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

The Induction.

ALready began certaine small Clouds in the West, to blush with a Vermillion tincture, when those in the East (hauing reached to their full heighth) looked like bright burnished Gold, by splendour of the Sun beames drawing neere vnto them: when Pamphilus being risen, caused the Ladies, and the rest of his honourable companions to be cal∣led. When they were all assembled, and had conclu∣ded together on the place, whither they should walke for their mornings recreation: the King ledde on the way before, accompanied with the two Noble Ladies Philomena and Fiammetta, all the rest following after them, deuising, talking, and answering to diuers de∣mands both what that day was to be don, as also con∣cerning the proposed imposition.

After they had walked an indifferent space of time, and found the rayes of the Sunne to be ouer-piercing for them: they returned backe againe to the Pallace, as fearing to haue their blood immoderately heated. Then rinsing their Glasses in the coole cleare run∣ning current, each tooke their mornings draught, & then walked into the milde shades about the Garden, vntill they should bee summoned to dinner. Which was no sooner ouer-past, and such as slept, returned waking: they mette together againe in their wonted place, according as the King had appointed, where he gaue command vnto Madame Neiphila, that shee should (for that day) begin the first Nouell, which she humbly accepting, thus began.

A Florentine knight, named Signior Rogiero de Figiouanni, became a seruant to Alphonso, King of Spaine, who (in his owne opinion) seemed but sleightly to respect and reward him. In regard whereof, by a notable experiment, the King gaue him a manifest testimo∣ny, that it was not through any defect in him, but onely occasioned by the Knights ill fortune; most bountifully recompencing him after∣ward.

The First Nouell.

Wherin may euidently be discerned, that Seruants to Princes and great Lords, are many times recompenced, rather by their good fortune, then in vny regard of their dutifull seruices.

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I Doe accept it (Worthy Ladies) as no mean fauour, that the King hath giuen me the first place, to speake of such an honourable Ar∣gument, as Bounty and Magnificence is, which precious Iewell, euen as the Sunne is the beauty, or ornament and bright glory of al heauen; so is bounty and magnificence the Crowne of all vertues. I shall then re∣count to you a short Nouell, sufficiently pleasing, in mine owne o∣pinion,

and I hope (so much I dare rely on your iudgements) both profitable, and worthy to be remembred.

You are to know then, that among other valiant Knights, which of long haue liued in our City, one of them, and (perhappes) of as great merit as any, was one, named Signior Rogiero d'Figiouanni. He being rich, of great courage, and perceiuing, that (in due consi∣deration) the quality belonging to life, and the customes obserued among our Tuscanes, were not answerable to his expectation, nor agreed with the disposition of his valour; determined to leaue his natiue Countrey, and belong in seruice (for some time) to Alfonso, King of Spaine, whose fame was generally noised in all places, for excelling all other Princes in those times, for respect of mens well deseruings, and bountifull requitall of their paines. Being prouided in honorable order, both of Horses, Armes, & a competent train, he trauelled to Spaine, where he was worthily entertained.

Signior Rogiero continuing there, liuing in honorable maner, and performing many admirable actions of arms; in short time he made himselfe sufficiently knowne, for a very valiant and famous man. And hauing remained there an indifferent long while, obseruing di∣uers behauiours in the king: he saw, how he enclined himselfe first to one man, then to another, bestowing on one a Castle, a Towne on another, and Baronnies on diuers, som-what indiscreetly, as giuing away bountifully to men of no merit. And restraining all his fauors from him, as seeming close fisted, and parting with nothing: he took it as a diminishing of his former reputation, and a great ••mpayring of his fame, wherefore he resolued on his departure thence, & made his suit to the king that he might obtaine it. The king did grant it, be∣stowing on him one of the very best Mules, and the goodliest that euer was backt, a gift most highly pleasing to Rogiero, in regarde of the long iourny he intended to ride. Which being deliuerd, the king gaue charge to one of his Gentlemen, to compasse such conuenient meanes, as to ride thorow the country, and in the company of Sig∣nior Rogiero, yet in such manner, as he should not perceiue, that the King had purposely sent him so to do. Respectiuely he should ob∣serue whatsoeuer he said concerning the king, his gesture, smiles, and other behauior, shaping his answers accordingly, and on the nexte morning, to commaud his returne backe with him to the King.

Nor was the Gentleman slacke in this command, but noting Rogi∣eroes departing forth of the city, he mounted on horseback likewise, aud immediatly after came into his company, making him beleeue, that he iournied towards Italy. Rogiero rode on the Mule which the king had giuen him, with diuersity of speeches passing between thē. About three of the clocke in the afternoone, the Gentleman said. It

were not amisse Sir, (hauing such fit opportunitie) to Stable our horses for a while, till the heate be a little more ouerpast. So ta∣king an Inne, and the horses being in the stable, they all staled ex∣cept the Mule.

Being mounted againe; and riding on further, the Gentleman duely obserued whatsoeuer Rogiero spake, and comming to the pas∣sage of a small Riuer or Blooke: the rest of the beasts dranke, and not the Mule, but staled in the Riuer: which Signior Rogiero seeing, clapping his hands on the Mules mane, hee said. What a wicked beast art thou? thou art iust like thy Master that gaue thee to mee. The Gentleman committed the words to memory, as he did many other passing from Rogiero, riding along the rest of the day, yet none in disparagement of the King, but rather highly in his commenda∣tion. And being the next morning mounted on horseback, seeming to hold on still the way for Tuscane: the Gentleman fulfilled the Kings command, causing Signior Rogiero to turne back againe with him, which willingly he yeelded to doe.

When they were come to the Court, and the King made ac∣quainted with the words, which Rogiero spake to his Mule; he was called into the presence, where the King shewed him a gracious countenance, & demanded of him, why he had compared him to his Mule? Signior Rogiero nothing daunted, but with a bold and con∣stant spirit, thus answered. Sir, I mad•• the comparison, because, like as you giue, where there is no conueniency, and bestow nothing where reason requireth: euen so, the Mule would not stale where she should haue done, but where was water too much before, there she did it. Beleeue me Signior Rogiero, replyed the King, if I haue not giuen you such gifts, as (perhaps) I haue done to diuers other, farre inferiour to you in honour and merit; this happened not tho∣rough any ignorance in me, as not knowing you to be a most vali∣ant Knight, and well-worthy of speciall respect: but rather through your owne ill fortune, which would not suffer me to doe it, where∣of she is guilty, and not I, as the truth thereof shall make it selfe ap∣parant to you. Sir, answered Rogiero, I complaine not, because I haue receiued no gift from you, as desiring thereby couetously to become the richer: but in regard you haue not as yet any way ac∣knowledged, what vertue is remaining in me. Neuerthelesse, I al∣low your excuse for good and reasonable, and am heartely conten∣ted, to behold whatsoeuer you please; although I doe confidently credit you, without any other testimony.

The King conducted him then into the great Hall, where (as hee had before giuen order) stood two great Chests, fast lockt; & in the

presence of all his Lords, the King thus spake. Signior Rogiero, in out of these Chests is mine imperiall Crowne, the Scepter Royall, the Mound, & many more of my richest girdles, rings, plate, & Iew∣els, euen the very best that are mine: the other is full of earth onely. Chuse one of these two, and which thou makest election of; vpon my Royall word thou shalt enioy it. Hereby shalt thou euidently perceiue, who hath bin ingreatful to the deseruings, either I, or thine owne bad fortune. Rogiero seeing it was the kings pleasure to haue it so; chose one of them, which the King caused presently to be o∣pened, it approuing to be the same that was full of earth, whereat the King smyling, said thus vnto him.

You see Signior Rogiero, that what I said concerning your ill for∣tune, is very true: but questionlesse, your valour is of such desert, as I ought to oppose my selfe against all her maleuolence. And be∣cause I know right, that you are not minded to become a Spaniard; I will giue you neither Castle nor dwelling place: but I will be∣stow the Chest on you (in meer despight of your malicious fortune) which she so vniustly tooke away from you. Carry it home with you into your Countrey, that there it may make an apparant testi∣money, in the sight of all your well-willers, both of your owne ver∣tuous deseruings, and my bounty. Signior Rogiero humbly recei∣uing the Chest, and thanking his Maiestie for so liberall a gift, retur∣ned home ioyfully therewith, into his natiue Countrey of Tusca∣ne.

Ghinotto di Tacco; tooke the Lord Abbot of Clugni as his prisonors, and cured him of a grieuous disease, which he had in his stomacke, and afterward set him at liberty. The same Lord Abbot, when hee returned from the Court of Rome, reconciled Ghinotto to Pope Bo∣niface; who made him a Knight, and Lord Prior of a goodly Hospi∣tall.

The second Nouell.

Wherein is declared that good men doe sometimes fall into bad conditi∣ons, onely occasioned thereto by necessity: And what meanes are to be vsed, for their reducing to goodnesse againe.

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THe magnificence and Royall bounty, which King Alphon∣so bestowed on the Florentine knight, passed through the whole assembly with no mean applause, & the King (who gaue it the greatest praise of al) commanded Madame Eliza, to take the second turne in order; whereupon, thus she began.

