters Sentence into a lesse shamefull and more honourable death. So although the Gallowes bee erected, Berinthia prepared to dye, and a world of people, yea, in a manner, the whole people of Avero concurr'd and seated to see her now take her last farewell of the world; yet the importunacie and misery of her parents, her owne descent, youth, and beauty, as also her end•…•…ered affection and servent love to her Lover Antonio, at last obtaine compassion and favour of her Iudges. So they re∣voke and change their former decree, and sweeten the rigour thereof with one more honourable and milde, and lesse sharpe, bitter, and shamefull, and definitively adjudge her to be immured up betwixt two walls, and there with a slender dyet to end the re∣mainder of her dayes. And this Sentence is speedily put in execution; whereat her parents, friends, and acquaintance, yea, all that knew her, very bitterly grieve and lament; and farre the more, in respect they cannot be permitted to see or visit her, or shee them; onely the Physicians and Divines have admittance and accesse to her,

those, to provide earthly physicke for her body; and these, spirituall for her soule. And in this lamentable estate she is very penitent and repentant for all her sinnes in gene∣rall, and for this her vile murther of her Brother in particular: yea, a little imprison∣ment, or rather the spirit of God hath opened the eyes of her faith, who now defy∣ing the Devill who had seduced and drawne her hereunto, shee makes her peace with God, and assures her selfe, that her true repentance hath made hers with him. So, unaccustomed to bee pent up in so strait and darke a Mew, the yellow Iaundies, and a burning Feaver surprise her: and so she ends her miserable dayes.

Lo, these are the bitter fruits of Revenge and Murther, which the undertakers (by the just judgement of God) are inforced to tast and swallow downe, when in the heat of their youth, and height of their impiety they least dreame or thinke thereof: by the sight of which great effusion of bloud, yea, by all these varieties of mourne∣full and fatall accidents, if wee will divorce our thoughts from Hell to Earth, and wed our contemplations and affections from Earth to Heaven, wee shall then, as true Christians, and sonnes of the eternall God, runne the race of our mortality in peace in this world, and consequently bee rewarded with a glorious Crowne of im∣mortall felicity in that to come.

GODS REVENGE AGAINST THE CRYING AND EXE∣crable sinne of Murther.

HISTORIE VIII.

Belluile treacherously murthereth Poligny in the street. Laurieta, Poligny's Mistris, be∣trayeth Belluile to her Chamber, and there in revenge shoots him thorow the body with a Pistoll, when assisted by her Wayting-Mayd Lucilla, they likewise give him many wounds with a Ponyard, and so murther him. Lucilla flying for this fact, is drowned in a Lake, and Laurieta is taken, hang'd and burnt for the same.

IT is an infallible Maxime, that if wee open our hearts to sinne, we shut them to godlinesse; for as soone as wee follow Satan, God flies from us, because we first fled from him: but that his mer∣cie may shine in our ingratitude, hee by his servants, his holy Spirit, and himselfe, seekes all meanes to reclaime us, as well from the vanitie of our thoughts, as from the prophanenesse and impuritie of our actions: but if wee become obstinate and ob∣durate in our transgressions, and so like Heathens, fall from vice to vice; whereas wee should as Christians, grow up from vertue to vertue; then it is not hee, but our selves that make ship wracke both of our selves and soules; of our selves in this life, of our soules in that to come; then which no misery can bee so great, none so unfortunate and miserable. It is true, the best of Gods children are sub∣ject to sinne; but to delight and persevere therein, is the true way as well to hell as death. All have not the gift of pure and chaste thoughts, neither can wee so conserve or sanctifie our bodies, but that concupiscence may, and will sometimes assayle us (or rather the devill in it) but to pollute them with fornication, and to transforme them from the Temples of the holy Ghost, to the members of a harlot, this, though cor∣rupt Nature seeme to allow or tolerate, yet Grace doth not onely deny, but detest. But as one sinne is seldome without another, either at her heeles or elbow; so too too often it falles out, that M•…•…rther accompanieth Fornication and Adulterie: as if one of these foule crimes were not enough to make us miserable, but that in stead of going, wee will needs ride poast to hell. A woefull President, and lamentable and mournfull Example whereof, I heere produce to the view of the world, in three unfortunate personages, in a lascivious Ladie, and two lewd and debosht young Gentlemen, who all very lamentably cast themselves away upon the Sylla of Forni∣cation, and the Charybdis of Murther: for they found the fruits and end of their beastly pleasures farre more bitter, then their beginning was sweet: yea, and be∣cause at first they would not looke on repentance, at last shame lookes on them, and

they, when it is too late, both on a miserable shame, and a shamefull misery. May we all reade it to Gods glory, and consequently to the reformation of our lives, and the consolation and salvation of our owne soules.

IN the beautifull Citie of Avignion, (seated in the Kingdome of France, and in the Province of Provence) being the Capitall of the Dutchie of Venissa, belonging to the Pope, and wherein for the terme of welneere eightie yeeres, they held their Pontificall See, there dwelt a young Gentlewoman of some twentie yeeres of age, tearmed Madamoyselle Laurieta, whose father and mother being dead, was left alone to her selfe, their onely childe and heire, being richer in beautie then lands, and in∣dued with many excellent qualities and perfections, which gave grace and lustre to her beautie, as her beautie did to them: For shee spake the Latine and Italian tongue perfect, was very expert and excellent in singing, dancing, musicke, painting, and the like, which made her famous in that Citie. But as there needs but one vice to eclipse and drowne many vertues; so this faire Laurieta was more beautifull then chaste, and not halfe so modest as lascivious. It is as great a happinesse for children to enjoy their Parents, as a miserie to want them: For Laurieta's Father and Mother had been infinitely carefull and curious to traine her up in the Schoole of Vertue and Pietie, and wherein her youth had (during the terme of their lives) made a happie entrance, and as I may say, a fortunate and glorious progression: But when God, the great Moderator, and soveraigne Iudge of the world, had in his eternall Decree and sacred Providence taken them out of this world, then Laurieta was left to the wide world, and to the vanitie thereof, without guide or governour, exposed to the varie∣tie of the fortunes, or rather the misfortunes of the times, as a Ship without Pilot •…•…r Helme, subject to the mercy of every mercilesse winde and wave of the Sea: yea, and then it was that shee forgot her former modestie and chastitie, and now began to a∣dore the Shrines of Venus and Cupid, by polluting and prostituting her body to the beastly pleasures of lust and for•…•…cation, wherein (it grieves mee to relate) shee tooke a great delight and felicitie. But shee shall pay deare for this bitter-sweet vice of hers: yea, and though it seeme to begin in content and pleasure, yet wee shall assuredly see it end in shame, repentance and misery: for this sinne of Whoredome betrayes, when it seemes to delight us, and strangleth, when it makes greatest shew to imbrace us: so sweet and pure vertues, are modestie and chastitie; so foule and fatall vices▪ are con∣cupiscence and lust. But hee with whom shee was most familiar, and to whom shee imparted the greatest part of her favours, was to one Monsieur de Belluile, a proper yong Gentleman, dwelling neere the Citie of Arles, by birth and extraction, noble, but o∣therwise more rich then wise: who comming to Avignion, no sooner saw Laurieta, but hee both gloried in the sight of her singular, and triumphed in the contemplation of her exquisite and incomparable beautie, making that his best content, and this his sweetest felicitie; that, his soveraigne good; and this, his heaven upon earth: so as losing himselfe in the labyrinth of her beautie, and as it were drowning his thoughts in the sea of his concupiscence and sensualitie, hee spends not onely his whole time, but a great part of his wealth, in wantonizing and entertaining her: a vicious and foule fault, not onely peculiar to Belluile, but incident and fatall to too many Gallants, as well of most parts of Christendome in generall, as of France in particular; it being indeed a disasterous and dangerous rocke, whereon many inconsiderate and wretched Gentlemen have suffered shipwrack, not only of their reputations, healths and estates, but many times of thei•…•… lives.

In the meane time, Laurieta (more jealous of her same, then carefull to preserve her chastitie) is advertised, that Belluile is not content to cull the dainties of her beautie

and youth, but hee forgets himselfe and his discretion so farre, as to vaunt thereof, by letting fall some speeches, tending to the blemish and disparagement of her honour: so as vaine and lascivious as shee is, yet the touching of this string, affords her harsh and distastfull melodie: For shee will seeke to cover her shame by her hypocrisie and so resolves to make him know the foulenesse of his offence, in that of his basenesse and ingratitude. To which end, at her first interview and meeting of him, shee not onely checks him for it, but forbids and banisheth him her company: which indeed had been a just cause and opportunitie for him to have converted his lust into chasti∣tie, and his folly into repentance. But hee is too dissolute and vicious, to bee so hap∣pily reclaimed from Laurieta; and therefore hee is resolved, not onely to justifie his innocencie, but thereby also to persevere in his sinne: Hee is acquainted with many Gentlemen, who forgetting themselves, conceive a felicitie and glory, to erect the trophees of their vanities upon the disparagement of Ladies honours: yea, he seemes to be so farre from being guiltie of this errour, as hee taxeth and condemnes others, in being guiltie or accessary thereunto. So, although his Mistresse Laurieta remaine still coy, strange and haggard to him, yet hee persevereth in his affection to her; who at last judging of his innocencie by his constancie; and of that, by his many letters and presents which hee still sent her; as also observing that she had no firme grounds, nor could produce any pregnant or valable witnesses of this report; shee againe ex∣changeth her frownes into smiles, and so receives and intertaines him into her favour, onely with this premonition and caution, That if ever heereafter shee heard of his folly or ingratitude in this kinde, shee would never looke him in the face, ex∣cept with contempt and detestation. So these their dis-joynted affections, as well by oathes as protestations, are againe confirmed and cimented: but such lustfull contracts, and lascivious familiarities and sympathies, seldome or never make pro∣sperous ends.

Now to give forme and life to this Historie: Not long after, a brave young Gen∣tleman of Mompillier, named Monsieur de Poligny, having some occasion, comes to A∣vignion, who frequenting their publike Balles or Dancings, no sooner saw our faire and beautifull Laurieta, but hee falls in love with her, and salutes and courts her: and from thencefoorth deemes her so fayre, as hee useth all meanes to become her servant, but not in the way of honour and Marriage, rather with a purpose to make her his Courtezan then his Wife. But hee sees himselfe deceived in the irregular passion of his affection: for Laurieta is averse, and will not bee either tractable or flexible to his desires: so as his suite is vaine, and shee so deafe to his requests, as nei∣ther his prayers, sighs, Letters, nor Presents are capable to purchase her fa∣vour. Poligny infinitely grieves heereat, which notwithstanding makes the flame of his lust rather increase then diminish: so as after much pensivenesse, hee be∣gins to beat his witts, and to awaken his invention, how hee may crowne his desires by enjoying Laurieta, when loe, an occasion presenteth it selfe to him un∣expected.

Madamoyselle la Palaisiere, a rich young Gentlewoman neere Pont Saint Esprit, living in Avignion, and seeing Poligny at the dauncing, doth exceedingly fall in loue with him; yea, •…•…hee so admires the sweetnesse of his favour, and the excellencie of his personage, as shee rejoyceth in nothing so much; and to write the truth, in nothing else but in his company: so as, had not modestie with-held her, shee would have prooved her owne Advocate, and have informed him thereof her selfe. Poligny re∣ceives so many secret signes and testimonies of her affection, by private glances and the like, as hee cannot bee ignorant thereof: but his love, or rather his lust to Lau∣rieta, hath so absolutely taken up his heart and thoughts, as it hath left no place nor

corner for la Palaisiere: so as here wee may observe and remarke a different commix∣ture, and disparitie of affections. Poligny loves Laurieta, and not shee him: la Palai∣siere affects Poligny, and not hee her: what these passions and occurrences will produce, wee shall shortly see.

La Palaisiere, having her heart pierced thorow with the love of Poligny, knowing him to bee Laurieta's servant, and shee the Mistresse of Belluile, either out of her af∣fection, or jealousie, or both, resolves at next meeting to acquaint Poligny with it, ther∣by purposely to withdraw his affection from her to her selfe: The occasion is proffe∣red, and opportunitie seemes to favour and second her desires. Some three dayes af∣ter, the Iesuites (who as the Mountebanks and Panders of Kingdomes and Estates, leave no invention, nor Ceremony unattempted, to seduce and bewitch the affections of the world) cause their Schollers to act a Comedie in their Colledge in this Citie, whereat all the Nobilitie and Gentrie of the Citie and adjacent Countrey assemble and meet. Thither comes Poligny, hoping to see Laurieta, and la Palaisiere to see Po∣ligny: but Laurieta that day is sicke, and Belluile stayes with her to comfort her. So first comes Poligny, and seeing hee could not see his Laurieta, sits downe pensively: then comes la Palaisiere, and seeing Poligny a farre off, prayes her brother, who con∣ducted her, to place her neere him. Poligny can doe no lesse then salute her, and shee triumphing in her good fortune, takes the advantage of this occasion, and in sweet and sugered termes (after many pauses, sighs and blushes) gives him to understand, that shee knew his affection to Laurieta, and withall, that Belluile and no other was her servant and favourite. This speech of hers strikes Poligny to the quicke; so as there∣at hee not onely bites the lip, but hangs his head: yea, this unexpected newes, as al∣so Be•…•…uile and Laurieta's absence, so nettle him, and frame such a Chymera of extrava∣gant passions in his heart and thoughts, as hee could not have the patience to sit ou•…•… the Comedy, but feigning himselfe sicke, departs to his Chamber: where a thou∣sand jealousies ingendered of his affection, perplexe and torment him; when remem∣bring la Palaisieres speeches, and being infinitely desirous to know the truth of Belluile his affection to Laurieta, and of hers to him, hee sees no meanes, nor person so fit to reveale the same, as Lucilla, Laurieta's Wayting-mayd. This Lucilla, Poligny winns with gold, in consideration whereof, shee reveales him all, how Belluile was her chie∣fest Minion and Favourite: and yet, for some words hee the other day in ignorance or Wine, let fall to the prejudice of her honour, shee was like to casheere and discard him. Lucilla having thus forgotten her owne fidelitie, in bewraying the dishonour of her Mistresse; Poligny understanding Belluile to bee a coward of his hands, though not of his tongue; and in a word, not to bee so compleate a Gallant as hee supposed him, hee of a subtill and malicious invention resolves to worke on him; and so con∣ceives a plot, which wee shall see presently put in execution and acted: hee very poli∣tikely puts a good face on all his discontents and passions: and although Laurieta would not see him, yet hee fairely intrudes himselfe into Belluile's company, and of purpose becomes familiar with him. So they very often meet: for they sence, dance, ride, vault and hunt together: so as at last none are so great Consorts and Camme∣rades as they. But Poligny thinking every houre a yeere, before hee had played his prize, makes a partie at Tennis with Belluile for a collation, and beats him; and so ta∣king two Gentlemen, La Fontaine, and Borelles, his friends with them, away they go•…•… all foure to a Taverne. Poligny as secret as malicious in this his plot, in the middest of their mirth speakes thus to Belluile, Sir, quoth hee, I am sorry for your losse of this Collation: but if it please you to honour mee with your company to morrow to Orenge, a Citie which I much desire to see, I will pay you the dinner in requitall there∣of. Belluile very readily and willingly consents hereunto, and La Fontaine and Borell•…•…

vow they will likewise have their share, both of the journey and dinner. So the next morne they all take horse for Orenge: but first Belluile gives his Mistresse Laurieta the good morrow, and acquaints her with his journey. They view this old Citie, the ancient patrimony and Principalitie of the Illustrious Princes of Orenge, from whence they derive their name: where Poligny having given order for the dinner, away they goe, visite the Castle, and salute the deputed Governour thereof Monsieur •…•…osberghe; they see the part of the Amphitheatre yet standing, the Cathedrall Church, the double Wall of the Citie, and the old Romane Arch not farre off, with all other re∣markable objects and monuments; and by this time the Cooke and their stomackes taxe them of their long stay. So they returne to their Inne, fall to their Viands, and like frolike Gentlemen, wash them downe with store of Claret: and now Poligny, as mal•…•…cious in heart, as pleasant in countenance and conversation, heere casts foorth his lure and snare to surprize and intangle Belluile. O quoth hee, how happie the Gentlemen of Italy are to us of France, sith after dinner every one goes freely to his Courtizan without controulment! I know not, quoth la Fontaine, what Orenge is, but I thinke Avignion is not destitute of good fellow W•…•…nches, who make Venus their queene, and Cupid their god. Surely no, replies Belluile, for I am confident, that for Iewes and Courtizans, for the greatnesse of it, it may compare with the best Citie of Italy: for from the Lady to the Kitchin-mayd I dare say they'l all proove tractable. Nay, quoth Borelles, except still our holy Sisters the Nunns. Not I faith, quoth hee, nor my Mistresse neither. Indeed, replies Poligny, if I knew you had a Mistresse of that complexion, I would adventure a glasse of Claret to her health. When Belluile (out of a phantastick French humour) affirmed he had a Mistris, whose beauty was so excellent, as he knew hee could not receive shame to name her; and if you please to honour her selfe and mee with her health, I proclaime that Madamoyselle Laurieta is my Mistresse, and my selfe her servant.

Of wise and Christian Gentlemen, what prophane speeches and debosht table-talke are these they use heere, as if their glory consisted in their shame, or their best ver∣tues were to bee discovered in the worst of vices? For howsoever the Viands they did eate, may preserve the health of their bodies, yet this dissolute communication of theirs must needs poyson and destroy that of their soules: for as they should praise God in the receit of the one; so contrariwise they incense and displease his sa∣cred Majestie in giving him the other: yea, this is so farre from Christianitie and heaven, as it is the high and true way to Atheisme and hell: for whores and healths, instead of prayer and thankesgiving, are the prodigious and certaine forerunners of a seared conscience, and the dangerous and execrable symptoms of a leprous soule.

Birds are taken by their feet, and men by their tongues. Belluile having so base∣ly and sottishly abused himselfe in the disparaging of his Mistresse Laurieta, Poligny hath his errand, for which hee purposely came to Orenge. So dinner ended, they ve∣ry pleasantly returne for Avignion. That night Poligny cannot sleepe for joy, or ra∣ther for revenge: For now hee presumes to know how to worke himselfe into Lau∣rieta's favour, by unhorsing Belluile. It is a dishonest and base part to betray our friend, and under the cloake of friendship and familiarity, to harbour and retaine malice a∣gainst them: but this irregular and violent passion of love in young and unstayed judgements, many times beares downe all other respects and considerations. For if Religion and Conscience bee contemned, what hope is there that either honesty bee regarded, or friendship observed, sith it is the onely ciment and sinewes there∣of? But Poligny is as resolute as malicious in his purpose; and therefore the next morne by his Lackey, sends the Lady Laurieta this Letter:

POLIGNY to LAVRIETA.

IT is out of syncere affection to thee, and not out of premeditated malice to Belluile, that I pres•…•…me to signifie thee, how lately in my presence at Orenge his tongue let fall some words that tended to the prejudice and disparagement of thine honour: whereof I know it is not one∣ly the part, but the duetie of a true Gentleman, to bee rather curious in preserving, then any way ingrate•…•…ll in revealing thereof. Neither doe I attempt to send thee this newes, thereby to insi•…•…ate, for draw thee to affect mee the more, or him the lesse: onely sith it is contrary to my complexion and nature, to permit any Lady to bee wronged in my presence; how much lesse thy selfe, t•…•… whom I not owe my service, but my life. If thou wilt not approve my zeale, yet thou hast all the reason of the world to pardon my presumption: and to make my letter reall, what my pen affirmes to Laurieta, my sword is ready to confirme to Belluile.

POLIGNY.

In the extremitie and excesse of those three different passions, griefe, choller and astonishment, Laurieta receives and reads this Letter, and like a dissolute Gentlewo∣man, being more carefull of her reputation to the world, then of her soule towards God, shee knowes not whether shee have more cause and reason either to approve Po∣ligny's affection, or to condemne Belluiles folly: it grieves her to the heart to have be∣stowed her favours on so base and ingratefull a Gentleman as Belluile; vowes shee will make him repent it, and is resolute that this vanity and folly of his, shall cost him deare; yea, shee is so impatient in these her fumes of griefe and revenge, that shee thought once with all expedition to have sent for Belluile, to make him as well see the fruits of his owne ingratitude, as to taste the effects of her revenge and indignation: but shee holds it requisite and fit, and her selfe in a manner bound first to thanke Poligny for his courtesie, by returning him a Letter in answer of his, which shee spee∣dily dispatcheth him by his owne Lackey, to this effect:

LAVRIETA to POLIGNY.

I Know not whether thou hast shewed me a truer testimonie of thy discretion and affection, then Belluile of his envie and folly. But as I rest infinitely obliged to thee for thy care of my re∣putation; so I resolve shortly to make him know what hee deserves in attempting to eclipse and disparage it. Now as I grieve not, so I must confesse I cannot refraine from sorrowing, at this his undeserved slaunder: for as mine innocencie defends me from the first, so my sexe cannot ex∣empt me from the second; and look what disparity there is betwixt thy generosity and his basenes, so much there is betwixt the whitenesse of my chastity, and the foulenesse of h•…•… aspersion. I rest so confident of the truth of thy pen, as I desire no confirmation of thy Sword; and I flatter not, ra∣ther assure my selfe, that sith Belluile was so indiscreet to wrong me, he will neither have the wit or courage to right himselfe. I returne thee many hearty thanks for this kind office and curtesy of thine; the which though I cannot requite, yet I will not only indeavour, but strive to deserve.

LAVRIETA.

