The decameron containing an hundred pleasant nouels. Wittily discoursed, betweene seauen honourable ladies, and three noble gentlemen.

A lustie youthfull Priest of Varlungo, fell in loue with a pretty woman, na∣med Monna Belcolore. To compasse his amorous desire, hee lefte his Cloake (as a pledge of further payment) with her. By a subtile sleight afterward, he made meanes to borrow a Morter of her, which when hee sent home againe in the presence of her Husband; he demaunded to haue his Cloake sent him, as hauing left it in pawne for the Morter. To pa∣cifie her Husband, offended that shee did not lend the Priest the Morter without a pawne: she sent him backe his Cloake againe, albeit greatly a∣gainst her will.

The Second Nouell.

Approuing, that no promise is to be kept with such Women as will make sale of their honesty for coyne. A warning also for men, not to suffer Priests to be ouer familiar with their wiues.

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BOth the Gentlemen and Ladies gaue equall commendations, of Gulfardoes queint beguiling the Millaine Gentle-woman Ambrosia, and wishing all other (of her minde) might alwaies be so serued. Then the Queene, smiling on Pamphilus, commaunded him to follow next: whereupon, thus he began.

I can tell you (faire Ladies) a short Nouell, against such as are continu∣ally offensiue to vs, yet we being no way able to offend him; at least, in the same maner as they do iniurie vs. And for your better vnderstanding what and who they be, they are our lusty Priests, who aduance their Standard, and make their publike predications against our wiues, winning such ad∣••antage ouer them, that they can pardon them both of the sinne and pun∣nishment, whensoeuer they are once subiected vnto theyr perswasions,

euen as if they brought the Soldane bound and captiued, from Alexandria to Auignon. Which imperious power, we (poore soules) cannot exercise on them, considering, we haue neither heart nor courage, to do our deuoire in iust reuenge on their Mothers, Sisters, Daughters, and Friends, with the like spirit as they rise in armes against our wiues. And therefore, I meane to tell you a tale of a Country mans wife, more to make you laugh at the con∣clusion thereof; then for any singularity of words or matter: yet this bene∣fite you may gaine thereby, of an apparant proofe, that such Sinamon, amo∣rous and perswading Priests, are not alwayes to be credited on their words or promises.

Let me then tell you, that at Varlungo, which you know to bee not farre distant hence, there dwelt an youthfull Priest, lustie, gallant, and proper of person (especially for Womens seruice) commonly called by the name of sweet Sir Simon. Now, albeit he was a man of slender rea∣ding, yet notwithstanding, he had store of Latine sentences by heart; some true, but twice so many maimed and false, Saint-like shewes, holy speeches, and ghostly admonitions, which hee would preach vnder an Oake in the fields, when he had congregated his Parishioners together. When women lay in childe-bed, hee was their daily comfortable visi∣tant, and would man them from their houses, when they had any occa∣sion to walke abroad: carrying alwaies a bottle of holy water about him, wherewith he would sprinkle them by the way, peeces of halow∣ed Candles, and Chrisome Cakes, which pleased women extraordina∣rily, and all the Country affoorded not such another frolicke Priest, as this our nimble and actiue sweet Sir Simon.

Among many other of his feminine Parishioners, all of them being hansome and comely Women: yet there was one more pleasing in his wanton eye, then any of the rest, named Monna Belcolore, and wife to a plaine mecanicke man, called Bentiuegna del Mazzo And, to speake vprightly, few Countrey Villages yeelded a Woman, more fresh and louely of complexion, although not admirable for beauty, yet sweete Sir Simon thoght her a Saint, and faine would be offering at her shrine. Diuers prety pleasing qualities she had, as sounding the Cymball, play∣ing artificially on the Timbrill, and singing thereto as it had beene a Nightingale, dancing also so dexteriously, as happy was the man that could dance in her company. All which so enflamed sweet Sir Simon, that he lost his wonted sprightly behauiour, walked sullen, sad and me∣lancholly, as if he had melted all his mettall, because hee could hardly haue a sight of her. But on the Sonday morning, when hee heard or knew that she was in the Church, hee would tickle it with a Kyrie and a Sanctus, euen as if hee contended to shewe his singular skill in singing, when it had beene as good to heare an Asse bray. Whereas on the con∣trary, when she came not to Church, Masse, and all else were quicklie shaken vppe, as if his deuotion waited onely on her presence. Yet he was so cunning in the carriage of his amorous businesse, both for her credite and his owne; as Bentiuegna her husband could not perceiue it, or any neighbor so much as suspect it.