Faire Ladies, if a king shewed himselfe magnificently minded, and expressed his liberall bounty to such a man, as had done him good and honourable seruices: it can be termed no more then a vertuous deed well done, and becomming a King But what will we say, when we heare that a Prelate of the Church, shewed himselfe wondrously magnificent, and to such a one as was his enemy: can

any malicious tongue speake ill of him? Vndoubtedly, no other answere is to be made, but the action of the King was meerely ver∣tue, and that of the Prelate, no lesse then a miracle: for how can it be otherwise, when they are more greedily couetous then women, and deadly enemies to all liberality? And although euery man (naturally) desireth reuenge for iniuries and abuses done vnto him: yet men of the Church, in regard that dayly they prea∣ched patience, and commaund (aboue all things else) remission of sinnes: it would appeare a mighty blemish in them, to be more fro∣ward and furious then other men. But I am to speake of a reue∣rend Prelate of the Church, as also concerning his munificent bounty, to one that was his enemy, and yet became his reconciled friend, as you shall perceiue by my Nouell.

Ghinotto di Tacco, for his insolent and stout robberies, became a man very farre famed, who being banished from Sienna, and an e∣nemy to the Countes Disanta Fiore: preuailed so by his bold and headstrong perswasions, that the Towne of Raticonfani rebelled a∣gainst the Church of Rome, wherein he remaining; all passengers whatsoeuer, trauelling any way thereabout, were robde and rifled by his theeuing Companions. At the time whereof now I speake, Boniface the eight, gouerned as Pope at Rome, and the Lord Abbot of Clugni (accounted to be one of the richest Prelates in the world) came to Rome, and there either by some surfeit, excesse of feeding, or otherwise, his stomacke being grieuously offended and pained; the Phisitians aduised him, to trauell to the Bathes at Sienna, where he should receiue immediate cure. In which respect, his depar∣ture being licenced by the Pope, to set onward thither, with great and pompous Cariages, of Horses, Mules, and a goodly traine, with∣out hearing any rumour of the theeuish Consorts.

Ghinotto di Tacco, being aduertised of his comming, spred about his scouts and nettes, and without missing so much as one Page, shut vp the Abbot, with all his traine and baggage, in a place of narrow restraint, out of which he could by no meanes escape. When this was done, he sent one of his most sufficient attendants, (well ac∣companyed) to the Lord Abbot, who said to him in his Masters name, that if his Lordship were so pleased, hee might come and vi∣site Ghinotto at his Castle. Which the Abbot hearing, answered chollerickly, that he would not come thither, because hee had no∣thing to say to Ghinotto: but meant to proceed on in his iourny, and would faine see, who durst presume to hinder his passe. To which rough words, the messenger thus mildely answered. My Lord (quoth he) you are arriued in such a place, where we feare no other force, but the all-controlling power of heauen, clearely exempted

from the Popes thunder cracks, of maledictions, interdictions, ex∣communications, or whatsoeuer else: and therefore it would bee much better for you, if you pleased to do as Ghinotto aduiseth you.

During the time of this their interparlunce, the place was sudden∣ly round ingirt with strongly armed theeues, and the Lord Abbot perceiuing, that both he and all his followers were surprized: tooke his way (though very impatiently) towards the Castle, and likewise all his company and carriages with him. Being dismounted, hee was conducted (as Ghinotto had appointed) all alone, into a small Chamber of the Castle, it being very darke and vneasie: but the rest of his traine, euery one according to his ranck and quality, were all well lodged in the Castle, their horses, goods and all things else, deliuered into secure keeping, without the least touch of iniury or preiudice. All which being orderly done, Ghinotto himselfe went to the Lord Abbot, and said. My Lord, Ghinotto, to whom you are a welcome guest, requesteth, that it might be your pleasure to tell him, whither you are trauelling, and vpon what occasion?

The Lord Abbot being a very wise man, and his angry distem∣per more moderately qualified; reuealed whither he went, and the cause of his going thither. Which when Ghinotto had heard, hee departed courteously from him, and began to consider with him∣selfe, how he might cure the Abbot; yet without any Bathe. So, commanding a good fire to be kept continually in his small Cham∣ber, and very good attendance on him: the next morning, he came to visite him againe, bringing a faire white Napkin on his arme, and in it two slices or toasts of fine Manchet, a goodly cleare Glasse, full of the purest white-Bastard of Corniglia (but indeed, of the Abbots owne prouision brought thither with him) and then hee spoke to him in this manner.

My Lord, when Ghinotto was yonger then now he is, he studyed Physicke, and he commanded me to tell you, that the very best me∣dicine, he could euer learne, against any disease in the stomacke, was this which he had prouided for your Lordship, as an especial prepa∣ratiue, and which he should finde to be very comfortable. The Ab∣bot, who had a better stomacke to eate, then any will or desire to talke: although hee did it somewhat disdainfully, yet hee eate vp both the toastes, and roundly dranke off the Glasse of Bastard. Afterward, diuers other speeches passed betweene them, the one still aduising in Phisicall manner, and the other seeming to care lit∣tle for it: but moued many questions concerning Ghinotto, and ear∣nestly requesting to see him. Such speeches as sauoured of the Ab∣bots discontentment, and came from him in passion; were clouded with courteous acceptance, & not the least signe of any mislike: but

ring his Lordship, that Ghinotto intended very shortly to see him, and so they parted for that time.

Nor returned he any more, till the next morning with the like two toastes of bread, and such another Glasse of white Bastard, as he had brought him at the first, continuing the same course for di∣uers dayes after: till the Abbot had eaten (and very hungerly too) a pretty store of dryed Beanes, which Ghinotto purposely, (yet se∣cretly) had hidden in the Chamber. Wherevpon he demaunded of him (as seeming to be so enioyned by his pretended master) in what temper he found his stomacke now? I should finde my sto∣macke well enough (answered the Lord Abbot) if I could get forth of thy masters fingers, and then haue some good food to feed on: for his medicines haue made me so soundly stomackt, that I am rea∣dy to starue with hunger.

When Ghinotto was gone from him, hee then prepared a very faire Chamber for him, adorning it with the Abbots owne rich hangings, as also his Plate and other moueables, such as were al∣wayes vsed for his seruice. A costly dinner he prouided likewise, whereto he inuited diuers of the Towne, and many of the Abbots chiefest followers: then going to him againe the next morning, he said. My Lord, seeing you doe feele your stomacke so well, it is time you should come forth of the Infirmary. And taking him by the hand, he brought him into the prepared Chamber, where he left him with his owne people, and went to giue order for the dinners seruing in, that it might be performed in magnificent manner.

The Lord Abbot recreated himselfe a while with his owne people, to whom he recounted, the course of his life since hee saw them; and they likewise told him, how kindly they had bin initea∣ted by Ghinotto. But when dinner time was come, the Lord Abbot and all his company, were serued with costly viands and excellent Wines, without Ghinottoes making himselfe knowne to the Ab∣bot: till after he had beene entertained some few dayes in this or∣der: into the great Hall of the Castle, Ghinotto caused all the Abbots goods and furniture to bee brought, and likewise into a spacious Court, wheron the windowes of the said Court gazed, all his mules and horses, with their sumpters, euen to the very silliest of them, which being done, Ghinotto went to the Abbot, and demaunded of him, how he felt his stomacke now, and whether it would serue him to venter on horse backe as yet, or no? The Lord Abbot answered, that he found his stomacke perfectly recouered, his body strong e∣nough to endure trauell, and all things well, so hee were deliuered from Ghinotto.

Hereupon, he brought him into the hall where his furniture was, as also all his people, & commanding a window to be opned, wher∣at

at he might behold his horses, he said. My Lord; let me plainely giue you to vnderstand, that neither cowardise, or basenesse of minde, induced Ghinotto di Tacco (which is my selfe) to become a lurking robber on the high-wayes, an enemy to the Pope, and so (consequently) to the Romane Court: but onely to saue his owne life and honour, knowing himselfe to be a Gentleman cast out of his owne house, and hauing (beside) infinite enemies. But because you seeme to be a worthy Lord, I will not (although I haue cured your stomacks disease) deale with you as I doe to others, whose goods (when they fall into my power) I take such part of as I please: bet rather am well contented, that my necessities being considered by your selfe, you spare me out a proportion of the things you haue heere, answerable to your owne liking. For all are present here be∣fore you, both in this Hall, and in the Court beneath, free from any spoyle, or the least impairing. Wherefore, giue a part, or take all, if you please, and then depart hence when you will, or abide heere still, for now you are at your owne free liberty.

The Lord Abbot wondred not a little, that a robber on the high wayes, should haue such a bold and liberall spirit, which appeared very pleasing to him; and instantly, his former hatred and spleene a∣gainst Ghinotto, became conuerted into cordiall loue and kindnes, so that (imbracing him in his armes) he said I protest vpon my vow made to Religion, that to win the loue of such a man, as I plainely perceiue thee to be: I would vndergo far greater iniuries, then those which I haue receiued at thy hands. Accursed be cruell destiny, that forced thee to so base a kind of life, and did not blesse thee with a fairer fortune. After he had thus spoken, he left there the greater part of all his goods, and returned backe againe to Rome, with few horses, and a meaner traine.

Durig these passed accidents, the Pope had receiued intelligence of the Lord Abbots surprizall, which was not a little displeasing to him: but when he saw him returned, he demaunded, what benefit he receiued at the Bathes? Whereto the Abbot, merrily smyling, thus replyed. Holy Father, I met with a most skilfull Physitian nee∣rer hand, whose experience is beyond the power of the Bathes, for by him I am very perfectly cured: and so discoursed all at large. The Pope laughing heartely, and the Abbot continuing on still his report; moued with an high and magnificent courage, he demaun∣ded one gracious fauour of the Pope: who imagining that he would request a matter of greater moment, then he did, freely offered to grant, whatsoeuer he desired.