Whiles Poligny receives Laureta's Letter with much content, and many kisses, as triumphing to see how hee hath baffled Belluile by working him out, and consequent∣ly himselfe into her favour, wee will for a while leave him, to consider whether the end of his treachery to Belluile will proove as fortunate and pleasing to him, as the beginning promiseth. And in the meane time we will a little speake of Laurieta, to see

what course and resolution shee meanes to hold and observe with Belluile. It is not e∣nough that shee hath written Poligny a Letter, but her envy and contempt towards Belluile is so implacable, as shee with much hast and secrecie sends for him: her re∣quests to him are commands; yea, hee needes no other spurres but those of his lust, and of her beauty, to make him rather flye, then poast to her presence; when not so much as once dre•…•…ing of his former foolish speeches delivered against his Mistresse Laurieta, muc•…•… •…•…se of Boligny's treason conspired and acted against him, hee thinkes to kisse her, •…•…om so often hee hath formerly kissed; but his hopes and her disdaine deceive hi•…•… for she peremptorily slights him; when having fire in her lookes, and thunder in her speeches, shee chargeth him with this scandall delivered by him at O∣•…•…nge, in presence of Polig•…•…y, against her honour and chastity. And is this (quoth she) the reward a Lady shall deserve and receive by imparting her favours to a Gentleman? and is this the part of a Gentleman, to erect the Trophees of his glory upon his Mi∣stresse disgrace? or are these the fruits of thy sighs and teares, or the effects of thy requests, oaths, and Letters? Yea, such was then her furious rage, and devillish re∣venge, as shee was provided of a Stilletto, to have there stab'd him to the heart in her Chamber, had not her Wayting mayd Lucilla, with her best oratory and perswasion, powerfully diverted her to the contrary, by alledging her the imminencie of the dan∣ger, which the foulenesse and haynousnesse of that fact brought her into. Belluile is a∣mazed at this news, when now proving as prophane to God, as before he was base and •…•…efull to Laurieta, he, with many oaths and imprecations, denies these speeches, and this stander; and with much passion protesteth of his innocencie. But this will not sa∣t•…•…fie Laurieta; for to make his shame the more notorious in his guiltinesse, shee pro∣d•…•…ceth him Poligny's Letter; whereat Belluile hangs the head, and seemes to let fall the plumes, not onely of his Pride, but of his courage and justification; yet hee bit∣terly and vehemently persevereth in his denyall: but all this is not capable to appease or content Laurieta; and which is worst of all, nothing can possibly doe it, except he make good her honour, and his owne innocencie, by a combate or Duell against Po∣ligny. So Belluile sees himselfe driven to a narrow and a shrewd push: Hee hath wrong∣ed Laurieta, and knowes not how to right her: Poligny hath wronged him, and there is no way left for him to right himselfe, but by challenging and fighting with Poligny. But he loves Laurieta dearely, and therfore must resolve to fight, or lose her. As for his owne part, to give him his true character and description, he is rather a City swaggerer, then a Field souldier, loves rather to have a faire Sword, then a good one, and to weare it onely for shew, not for use; he is ambitious of nothing more, then to be reputed ra∣ther then found valiant: In a word, for a Tave•…•…e quarrell, or a Stewes brawle hee is excellent; but to meet his enemy in the field with a naked Sword, that doth not one∣ly daunt, but terrifie him. The greatest comfort and consolation he findes in this his perplexity, is, that hee knowes hee hath many fellowes and companions, who are as white-liver'd and as very cowards as himselfe: of which numbers, hee flattereth him∣selfe with this poore base hope, that it is not impossible for Poligny to bee one. But what is this to give satisfaction to Laurieta, except it may shew himselfe to bee Belluile, but not a Gentleman? But all these considerations notwithstanding, hee loves Lauri∣eta so tenderly and dearely, as not daring see her, till hee had met Poligny, he pluckes up his spirits, and infusing more mettle and courage into his resolutions then accusto∣med, resolves to fight with him: to which end, having at length fitted himselfe of an excellent Rapier, whose temper (with as much truth as laughter) I confesse was farre better then that of his heart, hee, by his Lackey some three dayes after, sends Poligny this Challenge.

BELLVILE to POLIGNY.

THy malice and treachery to mee is as odious as remarkeable; for whiles I sought to che•…•… thy friendship, it hath purposely beene thy delight and ambition to betray mine, in thr•…•…∣ing the aple of discord betwixt the Lady thou wotest of, and my selfe, upon the p•…•…ynt of her •…•…∣nour; for whose defence and preservation I owe not onely my service, but my life: which err•…•…, or rather crime of thine, though thy affection to her may seeme to allow, yet my reputation to the world cannot, and my Rapier will not. Therefore, sith I have beene the undeserved object of thy malice, finde it not strange, that I justly repute and hold thee the cause of my envie; which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 receive no other satisfaction or reconcilement, but that to morrow at five in the morne thou 〈◊〉〈◊〉 mee without Seconds, on the Bridge by the iron stumpe (the limits 'twixt the King and the P•…•…) with thy single Rapier, where I will attend thee with another; of which two take thou the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and give mee the refusall. Sleepe not too much this night, for in the morne I doubt not 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 send thee to thine eternall rest.

BELLVILE.

Poligny receives this challenge, and admires to see Belluiles resolution, from which all former reports could never draw assurance; it is not feare that casts his head in•…•… these doubts, or these doubts into his head: for hee is too generous to bee a dastard▪ and too Eagle-bred to turne Craven; for rejoycing in having made Belluile swallow a Gudgin, and triumphing in presuming himselfe seated in the throne of Laurieta's fa∣vour, makes him as resolute to receive this Challenge, as willing and ready to per∣forme it; onely the remembrance that Belluile sent it him by a Lackey, and not by 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Gentleman, throwes him into as much disdaine as choller: but hee resembling him∣selfe, passeth over this respect without respect, and so bids the Lackey tell his Master▪ that he will not faile to meet him at the houre and place appointed.

The night doth, or should bring counsell: Belluile wisheth his Challenge unse•…•…▪ but it being out of his hands, it is out of his power to revoke or recall it. Poligny is 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a contrary temper, and glad in his acceptance thereof, desires that his Sword were 〈◊〉〈◊〉 action, as well as his courage in contemplation. So out-passing the night, which B•…•…∣uile passeth ouer with as much feare, as Poligny with generosity, the Curtaines of the night being with-drawne, and the day appearing, ere five have strucken, Belluile not∣withstanding is first on the Bridge, and Poligny immediately after him: they are with∣out Seconds, and therefore they briefely unbrace, but not uncase their Doubl•…•…s, Belluile will bee valorous in words; and so according to his challenge, and the right of Duells, offereth Poligny the sight and choyce of his Rapier. Poligny is too brave to dye in his debt, upon the poynt of honour and magnanimity, and therfore gives him his, a•…•… contented with the refusall. So (courtesie for a while contending with valour) they both assume and accept of their owne Rapiers; when dividing themselves, they joyn•…•… with resolution and fury. At first comming up, Poligny gives Belluile the first wound in his right Shoulder, without receiving any, whereat hee is more affrighted then Po∣ligny rejoyced; at the second, hee receives another wound in the left side, but is not yet so happy to see, or assure himselfe, that his Rapier hath once touched Poligny's body, or which is lesse, his clothes: whereupon, considering Poligny's generosity, and comparing the bad grounds of his quarrell with the faintnesse and basenesse of his courage, hee throwes off his Sword, prayes Poligny to desist; for hee holds himselfe satisfyed. When Poligny disdayning to taint his honour with the least shaddow of dishonour, in receiving Belluiles shame, gives him the happinesse and fruition of h•…•… life: and so they part. Lo here the first fruits of their foolish and lascivious affecti∣ons

to Laurieta: but I feare the second will prove more bitter and bloudy▪ Belluile going home with his shame and repentance, and Poligny with his honour and glory, they hush themselves up in silence, Poligny at his Chamber, and Belluile at his Chirurgions house to dresse his wounds, hoping that as they in their fight saw no body, so that none had seene them; but they are deceived: for two Souldiers from the Castle walls not onely espy them fighting, but know them. So they divulge it in the City, whereof Laurieta being advertised, she sends a confident Gentleman, a cousin germane of hers, to finde out Belluile and to know the truth and issue of his combate; but indeed his cowardise hath purchased him so much shame, as hee will not bee seene, much lesse spoken with∣all: which Lauricta understanding, beginnes conceive that the two Souldiers report was true, and that undoubtedly hee and Poligny had met and fought in her behalfe: whereupon ghessing at the truth, that Poligny had given Belluile the foyle, she was once of opinion to have written to Poligny, to bee informed of the particulars and successe of their combat, which so much imported as well her honour as her content. But Po∣ligny's affection prevents her curiosity: for as she was calling for pen and paper, hee in person ascends the stayres to her Chamber, where, after a complementall and courte∣ous salute, he informes her (as we have formerly understood) that hee hath given Bell∣uile two wounds for her sake, and now his life for his owne. She demands if he himself were not hurt; hee answers, No. At both which good newes shee infinitely rejoy∣ceth, and in token of her thankfulnesse permits him to gather many kisses, as well from the roses of her cheekes, as the cherries of her lips: and so from thenceforth he vowes to be her professed servant; and she promiseth him to bee, though not his Mistresse, yet at least his friend. And here they unite and combine their affections: but that con∣tract, and this familiarity, written onely in vice, and sealed in lust, we shall shortly see cancelled and annihilated, with as much pitty, as infamy and misery, as the sequell of this History will shew and demonstrate.

Whiles thus Laurieta and Poligny are triumphing in Belluiles foyle, and their owne familiarity and affection, how is it possible but he must infinitely grieve for his losse of Laurieta, and la Palaisiere as much sorrow to see her selfe deprived and out of hope of her Poligny? But they brooke their afflictions and passions with variable resolutions; for whiles la Palaisiere is imbathing her selfe in her teares and discontents, Belluile is resolute to quench his revenge in Poligny's blood. For forgetting as well his God as his soule, his honor as himself, he intends to doe it by the bye, and not by the maine, by execra∣ble treachery, not by magnanimous generosity; yea, the devil is so strong with his faith because that is so weake with his Saviour and Redeemer, as shutting the doores of his humanity and charity, hee opens them to Choller, Revenge, and Murther; yea, and henceforth he is so inraged, and his lookes are so gastly and distracted▪ as if his thoughts were conducting and incouraging his hands to perpetrate some bloody stratagem and designe: which is observed and doubted by his chiefest familiars and intimate friends, as also by la Palaisiere, whose company hee sometimes frequents, not so much out of affection to her, as for consolation from her to himselfe, sith wee are subject both to hope and believe that our afflictions are partly eased and diminished by the sight and relation of that of others, as sympathizing and participating with them; first in their flames of love, then of griefe and sorrow, in being disdayned of those wee love. Neither could Belluile so cunningly or closely rake up the fiery sparkes of his malice •…•…nd revenge, under the embers of silence and secrecie, but her affection to Poligny, and •…•…ealousie of his good, made her so tender▪ ear'd, and sharpe-sighted, as she over-heard •…•…ome words that either in jest o•…•… earnest •…•…ell from Belluile's •…•…ongue, whereby it was ap∣•…•…arent to her, that hee intended no good, but portended a secret fatall malice to him, •…•…ich a little time might too too soone and une•…•…pectedly discover: whe•…•…upon her

love to Poligny was so deare and honourable, although hee were so firmely intangled in the beauty of Laurieta, as he would not vouchsafe, rather disdayned to love her selfe, that she thought the discovery of Belluiles malice to Poligny, so much imported Polig∣ny's good, as she held her selfe bound, as well in duty as affection, to reveale and relate it him; which she doth in this Letter:

LA PALAISIERE to POLIGNY.

TO testifie thee now the constancie of my affection with inke, as I have formerly done the fer∣vencie thereof with teares, know, thou hast some cause to feare, and I to doubt, that Belluile hath some dangerous project, or bloudy designe to put in execution, against his honour, and thy life; and as I reveale it thee out of my care, so looke thou prevent it out of thine owne discretion, lest hee bereave thee of thy life, as thou hast done him of his Laurieta, if thou slight this my advice, as thou hast already my affection: yet as I remaine witnesse of the purity of the last, so will these lines beare testimonie to the world of the candour and sinceritie of the first. Neither doe I presume to send them thee out of any irregular ambition, to purchase the honour of thy favour, but onely to let thee know that my affection is both powerfull and capable to shine thorow the clowdes of thy disdaine, and that the obscurity of that neither hath defaced the lu∣stre, nor can eclipse the resplendencie of this. Regard therefore thine owne safety, albeit tho•…•… wilt not respect my content, and although thou please not give me the honour to be thy Mistresse, yet I will take the ambition and resolution to live and dye thine hand-mayd.

LA PALAISIERE.

Poligny breaking up the seales of this Letter, laughes to see la Palaisieres affection, and to understand Belluiles malice; and being besotted with Laurieta, hee lost both his wit and judgement in the sight and contemplation of her beauty, yea, he is growne so fond in his affection, and respect towards her, as hee is arrived to the Meridian of this simplicity, to deeme it a kinde of treason to conceale any secret from her: to which end, he shewes her la Palaisieres Letter, which hee makes his pastime, and shee her May∣game; yea, so vaine is her folly, and so foolish her vanity, to see the passages and e∣vents of these their passions, as shee not onely exceedes the decorum of discretion, but of modestie in her laughter: and which is more, when shee againe considereth how Belluile loves her selfe, and not she him, la Palaisiere Poligny, and not hee her, it makes her redouble her mirth and exhilaration in such sort, as shee seemes to burst with the violence and excesse thereof: but this mirth of hers shall be shortly wayted and at∣tended on with misery and mourning. But Poligny notwithstanding sees himselfe doubly obliged to la Palaisiere, as well for her affection to him, as her care of him, and so holds himselfe obliged in either of these respects and considerations, to requite her with a Letter: the which now unknowne to Laurieta, hee writes, and sends her to this effect:

POLIGNY to LA PALAISIERE.

IT is not the least of my joyes, that Belluile cannot beare me so much malice, as thou dost af∣fection. Tis true, I have not deserved thy love, tis more true, I have not merited his hatred▪ for that proceeds from heaven, as a divine iufluence, this from hell, as an infernall frenzie▪ 〈◊〉〈◊〉 will not feede thee with hope, neither can hee give mee despaire: for (not to dissemble) it i•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉 likely I may l•…•…ve •…•…hee, as impossible I shall feare him: he may have the will to do 〈◊〉〈◊〉 hurt, I wish 〈◊〉〈◊〉

were in my power to doe thee good; neither can hee bee more malicious to performe me that, then I will bee ambitious to confirme thee this: his malice I entertaine with much contempt, thy kinde advice and sincere affection with infinite thankes: for when I consider thy Letter, I cannot right∣ly expresse or define, whether hee beginne to hate mee, or I to love thee more. I doubt not but to make his deedes proove wordes to mee, and I beseech thee feare not, but my wordes shall prove deedes to thee: for I am as confident shortly to salute faire la Palaisiere, as carelesse when I meet foolish Belluile.

POLIGNY.

Having thus dispeeded her his Letter, the vanity of his thoughts, and the beastlinesse of his concupiscence and sensuality, not onely surpriseth his reason, but captivates his judgement; so as Laurieta's sight defacing Belluiles memory, hee thinkes so much on her affection, as hee respects not his malice: but this Vice and that errour shall cost him deare. For whiles hee is feasting his eyes on the daynties and rarities of Lau∣rieta's beauty, Belluiles heart hath agreed with the devill to prepare him a bloudy Ban∣quet: Grace cannot containe him within her limits; therfore Impiety dallies so long with him, and hee with Impiety, that at last this bloudy sentence is past in the court of his hellish resolutions, That Poligny must dye. The devills assistance is never wan∣ting in such infernall stratagems: for this is an infallible maxime, as remarkeable as ru∣inous, That hee allwayes makes us fertile, not barren to doe evill, never to doe good. At first Belluile thinkes on poyson or Pistoll to dispatch Poligny: but hee findes the first too difficult to attempt; the second, too publike to performe. Sometimes hee is of opinion to ascend his Chamber, and murther him in his bed; then to shoot him ou•…•… at window as he passeth the street: but to conclude, understanding that he often comes very late in the night from Laurieta, he thinkes it best to run him thorow with his Ra∣pier, as he issueth forth her house. And to make short, hereon he resolves.

Now to put the better colour on his villany, hee retires himselfe from Avignion, and lives privately some sixe dayes in Orenge, giving it out, that hee was gone to the City of Aix in Provence, where, at that famous court of Parliament he had a Processe for a title of Land, shortly to bee adjudged; and so in a darke night, taking none but his Lacky with him, he being disguised, in favour of money, passeth the gate of Avigni∣on, and giving his horse to his Lackey, being secretly informed that Poligny was with Laurieta, he goes directly to her doore, and there at the corner of a little street stands with his Rapier drawne under his cloake, with a revenging and greedy desire of blood to awayt Poligny's comming forth. The Clocke striking one, the doore is opened, and Poligny secretly issueth foorth without candle, having purposely sent away his Lac∣key, who had then unwittingly carried away his Masters Rapier with him. Hee is no sooner in the street, but Bellnile, as a murtherous villaine, rusheth foorth, and so like a limbe of the Devill, sheathes his Rapier in his brest; when Poligny more hurt then amazed, and wanting his Sword, but not courage, indeavoureth by struggling to close with his assassinate; and so cries out for assi•…•…ance: but the dead of the night favoureth his butcherly attempt, when withdrawing his Sword, hee redoubleth his cruelty, and so againe runnes him in at the small of the belly, thorow the reines, whereat hee pre∣sently falls downe dead to his feete, having the power to groane and crye, but not to utter a word. Which Belluile espying, and knowing him dispatcht, runnes to his horse, which his Lackey held ready at the corner of the next streete, and so rides to the same gate hee entred, which was kept ready for him; which passing, hee with all expedition drives away for Orenge: from whence, the next morne before day, hee takes poast for Aix, the better to conceale and o're▪ vaile this damnable Murther of his. But this policie of his shall deceive his hopes, and returne him a fatall reward

and interest. For although he can bleare the eyes of men, yet he neither can, nor shall those of God, who in his due time will out of his sacred justice repay and punish him with confusion.

By this time the streete and neighbours have taken the allarum of this tragicall ac∣cident: so Candles and Torches come from every where, only Laurieta having play∣ed the Whore before, will see me now (though falsely) to play the honest woman: for she, to cover her shame, will not discover that her selfe or any of her house are stir∣ring: and so although shee understood this newes, and privately and bytterly wept thereat, yet shee keepes fast her doores and, like an ingratefull strumpet will permit none of her servants for a long time to descend. The Criminall Iudge and President of the Ciiy is advertised of this Murther. The dead Gentleman is knowne to bee Mounsieur Poligny, and being beloved, hee is exceedingly bewayled of all who knew him, and inquiry and search is made of all sides, and the Lievtennant Criminall shewes himselfe wise, because honest, and curious, because wise in the perquisition of this blo•…•…∣dy Murther: but as yet time will not, or rather God, who is the Creator and giver of time, is not as yet pleased to bring it to light; only Laurieta knew, and la Palasiere suspe∣cted, and all those who were of the counsell of the one, or the acquaintance of the o∣ther, doe likewise both feare and suspect, that onely Belluile was the bloody and exe∣crable author thereof; but to report or divulge so much, although they dare, they will not.

As for la Palasiere, her thoughts are taken up and preoccupated with two severall passions: for as she grieves at Poligny's death, so shee rejoyceth that she hath no hand, nor was any way accessary to his Murther; rather, that if hee had sayled by the com∣passe of her advice, hee had undoubtedly avoyded the shipwracke of his life, and pre∣vented the misfortune of his death; what to thinke of Belluile shee knowes not, b•…•… if hee were her friend before, hee hath now made and proclaimed himselfe her e•…•…∣my, by killing her deare and onely friend Poligny: and therefore is resolved, that as shee could never perfectly b•…•…ooke his company, so now this bloudy fact shall make her detest both it and him. But let us a little leave her, and descend to speake of L•…•…∣rieta, to see how shee brookes the murther of her intimate friend Poligny: for sith she•…•… assuredly knowes and believes that this cruell Murther was performed by no other, b•…•… by her professed enemy Belluile, or by some of his bloudy agents, love and revenge conspire to act two different Scenes upon the Theater of her heart: for in memory and deepe affection to her Poligny, her pearled teares and mournefull sighes infinite∣ly deplore and bewayle his disastrous end; so as sorrow withering the roses of her cheekes, and griefe making her cast off her glittering, to take on mournefull attire, she could not refraine from giving all Avignion notice how pleasing Poligny's life was to her, by the excesse of her lamentations and afflictions demonstrated for his death; o•…•… if her sighes found any consolation, or her teares recesse or truce, it was administred her by her revenge, which shee conceived and intended towards Belluile, for this his bloudy fact. So as consulting with Choller, not with Reason, with Nature, no•…•… with Grace, with Satan, not with God, shee vowes to bee sharpely revenged of him, and to make him pay deare for this his base and treacherous Murther; yea, the fumes and fury of her revenge are so implacable, and transport her resolutions to so bloudy an impetuositie, that resembling her sexe and selfe, shee inhumanely and sacrilegious∣ly darts forth an oath, which her heart sends to her soule, and her soule from Earth to Hell, that if the meanes finde not her, she will infallibly find out the meanes to quench and dry up her teares for Poligny's death, in the bloud of Belluile: which, sith she is so de∣voyd of reason, religion, and grace, I feare we shal shortly see her attempt and performe. But leaving her in Avignion, let us finde out Belluile in Aix, who is a Gentleman so pro∣phane

in his life, and debosht in his actions and conversations, as in stead of repenting he triumphs at this his Murther; yea, hee is become so impious and impudent, as hee grieves not thereat, but onely that he had not sooner dispatched his rivall Poligny: but the better to delude the world, that neither his hand or sword were guilty in sending Poligny from this world in a bloudy winding sheet, his thoughts like so many hounds pursuing his conscience, and his conscience his soule, hee thinkes himselfe not safe in Aix, where the sharpe-sighted Presidents, and Councellours of that illustrious Se∣nate of Parliament might at last accuse and finde him out for the Authour of this blou∣dy Murther; and therefore leaves both it and Provence, and so rides to the City of Lyons, accompanyed with none but his two Lackeyes, who, to write the truth, act•…•…d no part in Poligny's mournfull Tragedy; neither doth he yet thinke himselfe safe there: but within a moneth after the Murther, thinking directly and securely to flye from the eyes and hands of justice, thereby to avoyd the storme of his punishment, hee againe takes horse for that great City and Forrest Paris, where he hoped the infinite number of People, Streets, Coaches, and Horses would not only secure his feare, but prevent his danger, and that here, as in a secure Sanctuary and safe harbour, he might quietly ride at anchor in all peace and tranquillity: but (as before) the time is not yet come of his pu∣nishment; for it may bee, God, out of his inscrutable will and Divine providence, will, when hee best pleaseth, returne him from whence hee came, and by some extra∣ordinary accident make him there feele the foulenesse of his fact, in the sharpenesse and suddennesse of his punishment; which, as a fierce gust and bitter storme, shall then surprise him, when hee least suspects or dreames thereof. But in this interim of his re∣sidence, he forgets his new fact of Murther, to remember his old sinnes of Concupi∣scence and Whoredome; and so rather like a lascivious Courtier, then a civill morall Christian, hee cannot see the Church for the Stewes, nor the Preachers or Priests for Panders and Strumpets. But this vanity of his shall cost him deare, and hee shall be so miserable to feele the punishment, sith hee will not be so happy to seeke the meanes to avoyde it: for now sixe moneths having exhausted and dissipated the greatest part of his gold, and his credit comming short of his hopes, it seems the aire of Paris is displea∣sing to him, sith he cannot be agreeable to it; and therfore (necessity giving a law to the vanity of his desires) he beginnes to loath the Ile of France, to love the Province of Provence, and to leave Paris to see Avignion. And now it is, that the devill, that subtle and fatall seducer, steps in, and at one time bewitching both his reason and judgement, presents him afresh with the freshnesse and delicacie of Laurieta's beauty, which so in∣kindleth and revives the sparks of his affection, that lay raked up in the ashes of silence, as he vowes there is no beauty to hers; and if hee chance espie any faire Ladies, either at Court, or in the City, he presently affirmeth, and infinitly protesteth, they come farre short of his Laurieta's delicacie, perfection, and grace; so as his purse tyrannizing o're his ambition, and his concupiscence o're his judgement, he not so much as once dreaming of the implacable hatred she formerly bo•…•…e him, and thinking it impossible for her to conceive, much lesse to know that he murthered Poligny, he is constant and resolute to reseeke the felicity to live in her favour and affection, or to dye in the pursute thereof; but that will prove as impossible, as this apparent and feasable. So as absence adding fire to his lust, and excellencie to her beauty, he is resolute to send one of his Lackeyes to Avignion; partly to returne with money, and so to meete him at Lyons, Mo•…•…lins, or Nevers; but more especially, in great secrecie to deliver a Letter to his fa re and sweet L•…•…urieta, and to bring him backe her answer, as if hee were still at Paris, and not in his journey downewards. When meaning as yet to conceale his Murther of Poligny, hee calling for pen and paper, traceth her thereon these lines:

BELLVILE to LAVRIETA.