But, to compasse more familiar acquaintance with Belcolore, hee sent her sundry gifts and presents, day by day, as sometime a bunch of dain∣ty greene Garlicke, whereof he had plenty growing in his Garden, which he manured with his owne hands, and better then all the countrey yeel∣ded; otherwhiles a small basket of Pease or Beanes, and Onyons or Scallions, as the season serued. But when he could come in place where she was; then he darted amourous wincks and glances at her, withbecks, nods, and blushes, Loues priuate Ambassadours, which shee (being but countrey-bred) seeming by outward appearance, not to see, retorted dis∣dainefully, and forthwith would absent her selfe, so that sweet Sir Simon laboured still in vaine, and could not compasse what he coueted.

It came to passe within a while after, that on a time, (about high noone) Sir Simon being walking abroad, chanced to meete with Benti∣uegna, driuing an Asse before him, laden with diuers commodities, and demaunding of him, whither he went, Bentiuegna, thus answered. In troth Sir Simon, I am going to the City, about some especiall businesse of mine owne, and I carry these things to Signior Bonacorci da Ginestreto, because he should helpe me before the Iudge, when I shall be called in questi∣on concerning my patrimony. Sir Simon looking merily on him, said. Thou doest well Bentiuegna, to make a friend sure before thou need him; goe, take my blessing with thee, and returne againe with good successe. But if thou meet with Laguccio, or Naldino, for yet not to tell them, that they must bring me my shooe-tyes before Sunday. Bentiuegna said, hee would dis∣charge his errand, and so parted from him, driuing his Asse on towards Florence.

Now began Sir Simon to shrug, and scratch his head, thinking this to be a fit conuenient time, for him to goe visite Belcolore, and to make tri∣all of his fortune: wherefore, setting aside all other businesse, he stayed no where till he came to the house, whereinto being entred, he saide: All happinesse be to them that dwell heere. Belcolore being then aboue in the Chamber, when she heard his tongue, replyed. Sweet Sir Simon! you are heartely welcome, whether are you walking, if the question may bee demaunded? Beleeue me dainty Ducke, answered Sir Simon, I am come to sit a while with thee, because I met thy Husband going to the Citie. By this time, Belcolore was descended downe the stayres, and hauing once againe giuen welcome to Sir Simon, she sate downe by him, cleansing of Colewort seeds from such other course chaffe, which her Husband had prepared before his departure.

Sir Simon hugging her in his armes, and fetching a vehement sigh, said. My Belcolore, how long shall I pine and languish for thy loue? How now Sir Simon? answered she, is this behauiour fitting for an holy man? Holy-men Belcolore, (quoth Sir Simon) are made of the same matter as others be, they haue the same affections, and therefore subiect to their in∣firmities. Santa Maria, answered, Belcolore, Dare Priests doe such things as you talke of? Yes Belcolore (quoth he) and much better then o∣ther men can, because they are made for the very best businesse, in which re∣gard

they are restrained from marriage True (quoth Belcolore) but much more from medling with other mens wiues. Touch not that Text Belco∣lore, replyed Sir Simon, it is somewhat aboue your capacity: talke of that I come for, namely thy loue, my Ducke, and my Doue, Sir Simon is thine, I pray thee be mine.

Belcolore obseruing his smirking behauiour, his proper person, pretty talke, and queint insinuating; felt a motion to female frailty, which yet she would withstand so long as she could, and not be ouer-hasty in her yeelding. Sir Simon promiseth her a new paire of shoes, garters, rib∣bands, girdles, or what else she would request. Sir Simon (quoth she) all these things which you talke of, are fit for women: but if your loue to mee be such as you make choice of, fulfill what I will motion to you, and then (perhaps) I shall tell you more. Sir Simons heate made him hasty to pro∣mise whatsoeuer she would desire; whereupon, thus shee replyed. On Saturday, said she, I must goe to Florence, to carry home such yarne as was sent me to spinne, and to amend my spinning wheele: if you will lend mee ten Florines, wherewith I know you are alwayes furnished, I shall redeeme from the Vsurer my best peticote, and my wedding gowne (both well neere lost for lacke of repaiment) without which I cannot beseene at Church, or in any other good place else, and then afterward other matters may be accom∣plished.

Alas sweete Belcolore answered Sir Simon, I neuer beare any such sum about me, for men of our profession, doe seldome carry any money at all: but beleeue me on my word, before Saturday come, I will not faile to bring them hither. Oh Sir (quoth Belcolore) you men are quicke promisers, but slow performers. Doe you thinke to vse me, as poore Billezza was, who trusted to as faire words, and found her selfe deceiued? Now Sir Simon, her ex∣ample in being made scandall to the world, is a sufficient warning for me: if you be not so prouided, goe and make vse of your friend, for I am not o∣therwise to be moued. Nay Belcolore (quoth he) I hope you will not serue me so, but my word shall be of better worth with you. Consider the conue∣niency of time, wee being so priuately here alone: whereas at my returning hither againe, some hinderance may thwart me, and the like opportunity be neuer obtained. Sir, Sir, (said she) you haue heard my resolution; if you will fetche the Florines, doe; otherwise, walke about your businesse, for I am a woman of my word.