Holy Father, answered the Lord Abbot, all the humble suit which I make to you, is, that you would be pleased to receiue into your grace and fauor, Ghinotto di Tacco my Physitian, because among all

the vertuous men, deseruing to haue especial account made of them I neuer met wi-h any equall to him both in honour and honesty. Whatsoeuer iniury he did to me, I impute it as a greater in-fortune, then any way he deserueth to be charged withall. Which wret∣ched condition of his, if you were pleased to alter, and bestow on him some better meanes of maintenance, to liue like a worthy man, as he is no lesse: I make no doubt, but (in very short time) hee will appeare as pleasing to your holinesse, as (in my best iudgement) I thinke him to be.

The Pope, who was of a magnanimious spirit, and one that high∣ly affected men of vertue, hearing the commendable motion made by the Abbot; returned answere, that he was as willing to grant it, as the other desired it, sending. Letters of safe conduct for his com∣ming thither. Ghinotto receiuing such assurance from the Court of Rome, came thither immediatly, to the great ioy of the Lord Abbot: and the Pope finding him to be a man of valor and worth, vpon reconciliation, remitted all former errors, creating him knight, and Lord Prior of the very chiefest Hospitall in Rome. In which Office he liued long time after, as a loyall seruant to the Church, and an honest thankefull friend to the Lord Abbot of Clugny.

Mithridanes enuying the life and liberality of Nathan, and trauelling thither, with a setled resolution to kill him: chaunceth to conferre with Nathan vnknowne. And being instructed by him, in vvhat manner he might best performe the bloody deede, according as hee gaue direction, hee meeteth with him in a small Thicket or Woode, where knowing him to be the same man, that taught him how to take away his life: Confounded with shame, hee acknowledgeth his horrible intention, and becommeth his loyall friend.

The third Nouell.

Shewing in an excellent and liuely demonstration, that any especiall honourable vertue, perseuering and dwelling in a truly noble soule, cannot be violenced or confounded, by the most politicke attemptes of malice and enuy.

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IT appeared to the whole assembly, that they had heard a matter of meruaile, for a Lord Abbot to performe any magnificent action: but their admiration ceasing in si∣lence, the King commanded Philostratus to follow next, who forth∣with thus began.

Honourable Ladies, the bounty and magnificense of Alphonso King of Spaine, was great indeede, and that done by the Lord Ab∣bot of Clugny, a thing (perhaps) neuer heard of in any other. But

it will seeme no lesse meruailous to you, when you heare, how one man, in expression of great liberality to another man, that earnest∣ly desired to kill him; should bee secretly disposed to giue him his life, which had bin lost, if the other would haue taken it, as I purpose to acquaint you withall, in a short Nouell.

Most certaine it is, at least, if Faith may bee giuen to the report of certaine Genewayes, and other men resorting to those remote parts, that in the Country of Cathaya, there liued somtime a Gentleman, rich beyond comparison, and named Nathan. He hauing his liuing adioyning to a great common rode-way, whereby men trauayled from the East to the West (as they did the like from the West vnto the East, as hauing no other means of passage) and being of a boun∣tifull and chearfull disposition, which he was willing to make kno∣wen by experience: he summoned together many Master Masons and Carpenters, and there erected (in a short time) one of the grea∣test, goodliest, and most beautifull houses (in manner of a Princes Pallace) that euer was seene in all those quarters.

With mouables and all kinde of furnishment, befitting a house of such outward apparance, hee caused it to be plentifully stored, onely to receiue, entertaine, and honor all Gentlemen or other Tra∣uailers whatsoener, as had occasion to passe that way, being not vn∣prouided also of such a number of seruants, as might continuallie giue attendance on all commers and goers. Two and fifty seuerall gates, standing alway wide open, & ouer each of them in great gol∣den carracters was written, Welcome, welcome, and gaue free admis∣sion to all commers whatsoeuer.

In this honourable order (obserued as his estated custom) he per∣seuered so long a while, as not onely the East parts, but also those in the west, were euery where acquainted with his fame & renown. Being already well stept into yeares, but yet not wearie (therefore) of his great charge and liberality: it fortuned, that the rumor of his noble Hospitality, came to the eare of another gallant Gentleman, named Mithridanes, liuing in a Countrey not farre off from the o∣ther.

This Gentleman, knowing himself no lesse wealthy then Nathan, and enuiously repining at his vertue and liberality, determined in his mind, to dim and obscure the others bright splendor, by making himselfe farre more famous. And hauing built a Palace answerable to that of Nathans, with like windings of gates, and welcom inscrip∣tions; he beganne to extend immeasurable courtesies, vnto all such as were dispoted to visite him: so that (in a short while) hee grew very famous in infinite places. It chanced on a day, as Mithrida∣nes sate all alone within the goodly Court of his Pallace: a poore

woman entred at one of the gates, crauing an almes of him, which she had; and returned in againe at a second gate, comming also to him, and had a second almes, continuing sostill a dozen times; but at the thirteenth returning, Mithridanes saide to her: Good Wo∣man, you goe and come very often, and still you are serued vvith almes. When the old Woman heard these words, she said. O the liberality of Nathan! How honourable and wonderfull is that? I haue past through two and thirty gates of his Palace, euen such as are here, and at euery one I receyued an almes, without any know∣ledgement taken of me, either by him, or any of his followers: and heere I haue past but through thirteene gates, and am there both ac∣knowledged and taken. Farewell to this house, for I neuer meane to visit it any more; with which words shee departed thence, and neuer after came thither againe.

When Mithridanes had a while pondered on her speeches, hee waxed much discontented, as taking the words of the olde woman, to extoll the renowne of Nathan, and darken or ecclipse his glorie, whereupon he said to himselfe. Wretched man as I am, when shall I attaine to the height of liberality, and performe such wonders, as Nathan doth? In seeking to surmount him, I cannot come neere him in the very meanest. Vndoubtedly, I spend all my endeauour but in vaine, except I rid the world of him, which (seeing his age will not make an end of him) I must needs do with my own hands. In which furious and bloody determination (without reuealing his intent to any one) he mounted on horse-backe, with few attendants in his company, and after three dayes iourney, arriued where Na∣than dwelt. He gaue order to his men, to make no shew of beeing his seruants, or any way to acknowledge him: but to prouide them selues of conuenient lodgings, vntill they heard other tydings from him.

About Euening, and (in this manner) alone by himselfe, neere to the Palace of Nathan, he met him solitarily walking, not in pom∣pous apparrell, whereby to bee distinguished from a meaner man: and, because he knew him not, neyther had heard any relation of his description, he demanded of him, if he knew where Nathan then was? Nathan, with a chearfull countenance, thus replyed. Faire Syr, there is no man in these parts, that knoweth better how to shew you Nathan then I do; and therefore, if you be so pleased, I will bring you to him. Mithridanes said, therein he should do him a great kindnesse: albeit (if it were possible) he would bee neyther knowne nor seene of Nathan. And that (quoth he) can I also do suf∣ficiently for you, seeing it is your will to haue it so, if you will goe a∣long with me.

Dismounting from his horse, he walked on with Nathan, diuers∣ly discoursing, vntill they came to the Pallace, where one of the ser∣uants taking Mithridanes his horse, Nathan rounded the fellow in the care, that he should giue warning to all throughout the House, for reuealing to the Gentleman, that he was Nathan; as accordingly it was performed. No sooner were they within the Pallace, but he conducted Mithridanes into a goodly chamber, wher none (as yet) had seene him, but such as were appointed to attend on him reue∣rently; yea, and he did himselfe greatly honor him, as being loth to leaue his company.

While thus Mithridanes conuersed with him, he desired to know (albeit he respected him much for his yeares) what he was. Introth Sir, answered Nathan, I am one of the meanest seruants to Nathan, and from my child-hood, haue made my selfe thus olde in his ser∣uice: yet neuer hath he bestowed any other aduancement on mee, then as you now see; in which respect, howsoeuer other men may commend him, yet I haue no reason at all to do it. These Words, gaue some hope to Mithridanes, that with a little more counsell, he might securely put in execution his wicked determination. Na∣than likewise demaunded of him (but in very humble manner) of whence, and what he was, as also the businesse inuiting him thither: offering him his vtmost aide and counsell, in what soeuer consisted in his power.

Mithridanes sat an indifferent while meditating with his thoghts before he would returne any answer: but at the last, concluding to repose confidence in him (in regard of his pretended discontentmēt) with many circumstantial perswasions, first for fidelity, next for con∣stancie, and lastly for counsell and assistance, he declared to him tru∣ly what he was, the cause of his comming thither, and the reason vr∣ging him thereto. Nathan hearing these words, and the detestable deliberation of Mithridanes, became quite changed in himself: yet wisely making no outward appearance thereof, with a bold courage and setled countenance, thus he replyed.

Mithridanes, thy Father was a Noble Gentleman, and (in vertu∣ous qualities) inferiour to none, from whom (as now I see) thou desirest not to degenerate, hauing vndertaken so bold & high an en∣terprise, I meane, in being liberall and bountifull to all men. I do greatly commend the enuy which thou bearest to the vertue of Na∣than: because if there were many more such men, the world that is now wretched and miserable, would become good and conforma∣ble. As for the determination which thou hast disclosed to mee, I haue sealed it vp secretly in my soule: wherein I can better giue thee counsell, then any especiall helpe or furtherance: and the course

which I would haue thee to obserue, followeth thus in few words.