IF Poligny had but the thousandth part as truely respected mee, as I dearely loved thee, thou hadst not so soone cast mee out of thy favour, nor God so suddenly him out of this world: but I know not whether more to bewayle my unfortunacie occasioned by thy cruelty, or his misery in∣gendred through his owne treachery. And indeed, as I grieve at that, so I sorrow at this; for al∣though •…•…ee dyed mine enemy, yet in despight of his malice and death, I will live his friend: and if thou lovedst him, as I thinke thou didst, I wish I might fight with his Murtherer for his owne sake, and kill him for thine. I may say thy affection and beauty deserved his better, though dare not affirme I am reserved to bee made happy in injoying of either, much lesse of both, and least of all, of thy selfe; and yet I must confesse, that if our births and qualities were knowne, I should goe as neere to bee thy equall as hee infinitely came short of being mine. What, or what not, I have performed for thy sake, is best knowne to myselfe, sith thou disdaynest to know it: but if thou wilt please to abandon thy disdaine, then my affection and the truth will informe thee, that I have ever constantly resolved to dy thy Servant, though thou have sworne never to live my Mi∣stresse. So that could I but as happily regaine thy affection and favour, as I have unjustly and unfortunately lost it, Belluile would qu•…•…ckely forsake Paris to see Avignion, and abandon all the beauties of the world, to continue his homage and service to that of his onely faire and sweet Laurieta.

BELLVILE.

With this his Letter hee sends a Diamond Ring from his finger, and so dispatcheth his Lackey, who is not long before hee arrive at Avignion, where very secretly he de∣livers Laurieta his Masters Token and Letter; and treacherous fury as shee is, shee kis∣seth both, and breaking off the Seales, reades the contents, whereat she infinitly seemes to rejoyce, and so questioneth with the Lackey about his Masters returne; who being taught his Lesson, told her that that depended on her pleasure, sith hers was his, and withall prayes her for an answer; for that two dayes hence hee was againe to returne to his Master for Paris: the which shee promiseth. The Lackey gone, she cannot re∣fraine from laughing, yea, she leaps for joy, to see how Belluile is againe so besotted, to throw himselfe into her favour and mercy, and to observe how willing and forward he was to runne hoodwink'd to his untimely death and destruction: for the Devill hath fortifyed her in her former bloudy resolution; so that hap what will, shee vowes she will not faile to kill Belluile, because hee had slaine her Poligny, and already she wisheth him in Avignion, that she might see an end to this her wished and desired Tragedy. In the meane time she prepares her hypocriticall and treacherous Letter, and a rich Wat∣chet Scarfe imbroydered with flames of silver. So his Lackey repayreth to her, to whom she delivereth both, with remembrance of her best love to his Master, and that shee hoped shortly to see him in Avignion. The Lackey being provided of his Masters Gold, and this Scarfe and Letter, trips away speedily for Lyons, where hee findes his Master privatly husht up in a friends house, expecting his returne; he is glad of his owne gold, but more of Laurieta's Letter, when thinking every minute a yeare before he had read it, he hastily breaking off the seales, findes these lines therein contayned:

LAVRIETA to BELLVILE.

AS I acknowledge I loved Poligny, so I confesse I never hated thee; and if his treacherous insinuation were too prevalent with my credulity, I beseech thee attribute it to my indiscre∣tion, as being a woman, and not to my inconstancie, as being thy friend: for if he dyed thine ene∣my, let it suffice that I live thine hand-mayd, and that as he was not reserved for me, so I hope I am wholly for thy selfe. How farre he was my inferiour, I will not inquire, onely it is both my con∣tent and honour, that thou please vouchsafe to repute mee thy equall. I am so farre from disday∣ning,

as I infinitely desire to know what thou hast done for my sake, that I may requite thy love with kisses, and make my thankes wipe off the conceipt of my ingratitude. As for my affection, it was never lost to thee, nor shall ever bee found but of thee. To conclude, I wish that our little Avignion were thy great Paris, and if •…•…y love be as unfeigned as mine is firme, let my Belluile make hast to see his Laurieta, who hath vowed to rejoyce a thousand times more at his returne, then ever shee grieved at Poligny's death.

LAVRIETA.

At the reading of this her Letter hee is beyond himselfe, yea beyond the Moone for joy; so as hee wisheth nothing so much, as himselfe in her armes, or shee in his. So hee fits himselfe with a couple of good horses, puts his Lackeyes into new Sutes, and knowing that time and his absence had washed away the remembrance of Polig∣ny's murther, he speeds away for Avignion; where the first night of his arrivall he pri∣vately visiteth Laurieta, 'twixt whom there is nothing but kisses and imbracings; yea, shee so treacherously and sweetly lulles him •…•…leepe with the Syren melody of her de∣ceiptfull speeches, as she prayes him to visit her often, and that a little time shall crowne him with the fruits of his desire: so for that night they part. The n•…•…xt day he repaires to her againe, when amidst the confluence of many millions of kisses, shee prayes and conjures him to discover her what hee hath done for her sake; when he tying her by oath to secrecie, and she swearing it, he relates her that it was hims•…•…fe, that in affection to her had slaine Poligny, as he issued forth her lodging: when having wrested and ex∣torted this mystery from him, it confirmes her malice▪ and hastneth on her resolution of his death, which his lascivious thoughts have neither •…•…he grace to foresee, nor the reason to prevent: shee espyes hee hath still a Pistoll with him, and desires to know why hee beares it; who answereth her, it is to defend himselfe from his enemies▪ and that hee will never goe without it. So againe they fall to their kisses, and hee to his re∣quests of a further and sweeter favour of her; which shee for that time againe denyes him, adding withall, that if hee will come to her after dinner to morrow, shee will so dispose of matters, as his pleasure shall be hers, and she will not be her owne, but his. So being surprised and ravish•…•…d with the extasie of a thousand sweete approaching pleasures, hee returnes to his Chamber, and shee to her malice: where whiles he gluts himselfe with his hope of delight, shee doth no lesse with her desire of revenge. And now ruminating on the manner of his death, she thinkes nothing so fit or easie to dis∣patch him, as his owne Pistoll: and so thinking shee should need her Wayting-mayd Lucilla's assistance (of whom this our History hath formerly made mention) shee ac∣quaints her with her purpose, the next day to murther Belluile in her Chamber: and so with the lure of gold, and many faire promises, drawes her to consent hereunto, and injoines her to be provided of a good Ponyard under her gowne for the same purpose, if need should require; which Lucilla promiseth. Now this night, as Belluile could not sleepe for joy, so could not Laurieta for revenge, who is so weighed downe to malice and murther, as she wisheth the houre come for her to reduce her devillish contempla∣tion into bloody action. But this houre shall come too soone for them both: for as Lovers are impatient of delayes, so Belluile hath no sooner dined, but taking his horse and two Lackeyes, hee sayes he will take the aire of the fields that afternoone, but will first call in and see his Mistresse Laurieta. So hee alights at her doore, and without the least feare of danger or apprehension of death, very joyfully ascends Lauriet•…•…'s cham∣ber; who, dissembling wretch as shee is, very kindly meets and receives him: and the better to smother and dissemble her murtherous intent, is not onely prodigall in taking but in giving him kisses. Belluile, like a dissolute and lascivious Gentleman, whispers Laurieta in her eare, that hee is come to receive the fruits of his hopes, and of her pro∣mise

and curtesie: when considering that his horse and two Lackyes were at doore, she returnes him this in his eare, that she is wholly his, and that it is out of her power to de∣nye or refuse him any thing, onely shee prayes him to send away his Lackeyes, because their familiarity needed no witnesses. Thus whiles hee calls them up, to bid them carry away his horse to the gate that leades to Marseilles, and there to awayt his comming, Laurieta steps to her Wayting-mayd Lucilla, and bids her make ready her Ponyard, and stand close to her: for now (quoth she) the houre is come that I will be revenged of Belluile for my Poligny's death: the which she had no sooner spoken, but Belluile returnes to her; when redoubling his kisses, hee little, or rather not at all fea∣ring he was so neere death, or death him, being ready to retire himselfe to a withdraw∣ing Chamber, which Laurieta treacherously informed him she had purposely provided for him, he takes his Pistoll, and layes it on the Table of the outer Chamber, where∣in they then were; which shee espying, as the instrument she infinitely desired to fin∣ger, takes it in her hand, and prayes him to shew her how to shoote it off: so taking it from her, he told her, if shee pleased, hee would discharge it before her, for her sake. Why (quoth she) is it charg'd? Yea, replyes Belluile, with a single bullet. Nay then (quoth Laurieta) put in one bullet more, and if you can espye any Crow out of the window, either on the house or Church top, if it please you, I will play the man, and shoot at it for your sake: When poore Belluile, desirous to please her in any thing, looks out the window, and espies two Crowes on the crosse of the Augustine Fryers Church, which he very joyfully relates Laurieta; and so at her request claps in a second bullet more: for (quoth •…•…he) if I strike not both, I will be sure to pay one; and so prayes him to leane out at window, to see how neere shee could feather them: which (miserable Gentleman) he performing, the Pistoll being bent, shee behind him dischargeth it di∣rectly in his own reines. Whereat he amazedly staggering, Lucilla seconding her bloo∣dy Mistresse, steps to him, and with her Ponyard gives him five or sixe wounds tho∣row the body; so as without speaking or groaning, he falls dead at their feet. Where∣at Laurieta triumphing and leaping for joy, uttereth these bloudy and prophane spee∣ches: O Poligny, whiles thou art in heaven, thus have I done in earth for thy sake, and in revenge of thy cruell death! Which having performed, they more cruelly then cru∣elty her selfe, drag his breathlesse carkasse, reeking in his bloud, downe the stayres, in∣to a low obscure Cellar, where making a shallow grave, they there bury him in his clothes, and so pile up a great quantity of Billets on him; as if that wooden monu∣ment had power to conceale their Murther, and his body from the eyes and suspicion of all the world. Good God! what devills incarnate, and infernall Furies are these, thus to imbrue their hands in the blood of this Gentleman? But as close as they act and contrive this their bloody and inhumane Murther on earth, yet heaven will both detect and revenge it: for when they least dreame thereof, Gods wrath and vengeance will surprise them, to their utter confusion and destruction, and it may be sooner then they are aware of.

For the two Lackeyes having stayed at the City gate with their Masters horse till night, they returne and seeke him at Laurieta's house, where they left him; Laurieta in∣formes them hee stayed not an houre after them, and since shee saw him not; which newes doth infinitely afflict and vexe them. But they returne to his lodging, and like duetifull and faithfull servants, betwixt hope and feare, awayt his returne that night, and all the next day; but in vaine. And now they beginne to be amazed at his long and unaccustomed absence, and so consult this important businesse to some Gentlemen, their Masters confident and intimate friends; who together with them repayre to Laurieta's house, and againe and againe demand her for Mounsieur de Belluile: but they finde her constant in her first answer, and yet guided by the finger and providence of

God, they bewray a kinde of perturbation in her lookes, and discover some distracti∣on and extavagancie in her speeches: whereupon calling to their mindes her former discourtesie to him for Poligny's sake, and his fighting with him on the Bridge for hers, as also this sudden and violent suspected murther of him, they suspect and feare there is more in the winde then as yet they know; and so acquaint the Criminall Iudges here∣with, who as wise Senatours, having severally examined both her and her Mayd Lu∣cilla, and Belluile's Lackeyes, they conclude to imprison Laurieta; which is instantly performed: whereat she is extreamly amazed and terrifyed; but howsoever, she is re∣solute to deny all, and constant to stand upon her justification and innocencie. So her Iudges adjudge her to the torments of the Racke, which (with a masculine, yea, with a hellish fortitude) shee indureth, without revealing the least shaddow, either of feare or guiltinesse; but they detaine her still prisoner, and hope that God will make time dis∣cover the Murther of Belluile; for eight dayes being now past, they are become con∣fident that hee is not in this world, but in another. In the meane time her bloudy Wayting-mayd Lucilla hath continuall recourse to her Lady Laurieta in prison, where, like impious and prophane wretches, they interchangeably sweare secrecie each to o∣ther, sith on eithers discovery depends no lesse then both their deaths.

Whiles this newes is generally divulged in Avignion, Provence, Daulphine, and Langue∣•…•…k, and no newes at all to be had or gathered of Belluile, La Palaisiere, who shined with as many vertues as L•…•…urieta was obscured with Vices, out of compassion and Christian charity, some three weeks after visiteth Laurieta in prison, although she partly believed and knew, that she never affected or loved her▪ when ayming to adde consolation to her afflictions, as God would have it, Laurieta, out of her ignorance or folly, returnes la 〈◊〉〈◊〉 this unlooked for answer: That her selfe was as innocent of Belluile's death, as shee was of Poligny's. Which words being over-heard by some curious head of the company, were instantly carryed and reported to the Criminall Iudges, who instantly cause la Palaisiere to bee apprehended and brought before them, whom they examine upon Poligny's death; which doth no way aff•…•…ight or afflict her, because her conscience was untainted, and her selfe as innocent as innocencie her selfe thereof. They deale further with her, to understand the passages of former businesses betwixt her selfe, Po∣•…•…gny, and Belluile. Shee gives them a true and faithfull account thereof, yea, and re∣lates them as much and no more, then this History hath formerly related us; and to verifie and confirme her speeches, like a discreet young Gentlewoman, she gives them the keyes of a Trunke of hers, wherein shee sayth is her copy of a Letter shee wrote to Poligny, and his answer againe to her, which shee prayes them to send for, for her bet∣ter cleering and discharge. The Iudges send speedily away for these Letters, which are found, produced, and read, directly concurring with the true circumstance of her former deposition: whereupon with much applause and commendation they acquit and discharge her. But if la Palaisiers Vertues have cleered her, Laurieta's Vices (which the Iudges begin to smell out by Poligny's Letter) doe the more narrowly and streight∣ly imprison her; and yet knowing that la Palasiere neither had, nor could any way ac∣cuse her, for either of these two Murthers, she sets a good face on her bad heart, and so very bravely frollikes it in prison, and to speake truth, with farre more joy, and lesse feare then heretofore: but to checke and overthrow these vaine triumphs of hers in their birth, and to ni•…•… them in their b•…•…ds, newes is brought her that her Wayting mayd Lucilla is secretly fled; which her Iudges understanding, they now more vehemently then ever heretofore suspect, that (without doubt) Laurieta was the authour, and her Mayd Lucilla the accessary of Belluile's Murther: and so they set all the city and coun∣trey for her apprehension. And this newes indeed makes Laurieta feare that shee will i•…•…allibly be taken, which doth afflict and ama•…•…e her, and indeed here at shee cannot re∣fraine

from biting her lip, and hanging downe her head. But see the miraculous and just judgement of the Lord, upon this wretched and bloudy Lucilla! for she, for feare fly∣ing, as it is supposed, that night from Avignion to Orenge, to her parents, was there drow∣ned, and the next morne found and taken up dead in one of the Fenny Lakes betwixt the two Cities. Which newes being reported to Laurieta, she againe converts her feare into hope, and sorrowes into joyes, as knowing well that dead bodies can tell no tales. But the wisedome and integrity of the Iudges, by the apparencie of Laurieta's crime in that of her Wayting-mayds flight, againe command her to be racked: but the de∣vill is yet so strong with her, and she with the devill, that she againe indures the cruel∣ty of these torments with a wonderfull patience, with an admirable constancie and re∣solution, and so couragiously and stoutly denying her crime, and peremptorily main∣taining her innocencie and justification, her Iudges, led by the consideration of the sharpnesse and bitternesse of her torments, as also that they could finde no direct proof or substantiall evidence against her, beginne to conceive and imagine that it might be the Wayting-mayd, and not the Mistresse, that had sent Belluile into another world; and so resolve, the weeke following, if they heard nothing in the meane time to accuse Laurieta, to release and acquit her: which Laurieta understanding, the torments which her limbes and body feele are nothing in respect of those contentments and joyes her heart and thoughts conceive; and already building castles and triumphs in her hea•…•… and contemplations, for the hope and joy of her speedy inlargement, she, in her appare•…•… and behaviour, flaunts it out farre braver then before. But she hath not yet made he•…•… peace with her Iudges, neither have they pronounced her Quieta est. And alas, how foolishly and ignorantly doth the vanity of her hopes deceive and betray her, when•…•… the foulenesse of her soule, and contamination of her conscience, every houre and minute prompt her, that God, the Iudge of Iudges, who hath seene, will in his good time and pleasure both detect and punish as well her whoredome as her murther, in he•…•… death! And lo, here comes both the cause and the manner thereof, wherein Gods pro∣vidence and justice doe miraculously resplend and shine.

For Laurieta being indebted to her Land-lord Mounsieur de Riehcourt, as well for a whole yeares rent, as for three hundred Livres in money, which hee had lent her, be∣ing impatient of her delayes, but more of her disgrace, lets out that part of his house, which shee held of him, to the Deane of Carpentras, who for his healths sake came to sojourne that Winter in Avignion; and despairing of her inlargement, and to satisfie himselfe, beginnes to sell away her household-stuffe, yea, to the very Billets which she had in her Cellar, which he retaines for himselfe; whereof when his servants came to cleere the Cellar, they removing the last Billets, finde the earth newly removed and opened in the length and proportion of a Grave: wherof wondring, they presently informe their Master, who viewing the same, as God would have it, hee instantly ap∣prehended and believed, that Laurieta had undoubtedly killed Belluile, and there buri∣ed him: when not permitting his servants to remove the least jot of earth, he as a dis∣creet and honest Citizen, with all possible celeritie trips away to the Criminall Iudges, and acquaints them herewith; who concurring with Richcourt in his opinion and belief, they dispeed themselves to his house and Cellar, where causing the new opened earth to be removed, behold, they find the miserable dead body of Belluile there inhumanely throwne in and buried in his cloaths, which causing to be taken off, thereby to search his body, they find himshot into the reines with two Pistoll bullets, and his body stabd and p•…•…erced with sixe severall wounds of a Rapier or Ponyard: they are amazed at this pitifull and lamentable spectacle; and so resting confident it could be no other but Lau∣rieta and her Mayd Lucilla, that had committed this cruell Murther, they very privately and secretly cause Belluiles dead body to bee conveyed to the prison, and there, when

Laurieta least dreamt thereof, expose it to her sight, and in rough termes charge and crie out upon her for this Murther; but this monster of nature, and shee-devill of her sexe, hath yet her heart so obdurated with revenge, and her soule so o're-clouded and benumm'd with impiety, as shee is nothing daunted or terrifyed with the sight hereof; but with many fearefull imprecations and asseverations stands peremptorily in her innocencie, and out of the heat of her malice and choller termes them devills or witches, that are her accusers. But her Iudges, who can no longer be deluded with her vowes, nor will no more give eare to her perfidious oaths, command to have her Paps seared off with hot burning Pincers, thereby to vindicate the truth of her cruell murther, from the falsehood of her impious and impudent denyall thereof. Whereat amazed and astonished, and seeing this cruell torment ready to bee inflicted and pre∣sented her, God was so indulgent to her sinnes, and so mercifull to her soule, as the de∣vill flying from her, and she from his temptations, shee rayning downe many rivolets and showres of teares from her eyes, and evaporating many volleyes of sighes from her heart, throwing her selfe downe on her knees to the earth, and lifting up her eyes and handes unto Heaven, with much bewayling and bitternesse, shee at last confesseth to her Iudges, that shee and her Wayting-mayd Lucilla were the murtherers of Bellu∣ile, and for the which shee sayd, that through her humble contrition and hearty repen∣tance, shee hoped that God would pardon her soule in the life to come, though shee knew they would not her body in this. Whereupon the Iudges, in horrour and exe∣cration of her inhumane and bloudy crime, pronounce sentence of death upon her, and condemne her the next day after dinner, first to be hanged, then burnt in the same street, right against her lodging, Monsieur de Richcourts house; and likewise, sith Lu∣cilla was both an accessary and actour in this bloudy Tragedy, that her body should be taken up out of her Grave, and likewise burnt with hers in the same fire: which ac∣cordingly was executed in the presence of an infinite number of people both of the Citizens, and adjacent neighbours of Avignion; Laurieta uttering upon the Ladder a short, but a most Christian and penitent speech to the people, tending first to disswade them all by her example from those foule and crying sinnes of whoredome, revenge, and murther; and then to request and perswade them, that they would assist her with their religious and devout prayers in her soules passage and flight towards Heaven: yet adding withall, that as her crime, so her griefe was redoubled, because as she had killed Belluile for Poligny's sake, so she was sure that Belluile had killed Poligny for hers.

And thus, Christian Reader, were the dissolute lives and mournefull deaths of these two unfortunate Gentlemen, Poligny and Belluile, and of this lascivious and bloudy Cur∣•…•…izan Laurieta, and her Wayting-mayd Lucilla. A tragicall History, worthy both of our observation and detestation; and indeed, these are the bitter fruits of Lust, Whore∣•…•…ome, and Revenge, and the inseparable companions which infallibly awayt and at∣tend them; the very sight and consideration whereof are capable, not onely to admi∣nister consolation to the righteous, but to strike terror to the ungodly. O there∣fore, that wee may all beware by these their fatall and dangerous sinnes: for this is the onely perfect and true way to prevent and avoyde their punishments.

GODS REVENGE AGAINST THE CRYING AND EXE∣crable sinne of Murther.