Sir Simon perceiuing, that she would not trust him vpon bare words, nor any thing was to be done, without Saluum me fac, whereas his mea∣ning was Sine custodia; thus answered. Well Belcolore, seeing you dare not credit my bringing the tenne Florines, according to my promised day: I will leaue you a good pawne, my very best Cloake, lyned quite tho∣rough with rich Silke, and made vp in the choysest manner.

Belcolore looking on the Cloake, said. How much may this Cloake bee worth? How much? quoth Sir Simon, vpon my word Belcolore, it is of a right fine Flanders Serdge, and not aboue eight dayes since, I bought it thus (ready made) of Lotto the Fripperer, and payed for it sixe and twenty Flo∣rines,

a pledge then sufficient for your te••. Is it possible, said shee, that it should cost so much? Well, Sir Simon, deliuer it me first, I will lay it vp safe for you against Saturday, when of you fetch it not; I will redeeme ••ine owne things with it, and leaue you to release it yourselfe.

The Cloake is laid vp by Belcolore, and Sir Simon so forward in his af∣fection; that (in briefe) he enioyed what hee came for; and departed af∣terward in his light tripping Cassocke, but yet thorow by La••ies, and no much frequented places, smelling on a Nosegay, as if hee had beene at some wedding in the Countrey, and went thus lightly without his Cloake, for his better ease. As commonly after actions of euill, Repen∣tance knocketh at the doore of Conscience, and vrgeth a guilty remem∣brance, with some sence of sorrow: so was it now with sweet Sir Simon, who suruaying ouer all his vailes of offering Candles, the validity of his yearely benefits, and all comming nothing neere the summe of (scarce halfe) sixe and twenty Florines; he began to repent his deed of darke∣nesse, although it was acted in the day-time, and considered with him∣selfe, by what honest (yet vnsuspected meanes) hee might recouer his Cloake againe, before it went to the Broaker, in redemption of Belcolo∣res pawned apparrell, and yet to send her no Florines neither.

Hauing a cunning reaching wit, especially in matters for his owne aduantage, and pretending to haue a dinner at his lodging, for a few of some inuited friends: he made vse of a neighbours Boy, sending him to the house of Belcolore, with request of lending him her Stone Morter, to make Greene-sawce in for his guests, because hee had meate required such sawce. Belcolore suspecting no treachery, sent him the Stone Mor∣ter with the Pestell, and about dinner time, when he knew Bentiuegna to bee at home with his wife, by a spye which was set for the purpose; hee called the Clearke (vsually attending on him) and said. Take this Mor∣ter and Pestell, beare them home to Belcolore, and tell her: Sir Simon sends them home with thankes, they hauing sufficiently serued his turne, and desire her likewise, to send me my Cloake, which the Boy left as a pledge for better remembrance, and because she would not lend it with∣out a pawne.

The Clearke comming to the house of Belcolore, found her sitting at dinner with her Husband, and deliuering her the Pestell and Morter, performed the rest of Sir Simons message. Belcolore hearing the Cloake demaunded, stept vp to make answere: But Bentiuegna, seeming (by his lookes) to be much offended, roughly replyed. Why how now wife? Is not Sir Simon our especiall friend, and cannot he be pleasured without a pawne? I protest vpon my word, I could find in my heart to smite thee for it. Rise quickely thou wert best, and send him backe his Cloake; with this warning hereafter, that whatsoeuer he will haue, be it your poore Asse, or any thing else being ours, let him haue it: and tell him (Master Clearke) he may command it. Belcolore rose grumbling from the Table, and fetching the Cloake forth of the Chest, which stood neere at hand in the same roome; shee deliue∣red it to the Clearke, saying. Tell Sir Simon from me, and boldly say you

heard me speake it: that I make a vow to my selfe, he shall neuer make vse of my Morter hereafter, to beat any more of his sawcinesse in, let my Husband say whatsoeuer he will, I speake the word, and will performe it.

Away went the Clearke home with the Cloake, and told Sir Simon what she had said, whereto he replyed. If I must make vse of her Morter no more; I will not trust her with the keeping of my Cloake, for feare it goe to gage indeed.

Bentiuegna was a little displeased at his wiues words, because hee thought she spake but in iest; albeit Belcolore was so angry with Sir Si∣mon, that she would not speake to him till vintage time following. But then Sir Simon, what by sharpe threatenings, of her soule to be in danger of hell fire, continuing so long in hatred of a holy Priest, which words did not a little terrifie her; besides daily presents to her, of sweet new Wines, roasted Chesse-nuts, Figges and Almonds: all vnkindnesse be∣came conuerted to former familiarity; the garments were redee∣med: he gaue her Sonnets which she would sweetly sing to her Cimbale, and further friendship increased betweene her and sweet Sir Simon.