This window, which we now looke forth at, sheweth thee a smal wood or thicket of trees, being litle more then the quarter of a miles distance hence; whereto Nathan vsually walketh euery morning, and there continueth time long enough: there maist thou very ea∣sily meet him, and do whatsoeuer thou intendest to him. If thou kilst him, because thou maist with safety returne home vnto thine owne abiding, take not the same way which guided thee thither, but an∣other, lying on the left hand, & directing speedily out of the wood, as being not so much haunted as the other, but rather free from all resort, and surest for visiting thine owne countrey, after such a dis∣mall deed is done.

When Mithridanes had receyued this instruction, and Nathan was departed from him, hee secretly gaue intelligence to his men, (who likewise were lodged, as welcom strangers, in the same house) at what place they should stay for him the next morning. Night be∣ing passed ouer, and Nathan risen, his heart altred not a iot from his counsel giuen to Mithridanes, much lesse changed from anie part thereof: but all alone by himselfe, walked on to the wood, the place appointed for his death. Mithridanes also being risen, taking his Bow & Sword (for other weapons had he none) mounted on hors∣backe, and so came to the wood, where (somewhat farre off) hee e∣spyed Nathan walking, and no creature with him. Dismounting from his horse, he had resolued (before he would kill him) not one∣ly to see, but also to heare him speake: so stepping roughly to him, and taking hold of the bonnet on his head, his face being then tur∣ned from him, he sayde. Old man, thou must dye. Whereunto Nathan made no other answer, but thus: Why then (belike) I haue deserued it.

When Mithridanes heard him speake, and looked aduisedly on his face, he knew him immediatly to be the same man, that had en∣tertained him so louingly, conuersed with him so familiarly, and counselled him so faithfully: all which ouercomming his former fu∣ry, his harsh nature became meerly confounded with shame: So throwing downe his drawne sword, which he held readily prepared for the deede: he prostrated himselfe at Nathans feet, and in teares, spake in this manner. Now do I manifestly know (most louing Fa∣ther) your admired bounty and liberalitie; considering, with what industrious prouidence, you made the meanes for your comming hither, prodigally to bestow your life on me, which I haue no right vnto, although you were so willing to part with it. But those high and supreame powers, more carefull of my dutie, then I my selfe: euen at the very instant, and when it was most needfull, opened the

eyes of my better vnderstanding, which infernall enuy had closed vp before. And therefore, looke how much you haue bin forward to pleasure me; so much the more shame and punishment, I confesse my heinous transgression hath iustly deserued: take therefore on me (if you please) such reuenge, as you thinke (in iustice) answera∣ble to my sin.

Nathan louingly raised Mithridanes from the ground, then kis∣sing his cheeke, and tenderly embracing him, he said. Sonne, thou needest not to aske, much lesse to obtaine pardon, for any enterprise of thine, which thou canst not yet terme to be good or bad: because thou soughtest not to bereaue me of my life, for any hatred thou barest me, but onely in couering to be reputed the Woorthier man. Take then this assurance of me, and beleeue it constantly, that there is no man liuing, whom I loue and honour, as I do thee: conside∣ring the greatnesse of thy minde, which consisteth not in the hea∣ping vp of money, as wretched and miserable Worldlings make it their onely felicity; but, contending in bounty to spend what is thine, didst hold it for no shame to kil me, thereby to make thy selfe so much the more worthily famous.

Nor is it any matter to be wondred at, in regard that Emperors, and the greatest Kings, hadde neuer made such extendure of their Dominions, and consequently of their renowne, by any other Art, then killing; yet not one man onely, as thou wouldst haue done: but infinite numbers, burning whole Countries, and making desolate huge Townes and Cities, onely to enlarge their dominion, and fur∣ther spreading of their fame. Wherfore, if for the increasing of thine owne renowne, thou wast desirous of my death: it is no matter of nouelty, and therefore deseruing the lesse meruaile, seeing men are slaine daily, and all for one purpose or other.

Mithridanes, excusing no further his maleuolent deliberation, but rather commending the honest defence, which Nathan made on his behalfe; proceeded so farre in after discoursing, as to tel him plainely, that it did wondrously amaze him, how he durst come to the fatall appointed place, himselfe hauing so exactly plotted and contriued his owne death: whereunto Nathan returned this aun∣swere.

I would not haue thee Mithridanes, to wonder at my counsel or determination; because, since age hath made mee Maister of mine owne will, and I resolued to doe that, wherein thou hast begun to follow me: neuer came any man to mee, whom I did not con∣tent (if I could) in any thing he demanded of me. It was thy for∣tune to come for my life, which when I saw thee so desirous to haue it, I resolued immediately to bestow it on thee: and so much the ra∣ther,

because thou shouldst not be the onely man, that euer depar∣ted hence, without enioying whatsoeuer hee demanded. And, to the end thou mightst the more assuredly haue it, I gaue thee that aduice, least by not enioying mine, thou shouldest chance to loose thine owne. I haue had the vse of it full fourescore yeares, with the consummation of all my delights and pleasures: and well I know, that according to the course of Nature (as it fares with other men, and generally all things else) it cannot bee long before it must leaue mee.

Wherefore, I hold it much better for me to giue it away freely, as I haue alwayes done my goods and treasure; then bee curious in keeping it, and suffer it to be taken from me (whether I will or no) by Nature. A small gift it is, if time make me vp the full summe of an hundred yeares: how miserable is it then, to stand beholding but for foure or fiue, and all of them vexation too? Take it then I in∣treate thee, if thou wilt haue it; for I neuer met with any man be∣fore (but thy selfe) that did desire it, nor (perhaps) shall finde any o∣ther to request it: for the longer I keepe it, the worse it wil be estee∣med: and before it grow contemptible, take it I pray thee.

Mithridanes, being exceedingly confounded with shame, bash∣fully sayde: Fortune fore-fend, that I should take away a thing so precious as your life is, or once to haue so vile a thought of it as late∣ly I had; but rather then I would diminish one day thereof, I could wish, that my time might more amply enlarge it. Forthwith aun∣swered Nathan, saying. Wouldst thou (if thou couldst) shorten thine owne dayes, onely to lengthen mine? Why then thou woul∣dest haue me to do that to thee, which (as yet) I neuer did vnto any man, namely, robbe thee, to enrich my selfe. I will enstruct thee in a much better course, if thou wilt be aduised by mee. Lusty and young, as now thou art, thou shalt dwell heere in my house, and be called by the name of Nathan. Aged, and spent with yeares, as thou seest I am, I will goe liue in thy house, and bee called by the name of Mithridanes. So, both the name and place shall illustrate thy Glorie, and I liue contentedly, without the very least thought of enuie.

Deare Father, answered Mithridanes, if I knew so well howe to direct mine owne actions, as you doe, and alwayes haue done, I would gladly accept your most liberall offer: but because I plainlie perceiue, that my very best endeauours, must remayne darkened by the bright renowne of Nathan: I will neuer seeke to impayre that in another, which I cannot (by any means) increase in my selfe, but (as you haue worthily taught me) liue contented with my owne condition.

After these, and many more like louing speeches had passed be∣tween them; according as Nathan very instantly requested, Mithri∣danes returned back with him to the Pallace, where many dayes he highly honored & respected him, comforting & counselling him, to perseuer alwayes in his honourable determination. But in the end, when Mithridanes could abide there no longer, because necessary occasions called him home: he departed thence with his men, ha∣uing found by good experience, that hee could neuer goe beyond Nathan in liberality.

Signior Gentile de Carisendi, being come from Modena, took a Gen∣tlewoman, named Madam Catharina, forth of a graue, wherin she was buried for dead: which act he did, in regard of his former honest affection to the said Gentlewoman. Madame Catharina remaining afterward, and deliuered of a goodly Sonne: was (by Signior there Gentile) deliuered to her owne Husband, named Signior Nicoluc∣cio Caccianimico, and the yong infant with her.

The Fourth Nouell.

Wherein is shewne, That true loue hath alwayes bin, and so still is, the occasion of many great and worthy courtesies.

[illustration]

BY iudgment of all the honorable assembly, it was reputed won∣derfull, that a man should be so bountifull, as to giue away his

owne life, and to his hatefull enemy. In which respect, it passed with generall affirmation, that Nathan (in the vertue of liberallity) had exceeded Alphonso. King of Spain, but (especially) the Abbot of Clugny. So, after euery one had deliuered their opinion, the King, turning himselfe to Madame Lauretta, gaue her such a signe, as well instructed her vnderstanding, that she should be the next in order, whereto she gladly yeelding, began in this manner.

Youthfull Ladies, the discourses already past, haue been so wor∣thy and magnificent, yea, reaching to such a height of glorious splendour; as (me thinkes) there remaineth no more matter, for vs that are yet to speake, whereby to enlarge so famous an Argument, and in such manner as it ought to be: except we lay hold on the actions of loue, wherein is neuer any want of subiect, it is so faire and spacious a field to walke in. Wherefore, as well in behalfe of the one, as aduancement of the other, whereto our instant age is most of all inclined: I purpose to acquaint you with a generous and magnificent act, of an amourous Gentleman, which when it shall be duely considered on, perhaps will appeare equall to any of the rest. At least, if it may passe for currant, that men may giue away their treasures, forgiue mighty iniuries, and lay downe life it selfe, honour and renowne (which is farre greater) to infinite dangers, on∣ly to attaine any thing esteemed and affected.