HISTORIE IX.

Iacomo de Castelnovo Iustfully falls in love with his daughter in law Perina, his owne sonne Francisco de Castelnovo's Wife; whom to injoy, he causeth Ierantha first to poyson his owne Lady Fidelia, and then his said son Francisco de Castelnovo: in revenge whereof, Perina treacherously murthereth him in his bed. Ierantha, ready to dye in travell of child, confesseth her two Murthers; for the which she is bang'd and burnt. Perina hath her right hand cut off, and is condemned to perpetuall imprisonment, where she sorrowfully languisheth and dyes.

WEe need not send our curiosity (or our curiosity us) to seek Tygers and Monsters in Africa; for Europe hath but too many, who are so cruell and inhumane, not only to imbrue, but to imbath them∣selves in the innocent bloud of their Christian brethren. And as Religion prohibites us to kill, and commands us to love our enemies; with what audacious and prophane impiety dare wee then murther our friends, nay those of our owne bloud, and who are the greatest part of our selves? And although Italy have late∣ly afforded many tragicall presidents, and fearefull Examples of this nature (whe•…•…of I have given some to my former, and reserved others to my future bookes) yet in my conceipt it hath produced none more bloudy and inhumane then this, whether we re∣spect the Murthers or the persons. For here wee shall see a wretched and execrable old man so besotted in lust, and flaming in malice and revenge, as being both a husband and a father, hee by a hellish young Gentlewoman (his strumpet) poyson•…•…th both his owne wife and his owne sonne: It was his vanity which first inkindled the fire of his lust; it is then his Impiety which gives way to the Devill to blow the coales thereto, and so to convert it into Murther. O that Sinne should so triumph o're Grace, and not Grace o're Sinne! O that Age and Nature should not teach us to bee lesse bloudy, and more compassionate and charitable! And alas, alas, by Poyson, that drug of the De∣vill, who first brought the damnable invention thereof from hell, to be practised here on earth onely by his agents and members! Wee shall likewise see him killed by his daughter in law, for formerly poysoning of her husband: Lust seduced him to perpetra•…•…e those; Affection, or rather bloudy Revenge, drew her on to performe this, and conse∣quently to her punishment due for the same. Had they had more Grace and Religion, they would not have beene so inhumane; but falling from that, no marvell if they fell to be so wretched and miserable: for if we die well, we seldome live ill; if live ill, we usually never die well: for it is the end that crowns the beginning, not the beginning the end. Therfore if we will be happy in our lives, and blessed in our deaths, we must follow

Vertue, and flie from Vice, love Chastity and Charity, and hate Lust and Envie, pre∣ferre Heaven before Earth, our Soules before our Bodies, and defie Satan, with a holy resolution both to feare and love God.

SAvoy is the Countrey, and Nice the City (seated upon the Mediterrane•…•…m Sea, being the strongest Bulwarke against France; and the best For•…•…resse and Key of Italy) where the Scene of this insuing Tragicall History is layd: the which to refetch from the Head-spring and Fountaine of its originall, it must carry our curiosity and understan∣ding over those famous Mountaines, the Alpes, and from thence to the City of Saint Iohn de Mauriena; where of late and fresh memory dwelt an aged Gentleman, of rich re∣venues and great wealth, named Seignior Antonio de Arconeto, who had newly by his de∣ceased Wife, the Lady Eleanora de Bibanti, two Children, to wit, a Son, and a Daughter; that, named Seignior Alexandro, and this, the Lady Perina; a little different in yeares, for he was eighteen, and she but fifteen; but more in qualities and conditions, for he was by nature perverse and chollericke, but she, milde, courteous, and gracious: Againe, they differed much in the lineaments and proportion of their bodies; for Alexandro, like his Father, was short, crook-backt, and hard-favour'd; and Perina resembling her mo∣ther, tall, straight-wasted, and faire: so as it being a principle and Maxime in Nature, that parents (for the most part) love those Children best, who best resemble them; as the mother Eleanora preferr'd Perina in her affection before Alexandro, so contrariwise their father Arconeto did Alexandro before Perina. But as God had called Eleanora out of this life, and left her husband Arconeto to survive her; so Alexandro's joy prov'd his sister Perina's mise•…•…y and affliction for he was so happy to see himself tenderly cherished and affected, and she so unfortunate to perceive her selfe slighted and disrespected of her fa∣ther: wherein, as I praise Arconeto's intimate love to his sonne, so I cannot but discom∣mend, and withall pitty his immerited and unnatural neglect to his daughter: wherein, as Alexandro triumphed in the one, judge judicious Reader, if Perina had not cause enough to grieve and lament at the other. But as the drift and scope of this History looks ano∣ther way, so for my part, who have u•…•…dertaken to pen it, it is the least of my intent 〈◊〉〈◊〉 purpose to give instructions and direction, how parents should beare themselves in their affections towards their children; onely, because I may not here too palpably bewray mine ignorance in my silence, I hope, nay, I am confident, that with as much truth a•…•… safety I may conclude, it is a happinesse both for parens and children, where parents beare their aff•…•…ctions equally to their children: for loving one, and hating another, the joy of the one proves oftentimes the others sorrow; and in giving that too muc•…•… hope, we many times administer this too much cause of despaire; or if the inclinati∣ons and aff•…•…ctions of parents be more narrowly tyed, and strictly linked to preferre and love one child above the other, yet sith they are the equall issue of their loynes, and wee the onely parents of their youth, wee should bee as well cautious in the distributi∣on of our favors, a in the demonstration of our disrespects towards them. But enough of this digression; and now againe to our H•…•…story.

As Alexandro growes up in yeares, so he doth in ambition and ostentation: for if he play the Brav•…•…sho abroad among Gentlemen and Ladies, so authorizd by his fathers ha∣tred of his sister, he at home becomes a petty tyrant to her; yea, his carriage is so sterne and imperious towards her, as if she were rather his slave then his sister, or his laundres and hand-mayd, then any part of himselfe, which notwithstanding it was both a daily griefe to her heart, and a continuall torment to her thoughts, yet Perina's sweet perfecti∣ons, and gracious vertues and behavior, make her digest and brook all with wonderfull constancie, and an admirable patience: for wel she knowes that if she should complain 〈◊〉〈◊〉 her father of her brothers unkindnes towards her, she should thereby reape no other re∣medy

and redresse but this, that the one would laugh, and the other triumph thereat; and that the issue therof would proove her complaints to be the May game of the one, and mocking-stock of the other. But God hath ordayned briefly to ease her of a great part of her undeserved discontents and afflictions: for lo, her brother Alexandro, debau∣ching and surfeting at a Banquet at Susa, returnes home, surprised of a hot pestilent Fever, which notwithstanding the care of his Father, or the art of his expertest Phy∣sicians, hee in three dayes is taken out of this life.

And now guided by the light of nature, and the instinct of common sense and rea∣son, who would not surmise or thinke, but that Arconeto, having buryed his sonne A∣lexandro, should now love his onely daughter and child Perina farre dearer and ten∣derer then before. But alas, nothing lesse: for hee is not so kinde, and therefore shee cannot be so happy; yea, which is worse, although his words be her commands, and his pleasure her law, yet hee contemnes both her and her obedience, and never lookes on her with love and affection, but still with disdaine and envie: yea, in a word, his di∣stast is so extreame and bitter against her, as hee is never best pleased, then when shee is furthest from him; so as her absence may delight and content him, but her presence cannot. Which unnaturall disrespect; and unjust cruelty of her father towards her, doth so nip the joyes of her youth, and the blossomes of her health and beauty, as, poore young Gentlewoman, she becomes infinite melancholly, and extreme weake and sick∣ly; which being observed and pittyed of all her kinsfolkes and friends, as being her Fathers onely child, and heire to all his Lands and Riches, an Aunt of hers, being her mothers sister, and likewise her God-mother, termed the Lady Dominica, a Widow∣woman of the same City; workes so with her brother in law Arconeto, that hee is con∣tent to permit his daughter Perina to reside and dwell with her: whereat, as the Aunt is not a little glad, so the Neece beyond measure infinitely rejoyceth, and triumphs thereat, both hoping that her absence may, and will procure her fathers affection, which her presence could not; and that having more liberty and lesse bondage, shee might a∣gaine in a short time recover her former health and content; or else that God, out of his divine providence, and pleasure in heaven, might call and allot her out some gallant Husband here on earth, with whom, in the contents and pleasures of Marriage, shee might end her future dayes in as much tranquillity and felicity, as she had formerly li∣ved in discontent and affliction: and indeed the events, though not in the first, yet in the two last poynts, answereth their expectations.

The Lady Dominica hath formerly contracted a Daughter of hers, named Dona Ber∣tha, to a Cavallier of the City of Nice, termed Seignior Bartholome•…•… Spelassi, by descent noble, and of good revennues and wealth. And now the appoynted time is come for their Marriage: to which end, up comes Spelassi from Nice to Saint Iohn de Mauriene, assisted and followed by many gallant young Gentlemen of his kinsfolks and friends, and, in a word, with a Trayne well befitting his ranke and quality, where these Nup∣tialls are solemnized with great variety of pompe and pleasure; as Feasting, Dancing, Masks, Running at the Ring, and the like: for in these amorous and Court-like Revels, the Savoyards (as participating both of the French and Italian humours) take a singu∣lar delight and felicity: But as many times one Wedding occasioneth and produ∣ceth another, so Fortune, or to speake more properly and truely, God ordayned, that the Lady Dominica appoynted her Neece Perina, to conduct the Bride-groome her Sonne in law, Spelassi, to the Church; and hee had allotted one of the noblest and eminent Cavalliers that came with him, named Seignior Francisco de Castelnovo, to per∣forme the same ceremonie to his Bride the Dona Bertha, being a Knight of Malta, na∣tive of the City of Nice, and son and heire to Seignior Iacomo de Castel•…•…o, a very an•…•… fe•…•…t and rich Baron of Savoy. Now as Perina was a most beautifull and •…•…aire young La∣dy,

so was our young Castelnovo a very proper and gallant Cavallier; and sith the occa∣sion of this Marriage, and the fortunacie and opportunity of their united office, by a kinde of destinated and happy priviledge, authorized each to be familiar in the others company and presence: so, as Lovers beginne to court first in jest, then in earnest, the hearts and brests of this sweet young couple are in the end equally surprised with the flame of affection; yea, his personage and dancing, and her beauty and singing, mu∣tually inkindle this fire of love in their thoughts and contemplations, which either imagineth, and both perceive and understand, by the dumbe Oratorie and silent Rhe∣toricke of their eyes: Which Castelnovo knowing her descent and quality answerable to his, hee intends to seeke her in Marriage. When not any longer to surpresse or con∣ceale their affections, they after dinner dancing in company of divers others in the gar∣den, he singleth the Lady Perina, his new Mistresse, apart in a Bower closely overvail'd with Vines, Cicamores, and Cypres Trees, and there 'twixt sighs and words, reveales his deepe affection to her. But to avoyd the prolixious relation of this their Garden en∣te•…•…view and conference, although at first Perina's modesty (the sweetest ornament and vertue of a Lady) was such, as shee not onely kept her selfe, but likewise her affecti∣ons to her selfe, yet her courteous and thankefull answeres, wayted and seconded by many delicious blushes, and amorous sighes, although not publikely, yet privately in∣form'd her I over Castelnovo, that shee likewise loved him: so as during the tearme of fifteene dayes, which Spelassi and hee remayned in Saint Iohn de Mauriene, hee ne∣ver l•…•…ft courting her, till hee had obtayned her affection, and consent to bee his wife; drawne thereunto by these two attractive and seducing reasons: First, that Castelnovo was a gallant and proper Cavallier, as also her equall in descent and meanes; and then that shee should live in Nice with a Husband who dearely loved her, and no longer in Saint Iohn de Mauriene with a Father who extremely hated her: Neither can these our young Lovers beare their affections so secret, but the whole company, especially the Lady Dominica her Aunt perceives it, and deeming it a fit Match for her Neece, rejoy∣ceth thereat. Castelnovo secretly acquaints her therewith, and intreates her best assi∣stance therein towards her brother Arconeto; which shee promiseth, and forthwith at∣tempteth: when Castelnovo, taking time at advantage, seconds her in his suite for the Daughter, to her old Father.

Now her Father Arconeto (degenerating from the naturall affection of a Father to∣wards his Daughter) is so willing to depart with her to any Husband, that hee may no more see her, nor bee troubled with her presence, as thinking a farre worse Match good enough, hee thinkes this infinitely too good for her; and so at the least shaddow of the very first motion consents thereunto: which not onely banisheth Perina's old griefe, but confirmeth Castelnovo's new joyes; yea they, like two sweete and vertu∣ous Lovers, so extremely rejoyce and triumph thereat, as he riding home poast to Nice, to acquaint his owne Father Seignior Iacomo de Castelnovo therewith, and swiftly re∣turning againe to Saint Iohn de Mauriene with his consent and approbation, this Mar∣riage of Castelnovo and Perina is there almost as soone solemnized, as that of Spelassi and Bertha, though indeed more obscure, and with farre lesse pompe and bravery, in resp•…•…ct of the perversenesse and distast of her froward old Father Arconeto. So fif∣teene dayes being expired since Spelassi and Castelnovo their first departure from Nice, they leave Saint Iohn de Mauriene, to returne and conduct their Brides home to Nice, robbing that, to inrich this City with two such beautifull and gallant Ladies, as were Bertha and Perina.

Now the better to adde life and forme to this History, or rather to approch the more materiall and essentiall parts thereof, we must here leave to speake of Spelassi and Bertha, and wholly tye our thoughts and curiosity to Castelnovo and Perina, two principall and

unfortunate Personatours, who both have mournefull parts to act upon the Stage and Theater of Nice: for this Marriage of theirs is not begunne with the tenth part of so many joyes, as wee shall shortly see it wayted and attended on, yea, dissolved and fini∣shed both with teares and bloud.

Castelnovo having brought home his faire and deare Perina to Nice, she is very honou∣rably welcomed, and courteously received and entertayned of his old Father, Seig∣nior Iacomo de Castelnovo, and of the Lady Fidelia his Mother, and so are all her kinsfolkes and friends who accompany her; yea, there wants no feasting nor revel∣ling in Nice, to testifie how much they congratulate and rejoyce at their sonnes good fortune and happines. And for Castelnovo and Perina themselves, why they are so ravish∣ed in the content, and drowned in the joyes and delights of Marriage, as though they have two bodies, yet they have but o•…•…e heart, desire, and affection; yea, they are so extreamely in love each with other, as they believe there is no Heaven upon earth, to that of each others presence. But they shall be deceived herein: for there are Tragi∣call stormes arising, to trouble the serenity of this Marriage, and the felicity and tran∣quillity of these affections.

For it is both with griefe and shame, that I must bee so immodest, and therefore unfortunate to relate, that the old Baron Iacomo de Castelnovo, aged of some three∣score and eight yeares, hath so farre forgotten his God and himselfe, his conscience and his soule, grace and nature, religion and humanity, as gazing on the fresh and de∣licious beauty of our sweete Lady Perina, his owne sonnes wife, hee gives the reignes both of his obscene desires, and inordinate affections, to lust after her. O how my heart trembles, to thinke how he that is white with the snow of a venerable age, should now lasciviously idolatrize to beauty! how he that hath (as it were) one foot in his grave, should lustfully desire to have the other in his Sonnes bed! how hee that hath his veines dryed up and withered, and nothing living in him but desire, should yet of all the beauties of the world, desire onely to enjoy that of his Sonnes wife! how hee, that hath scarce any time left him to bee repentant and sorrowfull for his old sinnes, will now anew make himselfe guiltie of these foule sinnes of Adultery, and I may in a manner say of Incest! how hee that hath not given the flower of his youth, will yet still lasciviously and wilfully refuse to bestow the branne of his age on his God! Alas miserable Castelnovo, wrerched old man, or rather lubritious and beastly Lecher, thus to drowne thy thoughts in the hell of concupiscence and adultery, when it were farre fitter thou shouldest lift them up to heaven, in the sacrifice of prayer, and other pious and religious contemplations! But all this will not prevaile to stop the current of his voluptuousnesse, and the progression of his sensuality: for without respect of his God, or regard of his soule, hee is resolute in his desires to make a strumpet of his Daughter in Law, and to make his Sonnes wife his whore: but God will deceive his hopes, and prevent his villany.

Now the better, and sooner to drawe her to his lascivious desires, hee is won∣derfull courteous and affable to her, still walking and talking with her, yea, and many times kissing her, whereof both her Husband and selfe are infinitely joyfull, but espe∣ally Perina, because shee findes a great alteration in her fortune, in that her Father in Law Castelnovo proves as courteous to her, as her owne Father Arconeto is cruell. But poore innocent soule, and sweet and chast Lady, little dost thou either dreame, o•…•… thinke on his lascivious intent against thine honour and chastity. Old Castelnovo wal∣lowing in the filthinesse, and burning in the fire of his new lust, and losing himselfe and his thoughts in the Labyrinth of his Daughter in law Perina's beauty, hee thinkes on nothing so much, nay, on nothing else, but how to obtaine her to his lasci∣vious will: but not daring, or rather fearing to acquaint her with his inordinate and

beastly purpose, whiles his son her husband is at home present with her, he forgeth and frames a plot, both unnaturall and treacherous, to make him imbrace and follow the Wars in wayting on the Duke Charles Emanuel, or the Prince Amadee Victor his son and heire, who with their warlike troopes were resolute to expell the Duke of Feria, Viceroy of Millan, with his Spanish Regiments out of Vercele, Casall, and the other Townes of Piedmont, to which end his lustful affection to Perina made him eloquent in perswading, and powerfull in drawing her husband to this Martiall action, so full of honour and glory; adding that his honour, and the service of his Prince and Countrey, called him to the Field, and that he should not wholly drowne himselfe in the beauty of his young Wife, and the pleasures of Marriage. His sonne Castelnovo not at all suspe∣cting, or dreaming what a dangerous Snake lay lurking under the greene leaves of his fathers sugered speeches and perswasions, like a noble and generous Knight as he was, needes no other advocate but his owne honour and Martiall disposition to imba•…•…ke him in these Warres: and although the beauty, requests, and teares of his young La∣dy were vehement sollicitours to divert him, yet hee is resolute to leave her for three or foure moneths. And so making ready his armes, traine, horses and preparatives, hee giving her many kisses, and shee returning him a world of sighes and teares, leaves Nice, and so findes out the Duke and his Army in Piedmont; where for a little time we will leave him.

It is a question very disputable, and which by my weake capacity and judgemt cannot well bee decided, whether this departure of young Custelnovo to the Warres, made his father more glad, or his wife sorrowfull: for as shee was all in teares, so was hee in mirth and jollity, being so vaine in his lust, and s•…•… lustfull in his vanity, as 〈◊〉〈◊〉 trimmes up his beard, and goes nearer and withall more youthfull in his apparell then accustomed; yea, his lust had so metamorphosed him, as if it had a prophane influ∣ence, and secret power to renew old age in him. But alas, alas, what perfection of chastity can wee expect or hope for in youth, when wee see no better signes and fr•…•…s in one of threescore and eight yeares? But I will follow the streame of our Histo∣ry, though indeed the relation of this old lascivious Lechers Lust and Vanity to his daughter in law Perina, equally afflict me with griefe and pitty to publish it.

I am then constrained to write and averre, that although meere shame and unna∣turalnesse doe as yet with-hold this wretched fathers tongue, from vomiting foorth his adulterated lust to his faire and chast daughter in law Perina, yet his lust is so im∣modestly lascivious, as hee cannot keepe himselfe out of her company, nor being in it, refraine from kissing her: but to see the innocencie, and observe the purity of her thoughts, shee neverthelesse not so much as any way suspects or dreames of his lascivious intent, although indeed shee thinkes this courtesie of his somewhat exceeds the priviledge of a Father, and the duety of a Daughter; but measuring this by the cruelty of her owne Father, shee, poore silly soule, thinkes her selfe in this respect now as happy, as heretofore shee was miserable. Onely the absence of her deare husband Castelnovo doth both torture and torment her, and the more, for that hee is in the Field at Warres; when, God knoweth, shee desireth and wisheth hee should bee at home with her in peace.

But whiles Perina lookes from Savoy to Piedmont, from Nice to Vercelli, and from her selfe to her Lord and Husband, her other selfe, wee must not forget, because o•…•… History will remember, her Mother in law Fidelia, which now wee must admit and re-conduct to act her part upon the Theatre hereof: who observing her Husbands immodest and unwise familiarity demonstrated to the young Lady Perina, her sonne•…•… Wife, as also his alteration in humours and apparell; but chiefely his unaccustome•…•… distraction and sighes in his rest and repose; shee, more out of vertuous wisedome

then foolish jealousie, ay mes at his vaine lust towards this young Lady her Daughter in law: whereat shee both admires with griefe, and wonders with the anxiety of af∣fliction and sorrow, to see her old Husband, in the winter of his age, so so•…•…ish and beastly to lust after his owne sonnes young Wife, to see that no respect of heaven, no regard of conscience, nor apprehension of damnation and hell, had the grace or pow∣er, either to kill these lascivious thoughts in their conception, or to •…•…rangle them in their birth, to fee that hee who was ready to goe to his bed of death, should now (like the Salamander in the fire) bee burning with desire, to goe to that of Lust and Adulte∣ry, and to see him fo devoyde of piety, as he must needs joyne Incest with Adultery, as if one of these beastly sinnes alone were not enough enormous and prodigious to make his life miserable and his death wretched. And although she have cause enough of sorrow in her selfe, yet when shee thinkes of her Husbands age, and Daughters youth, of his lust, and her chastity, and which is more, of the most degenerate and un∣naturall part of a Father, to seeke to pollute and defile his owne Sonnes bed, and con∣sequently his owne honour. This indeede goes neere her, and this, and onely this makes her looke on him, both with envie and pitty: but her age having taught her to love discretion, and to hate and disdaine jealousic, she beares this as patiently as shee may, till at last seeking and finding out a fit opportunity, shee both with teares in her eyes, and griefe in her speeches, very secretly checks him for these his inordinate and lascivious desires towards the young Lady Perina, their Daughter in law.

But as it is the nature of sinne so to betray and inveagle our judgements, that wee flatter our selves with a false conceit, none can perceive it in us; so this old lecher her Husband, thinking that hee had danced in a net, from the jealousie and suspicion of all the world, in thus affecting his Sonnes wife, hee like a lewd and wretched old varlet, is so farre from rellishing these his old wifes speeches and exhortations, or from be∣ing reclaymed thereby, as hee disdayneth both them and her, and from henceforth is so imperious, and withall bitter to her, as hee never lookes on her with affection, but envie: which neverthelesse she (as a modest wife, and grave Matrone) holds it a part not onely of her love, but of her duety, by sweete speeches, and soft meanes of perswasion, to divert him from this fond and lascivious humour of his. But observe the vanity of his lasciviousnesse, and the impiety of his thoughts and resolutions: for all her prayers and perswasions serve only rather to set, then rebate the edge of his lust, and rather bring oyle to increase, then water to quench the flame of his immodest and irregular affection, so as seeing that she stood in the way of obtayning his beastly plea∣sures, he, like a prophane and barbarous Husband, termes her no more his wife, but his Medea; and which is worse, hee, out of the heat both of his lust and choller, vowes he will soone remove her from this world to another.

And here the devill, ambitious and desirous of nothing so much, as to fill up the emyty roomes of his vast and infernall kingdome, by miserable and execrable degrees takes possession first of his thoughts, then of his heart, and lastly of his soule; so as being constant in his indignation and choller, and resolute in this his impious and blou∣dy revenge, hee meanes to dispatch and murther her, who for the terme of forty two yeares had beene his most loving wife, and faithfull bed-fellow: but withall hee will act it so privately, as not having as yet discovered his affection to his daughter Perina, hee will therefore conceale both from her and all the world the Murther of this his wife Fidelia, except only to those gracelesse and execrable Agents he meant imploy in this mournefull and bloudy businesse.

To which end (with a hellish ratiocination) ruminating and revolving on the man∣ner thereof, hee having runne over the circumstances of many violent and tragicall deaths, at last resolves to poyson her; and deemes none so fit to undertake it, as her

owne Wayting-gentlewoman Ierantha: the which authorized by his former lascivi∣ous dalliance with her, as also in favour of five hundred Ducats, that he will give her, hee is confident shee will undertake and finish; neither doth hee faile in his bloudy hopes. For what with the honey of his flattering speches, and the sugar of his Gold, she, like an infernall Fury, and a very Monster of her sexe, most ingratefully and inhumanely consents thereunto; so as putting poyson into Whitebroth, which some mornings she was accustomed to make and give her Lady, it spreading into her veines, and exhaling the radicall humour of her life and strength, within eight dayes carries this aged and vertuous Matrone to her Grave, and her soule to Heaven. But her Mur∣therers shall pay deare for this her untimely end.

The Lady Perina, and all the Lady Fidelia's kinsfolkes and friends infinitely la∣ment and bewayle her death; and indeed so doth the whole City of Nice, where for her descent and vertues shee is infinitely beloved and affected: but all these teares of theirs are nothing in comparison of those of her wicked and execrable Husband Castel∣novo, who, although he inwardly rejoyce, yet he outwardly seemes to bee exceeding∣ly afflicted and dejected. But as hee hath heretofore acted the part of a Murtherer, and now of an hypocrite; yet, have we but a little patience, and we shall see that detected, this unmasked, and both panished.

Whiles this mournefull Tragedy is acted in Nice, the mediation of the French King and Pope reconcile the differences, give end to the Warres, and conclude peace betwixt Spaine and Savoy. So home returnes the Duke of Feria, to Millan; the noble Duke of Savoy, and the generous Princes his Sonnes, to Turin; the Marshall de Desdiguieres, and the Baron of Termes into France; and consequently home comes our Knight Castelnovo to Nice: where thinking to rejoyce with his young wife, hee is so unfortunate to mourne for the death of his old mother; but God knowes, that neither of them know the least sparke or shadow of her cruell and untimely Murther, and lesse, the cause there∣of. Now for his lascivious and bloudy father, albeit, to cast a vaile before his thoughts, and his intents and actions, hee publikely mournes for his wifes death, and rejoyceth for his Sonnes returne; yet contrariwise hee privately mournes for this, and rejoy∣ceth for that. But to leave the remembrance of Fidelia, to assume that of our Peri∣na; I know not whether shee grieved more at her Husbands absence, or rejoyce at his presence, sith her affection to him was so tender and fervent, as in her heart and soule shee esteemed that as much her hell, as this her heaven upon earth: but these joyes of hers are but fires of straw, or flattering Sun-shines, which are suddenly either washed away with a showre, or eclipsed and banished by a Tempest: for whiles her hopes flat∣ter her beliefe of her Husbands continuall stay and residence with her, her Father in lawes lust to her, foreseeing and considering that it was impossible to thinke to obtaine her at home, e're her Husband, his Sonne, were againe imployed and sent abroad, makes all his thoughts aime, and care and industry tend that way, as if time had no power to make him repent the former murther of his wife, or Grace influence to re∣nounce the future defiling and dishonouring of his Daughter in law.

But hee is as constant in his lust to her, as resolute in his dispatching and sending a∣way of him; onely hee must finde out some pregnant, vertuous, and honourable pre∣text and colour for the effecting of his designe and resolution, because he well knowes his Sonne Castelnovo is as wise and generous in himselfe, as amorous of his beautifull young Lady Perina: but his lust, which is the cause of his resolution, or rather his va∣nity, which is the authour of his lust, at one time suggests him these two severall im∣ployments for his Sonne: either to send him into France with the Prince Major, who was larely contracted, and shortly to espouse MadameChristiene the Kings second Sister; or else under the insinuation of some great Pensions and Offices that were shortly to

bee disposed of in Malta, againe to send him backe thither: and his harping on these two strings, was the onely musicke and melody which hee now gave his Sonne; who after hee had a moneth or two at most, recreated himselfe in the sweet compa∣ny of his deare and sweet wife Perina, hee least of all aiming whereat his father ai∣med, by his absence againe gives way, and consents to his desires of his departure: onely the choyce of these two different imployments is yet questionable and unre∣solved of 'twixt the father and the sonne. For as the sonnes curiosity desireth to see the Court of France, which as yet he hath not seen; so his fathers lust and malice is to have his returne honourably to Malta, from whence hee hath formerly received his honour of Knighthood, and there to obtaine a Pension during the terme of his life. The sonne imbrace•…•…h the pleasures of the journey of France, before the profit and honour of the Voyage of Malta. But •…•…he father ayming at other ends, preferres this of Malta before that of France; so as time working an impression in his thoughts, and his fathers desire a kinde of naturall command in his will, and of filiall obedi∣ence in his resolution, hee at last resolves on Malta. But as neither of these two enter∣prises of young Castelnovo is pleasing, but distastefull to his young and faire Lady Peri∣na; So if her affliction and misery bee such, as of the two her husband must needes attempt and prosecute one, then sith hee may goe into France by land, and cannot to Malta, but by sea, shee at last, with an inforced willingnesse (sympathizing with his first inclination) likewise desireth that the object of his journey, and the period of his Voyage bee France, and not Malta; as relying rather in hearing from him to stand at the speed and fidelity of a Post, then at the inconstancie of the windes, and the mercie of the seas. So all things prepared and ready for his Voyage, Perina importu∣nately begging, and her husband Castelnovo confidently promising his speedy returne, shee conducting him over the Hill to Villafranca in her Coach, they there, with many re•…•…ocall kisses, fighes and teares, take leave each of other; hee imbarking himselfe upon a French Galley, bound from Marseilles to Malta, (which stopt there accidental∣ly) and shee committing him to the auspicious favour of the wind and sea, very sor∣rowfully returnes for Nice.

Thus leaving the sonne floating and wasting on the seas, let us againe returne to his unnaturall and beastly father, who seeing his wife gone to Heaven, and his sonne to Malta, and all things hitherto to succeed according to his lascivious desires, doth now assure himselfe, that either by faire or soule meanes hee will reape his pleasure of his beautifull daughter in law Perina. To which end hee gives her the sole governe∣ment and superintendance of his house, with intent and hope the sooner to governe, and surer to command her: and so forgetting modesty, and his lust giving a law to his conscience, fifteene dayes are scarce past, till finding her in her chamber playing on her Lute, hee, after some pauses, coughes, and kisses, bewrayes and vomitteth her forth his fervent affection and desire.

But for mine owne part, I highly disdaine to pollute and vilifie this History with the obscene and lascivious speeches, wherewith this old lecher Castelnovo courts this young Lady Perina his daughter in law, as holding them as unworthy of my relation, as of my Readers knowledge; of my modest pen, as of their chaste eares, onely judging of their nature and quality by their effects. The beastlines and unexpectednesse thereof, first made Perina extremely blush for shame and choller, and then immedi∣ately againe looke pale with griefe and disdaine; when not able to brooke, or hear∣ken to his lewde speeches, much lesse his hatefull presence, shee, in the defence and preservation of her chastity, which shee preferred before her life, giving him a sharpe a•…•…swer, and a bitter deniall, and grieving to see a father so gracelesse and impio•…•…s, to s•…•…ke to defile his owne sonnes bed in her dishonour, shee throwes away 〈◊〉〈◊〉 L•…•…;

and so very hastily and chollerickly abandoneth his presence, and her owne chamber. At which hee bites his lip for rage, and hangs downe his head for indignation. But at last, sinne and the devill raigning in him, makes that hee will not take this her first re∣pulse for his last answer and denyall: but resolute to persevere in his lubricitie, hee in every walke, garden and roome, frequents and haunts her as her ghost, as thinking to obtaine that from her through his importunity, which hee could not by his perswasi∣on: but this his impudencie shall not prevaile.

Now as his sinfull motion infinitely grieved her, so his perseverance and importu∣nacie therein doth doubly afflict and torment her: how to appease this storme, to quench the fire of his lust, and deface the remembrance and feeling of her griefe, she knowes not. For alas, alas, shee is so unhappy, as her owne father Arconeto, and her Aunt Dominica are at S^t. Iohn de Mauriene, her sweet and deare husband in Malta, and her mother in law, the Lady Fidelia in heaven; so as shee hath no intimate nor secret familiars, nor any bosome friend to reveale these her sorrowes and afflictions. Once shee thought to steale away from Nice, so to passe the Mountaines, and to flye backe to Saint Iohn de Mauriene: but againe considering the dishonour, and withall, the danger to undertake this journey, as also the cold reception and entertainement shee should there finde of her owne hard hearted father, who would rather deride then pittie her afflictions: shee altereth this her resolution, and so resolves a little longer to stay in Nice, hoping and praying, that God would rectifie her father in law Castelnovo's judge∣ment, and reforme the errours of his lascivious thoughts and desires. And so for her part, hating the father as much as shee loved the sonne her husband, hee could not bee more prodigall of his lewde speeches and tentations to her, then shee was of her sighes and teares to understand and repell them. A thousand times shee wisheth her selfe in Malta, with the Knight her husband, or hee in Nice with her: and could her bo∣dy so soone have flowne or sailed thither as her thoughts, hee had long since injoyed the happinesse of her presence, and shee the felicitie of his fathers absence. But 〈◊〉〈◊〉 shee is two miserable to bee so fortunate, shee hath yet this consolation left her to sweeten the bitternesse of her afflictions, and this hope to revive and comfort her a∣gainst her despaire, that her Letter may procure his speedy returne from Malta to Nice, Whereon resolving, although the occasion and grounds thereof were as strange as shamefull, shee secretly steales to her chamber, and locking her doore to her, takes her pen and paper, and rather with teares then Ink, writes him these few lines:

PERINA to CASTELNOVO.

ALthough mine eyes and heart can better weepe and sigh forth mine afflictions, then my pe•…•… depaint them, yet I should infinitely wrong thee in my selfe, and my selfe in thee, if I in∣forme thee not by this my Letter (the secret Ambassadour of my heart) that my affection deserves, and mine honour requires thy speedy returne to me; I would unlocke thee this mystery, and make it more obvious and apparant to the eye of thine understanding, but that mine owne modesty, and an∣others shame commands my pen to silence herein. And againe, my teares so confusedly and mourn∣fully interrupt my sighes, they my teares, and both my pen, as although I have the will, yet I wan•…•… the power to inlarge thee. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Onely my deare Castelnovo, if ever thy Perina were deare to thee, make her happy with thy sight, who deemes her selfe not onely miserable, but accursed in thy ab∣sence. For till Nice be thy Malta, Heaven may, Earth cannot rejoyce me.

PERINA.

Having written this her Letter, shee findes a confident and intimate friend of her husbands, a Gentleman named Seignior Benedetto Sabia, who undertakes the safe con∣veyance,

and secret delivery thereof into Malta to Castelnovo: so giving it him with store of gold, to defray the charge of his journey, as also a paire of gold bracelets for a token to her Knight and husband, he imbarkes for Genoua, so to Naples, and from thence in a Neopolitan Galley, arrives in short time, to the renowned and famous Ile of Malia, the inexpugnable Bulwarke of Christendome, and the curbe and bridle of au∣dacious insulting Turky, where finding out the Knight Seignior Francisco de Castelnovo, hee effectually and fairely delivers him his Ladies letter, bracelets, and message, who withdrawing himselfe to a window, hath no sooner broken up the seales and read the letter, but hee is at first much perplexed at the unexpected newes thereof: hee reades it o're againe and againe, and findes it so obscure, as hee cannot gather or conceive her meaning therein, but at last construing it onely to bee a wile and fetch of her af∣fection, to re-fetch and call him home to Nice to her: hee loath as yet to lose and a∣bandon his hopes of preferment in that Iland, which now the great Master hath pro∣mised him, dispatcheth Sabia backe for Nice, and plucking off a rich Emerauld from his finger, delivers it him for his Lady Perina, as a token of his deare and fervent affe∣ction, and with it a letter in answer of hers.

In the Interim of Sabia his absence to Malta, our old lascivious Baron Castelnovo is not idle in Nice, in still seeking to draw our Lady Perina to his adulterous desire, and will, yea, hee is become so obscene in his requests and speeches, as they not onely ex∣ceed chastity, but civility: so as shee (poore Lady) can finde no truce, nor obtaine a∣ny intermission from these his beastly sollicitations; but resolving still to preserve her honour with her life, her pure chastity shines cleerer in the middest of these his im∣pure temptations, then the Sunne doth, being invironed and incompassed with many obs•…•…e clouds: but shee thinkes every houre a yeere, before shee see her Knight Ca∣s•…•… safely returned from Malta, when lo, Sabia arriving at Villafranca, trips over to Ni•…•…, and understanding Perina privately bolted up in her Chamber, he repaires to her, and there delivers her, her Knight Castelnovo's Ring and Letter, although not him∣selfe; when tearing off the Seales, she therein findes these words:

CASTELNOVO to PERINA.

MY faire and deare Perina, the knowledge of thy sighes and teares the more affliict and grieve mee, in respect I am ignorant whence they proceed, or what occasioned them: 'tis true, thy affection deserves my returne, and the preservation of thine honour, not onely to request, b•…•… to require and command it: but I am so assured of that, and so confidem of this, •…•…s I know th•…•… wilt carry the first to thy grave, and the second to heaven. So, if any one since my depar∣ture have salne in love with thy beauty, thou must not finde it strange, much lesse grieve thera•…•…, sith the excellencie thereof hath power, not onely to captivate one but many: yea, the considera∣•…•…on thereof should rather rejoyce, then afflict thee, sith whatsoever hee bee, the sha•…•… in the end will remaine his, and the glory thine. But deare and sweet Lady, I thinke thine honour is onely the pretex•…•…, and thy affection the cause, so earnestly to desire my returne: whereunto I would wil∣lingly consent, but that the dayly expectance of my prefermen•…•… must a li•…•…le longer de•…•…aine mee heere: •…•…nely this is my resolution, and I pray let i•…•… bee thy assuraance, I will dispa•…•…ch my affaires here with all possible expedition, and shall never thinke •…•…y selfe happy, till I re-i•…•…barke from Malta, and land at Nice.

CASTELNOVO.

Having o're-read her Letter, shee, the better to dissemble her secret passions and griefes, very courteously conferres with Sabia: of whom having for that time thank∣fully taken her leave, shee for meere sorrow and affliction, throwes her selfe on her bed, from thence on the floore, to see her hopes deceived of her husbands returne; and now shee knowes neither what to say or doe in this her misery and perplexity: for she sees that her father in lawes obstinacie, and consequently her sorrowes grow from bad to worse, that hee is so farre from reclayming, as hee is resolute in his lascivious and beastly sollicitations: So that seeing his faire speeches and entreaties cannot prevaile with her, hee exchangeth his resolution and former language, and so addes threats to his requests, and frownes to his smiles, as if force should extort and obtaine that, which faire meanes could not, yea, and sometimes he intermingleth and administreth her such heart-killing menaces, as shee hath now reason not onely to doubt of his lust, but also to feare his revenge: which considering, shee, as well to preserve her honour, as to provide for the safety of her life, will once againe prove the kindnesse of her owne unkinde father Arconeto, and so determineth to leave Nice, and to flye unto Sa•…•…nt Iohn de Mauriene: now to assist her and accompany her in this her secret escape, she thinkes none so fit as Sabia, who for her husbands affection, and her owne vertues, willingly consenteth to her: so shee preparing her apparell, and he her traine, they in a darke night (when pale faced Cynthia inveloped her selfe in a multitude of black and obscure clouds, purposely to assist and favour her in this her laudable and honourable flight) take horse, and so with great expedition passe the Mountaines, and recover Sain•…•… Iohn de Mauriene; where though shee bee not truely welcome to her owne father Ar∣conet•…•…, yet her honour and her life are truely secured from the lust and revenge of he•…•… lascivious father in law Castelnovo: neverthelesse the cause and manner of her escape, but chiefly the consideration of her husbands absence in the passage of this businesse, doth still so bitterly afflict her, as shee is become pale and sickely: whereupon shee is resolute, once againe to send backe Sabia to Malta to her knight and husband, with▪ second letter, in hope it may effect and procure his returne, which her first could not: and so calling for pen and paper, she traceth thereon these few lines:

PERINA to CASTELNOVO.

SIth thou wilt not leave Malta, to see Nice for my sake, I have left Nice, to live or rather to dye in Saint Iohn de Mauriene for thine: 'tis true, my affection hath desired thy re∣turne, which thou hast not granted mee: 'tis as true, that one, to whom Nature hath given a prime and singular interest in thee, and thee in him, hath sought the defloration of mine honour, which my heart and dutie have denied him. Thou art confident of my affection to thee: if thi•…•… had beene so faithfull and s•…•…rvent to my selfe, neither sea nor land had had power to seperate 〈◊〉〈◊〉 If any prefermens bee dearer to thee then my life, stay in Malta: or if my life be dearer the•…•… it, then returne to Saint Iohn de Mauriene, where thou mayest finde mee, for in Nice I will not bee found of thee. Hadst thou not purposely mistaken the cause for the pretext in my impor∣tunitie of thy returne, I would have digested it with farre more content, and lesse affliction: but sith neither •…•…y •…•…tion, or honour hath power to •…•…ffect it, at least let the regard of my life, sith that will not accompany mee, if thou any longer absent thy selfe from mee: make ther∣fore haste to see thy Pe•…•…ina, if ever thou thinke to see her againe; and let her beare this one con∣tent to her grave, that shee may disclose thee a secret, which, but to thy selfe, shee will conceale from all the world.

PERINA.

Whiles Sabia is againe speeding toward Malta with Perina's second Letter to her husband Castelnovo, wee will a little speake of old Castelnovo the father, who seeing his daughter in law Perina fled, and consequently his hopes with her, hee is extremely per∣plexed and afflicted hereat: All the house and City is sought for her, and hee him∣selfe breakes off the lockes of her Chamber doore, where hee findes the nest, but the bird flowne away, her bed, but not her selfe: so as his thoughts doubly torment and astonish him, first to be frustrated of his hopes and desires to injoy her, then, because shee will bewray his lascivious suite and affection to her Husband his sonne, which of all sides will procure him not onely shame, but infamy; yea, now it is, although be∣fore he would not, that he sees his errour, and vanity, in attempting to make shipwrack of her honour and chastity, which is the Glory, and should be the Palladium of Ladies: but it is too late to recover her againe: And therefore although hee know how to re∣pent, yet he is ignorant how to remedy or redeeme it, sith his attempt and enterprise was not onely odious to God, but infamous to men, opposite to Grace, and repug∣nant and contradictory to Nature. Besides, this his lustfull folly proceeding from him∣selfe, lookes two wayes, and hath a double reflection, first on Perina the wife, then on Castelnovo her husband, and his owne sonne, who, he is assured will bee all fire hereat; yea, this crime of his is of so high and so beastly a nature, as hee knowes not what to say to him, or how to looke him in the face, when he shall arrive from Malta, which his guilty conscience tells him will bee shortly; neither doth the Calculation or Arithme∣tick of his feare deceive him: for by this time is Sabia againe arrived at Malta, where hee delivers Castelnovo his wife's second Letter; the which doth so nettle and sting his heart to the quicke, at the bitter and unexpected newes it relates, as hee esteemes himselfe no longer himselfe, because hee is not with his deare wife, who is the one halfe, yea, the greatest part of himselfe. Wherefore, admiring who in Nice, yea, in his fathers house should bee so impudently laseivious, to seeke to blemish his honour, in that of his Ladies, hee, making her sighes and teares his, with all expedition and haste provides for his departure from Malta; and yet his love, his feare, or both con∣ducing and concurring in one, makes him instantly resolve to dispatch and returne Sa∣bia, as the harbinger to proclaime his comming: the which he doth, and chargeth him with this Letter to his faire wife, and deare Lady Perina:

CASTELNOVO to PERINA.

THy sudden departure from Nice to Saint Iohn de Mauriene doth equally afflict and a∣maze mee: I burne with desire, to know as well the Authour, as the Cause thereof, that I •…•…ay likewise know how to right thee, in revenging my selfe of him. I have thought it fit to re∣•…•…rne Seignior Sabia againe to thee, as soone as hee arrived to mee, being ready within two dayes to imbarke as timely as himselfe; so that if winde and Sea hate me not too much, in more •…•…ving and favouring him, I am confident to bring and deliver thee my selfe, as soone as hee shall bee this my Letter: and judge whether I speake it from my heart and soule, sith the estimation •…•…f thy love, and the preservation of thine honour make mee already deeme minutes moneths, •…•…nd houres yeares, till my presence bee made happy with thine. I come, faire Perina, sweet wife •…•…nd deare Lady, I come; and if Heaven proove propitious to my most religious prayers and •…•…sires here on Earth, •…•…ur meeting shall bee shortly as sweete and happy, as our parting was bitter •…•…d sorrowfull.

CASTELNOVO.