Vnderstand then (Gracious hearers) that in Bologna, a very fa∣mous City of Lombardie, there liued sometime a Knight, most high∣ly respected for his vertues, named Signior Gentile de Carisendi, who (in his yonger dayes) was enamoured of a Gentlewoman, cal∣led Madam Catharina, the Wife of Signior Nicoluccio Caccianimi∣co. And because during the time of his amourous pursuite, he found but a sorry enterchange of affection from the Lady; hee went (as hopelesse of any successe) to be Potestate of Modena, whereto he was called by place and order.

At the sametime, Signior Nicoluccio being absent from Bologna, and his Lady at a Farme-house of his in the Countrey (about three miles distant from the City) because she was great with child, and somewhat neere the time of her teeming: it came to passe, that some dangerous accident befell her, which was so powerfull in o∣peration, as no signe of life appeared remained in her, but she was reputed (euen in the iudgement of the best Phisitians, whereof she wanted no attendance) to be verily dead. And because in the opi∣nion of her parents and neerest kinred, the time for her deliuerance was yet so farre off, as the Infant within her, wanted much of a per∣fect creature: they made the lesse mourning; but in the next Church, as also the vault belonging to her Ancestors; they gaue her buriall very speedily.

Which tydings comming to the hearing of Signior Gentile, by one that was his endeared friend: Although (while she liued) he could neuer be gracious in her fauour, yet her so sudden death did greatly grieue him, whereupon he discoursed in this sort with him∣selfe. Deare Madame Catharina, I am not a little sorry for thy death, although (during thy life-time) I was scarcely worthy of one kind looke: Yet now being dead, thou canst not prohibite me, but I may robbe thee of a kisse. No sooner had hee spoke the words, but it beeing then night, and taking such order, as none might know of his departure: hee mounted on horse-backe, accom∣panied onely with one seruant, and stayed no where, till hee came to the vault where the Lady was buried. Which when he had opened, with instruments conuenient for the purpose, he descended downe into the vault, and kneeled downe by the Beere whereon she lay, and in her wearing garments, according to the vsu∣all manner; with teares trickling mainly downe his cheekes, he be∣stowed infinite sweet kisses on her.

But as we commonly see, that mens desires are neuer contented, but still will presume on further aduantages, especially such as loue entirely: so fared it with Gentile, who being once minded to get him gone, as satisfied with the oblation of his kisses; would needs yet step backe againe, saying. Why should I not touch her yuory breast, the Adamant that drew all desires to adore her? Ah let me touch it now, for neuer hereafter can I bee halfe so happy. Ouer∣come with this alluring appetite, gently he laid his hand vpon her breast, with the like awefull respect, as if she were liuing, and hol∣ding it so an indifferent while: either he felt, or his imagination so perswaded him, the heart of the Lady to beate and pant. Casting off all fond feare, and the warmth of his increasing the motion: his inward soule assured him, that she was not dead vtterly, but had some small sense of life remaining in her, whereof he would needs be further informed.

So gently as possible he could, and with the helpe of his man, he tooke her forth of the monument, & laying her softly on his horse before him, conueighed her closely to his house in Bologna. Signi∣or Gentile had a worthy Lady to his Mother, a woman of great wis∣dome and vertue, who vnderstanding by her Sonne, how matters had happened; moued with compassion, and suffering no one in the house to know what was done, made a good fire, and very excel∣lent Bathe, which recalled back againe wrong-wandering life. Then fetching a vehement sigh, opening her eyes, & looking very strang∣ly about her, she said. Alas! where am I now? whereto the good old Lady kindly replyed, saying. Comfort your selfe Madame, for you are in a good place.

Her spirits being in better manner met together, and she still ga∣zing euery way about her, not knowing well where she was, and seeing Signior Gentile standing before her: he entreated his mother to tell her by what meanes she came thither; which the good old Lady did, Gentile himselfe helping to relate the whole history. A while she grieued and lamented, but afterward gaue them most hearty thankes, humbly requesting, that, in regard of the loue he had formerly borne her, in his house she might finde no other v∣sage, varying from the honour of her selfe and her Husband, and when day was come, to be conueighed home to her owne house. Madame, answered Signior Gentile, whatsoeuer I sought to gaine from you in former dayes, I neuer meane, either here, or any where else, to motion any more. But seeing it hath been my happy for∣tune, to proue the blessed means, of reducing you from death to life: you shal find no other entertainment here, then as if you were mine owne Sister. And yet the good deed which I haue this night done for you, doth well deserue some courteous requitall: in which respect, I would haue you not to deny me one fauour, which I will presume to craue of you. Whereto the Lady louingly replyed, that she was willing to grant it; prouided, it were honest, and in her power: whereto Signior Gentile thus answered.

Madame, your parents, kindred and friends, and generally all throughout Bologna, doe verily thinke you to be dead, wherefore there is not any one, that will make any inquisition after you: in which regard, the fauour I desire from you, is no more but to abide here secretly with my Mother, vntill such time as I returne from Modena, which shall be very speedily. The occasion why I moue this motion, aymeth at this end, that in presence of the chiefest per∣sons of our City, I may make a gladsome present of you to your Husband. The Lady knowing her selfe highly beholding to the Knight, and the request he made to be very honest: disposed her selfe to doe as he desired (although she earnestly longed, to glad her parents and kindred with seeing her aliue) and made her promise him on her faith, to effect it in such manner, as he pleased to appoint and giue her direction.

Scarcely were these words concluded, but she felt the custome of women to come vpon her, with the paines and throwes incident to childing: wherefore, with helpe of the aged Lady, Mother to Signior Gentile, it was not long before her deliuerance of a goodly Sonne, which greatly augmented the ioy of her and Gentile, who tooke order, that all things belonging to a woman in such a case, were not wanting, but she was as carefully respected, euen as if she had been his owne Wife. Secretly he repaired to Modena, where

hauing giuen direction for his place of authority; he returned back againe to Bologna, and there made preparation for a great and so∣lemne feast, appointing who should be his inuited guests, the very chiefest persons in Bologna, and (among them) Signior Nicoluccio Caccianimico the especiall man.

After he was dismounted from horsebacke, and found so good company attending for him (the Lady also, more faire and healthful then euer, and the Infant liuely disposed) he sate downe at the Ta∣ble with his guests, causing them to be serued in most magnificent manner, with plenty of all delicates that could be deuised, and ne∣uer before was there such a Iouiall feast. About the ending of din∣ner, closely he made the Lady acquainted with his further intenti∣on, and likewise in what order euery thing should be done, which being effected, he returned to his company, & vsed these speeches.

Honourable friends, I remember a discourse sometime made vnto me, concerning the Countrey of Persia, and a kind of custome there obserued, not to be misliked in mine opinion. When any one intended to honour his friend in effectuall manner, he inuited him home to his house, and there would shew him the thing, which with greatest loue he did respect; were it Wife, Friend, Sonne, Daughter, or any thing else whatsoeuer; wherewithall hee spared not to affirme, that as he shewed him those choyce delights, the like view he should haue of his heart, if with any possibility it could be done; and the very same custome I meane now to obserue here in our City. You haue vouchsafed to honour me with your presence, at this poore homely dinner of mine, and I will welcome you after the Persian manner, in shewing you the Iewell, which (aboue all things else in the world) I euer haue most respectiuely esteemed. But before I doe it, I craue your fauourable opinions in a doubt, which I will plainely declare vnto you.

If any man hauing in his house a good and faithfull seruant, who falling into extremity of sickenesse, shall be throwne forth into the open street, without any care or pitty taken on him: A stranger chanceth to passe by, and (moued with compassion of his weake∣nesse) carryeth him home to his owne house, where vsing all chari∣table diligence, and not sparing any cost, he recouereth the sicke person to his former health. I now desire to know, if keeping the said restored person, and imploying him about his owne businesse: the first Master (by pretending his first right) may lawfully com∣plaine of the second, and yeeld him backe againe to the first master, albeit he doe make challenge of him?

All the Gentlemen, after many opinions passing among them, agreed altogether in one sentence, and gaue charge to Signior Ni∣coluccio,

Caccianimico, (because he was an excellent and elegant speaker) to giue answere for them all. First, he commended the cu∣stome obserued in Persia, saying, he iumpt in opinion with all the rest, that the first Master had no right at all to the seruant, hauing not onely (in such necessity) forsaken him, but also cast him forth in∣to the comfortlesse street. But for the benefits and mercy extended to him; it was more then manifest, that the recouered person, was become iustly seruant to the second Master, and in detayning him from the first, hee did not offer him any iniury at all. The whole Company sitting at the Table (being all very wise & worthy men) gaue their verdict likewise with the confession of Signior Nicoluc∣cio Caccianimico. Which answere did not a little please the Knight; and so much the rather, because Nicoluccio had pronounced it, affir∣ming himselfe to be of the same minde.