So according to this his Letter, as first Sabia imbarkes from Malta to Nice, before him, so he likewise arrives at Genoua the day after he did at Nice, from whence poasting o're the Mountaines, hee arrives at Saint Iohn de Mauriene, where, at his father in law Arconeto's house, he findes his deare and sweet Lady Perina, who every minute of time, with much impatient longing and desire, expected his arrivall (as having the night be∣fore received his second and last Letter by Sabia, which advertised her thereof) so like true and faithfull Turtle Doves, esteeming each others presence their most soveraigne felicitie they fall to their billing and kisses, to informe themselves how sweet this their happy meeting was each to other. And here our Knight Castelnovo cannot bee so cu∣rious or hasty to inquire, as his Lady Perina was to relate the cause of her sudden de∣parture from Nice to Saint Iohn de Mauriene, occasioned by the unnaturall lust and lasci∣viousnesse of his Father (as wee have formerly understood) the which, with many sighs and teares, shee depaints forth to him in all its circumstances and colours. Hee is amazed at this strange and unexpected newes, and farre the more to think that his owne father should (in the winter of his age) attempt or seeke to defile his honour and bed, in the person of this his faire and chast Lady Perina: he wondereth to see so little grace in so many yeares, and that if Nature had not, yet Religion should have had power to banish these lascivious thoughts from his heart and memory: so with out-spred armes he tenderly imbraceth and kisseth her, highly extolling her chastity, and applau∣ding the discreet carriage of her escape: being himselfe resolute to stay in Saint I•…•… de Mauriene with her father Arconeto, and not to returne to Nice to his owne father Ca∣stelnovo. But hee shall as soone infringe as make this his resolution; for by this time his father understanding of his Sonnes returne from Malta, to Saint Iohn de Mauri•…•… and knowing that his Lady Perina had not fail'd to bewray him his lascivious suit and desire, attempted against her honour, as also grieving at the remembrance of his for•…•…er folly and future shame, in knowing what a foule seandall both it and his sonnes absen•…•… would procure and ingender him, he resolves to confesse his crime, and so by the medi∣ation of a perswasive and satisfying Letter, to indeavour to reclaime them againe fr•…•… Saint Iohn de Mauriene to Nice: when calling for pen and paper, hee writes these se•…•… insuing lines, and sends them his Sonne by a Gentleman of his:

CASTELNOVO to his Sonne CASTELNOVO.

I Am as glad of thy arrivall from Malta, as sorrowfull for thy absence from Nice: and f•…•… to denye is to redouble our errors and imperfections, I will not goe further then my selfe to fi•…•… the cause thereof, sith I know that my lascivious and gracelesse attempt against the honour of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 chast Lady, hath drawne thee to this resolution: but now I write it to my future comfort, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 much as I conceived it to my former shame, that Grace hath vanquished Nature, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 gion lust in mee: so as I am at present not onely sorrowfull, but repentant for that crime of mi•…•… which I no more remember but with horrour, nor thinke of, but with detestation. My soule 〈◊〉〈◊〉 made my peace with God, and my heart desires to recontract it both with thy selfe and her; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 as I hope hee will forget it, so I beseech you both to forgive it mee, being ready to confirme 〈◊〉〈◊〉 my reconciliation as well with my tongue as pen: Wherefore sith thou art the sole prop of my 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and comfort of my life, make mee not so unfortunate or miserable, to bee tax'd with the sca•…•… of my shame, and thy absence; but bring backe thy Lady with thee: for here I professe be•…•… Heaven and Earth, that I will henceforth as much honour her for her chastity, as heretos•…•… lasciviously sought to betray and violate it.

CASTELNOVO.

This vertuous and religious Letter of the Father prevailes with the Sonne, and his faire and chast Lady; so as their secrecies and discretions hush up this businesse in si∣lence, and within eight dayes they both returne from Saint Iohn de Mauriene to Nice: where they are conrteously welcomed, and respectively received and entertayned of their father, whose contrition for his former folly is outwardly so great, as hee hath teares in his eyes at the remembrance thereof: so as making good the promise of his Letter, he very penitently and sorrowfully implores their pardon and remission; which they instantly graunt him with as much willingnesse as alacrity. So the report and thought hereof is obscured and vanished, as if it had never been; and all things and par∣ties so reconciled, as to common sense nothing in the world is capable to trouble the tranquillity of this reconciliation and atonement. But alas, alas, we shall very briefly see the contrary: For old Castelnovo the Father, notwithstanding all these religious promi∣ses, and sincere shewes of repentance and teares, is so far from being the man he seemes to be, as although hee have made his peace with his sonne and Daughter, yet, ay mee, I write it with griefe, he hath not with his conscience, nor his conscience with God: for although he have a chast and religious tongue, yet he still retaineth a lascivious and adulterate heart; yea, hee is so farre from conversion and reformation, as the new sight and review of the Lady Perina's fresh and delicate beauty doth revive those sparkes, and refresh those flames of his lust, which seemed to be raked up in the embers of her absence. And what is this, but to be a Christian in shew, and a miscreant in effect? to hide a foule soule under a faire face? and to make Religion and Hypocrisie, a fatall and miserable cloke for his villany? But though he dissemble with God, yet wee shall see, and hee finde, that God will not dissemble with him; and in thinking to b•…•…tray God, Satan in the end will betray him. The manner is thus:

As he resumes his old suit, and newly burnes in love and lustfull desire, to erect the Trophees of his lascivious and incestuous pleasures upon the ruines of his Daughter in lawes chastity and honour; so he likewise sees it impossible to thinke to performe, or hope to accomplish it, as long as his sonne her husband lives: and therefore, losing his judgement either in the Labyrinth of her beauty, or in the turbulent Ocean of his owne concupiscence and lust, hee, contrary to the rules of Grace, and the lawes and principles of nature, swaps a bargaine with the Devill to poyson him. To which end, to shew himselfe the monster of men, and the bloudiest president of a most degenerate Father, which this, or many precedentages ever produced or afforded, he hath againe recourse to his Hellish Agent Ierantha, in favour of five hundred Ducats, to send the Sonne into Heaven after the Mother, and to make him equall with her, as in na∣ture, so in (the dissolution thereof) death: A bloudy designe, and mournefull pro∣ject, which wee shall presently bee inforced to see acted upon the Theater of this History.

But Ierantha is at first so repentant for the death of the Mother, as shee will not con∣sent to that of the Sonne. And had shee continued in this religious resolution, shee had lived more fortunately, and not dyed so miserably and shamefully, as wee shall briefely see. For our old Lecher Castelnovo, her Master, seeing his Gold could not this second time prevaile with Ierantha, being equally inflamed as well with lust to Perina, as with malice and revenge to his Sonne Castelnovo her husband, hee is so implacable therein, as hee promiseth to marry her, if shee will attempt and performe it. So although his first battery fayled, yet his second doeth not: For the Devill had •…•…ade her so ambitious of Greatnesse and Honour, that of a simple wayting Gen∣tlewoman to become a great Lady, she consents heereunto; and, which is a thou∣sand pitties to report, within lesse then sixe dayes performes it; when (God knowes)

the innocencie of this harmelesse young Gentleman his sonne never dreamt or sus∣pected it.

At the sight of this his sudden death, his Lady Perina is ready to dye for griefe; yea to drowne her selfe in the Ocean and deluge of her teares; tearing her haire, and striving to deface the excellencie of her beautie, with a kinde of carelesse neglect, as if shee were resolute not to survive him. And if the Lady Perina bewrayed many deplorable demonstrations of sorrow for the death of her husband, no lesse, doth his father Castelnovo for that of his sonne; onely their griefes (comformable to their passions) are diametrically different and opposite: for hers were fervent and true, as proceeding from the sinceritie of her affection; and his hypocriti∣call and faigned, as derived from the profundity of his malice and revenge to∣wards him. And not to transgresse from the Decorum and truth of our History, old Castelnovo could not so artificially beare and over-vaile his sorrowes for his Sonnes death, but (the premises considered) our young afflicted widdow and Lady vehemently suspecteth hee hath a hand therein; and likewise partly be∣leeves that Ierantha is likewise accessary and ingaged therein, in respect she lookes more aloft, and is growne more familiar with her Lord and Master then be∣fore. And indeed as her sorrows increase her jealousie, so her jealousie throws her into a passionate and violent resolution of Revenge, both against him and her, if shee can bee futurely assured that they had Murthered and poysoned the Knight her husband.

Now to bee assured heereof, shee thus reasoneth with her selfe; that if her Father in law were the Murtherer of his Sonne her husband, his malice and hatred to him proceeded from his beastly lust to her selfe; and that hee now dispatched, hee would againe shortly revive and renew his old lascivious suit to her: which if hee did, shee vowes to take a sharpe and cruell Revenge of him, which shee will limit with no lesse then his death. And indeed wee shall not goe farre to see the event and truth answer her suspicion. For within a moneth or two after her husband was laid in his untimely grave, his old lustfull and las∣civious father doth againe burst and vomit forth his beastly sollicitations against her chastity and honour: which observing, shee somewhat disdainefully and coyly puts him off, but yet not so passionately nor chollerickely as before, onely of purpose to make him the more eager in his pursuit, thereby the better to draw him to her lure, that shee might perpetrate her malice, and act her Re∣venge on him, and so make his death the object of her rage and indignation, as his lust and malice were the cause of the sorrowes of her life. But unfortunate and miserable Lady, what a bloudy and hellish enterprize dost thou ingage thy selfe in, and why hath thy affection so blinded thy conscience and soule, to make thy selfe the authour and actour of so mournefull and bloudy a Tragedy? For alas alas, sweet Perina, I know not whether more to commend thy affecti∣on to thy husband, or condemne thy cruell malice intended to his father. For O griefe! O pitty! where are thy vertues, where is thy Religion, where thy conscience, thy soule, thy God, thus to give thy selfe over to the hellish ten∣tations of Satan? Thou which heretofore fled'st from adultery, wilt thou now follow Murther? or because thy heart would not bee accessary to that, shall thy soule bee now so irreligious and impious, to bee guilty of this? But as her fa∣ther in law is resolute in his lust towards her, so is shee likewise in her revenge towards him, and farre the more, in that shee perceives Ierantha's great belly suf∣ficiently proclaimes that shee hath plaid the strumpet; and which is worse, shee

feares, with her execrable and wretched Father in Law: so as now no longer able to stop the furious and impetuous current of her revenge, shee is so gracelesse and bloudy, as shee vowes first to dispatch the Lord and Master, then the Wayting-Gentlewoman, as her thoughts and soule suggest her they had done first the Mo∣ther, then the Sonne: so impious are her thoughts, so inhumane and bloudy her re∣solutions.

Now in the interim of this time the old Lecher her father is againe become impu∣dent and importunate in his suit. so our wretched Lady Perina degenerating from her former vertues, and indeed from her selfe, she, after many requests and sollicitations, very feignedly seemes to yeild, and strike sayle to his desire; but indeed with a bloody intent to dispach him out of this world. So having concluded this sinfull fatall Match, there wants nothing but the finishing and accomplishing thereof: onely they differ in the manner and circumstances: the Father is desirous to goe to the Daughter in lawes bed, the Daughter to the Father in lawes; but both conclude that the night, and not the day shall give end to this lascivious and beastly businesse; his reason is, to avoyd the jealousie and rage of Ierantha, whom now, although she bee neere her time of de∣liverance; hee refuseth to marry her; but the Lady Perina's if, that she may pollute and staine his owne bed with his bloud, and not hers; but especially, because shee may have the fitter meanes to stab and murther him: and hereon they conclude. To which end, not only the night, but the houre is appoynted betwixt them: which being come, and Castelnovo in bed, burning with impatience and desire for her arrivall, hee thinking on nothing but his beastly pleasures, nor she, but on her cruell malice and revenge: she softly enters his chamber, but not in her night, but her day attire, having a Pisa Ponyard close in her fleeve; when having bolted his Chamber doore, because none should di∣vert her from this her bloudy designe; she approaching his bed, and hee lifting him∣selfe up purposely to welcome and kisse her, shee seeing his brest open and naked, like an incensed fury, drawes out her Ponyard, and uttering these words: Thou wretched Whore-master and Murtherer, this life of mine owne honour, and the death of my deare Knight and husband, thy some. And so stabbing him at the heart with many blowes shee kills him starke dead, and leaves him reeking in his hot bloud, without giving him time to speake a word; onely hee fetcht a screeke and groane or two, as his soule tooke her last farewell of his body. Which being over-heard of the servants of the house, they ascend his chamber, and finde our inhumane Perina issuing foorth, all gored with the effusion of his bloud, having the bloudy Ponyard, which was the fatall Instrument of this cruell Murther in her hand. They are amazed at this bloody and mournefull spe∣ctacle: so they seize on her, and the report hereof flying thorow the City, the Crimi∣nall Iudges that night cause her to bee imprisoned for the fact, which she is resolved no way to denye, but to acknowledge, as rather glorying then grieving thereat.

Ierantha, at the very first understanding hereof, vehemently suspects that her two poysoning Murthers will now come to light; and so, as great as her belly is, she, to provide for her safety, very secretly steales away to a deare friends house of hers in the City, which now from all parts rattleth and resoundeth of this cruell and unnaturall Murther; yea, it likewise passeth the Alpes, and is speedily bruited and knowne in Saint Iohn de Mauriene, where although her father Arconeto would never heretofore affect her, yet he now exceedingly grieves at this her bloudy attempt and imminent danger: but her irregular affection, and inhumane revenge, will not as yet permit her conscience to informe and shew her the haynousnesse of her cruell and bloody fact. But God will be more mercifull to her and her soule.

Some two dayes after shee is arraigned for the same, where she freely confesseth-it,

having nothing to alledge for her excuse, but that shee perfectly knew, that her Fa∣ther in law Castenovo and his Strumpet Ierantha had at least poysoned the Knight her husband, if not likewise the Lady Fidelia his mother; the which although they had some reason and ground to suspect, because of Ierantha's sudden slight, yet sith this could no way diminish, or extenuate her Murther of her Father in law, they con∣demne our unfortunate Lady Perina to bee hanged, and so re-send her to prison, to prepare her selfe to dye. But the advice of some, and the friendship and compas∣sion of others, as pittying her youth and beauty, and commending her chastity and affection to her Knight and Husband, counsell and perswade her to appeale from the Sentence of the Court of Nice, to the Senate of Chambery (which is the Soveraigne and Capitall of Savoy) whither wee shall shortly see her conducted and brought.

In which meane time let us observe the wonderfull justice and providence of God shewed likewise upon this execrable Wayting-gentlewoman Ierantha, for so cruelly poysoning the Lady Fidelia, and the Knight Castelnovo her Sonne; who, although search were every where made for her, yet she having husht her selfe up privately, albeit her bloudy thoughts and guilty conscience for the same continually torture and torment her, yet shee is so impious and gracelesse, as shee no way feares the danger of the law, and much lesse the severe tempest of Gods indignation and revenge, which now not∣withstanding in the middest of her security will, according to her bloudy deserts and crimes, suddenly surprise and overtake her: for now this accident of her Lord Castel∣novo's Murther, and of the Lady Perina's imprisonment, or to speake more properly and truly, of Gods sacred decree and divine Iudgement, throwes her into the sharp and bit∣ter paines of travell for child; with whose heart-killing gripes and convulsions, she is so miserably tortured and tormented, as shee her selfe, her Mid. wife, and all the wo∣men neere her, judge and thinke it impossible for her to escape death: when seeing no hope of life, and that already her pangs and torments had made her but as it were the very image and anatomy of death, shee beginnes to looke from Sinne to repentance from Earth to Heaven, and from Satan to God; and so taking on and assuming Christian resolution, shee will not charge her soule with the concealing of this single Adultery, much lesse of her double Murthers; but very penitently confesseth all, a•…•… well it, as them; and so commits her selfe to the unparalleld and mercilesse mercies of her paynes and torments, hoping they will speedily send her from this world to a better. But her Adultery and Murthers are such odious and execrable crimes in God sight, as he will free her from these dangers of child-birth, and because worthy, will re∣serve her for a shamefull and infamous death. So she is fafely delivered of a young son, who is more faire then happy, as being the off-spring of lascivious parents, and the issue of an adulterous bed; and by Gods providence and her owne confession, shee, for these her beastly and bloudy crimes, is the second day committed to prison, and the third hang'd and burnt in Nice, and her ashes throwne into the aire. A just reward and punishment for so hellish and inhumane a Gentlewoman; who, though otherwise shee shewed many testimonies and signes of Repentance at her end, yet her crime were so foule and odious to the World, as at her death shee was so miserable as shee found not one spectatour, either to weepe for her, or to lament, or condol•…•… with her.

And now to shut up this History, let us carry our curiosities and expectations fro•…•… Nice to Chambery, and from dead Ierantha to our living Perina, where that grave and il∣lustrious Senate, in consideration of her famous chastity, and singular affection to th•…•… Knight her husband, as also her noble parentage and tender yeares, they moderat•…•…

the Sentence of Nice, for murthering her Father in law Castelnovo, and so in stead of hanging, adjudge her there to have her right hand cut off, and her selfe to perpetuall imprisonment in Nice; where Gods sacred Iustice for this her bloudy Murther, and the remembrance of her dead husband, and living sorrowes, so sharpely torment and afflict her, as shee lived not long in Prison, but exceedingly pined away of a lan∣guishing Consumption: and so very sorrowfully and repentantly ended her dayes, being exceedingly lamented of her kinsfolkes, and pittyed of all her acquaintance; and, had not her affection beene blinded, and her rage and Revenge too much tri∣umphed o're her thoughts and resolutions, shee had lived as happy, as shee dyed mi∣serable; and have served for as great a grace and Ornament to her Countrey, as Ieran∣tha and old Castelnovo her father in law were a scandall and shame.

Thus we see how Gods revenging justice still meetes with Murther. O that wee may reade this History with feare, and profit thereby in reformation, that dying to sinne, and living to righteousnesse, wee may peaceably dye in this World, and gloriously live and raigne in that to come.

GODS REVENGE AGAINST THE CRYING AND EXE∣crable sinne of Murther.

HISTORIE X.

Bertolini seekes Paulina in marriage, but she loves Sturio, and not himselfe: hee prayes her Brother Brellati, his deare friend, to sollicite her for him, which he doth, but cannot pre∣vaile; whereupon Bertolini lets fall some disgracefull speeches, both against her honour, and his reputation: for which Brellati challengeth the Field of him, where Bertolini kills him, and hee flies for the same. Sturio seekes to marry her, but his father will not consent there∣unto, and so conveyes him away secretly: for which two disasters, Paulina dyes for sorrow. Sturio findes out Bertolini, and sends him a Challenge, and having him at his mer cie, gives him his life at his request: hee afterwards very treacherously kills Sturio with a Petronell in the Street from a Window: he is taken for this second Murther, his two hands cut off, then beheaded, and his body throwne into the River.

ALbeit, that Valour bee requisite in a Gentleman, (and one of his most essentiall vertues and proper ornaments) yet sith Charity is the true marke and character of a Christian, wee should not rash∣ly resolve to hazzard the losse of our lives for the preservation of the meere title, and vaine point of our honour, but rather religiously endeavour to save our soules in that of our owne lives, as also of those of our Christian brethren: for in Duells and single Combats, (which though the heate of youth and revenge seeme to allow, yet, reason will not, and Religion cannot) did wee onely hazzard our bodies, and not our soules, then our warrant to fight, were in earth as just, as now the hazzarding of our soules and bodies is odious and distastefull to Heaven, sith in seeking to deface man the creature, wee assuredly attempt to strike and stabbe at the Majestie of God the Creatour: but if there bee any colour or shad∣dow of honour to kill our adversary, for the preservation of the vaine point of our ho∣nour, what an ignoble ingratitude, and damnable impiety is it, for a Gentleman like∣wise treacherously to kill another, of whom hee hath formerly received his life? yea as Grace fights against this former sort of fighting, so both Grace and Nature im∣pugne and detest this second sort of Murther: A wofull and mournfull president wher∣of, I here represent in the person of a base and wretched Gentleman, whose irregular af∣fection

to a Lady, first slue her brother in the field; and execrable revenge to her lo∣ver, next drew him treacherously to Murther him in the street; and consequently, to his owne condigne punishment, and shamefull death for the same. May all such blou∣dy Murtherers still meet with such ends, and may his miserable and infamous death premonish all other Gentlemen, to live and become more charitable, and lesse bloudy by his example.

THe friendship and familiaritie betwixt Seignior Iohn Battista Bertolini, and Seignior Leonardo Brellati, two noble young Gentlemen, native and resident of the Citie of Rome, was (without intermission) so intire and intimate, for the space of sixe whole yeares, which led them from their yeares of fourteene to twenty, as it seemed they had but one heart in two bodies, and that it was impossible for either of them to be truely merry, if the other were absent: and surely, many were the reasons which laid the foundation of this friendship; for as they were equall in yeares, so their •…•…atures and complexions resembled, and their humors and inclinations sympathized: likewise they were ancient schoole-fellows, and neere neighbours: for their parents both dwelt betwixt the Palaces of the too Cardinals, Farnesi and Caponius: or if there were any dis∣parity in their dignities and worths, it consisted onely in this, Bertolini's parents were richer then Brellati's, but Brellati was more Nobly discended then Bertolini: which notwithstanding could no way impeach or hinder the progresse of their friendship, but rather it flourished with the time: so as they increasing in yeares, they likewise did in affection, as if they were ambitious of nothing so much in this world, as not onely to imitate, but to surpasse the friendship of Orestes and Pillades, and of Damon and P•…•…thias: whereof, all who knew them and their parents; yea, all that part and di∣vision of Rome, tooke deepe and singular notice: but to shew that they were men, and not Angels, and consequently subject to frailty not inherent to perfection, that earth was not heaven, nor Rome the shaddow thereof; have wee but a little patience, wee shall shortly see, the thred of this friendship cut off, the props and fortifications there∣of razed, battered and said levell with the ground, yea, we shall see time, change with time, friendship turned into enmitie, fellowes to foes, loue to loathing, courtesie to crueltie, and in a word, life to death: as observe the sequell of this History, and it will briefly informe yee how.

Bertolini sees that Brellati hath a faire and delicate sister, named Dona Paulina, some∣what younger then himselfe, and yet not so young, but that the clocke of her age hath strucken eighteene, and therefore proclaimed her at least capeable, if not desirous of marriage, and although hee bee a novice in the Art of love, yet Nature hath made him so good a Scholler in the principles and rudiments thereof, as hee sees her faire, and therefore must love her; rich in the excellencie and delicacie of beautie, and there∣fore is resolute to love her, and onely her: for gazing on the influence and splendour of her piercing eyes, hee cannot behold them without wonder, and then prying and contemplating on the roseat and lillie tincture of her cheekes, he cannot see these with∣out admiration, nor refraine from admiring them without affection: but againe, re∣marking the slendernes of her bodie, and the sweetnesse of her vertues, and seeing her as gracious as faire, and that her inward perfections added as much lustre to her exte∣riour beautie, as this reflected ornament and decoration to these, hee, as young as he was, vowes himselfe her servant, and withall swore, that either shee, or his grave, must bee his wife and Mistresse.