So, sitting in a pretended musing a while, at length he said. My honourable guests, it is now more then high time, that I should doe you such honour, as you haue most iustly deserued, by performing the promise made vnto you. Then calling two of his seruants, he sent them to Madame Catharina (whom he had caused to adorne her self in excellent manner) entreating her, that she would be plea∣sed to grace his guests with her presence. Catharina, hauing deckt her child in costly habiliments, layed it in her armes, and came with the seruauts into the dyning Hall, and sate down (as the Knight had appointed) at the vpper end of the Table, and then Signior Gentile spake thus. Behold, worthy Gentlemen, this is the Iewell which I haue most affected, and intend to loue none other in the world; be you my Iudges, whether I haue iust occasion to doe so, or no? The Gentlemen saluting her with respectiue reuerence, said to the Knight; that he had great reason to affect her: And viewing her aduisedly, many of them thought her to be the very same woman (as indeed she was) but that they beleeued her to be dead.

But aboue all the rest, Nicoluccio Caccianimico could neuer be sa∣tisfied with beholding her; and, enflamed with earnest desire, to know what she was, could not refraine (seeing the Knight was gone out of the roome) but demaunded of her, whether she were of Bo∣logna, or a stranger? when the Lady heard her selfe to be thus que∣stioned, and by her Husband, it seemed painefull to her, to containe from answering: Neuerthelesse, to perfect the Kinghts intended purpose, she sate silent. Others demaunded of her, whether the sweet Boy were hers, or no; and some questioned, if she were Gen∣tiles Wife, or no, or else his Knisewoman; to all which demaunds, she returned not any answere. But when the Knight came to them againe, some of them said to him. Sir, this woman is a goodly crea∣ture,

but she appeareth to be dumbe, which were great pitty, if it should be so. Gentlemen (quoth he) it is no small argument of her vertue, to sit still and silent at this instant. Tell vs then (said they) of whence, and what she is. Therein (quoth he) I will quickely resolue you, vpon your conditionall promise: that none of you do remoue from his place, whatsoeuer shall be said or done, vntill I haue fully deliuered my minde. Euery one bound himselfe by solemne pro∣mise, to perform what he had appointed, and the Tables being voi∣ded, as also the Carpets laid; then the Knight (sitting downe by the Lady) thus began.

Worthy Gentlemen, this Lady is that true and faithfull seruant, wherof I moued the question to you, whom I tooke out of the cold street, where her parents, kindred and friends (making no account at all of her) threw her forth, as a thing vile and vnprofitable. Neuer∣thelesse, such hath been my care and cost, that I haue rescued her out of deaths griping power; and, in a meere charitable dispositi∣on, which honest affection caused me to beare her; of a body, full of terror & affrighting (as then she was) I haue caused her to become thus louely as you see. But because you may more apparantly dis∣cerne, in what manner this occasion happened; I will lay it open to you in more familiar manner. Then he began the whole history, from the originall of his vnbeseeming affection to her (in regard she was a worthy mans wife) and consequently, how all had happened to the instant houre, to the no meane admiration of all the hearers, adding withall. Now Gentlemen (quoth he) if you varry not from your former opinion, and especially Signior Nicoluccio Cacciani∣mico: this Lady (by good right) is mine, and no man else, by any iust title, can lay any claime to her.

All sate silent, without answering one word, as expecting what he intended further to say: but in the meane while, Nicoluccio, the parents and kindred, but chiefely the Lady her selfe, appeared as halfe melted into teares with weeping. But Signior Gentile, star∣ting vp from the Table, taking the Infant in his arme, and leading the Lady by the hand, going to Nicoluccio, thus spake. Rise Sir, I will not giue thee thy wife, whom both her kindred and thine, threw forth into the street: but I will bestow this Lady on thee, being my Gossip, and this sweet Boy my God-sonne, who was (as I am verily perswaded) begotten by thee, I standing witnesse for him at the Font of Baptisme, and giue him mine owne name Gentile. Let me entreat thee, that, although she hath liued here in mine house, for the space of three monethes, she should not be lesse welcome to thee, then before: for I sweare to thee vpon my soule, that my former affection to her (how vniust soeuer) was the onely meanes of pre∣seruing

her life: and more honestly she could not liue, with Father, Mother, or thy selfe, then she hath done here with mine owne Mo∣ther.

Hauing thus spoken, he turned to the Lady, saying. Madame, I now discharge you of all promises made me, deliuering you to your Husband franke and free: And when he had giuen him the Lady, and the child in his armes, he returned to his place, and sate downe againe. Nicoluccio, with no meane ioy and hearty contentment receiued both his wife and childe, being before farre from expecta∣tion of such an admirable comfort; returning the Knight infinite thankes (as all the rest of the Company did the like) who could not refraine from weeping for meere ioy, for such a strange and won∣derful accident: euery one highly commending Gentile, & such also as chanced to heare thereof. The Lady was welcommed home to her owne house, with many moneths of Iouiall feasting, and as she passed through the streets, all beheld her with admiration, to be so happily recouered from her graue. Signior Gentile liued long after, a loyall friend to Nicoluccio and his Lady, and all that were well-willers to them.

What thinke you now Ladies? Can you imagine, because a King gaue away his Crowne and Scepter; and an Abbot (without any cost to himselfe) reconciled a Malefactor to the Pope; and an old idle-headed man, yeelding to the mercy of his enemy: that all those actions are comparable to this of Signior Gentile? Youth and ardent affection, gaue him a iust and lawfull title, to her who was free (by imagined death) from Husbands, Parents, and all friends else, she being so happily wonne into his owne possession. Yet ho∣nesty not onely ouer-swayed the heate of desire, which in many men is violent and immoderate: but with a bountifull and liberall soule, that which he coueted beyond all hopes else, and had within his owne command; he freely gaue away. Beleeue me (bright Beauties) not any of the other (in a true and vnpartiall iudgement) are worthy to be equalled with this, or stiled by the name of mag∣nificent actions.

Madame Dianora, the Wife of Signior Gilberto, being immodestly affected by Signior Ansaldo, to free her selfe from his tedious im∣portunity, she appointed him to performe (in her iudgement) an act of impossibility; namely, to giue her a Garden, as plentifully stored with fragrant Flowers in lanuary, as in the flourishing moneth of May. Ansaldo, by meanes of a bond which he made to a Magiti∣an, performed her request. Signior Gilberto, the Ladyes Hus∣band, gaue consent, that his Wife should fulfill her promise made to Ansaldo. Who hearing the bountifull mind of her Husband; re∣leased her of her promise: And the Magitian likewise discharged Signior Ansaldo, without taking any thing of him.

The Fift Nouell.

Admonishing all Ladies and Gentlewomen, that are desirous to pre∣serue their chastity, free from all blemish and taxation: to make no promise of yeelding to any, vnder a compact or couenant, how impos∣sible soeuer it may seeme to be.

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NOt any one in all the Company, but extolled the worthy Act of Signior Gentile to the skies; till the King gaue command to Madame Aemillia, that she should follow next with her Tale, who boldly stepping vp, began in this order.

Gracious Ladies, I thinke there is none heere present among vs, but (with good reason) may maintaine, that Signiour Gentile per∣formed a magnificent deede: but whosoeuer saith, it is impossible to do more; perhaps is ignorant in such actions, as can and may be done, as I meane to make good vnto you, by a Nouell not ouer∣long or tedious.

The Countrey of Fretulium, better knowne by the name of Fo∣rum Iulij; although it be subiect to much cold, yet it is pleasant, in regard of many goodly Mountaines, Riuers, and cleare running Springs, wherewith it is not meanly stored. Within those Territo∣ries, is a City called Vdina, where sometime liued a faire and No∣ble Lady, named Madame Dianora, Wife to a rich and woorthie Knight, called Signior Gilberto, a man of very great fame and me∣rite.

This beautiful Lady, beeing very modest and vertuously incli∣ned, was highly affected by a Noble Baron of those parts, tearmed by the name of Signior Ansaldo Gradense; a man of very great spirit, bountifull, actiue in Armes, and yet very affable and courteous, which caused him to be the better respected. His loue to this Lady was extraordinary, hardly to bee contained within any moderate compasse, striuing to bee in like manner affected of her: to vvhich end, she wanted no daily solicitings, Letters, Ambassages and Loue∣tokens, all prouing to no purpose.

This vertuous Lady, being wearied with his often temptations, and seeing, that by denying whatsoeuer he demanded, yet he wold not giue ouer his suite, but so much the more importunatly stil pur∣sued her: began to bethinke her selfe, how she might best be rid of him, by imposing some such taske vpon him, as should bee impossi∣ble (in her opinion) for him to effect. An olde woman, whom hee imployed for his continual messenger to her, as shee came one day about her ordinary errand, with her she communed in this manner. Good woman (quoth she) thou hast so often assured me, that Sig∣nior Ansaldo loueth me aboue all other Women in the world, offe∣ring me wonderfull gifts and presents in his name, which I haue al∣wayes refused, and so stil wil do, in regard I am not to be woon by any such allurements: yet if I could be soundly perswaded, that his affection is answerable to thy peremptory protestations, I shoulde (perhaps) be the sooner wonne, to listen to his suite in milder man∣ner, then hitherto I haue done. Wherefore, if he wil giue me assu∣rance, to perform such a businesse as I mean to enioyne him, he shall the speedier heare better answer from me▪ and I wil confirme it with mine oath.

Wonderfully pleased was Mistresse Maquerella, to heare a reply

of such comfortable hope; and therefore desired the Lady, to tel hir what she wold haue done. Listen to me wel (answerd Madam Dia∣nora) the matter which I would haue him to effect for me, is; with∣out the wals of our City, and during the month of Ianuarie nexte ensuing, to prouide me a Garden, as fairely furnished with all kind of fragrant flowers, as the flourishing month of May can yeelde no better. If he be not able to accomplish this imposition, then I com∣mand him, neuer hereafter to solicite me any more, either by thee, or any other whatsoeuer: for, if he do importune me afterward, as hitherto I haue concealed his secret conspiring, both from my hus∣band, and all my friends; so will I then lay his dishonest suite open to the world, that he may receiue punishment accordingly, for offe∣ring to wrong a Gentleman in his wife.

When Signior Ansaldo heard her demand, and the offer beside thereuppon made him (although it seemed no easie matter, but a thing meerly impossible to be done) he considered aduisedly, that she made this motion to no other end, but onely to bereaue him of all his hope, euer to enioy what so earnestly hee desired: neuerthe∣lesse, he would not so giue it vtterly ouer, but would needs approue what could be done. Heereupon, hee sent into diuers partes of the world, to find out any one that was able to aduise him in this doubt∣full case. In the end, one was brought to him, who beeing well re∣compenced for his paines, by the Art of Nigromancie would vnder take to do it. With him Signior Ansaldo couenanted, binding him∣selfe to pay a great summe of mony, vpon performance of so rare a deed, awaiting (in hopefull expectation) for the month of Ianuaries comming.

It being come, and the weather then in extreamity of cold, euery thing being couered with ice and snow, the Magitian preuailed so by his Art, that after the Christmas Holy dayes were past, and the Calends of Ianuary entred: in one night, and without the Cittie Wals, the goodliest Garden of flowers and fruites, was sodainely sprung vp, as (in opinion of such as beheld it) neuer was the like seen before. Now Ladies, I think I need not demand the question, whe∣ther Signior Ansaldo were wel pleased, or no, who going to beholde it, saw it most plenteously stored, with al kind of fruit trees, flowers, herbes and plants, as no one could be named, that was wanting in this artificiall garden. And hauing gathered some pretty store of them, secretly he sent them to Madam Dianora, inuiting hir to come see her Garden, perfected according to her owne desire, and vppon view thereof, to confesse the integrity of his loue to her, considering and remembring withall, the promise shee had made him vnder so∣lemne oath, that she might be reputed for a woman of her word.

When the Lady beheld the fruites and flowers, and heard ma∣ny other thinges re-counted, so wonderfully growing in the same Garden: she began to repent her rash promise made; yet notwith∣standing her repentance, as Women are couetous to see all rarities; so, accompanied with diuers Ladies and Gentlewomen more, she went to see the Garden; and hauing commended it with much ad∣miration, she returned home againe, the most sorrowfull Woman as euer liued, considering what she had tyed her selfe to, for enioy∣ing this Garden. So excessiue grew her griefe and affliction, that it could not be so clouded or concealed: but her Husband tooke no∣tice of it, and would needs vnderstand the occasion thereof. Long the Lady (in regard of shame and modesty) sate without returning any answer; but being in the end constrained, she disclosd the whol History to him.

At the first, Signior Gilberto waxed exceeding angry, but when he further considered withall, the pure and honest intention of his Wife; wisely he pacified his former distemper, and saide. Dianora, it is not the part of a wise and honest woman, to lend an eare to am∣bassages of such immodest nature, much lesse to compound or make agreement for her honesty, with any person, vnder any condition whatsoeuer. Those perswasions which the heart listeneth to, by al∣lurement of the eare, haue greater power then many do imagine, & nothing is so vneasie or difficult, but in a louers iudgement it appea∣reth possible. Ill didst thou therefore first of all to listen, but worse (afterward) to contract.

But, because I know the purity of thy soule, I wil yeelde (to dis∣oblige thee of thy promise) as perhaps no wise man else would do: mooued thereto onely by feare of the Magitian, who seeing Signi∣or Ansaldo displeased, because thou makest a mockage of him; will do some such violent wrong to vs, as we shal be neuer able to reco∣uer. Wherefore, I would haue thee go to Signior Ansaldo, and if thou canst (by any meanes) obtaine of him, the safe-keeping of thy honour, and ful discharge of thy promise; it shal be an eternall fame to thee, and the crowne of a most victorious conquest. But if it must needs be otherwise, lend him thy body onely for once, but not thy wil: for actions committed by constraint, wherein the will is no way guilty, are halfe pardonable by the necessity.

Madame Dianora, hearing her husbands words, wept exceed∣ingly, and auouched, that shee had not deserued any such especiall grace of him, and therefore she would rather dye, then doe it. Ne∣uerthelesse, it was the wil of her Husband to haue it so, and there∣fore (against her wil) she gaue consent. The next morning, by the breake of day, Dianora arose, and attiring her selfe in her very mea∣nest

garments, with two seruingmen before her, and a waiting Wo∣man following, she went to the lodging of Signior Ansaldo, who hearing that Madam Dianora was come to visite him, greatly mer∣uailed, and being risen, he called the Magitian to him▪ saying. Come go with me, and see what effect will follow vpon thine Art. And be∣ing come into her presence, without any base or inordinate appe∣tite, he did her humble reuerence, embracing her honestly, and ta∣king her into a goodly Chamber, where a faire fire was readilie prepared, causing her to sit downe by him, he sayde vnto her as fol∣loweth.

Madam, I humbly intreat you to resolue me, if the affection I haue long time borne you, and yet do stil, deserue any recompence at all: you would be pleased then to tel me truly, the occasion of your in∣stant comming hither, and thus attended as you are. Dianora, blu∣shing with modest shame, and the teares trickling mainly down her faire cheekes, thus answered. Signior Ansaldo, not for any Loue I beare you, or care of my faithfull promise made to you, but onely by the command of my husband (who respecting more the paynes and trauels of your inordinate loue, then his owne reputation and honor, or mine;) hath caused me to come hither: and by vertue of his command, am ready (for once onely) to fulfill your pleasure, but far from any will or consent in my selfe. If Signior Ansaldo were a∣bashed at the first, hee began now to be more confounded with ad∣miration, when he heard the Lady speake in such strange manner: & being much moued with the liberall command of her husband, he began to alter his inflamed heate, into most honourable respect and compassion, returning her this answer.

Most noble Lady, the Gods forbid (if it be so as you haue sayd) that I should (Villain-like) soile the honour of him, that takes such vnvsuall compassion of my vnchaste appetite. And therefore, you may remaine heere so long as you please, in no other condition, but as mine owne naturall borne Sister; and likewise, you may depart freely when you will: conditionally, that (on my behalfe) you ren∣der such thankes to your husband, as you thinke conuenient for his great bounty towards me, accounting me for euer heereafter, as his loyall Brother and faithfull seruant. Dianora hauing well obserued his answer, her heart being ready to mount out at her mouth vvith ioy, said. All the world could neuer make mee beleeue (considering your honourable minde and honesty) that it would happen other∣wise to me, then now it hath done, for which noble courtesie, I will continually remaine obliged to you. So, taking her leaue, she retur∣ned home honorably attended to her husband, and relating to him what had happened, it proued the occasion of begetting intire loue

and friendship, betweene himselfe and the Noble Lord Ansaldo.

Now concerning the skilfull Magitian, to whom Ansaldo meant to giue the bountifull recompence agreed on betweene them, hee hauing seene the strange liberality, which the husband expressed to Signior Ansaldo, and that of Ansaldo to the Lady, hee presently saide. Great Iupiter strike me dead with thunder, hauing my selfe seene a husband so liberall of his honour, and you Sir of true noble kindnesse, if I should not be the like of my recompence: for, percei∣uing it to be so worthily imployed, I am well contented that you shal keepe it. The Noble Lord was modestly ashamed, and stroue (so much as in him lay) that he should take all, or the greater part thereof: but seeing he laboured meerly in vaine, after the third day was past, and the Magitian had destroyed the Garden againe, hee gaue him free liberty to depart, quite controlling all fond and vnchaste affection in himselfe, either towards Dianora, or any La∣dy else, and liuing (euer after) as best becommeth any Nobleman to do.

What say you now Ladies? Shal wee make any account of the woman wel-neere dead, and the kindnesse growne cold in Signiour Gentile, by losse of his former hopes, comparing them with the li∣berality of Signior Ansaldo, affecting more feruently, then euer the other did? And being (beyond hope) possessed of the booty, which (aboue all things else in the world) he most desired to haue, to part with it meerly in fond compassion? I protest (in my iudgement) the one is no way comparable to the other, that of Gentile, with this last of Signior Ansaldo.

Victorious King Charles, sirnamed the Aged, and first of that Name, fell in loue with a yong Maiden, named Geneuera, daughter to an ancient Knight, called Signior Neri degli Vberti. And waxing a∣shamed of his amorous folly, caused both Geneuera, and her fayre Sister Isotta, to be ioyned in marriage with two Noble Gentlemen; the one named Signior Maffeo da Palizzi, and the other, Signior Gulielmo della Magna.

The Sixt Nouell.

Sufficiently declaring, that how mighty soeuer the power of Loue is: yet a magnanimous and truly generous heart, it can by no meanes fully conquer.