Bertolini thus surprized and netled with the beautie of his dearely sweet, and sweet∣ly faire, Paulina, hee is inforced to neglect a great part of his accompanying the bro∣ther,

thereby to court the sister: so hee many times purposely forsakes Brellati to fol∣low Paulina, and delights in nothing so much as in her presence, and (in that regard) in his absence, not that it was possible, in his conceit and imagination, for him any way to hate him, in loving her; rather, that in generall tearmes hee must love Brellati for Paulina's sake; and in particular, onely affect her for his owne. And as his wealth and ambition made him confident hee should obtaine her for his wife: so hee in faire, amorous, and honourable tearmes, as well by his owne sollicitations, Letters, promi∣ses, and presents, as by those of his parents, seekes her in marriage: yea, and when these could not suffice, hee, to shew himselfe as true as fervent a lover, addes sighes, teares, prayers, and oathes. But all these sollicitours serve only to betray and deceive his hopes: for if Bertolini were extreamely desirous to marry Paulina, shee is as reso∣lute not to match him: which discords in affection, seldome or never make any true harmony in mindes.

His wealth deceiving him, hee hath recourse to her onely brother, and his best and dearest friend Brellati, to whom he relates the profundity and fervencie of his affecti∣on to his sister Paulina, acquaints him with his suite, and her denyall; his attempt, and her repulse therein; and by the power and bonds of all their former friendship and familiarity, intreates and conjures him to become his oratour and advocate to∣wards her, in his behalfe; whose smiles, hee alledgeth, are his life, and frownes, his death. Brellati having his generosity and judgement blinded with the respect of Berto∣lini his wealth, as also of the affection hee bore him; all other considerations laid a∣part, like a better friend to him, then a brother to his sister Paulina, promiseth him his best furtherance and assistance in the processe of this his affection: and so with his truest Oratory, best Eloquence, and sweetest Perswasion, begins to deale effectually with her herein. But as our hopes are subject and incident to deceive us, so Bertolini and Brellati come farre too short of theirs: for Paulina in absolute and down-right termes, prays her brother to informe and resolve Bertolini, that she hath otherways setled and ingaged her affection: and therefore prayes him to seeke another Mistresse, sith shee hath found another Lover and Servant, with whom she means to live and die. Her bro∣•…•…er (for his friends sake) is extremely sorrowfull hereat, and prayes his sister to name him her servant: shee bindes him by oath to secresie. So hee swearing, shee informes him it is Seignior Paulus Sturio, a very ancient Noble man of the Citie. Hee tels her, hee is a Gentleman more Noble then rich: and shee replies, that Bertolini is more rich then Noble; and therefore shee will refuse him, and marry Sturio. Hee is obstinate in his requests, as shee resolute in her denyall. So having performed the part of a friend for his friend, and commending the nobility and vertues of Sturio, as much as hee pit∣tyed the weakenesse of his estate and wealth, hee leaves his sister to her affection and designes: and so with an unwilling willingnes (without any extenuation) delivers his friend Bertolini her definitive answer; yet performes his promise to his sister, in con∣cealing Sturio his name.

Bertolini is all in fire and choller at this newes, and begins no longer to looke on his friend Brellati with the eyes of affection, but of contempt and indignation: and so consulting with his passion, not with his Iudgement; with rage, and not with reason; as immoderate anger seldome lookes right, commonly squint-eyed; hee in the heat of his wrath, and height of his revenge, very much neglects and slights him, yea and most uncivilly and abruptly departs from him, as if hee were no longer worthy of the bare complement of farewell. Which Brellati well observes, and in observing, remembers, and in remembring, grieves at, sith Bertolini was his most intimate and dearest friend; and in whose behalfe, did occasion present, hee was ready, not onely to sacrifice his

best service, but his best life. Lo here the first breach and violation, which Bertolini gives to their friendship: but the second is not farre behinde: For in the next company hee meets, which was some two dayes after, walking in Cardinall Farnesi his Galleries in presence of some foure or five other Gentlemen, both of his and of Brellati's acquain∣tance, hee forgot himselfe so much, as some demanding for his consort Brellati, hee chollerickly replyed, that he was a base and beggerly Gentleman; and therfore hence∣forth disdained his company, and that his sister Paulina was a lascivious and dissem∣bling strumpet. But although the fire of his choller had foolishly banded forth these speeches in the ayre, yet they fell not to the ground; but some of the company then present, that very night report them to Brellati. It is impossible for my pen to relate how passionately and tenderly hee takes it: yea his affliction and griefe herein is far the more redoubled, in that (contrary to his desires and wishes) hee is assured his sister Paulina is likwise acquainted with the vanity and injustice of these speeches: the conceit and remembrance wherof, make her inraged and sorrowfull eyes powre forth many ri∣volets and rivers of teares, upon the Roses and Lillies of her beauty. But as she is two impatient to rellish this scandalous affront and disparagement: so her brother Brellati is too generous and noble to digest it; whereof burning to know the truth, and resol∣ving, if hee found it true, sharpely to revenge it on Bertolini, hee passeth away the night in restlesse and distracted slumbers: And so the very next morne taking his Sword and Lackey with him, hee goes to Bertolini his fathers house, and meeting first with him, demands of him for his sonne Seignior Iohn Battista Bertolini. His father informes him, hee is in the Garden very solitarily walking, and prays Brellati to goe to him; who needing not many requests, entreth, and with his hat in his hand approa∣cheth him. Bertolini doth the like, and meetes him halfe way: when hee beeing pale for anger, and Bertolini blushing for shame, he prays him to exempt the Garden of his servants, because he hath something to reveale and impart him in secret, which needeth no witnesses: when Bertolini commanding his servants to depart, Brellati chargeth him with these disgracefull speeches, vomited forth two dayes since, against his honour; as also that of his onely deare sister Paulina, in Cardinall Farnesi his Palace, in presence of Seignior Alessandro Fontani, Seignior Rhanutio Pluvinio, and Seignior Antonio Voltomari (which words we have formerly understood.)

Bertolini is no way dismayed or daunted hereat, either in courage or complexion: and so losing his honour in his indiscretion, or rather burying his discretion in his dis∣honour; hee with fire in his lookes; and thunder in his speeches, tells Brellati that hee confesseth these speeches his; adding withall, that what his tongue hath affirmed, his sword shall bee ready to make good and justifie; whereon they cover: When Brellati demanding of him if this were his last resolution, hee told him yea. Then (quoth he) I pray expect mine shortly: and so without giving each other the good morrow, they part; Brellati still leaving Bertolini in his fathers Garden. His sister Paulina having no∣tice of her brothers speaking with Bertolini, very curiously and carefully awaits his re∣turne; when rushing into his Chamber, shee, with teares, and sighes, demands him of the issue of his conference with Bertolini, and whether hee were so impudent to de∣liver these dishonourable and base speeches both of her selfe and him. But her brother, like a true noble Romane, is too generous and brave to acquaint her with his designe and resolution: and so in generall tearmes prayes her, not to afflict her selfe at these speeches, and that this difference will bee very shortly decided and ended, to her ho∣nour, and his owne content. Brother (quoth shee) if you will not right mine honour, and vindicate the unspotted purity of my reputation, I am sure that my true Lover Seignior Paulus Sturio will, though with the hazzard and losse of his owne life, had hee

but the least notice thereof. Hee shall not need, sister, quoth hee: for a day or two will reconcile and finish this businesse: and so for that time hee leaves his sister Pauli∣na, and shuts himselfe up in his chamber; where, not long able to containe himselfe against the insolencie and basenesse of Bertolini, he cals for pen and paper, and more re∣specting his honor then his life, writes him this challeng; the which immediately after dinner he sends him, by Seignior Valerio, a confident Gentleman his follower.

BRELLATI to BERTOLINI.

THy scandalous reports, like thy selfe, are so base, and I and my sister so honourably descended and bred, as I doubt not, but the disgrace and disparagement, which thou hast unjustly offe∣red us, will as justly retort and fall on thy selfe. And to the end thou maist finde, that my Sword is purposely reserved to correct and chastise thy tongue, as thou art a Romane, and a Gentle∣man, meet mee single to morrow at five in the morne, without Port Populi, in the next field behinde Cardinall Borromeo's Palace; and there I will give thee the choyce of two good Rapiers and Ponyards, and gladly accept of the refusall, to draw reason of thee for those wrongs wherewith thou hast injuriously and maliciously traduced us: and to write thee the truth, as I desire, so I can receive no other satisfaction but this, whereunto thy malice invites, and my honour obligeth mee.

BRELLATI.

Valerio performes his part well, and fairely working and screwing himselfe into Ber∣tolini's presence, very secretly delivers him his Masters challenge. Bertolini not igno∣rant, but conjecturing what it meanes, breakes off the Seales: and at the perusall ther∣of, though his cause bee unjust and dishonourable, yet in his countenance and spee∣ches, hee shewes much constancie, fortitude, and resolution; when considering they were to fight single, and that therefore Valerio could bee no second, hee deeming his Master had concealed this secret businesse from him, contents himselfe to give him onely this answer: Tell your Master Seignior Brellati from mee, that I will not faile to meet him, according to his desire and appoyntment. And so Valerio takes his leave, and departs: when finding out his Master, he reports him Bertolini's answer: whereat hee is so farre from being any way appald or daunted, as hee infinitely rejoyceth there∣at. In the meane time, hee is curious in preparing two singular good Rapiers and Po∣nyards of equall length, hilts, and temper. And thus with much impatient patience (as Revenge is an enemy to sleepe) they not out-sleepe, but out-watch the night. So the morne and day stealing and breaking into their windowes, they are no sooner out of their beds, but into the field; their Chirurgions awayting their arrivals by the Pyramides, in the place of Populi, by which of necessity they were to passe: when, tying up their horses to the hedges, like resolute Gentlemen, they throw off their dou∣blets, commanding their Chirurgions not to stir from their stations; when, disdaining words, they both draw, and fall to deeds thus:

Brellati presenteth the first thrust, and Bertolini gives him the first wound in his left shoulder; whereat hee is inflamed; and so returnes Bertolini the interest of a most dangerous one, on his right side; but it toucht neither his bowels nor quayse. They cry againe: so Brellati againe wounds Bertolini in his left hand, when his Rapier run∣ning thorow his sinewes and Arteries, he is no longer able to hold his Ponyard; but despight his resolution and courage, it fals out of his hand; which unlookt for disaster doth much perplexe and afflict him. But Brellati is two generous and noble, to blemish or taint his honour, by taking any advantage of this his adversaries misfortune: and so,

to cleere his doubts and scruples, very valiantly and bravely throwes away his owne Ponyard to the hedge, that they might bee as equall in weapons, as courage. But Ber∣tolini will basely requite this courtesie. They retire and take breath; and so traversing their grounds, thereby to take the benefit of the Sunne, they againe joyne: at the first close of this second meeting Brellati runnes Bertolini into the right flanke, when with∣drawing his Rapier, and leaping backe to put himselfe upon his defensive guard and posture, his foot slipping, hee could not prevent falling to the ground; when Bertolini following him close, and being eager in his pursuit, and bloud-thirsty in his revenge, hee forgetting Brellati's former courtesie, and working upon the fortune of his misfor∣tune, right then and there nayled him to the ground, and so redoubling his thrust, acted a perpetuall divorce betwixt his body and soule: when Brellati's Chirurgian shedding teares on his dead Master, and beginning to take order for his decent conveyance into the City, Bertolini takes up his Chirurgian behinde him, and so with all possible speed and celerity (the better to avoyd the danger of the law) poasts o're the fields, and comes into Mount Cavallo Gate, and so husheth himselfe up privately in a friends house of his, neere his fathers.

All Rome beginnes to eccho forth and resound this Murther, and farre the more, be∣cause Bertolini and Brellati were so deare and intimate friends: but as good newes comes alwayes lame, and bad rides poast, so within one houre of Brellati's Murther, the newes thereof is brought first to his Father, then to his Sister Paulina; whereat hee grieves, and shee stormes, hee sorroweth, and shee weepes and laments, and in a word, the Father would, but cannot, and the Daughter can, but will not bee comforted, at this sad and mournefull Tragedy. Neither must wee forget, but remember Seignior Pau∣lus Sturio, who loving Paulina a thousand times dearer then his owne life, is no sooner acquainted, but afflicted with this newes of Brellati his death, as being his deare friend, and which is more, the onely brother of his dearest and onely Mistris Paulina; so as Lovers and friends being best knowne and discerned in calamities and afflictions, hee repaires to her, condoles with her, and useth his chiefest art and zeale, not onely to participate, but wholly to deprive her of her sorrowes; yea, to proove himselfe a constant friend and a faithfull lover to her, hee proffereth her, not onely his service, but his life, as well to right her honour, as to revenge her brothers death on Bertoli∣ni: but this affection and perswasion of Sturio is not capable to wipe off, or exhale his Lady Paulina's teares.

But againe to Bertolini, who is so farre from contrition and repentance of this his bloudy fact, as like a prophane miscreant, and debausht and dissolute Gentleman, hee triumphs and glories therein; yea, his impudencie is become so ignorant, and his ig∣norance so sottish, as hee beganne to enter into a resolution againe to court and seeke Paulina for his wife, without respecting or regarding either the publike danger of the Law, or that of Paulina's private revenge; for sure her brothers death had throwne her into such violent passions of griefe, and extremities of sorrow, as if his folly had made her so happy, doubtlesse her revenge would have made him more miserable: but God had taught her rage more reason, and her malice and cruelty not so much impiety; yea, it pleased his Divine Majesty not so soone to call him to an accompt, and punish him for this his bloudy fact; but reserving him for a future shame and pu∣nishment, being affrighted with a tumultuous rumour and alarum of a generall search to bee made that night for his apprehension, hee very subtilly, in a Capuchins habit, passeth Saint Iohn de Laterans Gate, and there having Poast-horses layd for him, hee as swift as the winde gallops away for Naples, and imbarking himselfe for Sicilie, passeth the Pharre of Messina, lands at that City, and so rides up for Palermo, where he thinkes himselfe safe.

But having not made his peace with God, where ever he flie, God will in due time find him out, when he least dreames thereof. •…•…ut although the power and influence of time bee so predominate to deface the actions and accidents of time; yet 〈◊〉〈◊〉 can give no truce to her teares, nor will shee administer any consolation to her sorrowes for her brothers death: And if ever, now it is that Sturio resembling himselfe, beginnes to make her sorrowes his: for having deepely rooted and setled his affection on Paulina, and naturally ingraven her beauty and picture in the very centre of his heart and thoughts, hee beginnes to make his private affection to her publike, and so having al∣ready wonne her heart from her selfe, hee now endeavoureth to winne her from her friends, and then to marry her. But old Seignior Sturio his father, is no sooner adver∣tised of Brellati his death, of Bertolini's flight, and of his sonnes affection and intent to take Paulina to wife, but disdayning hee should match so low, and withall so poore, as also fearing that this might likewise ingage his sonne in some quarrell betwixt him and Bertolini, hee resolves privately to convey him away out of Rome, in some retired or obscure place, from whence hee should not returne, till his absence had cooled and extenuated the heat of his affection to Paulina, and of his malice and Revenge to Ber∣tolini: to which end, three weekes are scarce past, but taking his sonne with him in his Coach, under colour to take the ayre in the fields of Rome, beyond Saint Pauls Church, hee having given the Coach man his lesson, commands him to drive away, and having two Braves or Ruffians with him, they dispose or rather inforce the humour of his son Sturio to patience, as despight him selfe, they carry him to Naples, where a Brigantine being purposely prepared, hee shippeth over his sonne for the Iland of Capri, or Ca∣prea where long since, Seiar•…•… his ambition caused Tiberius to sojourne, whiles hee played the pettie King, and domineered as Emperour at Rome in his absence) and gives him to the keeping and guard of Seignior Alphonsus Drissa, Captaine of that Iland; with request and charge not to permit him to returne, for the maine, for the terme of one whole yeere, without his expresse order to the contrary.

It is for none but for Lovers to Iudge, •…•…ow tenderly Sturio and his sweet Lady Paulina grieve at the newes of this their sudden and unexpected separation: yea, their sighes and teares are so infinite for this their disaster, as all the words of the world are not capable to expresse them. As for Paulina, shee had so long and so bitterly wept for her brothers death, as it was a meere cruelty of sorrow, to inforce her to play any farther part in sorrow, for the departure and captivitie of her Lover Sturio: but her afflictions falling in, each on the necke of other (in imitation of the waves of the sea, occasioned by the breath and blast of Boreas) threaten her not onely with pre∣sent sicknesse, but with approaching death. Againe she understands of Bertolini's safe∣ty and prosperity in Cicilia, where hee triumphs in his victory, for killing her bro∣ther Brellati; and like a base Gentleman, continually erects his Trophees of detracti∣on upon the ruines and tombe of her honour: and these considerations (like reserved afflictions) againe newly afflict and torment her: so as having lost her jewell and her joy, her brother and her Lover, Brellati and Sturio, shee beginnes to bee extreame sicke, weake, and faint; yea, the Roses of her cheekes are transformed to Lillies; the relucent lustre of her eyes, to dimnesse and obscurity; and to use but a word, not onely her heart, but her tongue beginnes to faile, and to strike saile to immoderate sorrow and disconsolation. Her parents and friends grieve hereat, and farre the more, in respect they know not how to remedy it; and for her selfe, if shee enjoy any comfort in this life, it is onely in hope that shee shall shortly leave it, to enjoy that of a better. Thus whiles sorrow, •…•…tion and sicknesse make haste to sp•…•… out the thred and webbe of her life, if her griefes are extreme and insupportable in Rome, no lesse are those of her Lover Sturio in Caprea: for it •…•…rets him to the heart and gall, to see how his father

hath bereaved and betrayed him of his Mistris Paulina's presence, the onely content and felicity which this life or earth could afford him; a thousand times hee wisheth himselfe with her, and as often kisseth her remembrance and Idea; and then, as their affections, so their malice concurring and sympathizing, hee againe wisheth that hee may bee so happy to fight with Bertolini for the disgrace of his Lady Paulina, and shee for the death of her brother Brellati, and in that affection and this revenge, hee with much affliction and no comfort, passeth away many bitter dayes and torments, in the misery of this his inforced exile and banishment: and although his curiosity, affecti∣on, or subtilty could never crowne him with the happinesse or felicity to free himselfe of his guards and captivity, and so to steale away from that Iland in some Foist or Galley for the maine; yet understanding that two dayes after there was one bound for the Port of Civita Vetcha, hee, to testifie his affection, constancie, and torments to his deare and faire Paulina, takes occasion to write her a Letter to Rome, the which, that it might come the safer to her owne hands, he incloseth in another, to an intimate deare friend of his. The tenour of his Letter was thus:

STVRIO to PAVLINA.

I Know not whether I more grieve at my absence from thee, then at the manner thereof; yet sure I am, that both conjoyn'd, make me in this Iland of Caprea feele the torments, not of a feigned Purgatory, but of a true Hell. It was my purpose to condole with thee for the untimely death of thy Brother; it is now not onely my resolution, but my practice, to mourne with my selfe for thy banishment, or rather with thee for mine; and when my sorrowes have most neede of consolation, then againe that consolation findes most cause of sorrow: for thinking of Berto∣lini, me thinkes I see thy false disparagement on his malicious tongue, and thy Brother Brellati his true death on his bloudy Sword; and yet have neither the honour or happinesse to revenge ei∣ther, and which is worse, not bee permitted to know where hee is, that I may revenge them: but I wish I were onely incident and obliged tosupport this affliction, conditionally then wert ex∣empt thereof, or that I might know the limits and period of our absence, thereby to hope for an end and remedy thereof, which now I can finde no motives to know, nor cause to hope. O that I have often envyed Leanders happinesse! And if Love could make impossibilities possible, the Mediterranean Sea should long since have beene my Hellespont, my Body my Barke, my armes my •…•…res, to have wafied me from my Abidos, to thy Sestos, from my Caprea, to thy Rome, to thee sweet Paulina, my onely fayre and deare Hero. And although the constancie and ferven∣cie of my love to thee, suggest me many inventions to escape the misery of my exile, yet the Ar∣gus eyes of my Fathers malice, in that of my Guardians jealousie, cannot bee inchanted or lul∣led asle•…•…e with the melody of so unfortunate a Mercury as my selfe: but time shall shortly act and finish that which impatience cannot, till when, deare and sweet Paulina, retaine mee in thy thoughts, as I doe thee in my heart and memory; and doubt not but a few weekes will make us at happy, as wee are now miserable.

STVRIO.

Paulina, in the middest of her forrowes and sickenesse, receives this Letter from her best and dearest friend Sturio, and although shee rejoyce to heare of his health and wel-fare in Caprea, yet she is more glad, that the extremity of her-sickenesse and weak∣nesse informe her, shee shall shortly dye in Rome: for vanquished with afflictions, and overcome with variety of griefe and discontents, shee in conceit already hath left this world, and is by this time halfe way in her progresse and pilgrimage towards Heaven, yet in love to her deare Sturio, who wrote her this kinde Letter, she will not be so un∣kinde, but will kisse it for his sake that sent it her; and peradventure if she had been so

happy, that hee might have beene the bearer and deliverer thereof himselfe, or that he had borne and delivered himselfe to her in stead of his Letter, hee might then have given some comfort to her sorrowes, and some consolation to her discontents and afflictions, whereas now seeing him exiled, and mewed up in Caprea, without any ap∣parance of returne, shee sees shee hath more reason to flye to her old despayre, then to any new hope; and so wisheth the desired houre were at last come, wherein shee might give her last farewell to this world: but againe perusing and over reading his Letter, shee findes it full fraught with love and affection towards her; and therefore disdayning to proove ingratefull to any, especially to Sturio, who is so kinde and cour∣teous to her, calls for pen and paper, and by his owne conveyance returnes him this Answer:

PAVLINA to STVRIO.

I Cannot rightly define whether the receipt of thy Letter made me more glad, or the contents sorrowfull: for as I infinitely rejoyced to understand thou wert living, so I extremely grieved to heare there was no certainty of thy releasement and returne. Whether or no Caprea be thy Purgatory, I know not, but sure I am, Rome is my Hell, sith I cannot bee there with thee, nor thou here with me; and as I lamented with sighs, I could not dye with my Brother so I grieve with teares, that I cannot live with thee: but why write I of living, when his mournefull Tragedy, and thy disastrous exile hath made mee more ready to dye then live, or rather not fit to live, but dye? for despayring of thy returne, how can I hope for comfort, sith it onely lived in thy pre∣sence, as my heart and joy did in thee? As for Bertolini's folly to mee, and crime to my Brother, if thy Sword punish him not, Gods just revenge will, and wishing this as a woman, as a Christian, I pardon and forgive him; and so I pray doe thou for my sake, if thou wilt not that of my dead Brothers. Could prayers or wishes have effected thy returne to mee, my teares had long since been thy Hellespont and Mediterranean Sea, and my sighes had fill'd the Sayles of thy desires and resolutions, to have past Ostia, floated up Tiber, and landed at Rippa to mee: But alas, alas! here in remembring Hero's felicity and joy, I cannot forget my sorrowes and afflictions: for as Leander liv'd in her armes, so I cannot bee so fortunate, either to live or dye in my Sturio's; and if now, as a skilfull Mercury, thou couldst inveagle the eyes both of thy Fathers malice, and Guardians jealousie, yet that happinesse would come too late, and out of season for mee: for before thou shalt have plotted thy flight and escape from Caprea to Rome, I shall have acted and finished mine from Rome to Heaven. I would send thee more lines, but that my weake hand and feeble fingers have not the power, though the will, any longer to retaine my pen. Heaven will make us happy, though Earth cannot; therefore my deare Sturio, let this bee our last and best consolation, as these joyes are temporary and transitory, so those will bee permanent and e∣ternall.

PAVLINA.

This Letter of Paulina to Sturio meets with a speedy passage from Rome to Caprea, who receiving it, and thinking to have found her in her true and perfect health, with much joy and affection breakes up the seales thereof; when, contrary to his hope and expectation, understanding of her sickenesse and approach to death, hee tender∣ly and bitterly weepes at his owne misfortune, in her discontent and disaster; yea, he passionately and sorrowfully bewayles his Fathers cruelty, in thus banishing him from her sight and presence, from the contemplation of whose beauty, and from his innate affection to her, the Fates and Destinies cannot banish him. But alas unfortunate Stu∣rio! the newes of thy Paulina's sickenesse is but the Prologue to the insuing sorrowes and afflictions that are ready to befall and surprise thee: for the newes of her death shal shortly follow her Letter; and if that drew teares from thine eyes, this shall drowne

thine eyes in the Ocean of thy Teares: neither shall he stay long to feele the miserable impetuosity 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…is mournefull Storme. For scarce twenty dayes are past, after the writing of her Letter to Sturio, but Paulina, languishing with Griefe, Despaire, Sorrow and Sicknesse, as a female Love-Martyr, takes her last leave and farewell of this world in Rome; it being not in the power or affection of her parents, any longer to divert her from paying this her last due and tribute unto Nature, sith wee all have our Lives lent, not given us; and therefore as we receive, so must we repay them to our Creatour and Redeemer, of whom we have first received them.

Old Sturio is as glad in Rome for the death of Paulina, as her Parents grieve thereat; and now it is that he intends to be as happy and joyfull in his Sonnes presence, as hee hath formerly made himselfe sorrowfull in occasioning his absence: whereupon, with all expedition, hee dispatcheth a Servant of his to Caprea, with a Letter, to signifie his Son thereof, and consequently, to recall him. This newes of Paulina's Death-infinitely afflicts and torments our Sturio; for shee being the Queene of his affections, and the soveraigne Goddesse of his delights and desires, he resembleth himselfe, and so like a true Lover, as hee is, acteth a wonderfull mournefull part of sorrow for her unwished and unexpected Death: he is no longer himselfe; nay, such was his living affection to Paulina, and such is his immoderate sorrow for her death, as hee will not bee himselfe, because she is gone, who was the greatest and chiefest part of himselfe. But as wounds cannot be cured, ere searched; so passion transporting his thoughts beyond reason, and revenge beyond passion, he, for the time present, forsakes the effect, to follow the cause, and so hath no other object before his eyes and thoughts, but that of Bertolini's killing of her Brother Brellati, and this of his Fathers unkinde banishing of him from Rome to Caprea: wherefore, that he may out-live his sorrowes, and apply a Lenitive to his Cor∣rosive, he vowes to revenge both. The manner is thus: That, as his Father deceived his hopes in carrying him from Rome to Caprea; so hee will deceive those of his sayd Father, in carrying himself from Caprea to Cicily, there to find out Bertolini, and to fight with him. It is not the poynt of Honour, much lesse, Iudgement, and least of all, Reli∣gion, that precipitates and throwes him on this bloudy, and therefore uncharitable re∣solution: but it is the vanity of his thoughts, and his living affection to his dead Mistris Paulina, which gives life and birth to it: for he (trampling on all disswasion and oppo∣sition) finding a Galley of Naples, bound from Caprea to Cicily, very secretly imbarkes himselfe in her, and contemning the impetuosity of the Windes, and the mercilesse mercie of the Seas, lands at Palermo, where hushing himselfe up the first night privately in his Inne, and informing himselfe that Bertolini was in that City, he, the next morne, by his Lackey, sends him this Challenge:

STVRIO to BERTOLINI.

HAving killed my deare Paulina in the scandall of her honour, and the death of her Brother Brellati, my afflictions and sorrowes to survive her, make me contemne mine owne life, to seeke thine: to which purpose, I have left Caprea, to finde Cicily, and in it thy selfe. Where∣fore, as thou art Bertolini, faile not to meet me this Evening 'twixt five and sixe of the Clocke in the next Meadow, behinde the Carthusians Monastery; where my selfe, assisted onely with a Chirurgian, and the choyce of two single Rapiers, will expect and attend thee. Thy Genero∣sity invites thee, and my Affection and Honour obligeth mee, to be the onely Guests of this blou∣dy Banquet.

STVRIO.

Bertolini receives and reades this Challenge, which, to write the truth, is not so plea∣sing

to him, as was that of Brellati: he sees himselfe and his Honour ingaged to fight, and knowes not how to exempt and free himselfe thereof. For, first, he considereth that the ground of his Defence and Quarrell is not good, sith he knew in his soule and conscience, that Paulina was as chast, as faire, & that he had wronged himself, in seeking to wrong and scandalize her; then, that hee perfectly understood Sturio was valiant and generous, yea, and very expert and skilfull in handling his Weapons; and withall, that single Combates were variable, and onely constant in unconstancie: so that he be∣g•…•…n not onely to doubt, but feare, that as he had killed Brellati, so Sturio was reserved to kill him: but againe, considering that his birth and bloud was noble, it contrariwise so inc•…•…red and animated his courage, and inflamed, and set an edge on his Generosity, as with a kinde of unwilling willingnesse hee accepts of Sturio's Challenge; and so bade his Lackey tell his Master from him, that hee would not faile to meet him, to give him his welcome to Palermo. The Clocke strikes five, and long before sixe, our two young Gentlemen come ride into the Field; where, giving their Horses to their Chirurgi∣ans, with command not to stirre, till their due•…•…y and office call them, they both draw; and so approach each other: but although this fury of theirs beginne in bloud, yet it shall not here end in death. At first comming up, Sturio wards Bertolini's thrust, and runnes him into the right Flanke, of a deepe wound, at the second, he wounds him a∣gain in the neck, which draws much bloud from him neither is the third meetingmore propitious, or lesse fatall to him: for Sturio, without receiving any touch or scarre, gives him a third wound 'twixt his small ribs; whereat his courage feareth, and his strength fainteth; when willing to save his life, though with the losse of his honour, he throwes away his Rapier, and with his Hat in hand, begs his life of Sturio; and with as much truth as integrity, confesseth and voweth that hee is infinitely sorrowfull and repentant for the scandal, delivered against the honor of his most faire and chast Lady Paulina, for the which he craves pardon and remission. Sturio is astonished at this unexpected and cowardly act of Bertolini: whereat he bites his lip, but I know not whether more with disdaine then anger; only at first the remembrance of Brellati and Paulina's deaths, for the present make him inexorable to his reque•…•… and submission: but at last, making rea∣son give a law to choller, and Religion to Revenge, and considering that he was more then a Man, sith a Christian, as also that the lustre of his bloud and extraction, had distinguished him from the vulgar, and so made him honourable and noble, hee, not as a cruell Tygre but as a generous Lyon, disdayneth to blemish his reputation and va∣lour, in killing a disarmed man; and so his honour outbraving his valour and revenge, he as a truely noble Gentleman, gives Bertolini his life, as holding himselfe satisfyed, by having righted the honour of his dead Mistresse Paulina, in Bertolini's confession and contrition. So they sheath up their Swords, and like loving fri•…•…nds, returne together into the City: where Sturio prepareth for his departure, and Bertolini betakes himselfe to have his wounds dressed and cured.

This Combate, or Duell, is not so secretly carryed betwixt them and their Chi∣rurgians, but all Palermo resounds and prattles thereof; and which is more, this newes speedily sayles from Cicily to Naples, and from thence rides poast to Rome, where Stu∣rio and Bertolini likewise in short space arrive; but first comes Sturio, then Bertolini, whose Father by this time hath obtained his Pardon for killing of Brellati. The Nobility and Gentry of Rome speake diversely and differently of our two late return'd Gallants: some, •…•…t of reason, highly applaud Sturio's fighting with Bertolini, occasioned through his affection to his dead Mistresse Paulina; and then his humanity and curtesie shewed and extended him, in giving him his life: others, out of the errours of youth and va∣nity, taxe and condemne him for not dispatching and killing him: againe, many extoll Bertolini's valour in killing Brellati, but all taunt and taxe him for his Cowardise, in not

fighting it out with Sturio; and, which is worse, for disgracefully begging and re∣ceiving his life of him. Bertolini findes this scandall throwne and retorted on him, to bee very distastefull and dishonourable; in so much as hee cannot rellish it, but with discontent, nor digest it, but with extreme indignation and choller: which throwes him so violently on the execrable humour of revenge, as hee vowes to make Sturio pay deare for giving two much liberty to his tongue, to the prejudice of his honour and reputation. Puft up thus with these three execrable humours and vices, disdaine, en∣vy and revenge, whereof the least is great and capable enough to ruine both a fortune and a life, hee, out of a wretched resolution, (unworthy the generosity of a Gentle∣man) not onely forgets Sturio his singular courtesie in giving him his life, when it lay in his power and pleasure to take it from him, but also remembreth, and in that remem∣brance resolveth to repay him with the ungratefull requitall, and mournefull interest of depriving him of his. O extreme ingratitude! O uncharitable and base resolution! Yea, hee is so devoyd of reason, and the purity of his soule and conscience so conta∣minated and vilified with the contemplation and object of bloud, as hee gives way thereto, and resolves thereon; yea, permits it to forsake God, of purpose wilfully to fol∣low the Devill: yea, his thoughts are so surprised and taken up with this execrable and hellish resolution of Murther, as hee thinkes of nothing else but of the meanes and manner how to dispatch Sturio; and so to send him in a bloudy winding-sheet, from this life to another. To fight with him againe in the field, hee dares not, to assassinate and murther him in his bed, he cannot, sith he must passe five or sixe severall chambers, ere hee can come at his; and to pistoll him in the open street, though it be lesse diffi∣cult, yet hee findes it most dangerous, sith hee sees Sturio still went better followed and accompanyed then himselfe, as indeed being more eminent of birth, and noble of extraction then himselfe. But hee shall want no invention to accomplish and bring this his bloudy resolution to passe: for if hee faile thereof, the Devill is still at his el∣bow to prompt and instruct him therein; yea, his impiety is growne so strong with the Devill, and his faith so weake with God, as now having turned over the records of his revenge, hee at last resolves to shoot Sturio from a Window, with a Petronell, as he passeth the street: and upon the attempt and finishing of this hellish stratagem and blou∣dy Tragedy, the Devill and he strike hands, and conclude it; the contriving and perpe∣trating where of shal in the end strangle him, because he was so prophane and gracelesse, as he would not strangle the first conceit thereof in their births and conceptions.

But leave wee here Bertolini ruminating on his intended bloudy crime of Murther, and come wee a little to speake of poore unfortunate Sturio, who not dreaming of his malice, much lesse of his ungratefull and bloudy revenge intended against him, like a mournful and disconsolate constant Lover, is thinking on nothing so much, as on the li∣ving beauty and Idea of his dead Paulina: and although he knew it as palpable folly to bewray his immoderate sorrowes, as discretion to conceale them; yet their impe∣tuosity and fervencie give such a predominating law to his resolutions, as hee cannot refraine from often stealing into Sancta Maria de Rotunda's Church, where shee was buryed, and there secretly bedewes her Tombe, and washes her Sepulcher with his teares: an act and ceremony of Lovers, which though affection authorize, yet Religion doth neither justifie, nor can approve. All the care of his father and friends is to seek how to purge his pensivenesse, and to wipe off his melancholy sorrowes and sorrow∣full melancholinesse: to which end they proffer him great variety of noble and beau∣tifull Ladies in Marriage, hoping that the sight and presence of a new beauty would de∣face the memory and absence of an old: but their policie proves vaine; for Sturio will bee as constant in his sorrowes for his sweet Paulina's death, as hee was in his affection to her whiles shee lived; and therefore, although their power inforce him to see di∣verse,

yet his will can never bee drawne, or inforced to love any, as having inviolably contracted himselfe to this definitive resolution, that sith he could not be Paulina's hus∣band, he will never wed himselfe to any other wife then his Grave.

And here I beginne to write rather with teares, then Inke, when I apprehend and consider how soone our poore and innocent Sturio shall •…•…ee by the bloudy hand of Bertolini layd in his unfortunate and untimely Grave. Ah Sturio, Sturio, hadst thou been more vindictive, and lesse generous and compassionate, thou hadst prevented thy death by killing Bertolini, when thy valour in Caprea formerly reduced and exposed him to the mercie of thy Sword; or if thou hadst believed this Maxime, that dead men can never offend or hurt, thou needst not have relyed and trusted upon the false promises of an incensed and irreconciliable enemy: but what shall I say? It was not thy honour, but Bertolini's infamy, which hasteneth and procureth thy death. O that thou shouldest bee so true a friend to thine enemy, and hee proove so deadly an enemy to thee his true friend! Sturio gave Bertolini his life, and Bertolini in requitall will give Sturio his death: but such monstrous and bloudy ingratitude will never goe unpunished of God; for as it is odious to Earth, so it is execrable to Heaven: But I must bee so unfortunate to bring this deplorable Tragedy upon the Theater of this History. A misery of miseries, that wee are many times neerest our ends, when wee thinke our selves farthest from them; and (not to rush into the sacred and secret clo∣set of Gods inscrutable providence) I can finde no other pregnant reason thereof, ei∣ther in Divinity or Nature, but that at all times, and in all places, wee should bee still prepared and ready for death, e're death for us, and not protracting or procrastinating the houre thereof; but that whensoever it shall please God to call us to him, or him∣selfe to us, that (like good Christians) death may still finde us alwayes arm'd to meet, never unprovided to incounter it.

But Bertolini is so obstinate in his malice, and so wretchedly implacable in his re∣venge, as understanding that Sturio is accustomed to goe to his mornings Masse at the English Colledge, hee provides both himselfe and his Petronell charged with a brace of Bullets; or rather the Devill provides both the Bullets, the Petronell, and him∣selfe: and so, watching the advantage of his houre and time, on a Monday morning, a little after the Cardinalls, Farnesi and Caponius, were ridden with their traines to the Consistory, putting himselfe into an unknowne house betwixt the sayd English Col∣ledge and the Palace of Farnesi, hee having his Cocke bent, and seeing Sturio com∣ming in the streete, upon his prauncing Barbary Horse and Foot-cloth, like a grace∣lesse and bloudy villaine (having neither the feare of God, nor the salvation or dam∣nation of his soule before his eyes, nor once imagining that hee shootes at the Majesty of God the Creatour, in killing and defacing Man, his Image and Creature) lets flye at him, and the Devill had made him so curious and expert a Marke-man, as both the Bullets pierce the trunke of his brest; with which mortall wounds our innocent Stu∣rio, no longer able to sit his Horse, tumbles downe dead to the ground, without ha∣ving the power to utter a word, but onely to breathe foorth two or three lamentable and deadly groanes. And this was the unfortunate and mournefull end of this no∣ble Gentleman Sturio, which I cannot relate without sighes, nor remember without teares.

This bloudy Tragedy acted on so brave a Gallant, in the very bowels and heart of Rome, doth extreamely amaze, and draw all the Spectatours to lamentation and mour∣ning, and his two servants, who walked by his Horse side, are so busie in lifting him up, and rubbing the temples of their dead Master; as they forget the research and in∣quiry for his murtherer: but the Assistants, and standers by, hearing the report of the Peece, and not onely seeing the smoke in the window and ayre, but this noble Gen∣tleman

dead in the street, they ascend the house, finde the Petronell on the Table, 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉 fled upon a sw•…•… Spanish Gennet, by the back doore, they of the house affirming with teares, that they knew not the Gentleman that did it, neither was it i•…•… their powers to stop or prevent his escape.

This Fatall and mournefull newes dispersed and spred o're the City of Rome; the Serjea•…•…s and Captaines guard are busie to finde out the Murtherer, who by this time they know to bee Seignior Bertolini: but being gallantly mounted, hee speedes away thorow the stree•…•…s amaine, and is so farre from despaire, as hee makes no doubt but to recover the Lateran Gate, and to escape this his second danger, as fortunately as he •…•…id his first, by flying into the Kingdome of Naples: but his hopes shall deceive him; for if hee bought Brellati's Mu•…•…her •…•…t an easie rate, God hath now ordained and decreed that he shall pay deare for this his second of Sturio: and •…•…o, here the impetuous storme of Gods just revenge and indignation now befalls him, when he least feares or thinkes thereof. The manner thus:

As hee was swiftly galloping thorow Campo de 〈◊〉〈◊〉 (the publike place where the Pope (that Antichrist of Rome) burnes the children of God, for the profession of his glorious Gospell) and being at the farther end thereof, with an intent to draw towards the backe side of the Capitoll, behold, two Brick layers building of a house upon a Scaffold, two Stories high in the street, as Bertolini passed, both the Scaffold and the two Brick layers fell downe upon him, and his horse, and so beat them both to the ground: but as yet the newes of Sturio's Murther was not arrived thither; so as dan∣ger and feare making Bertolini forget the hurt of his fall, hee againe riseth up, and calls for his horse, which was speedily brought him: so leaping into the Saddle, he spurres away, with as much celerity as his Gennet could possibly drive under him. But if hee have escaped this first judgement of God, hee shall not the second; for having past the Capitoll and the Amphitheater, his Gennet •…•…twixt that and the Lateran, fell under him, which putting his shoulder out of joynt, the poore afflicted Beast could not r•…•… with his Master, who by this time is more afflicted and grieved then the harmelesse Gennet hee rides upon. Whereupon being amazed, and fearing that the search would instantly follow and surprise him, hee leaving his horse, betakes himselfe to his ow•…•… heeles: and so with much terrour both of minde and conscience, hee knowes not whither to goe, or where to hide himselfe, but at last considering that the greate•…•… dangers have neede of the least distraction, and most discretion, hee thinkes to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 on his right hand to Horta Farnesi, or the Gardens and Orchards which belong •…•…o that illustrious Family: but then againe fearing to meet with a wooden face, in stead of finding an open doore, hee leaves that resolution, and (as fast as his legs and feet can beare him) flies on his left hand up towards Nero's Tower (so famous for that Emperours infamy, in standing thereon, when hee delighted to see all Rome on fire) and here in the ruines and demolitions of an infinite number of Palaces, Churches, and other stupendious buildings, our murtherous Bertolini hides and h•…•…sheth up him∣selfe, hoping if the day were past, to escape, and recover some secret friends house by night.

But God is too just to let this his cruell fact passe unrevenged, and this blou∣dy Murtherer unpunished: for hee hath scarce beene there halfe an houre, but hee is knowne there, found out, and hemm'd in of all sides by the Captaine's Guard, arm'd with Partisans and Pistols. Heere Bertolini considering himselfe a Romane Gentleman, would fayne have made some resistance with his Rapier: but seeing their numbers to increase, and himselfe alone, as also that it would f•…•…rther augment his crime, and exasperate his Iudges against him; hee at th•…•…r first 〈◊〉〈◊〉 delivereth up his Rapier, and yieldes, and rendereth himselfe

into their hands, who presently convey him to prison, where hee shall have but little time to thinke of his hainous and bloudy Murthers, e're wee shall see him brought forth and arraigned before his Iudges: but in the Interim all Rome is possessed and in∣formed hereof.

So the second morne of Bertolini his imprisonment, hee is fetcht before his Iudges, where at first the Devill is so strong with him, as hee once thought to have denyed this Murther of Sturio: but God proving more mercifull to his soule, hee upon his Iudges grave and religious remonstrances, with many sighes and teares freely confes∣seth it, humbly beseeching them to take pittie of his young yeeres, and that it was onely the heate of youth, and the vanity of his ambitious honour, which had thus be∣trayed and seduced his soule to perpetrate this cruell and impious Murther, and for the which he extremely and bitterly repented himselfe.

But the arrow of Gods wrath and Revenge is now fully bent against Bertolini, as his bullets were against Sturio: so as his sacred Majesty, causing his Iudges to resemble themselves, they are deafe to his requests, and tell him, it is not his youth or his ambi∣tion, but the Devill that hath seduced and drawne him to performe this bloudy Mur∣ther: and so for expiation thereof, they, in consideration hee is a Roman Gentleman, nobly descended, will not hang him, but adjudge his two hands to bee cut off be∣fore the house where hee shot at Sturio, and then to bee beheaded at the common place of execution, at the foote of Saint Angelos bridge, his head to bee set upon a pole, over Saint Iohn de Laterans gate, and his body to bee throwne into Tiber: which the next day was accordingly executed in presence of many thousand people of both sexes, and of all ranks, notwithstanding the importunate sollicitations which his father made to Cardinall Borghese (the Pope Paulus Quintus Nephew) to the contray, who was too noble and generous to assist him in so base and ignoble a Murther.

And these were the lives and deaths of these three unfortunate Roman Gentlemen, Brellati, Sturio, and Bertolini, and of that beautifull, chaste, and sorrowfull Lady Pauli∣na. And here to conclude and shut up this their mournefull History; I have beene in∣formed that the curious wits of Rome made many exquisite Epitaphs upon the deaths of Sturio and Paulina, as also that Bertolini made a religious and most Christian speech at his end, of which I must confesse I was not so happy to recover the sight, or copies of either: for if I had, I would not have failed to have inserted, and placed them at the end of this their History, to have served as a grace and ornament thereunto, in interla∣cing my prose with others verses, for the better delight and recreation of my Reader. But I must (justly) crave excuse herein: for my curiositie sought them, though my un∣fortunacie found them not. And because I wholy ayme rather to profit then please my Reader, let us forget the shadowes, to remember the substance, and so looke from the Mappe, to the Morall of this History: that the foule example of Bertolini's crime of Murther, and the justnesse of his punishment, may make us lesse bloudy, and more compassionate and charitable to our Christian brethren, and consequently more pious towards God, of whom we all beare the living Image, and true and lively character.

FINIS.