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WHo is able to expresse ingeniously, the diuersity of opini∣ons, which hapned among the Ladies, in censuring on the act of Madame Dianora, and which of them was most li∣berall, either Signior Gilberto the Husband, Lord Ansaldo the im∣portunate suiter, or the Magitian, expecting to bee bountifully re∣warded. Surely, it is a matter beyond my capacity: but after the King had permitted their disputation a long while, looking on Ma∣dam Fiammetta, he commanded that she should report her Nouel to make an end of their controuersie; and she (without any further delaying) thus began. I did alwaies (Noble Ladies) hold it fit and decent, that in such an assembly as this of ours is, euery one ought

to speake so succinctly and plainly: that the obscure vnderstanding, concerning the matters spoken of, should haue no cause of disputa∣tion. For disputes do much better become the Colledges of Schol∣lers, then to be among vs, who hardly can manage our Distaues or Samplers. And therefore I, doe intend to relate something, which (peraduenture) might appeare doubtfull: will forbeare (seeing you in such a difference; for that which hath bin spoken alreadie) to vse any difficult discourse; but will speake of one, a man of no meane ranke or quality, being both a valiant and vertuous King, and what he did, without any impeach or blemish to his honor.

I make no doubt, but you haue often heard report, of king Charls the Aged, and first of that name, by reason of his magnificent en∣terprises, as also his most glorious victory, which he obtaind against King Manfred, when the Ghibellines were expulsed foorth of Flo∣rence, and the Guelphes returned thither againe. By which occasi∣on, an ancient knight, named Signior Neri degli Vberti; forsaking then the City, with all his family and great store of wealth, woulde liue vnder any other obedience, then the awful power or command of King Charles. And coueting to be in some solitary place, where he might finish the remainder of his dayes in peace, he went to Ca∣stello da Mare; where, about a Bow shoote distance from all other dwelling houses, hee bought a parcel of ground, plentifully stored with variety of Trees, bearing Oliues, Chesnuts, Orenges, Lemons Pomcitrons, and other excellent frutages, wherewith the Countrey flourisheth abundantly. There he built a very faire and commodi∣ous house, and planted (close by it) a pleasant Garden, in the middst whereof, because he had great plenty of water: according as other men vse to do, being in the like case so wel prouided; he made a ve∣ry goodly Pond, which forthwith had all kinde of Fish swimming in it, it being his daily care and endeuour, to tend his Garden, and encrease his Fish-pond.

It fortuned, that King Charles (in the Summer time) for his plea∣sure and recreation, went to repose himselfe (for some certayne dayes) at Castello de Mare, where hauing heard report of the beau∣tie and singularitie of Signiour Neries Garden; hee grew very de∣sirous to see it. But when he vnderstoode to whome it belonged, then he entred into consideration with himselfe, that hee was an an∣cient Knight, maintaining a contrarie faction to his: wherefore, he thought it fit to goe in some familiar manner, and with no trayne attending on him. Wherupon he sent him word, that he wold come to visit him, with foure Gentlemen onely in his companie, meaning to sup with him in his Garden the next night ensuing. The newes was very welcome to Signior Neri, who took order in costly maner

for all things to bee done, entertaining the King most ioyfully into his beautifull Garden.

When the King had suruayed all, and the house likewise, he com∣mended it beyond all other comparison, and the Tables being pla∣ced by the Ponds side, he washed his hands therin, & then sat down at the table, commanding the Count, Sir Guy de Montforte (who was one of them which came in his company) to sitte downe by him, and Signior Neri on his other side. As for the other three of the traine, hee commaunded them to attend on his seruice, as Sig∣nior Neri had giuen order. There wanted no exquisite Viandes and excellent Wines, all performed in most decent manner, and without the least noise or disturbance, wherein the King tooke no little delight.

Feeding thus in this contented manner, and facying the solitude of the place: sodainly entred into the garden, two yong Damosels, each aged about some fifteene yeares, their haire resembling wyars of Gold, and curiously curled, hauing Chaplets (made like prouin∣ciall Crownes) on their heades, and their delicate faces, expressing them to be rather Angels, then mortall creatures, such was the ap∣pearance of their admired beauty. Their vnder-garments were of costly Silke, yet white as the finest snow, framed (from the girdle vpward) close to their bodies, but spreading largely downward, like the extendure of a Pauillion, and so descending to the feet. She that first came in sight, caried on her shoulder a couple of fishing Netts, which she held fast with her left-hand, and in the right she carryed a long staffe. The other following her, had on her left shoulder a Fry∣ing-pan, and vnder the same arme a small Faggot of woodde, with a Treuit in her hand; and in the other hand a pot of Oyle, as also a brand of fire flaming.

No sooner did the King behold them, but he greatly wondered what they should be; and, without vttering one word, attended to listen what they wold say. Both the yong damosels, when they were come before the King, with modest and bashfull gesture, they per∣formed very humble reuerence to him, and going to the place of en∣trance into the Pond, she who held the Treuit, set it downe on the ground, with the other things also; and taking the staffe which the other Damosell carried: they both went into the Pond, the water whereof reached so high as to their bosomes. One of the Seruants to Signior Neri, presently kindled the fire, setting the Treuit ouer it, and putting Oyle into the Frying-panne, held it vppon the Tre∣uit, awaiting vntill the Damosels should cast him vppe Fish. One of them did beate a place with the staffe, where she was assured of the Fishes resort, and the other hadde lodged the Nets so conue∣niently,

as they quickly caught great store of Fish, to the Kings high contentment, who obserued their behauiour very respectiuely.

As the Fishes were throwne vp to the seruant, aliue as they were, he tooke the best and fairest of them, and brought them to the Table, where they skipt and mounted before the King, Count Guy de Montfort and the Father: some leaping from the Table into the Pond againe, and others, the King (in a pleasing humour) voluntari∣ly threw backe to the Damosels. Iesting and sporting in this man∣ner, till the seruant had drest diuers of them in exquisite order, and serued them to the Table, according as Signior Neri had ordained. When the Damosels saw the Fishes seruice performed, and percei∣ued that they had fished sufficiently: they came forth of the water, their garments then (being wet) hanging close about them, euen as if they hid no part of their bodies. Each hauing taken those things againe, which at first they brought with them, and saluting the king in like humility as they did before, returned home to the mansion house.

The King and Count likewise, as also the other attending Gentle∣men, hauing duely considered the behauior of the Damosels: com∣mended extraordinarily their beauty and faire feature, with those other perfections of Nature so gloriously shining in them. But (be∣yond all the rest) the King was boundlesse in his praises giuen of them, hauing obserued their going into the water, the equall carri∣age there of them both, their comming forth, and gracious demea∣nor at their departing (yet neither knowing of whence, or what they were) he felt his affection very violently flamed, and grew into such an amourous desire to them both, not knowing which of them pleased him most, they so choisely resembled one another in all things.

But after he had dwelt long enough vpon these thoughts, he tur∣ned him selfe to Signior Neri, and demanded of him, what Damo∣sels they were. Sir (answered Neri) they are my Daughters, both brought into the world at one birth, and Twinnes, the one being named Geneuera the faire, and the other Isotta the amiable. The King began againe to commend them both, and gaue him ad∣uise to get them both married: wherein he excused himselfe, al∣leadging, that he wanted power to doe it. At the same time instant, no other seruice remaining to be brought to the table, except Fruit and Cheese, the two Damosels returned againe, attyred in goodly Roabes of Carnation Sattin, formed after the Turkish fashion, car∣rying two fayre Siluer dishes in their hands, filled with diuers deli∣cate Fruies, such as the season then afforded, setting them on the Table before the King. Which being done, they retyred a little

backeward, and with sweet melodious voyces, sung a ditty, begin∣ning in this manner.

Where Loue presumeth into place: Let no one sing in Loues disgrace.

So sweet and pleasing seemed the Song to the King (who tooke no small delight, both to heare and behold the Damosels) euen as if all the Hirarchies of Angels, were descended from the Heauens to sing before him. No sooner was the Song ended, but (humbly on their knees) they craued fauour of the King for their departing. Now, although their departure was greatly grieuing to him, yet (in outward appearance) he seemed willing to grant it.

When Supper was concluded, and the King and his Company remounted on horsebacke: thankefully departing from Signior Neri, the King returned to his lodging, concealing there closely his affection to himselfe, and whatsoeuer important affaires happened: yet he could not forget the beauty, & gracious behauiour of Geneue∣ra the faire (for whose sake he loued her Sister likewise) but became so linked to her in vehement maner, as he had no power to think on any thing else. Pretending other vrgent occasions, he fell into great familiarity with Signior Neri, visiting very often his goodly Garden; onely to see his faire Daughter Geneuera, the Adamant which drew him thither.

When he felt his amourous assaults, to exceed all power of lon∣ger sufferance: he resolued determinately with himselfe, (being vnprouided of any better meanes) to take her away from her Fa∣ther, and not onely she, but her Sister also; discouering both his loue and intent to Count Guy de Montforte, who being a very wor∣thy and vertuous Lord, and meet to be a Counseller for a King, de∣liuered his mind in this manner.

Gracious Lord, I wonder not a little at your speeches, and so much the greater is my admiratiō, because no mā els can be subiect to the like, in regard I haue knowne you from the time of your in∣fancy; euen to this instant houre, and alwayes your carriage to bee one and the same. I could neuer perceiue in your youthfull dayes (when loue should haue the greatest meanes to assaile you) any such oppressing passions: which is now the more nouell and strange to me, to heare it but said, that you being old, and called the Aged; should be growne amorous, surely to me it seemeth a miracle. And if it appertained to me to reprehend you in this case, I know well e∣nough what I could say. Considering, you haue yet your Armour on your backe, in a Kiugdome newly conquered, among a Nation not knowne to you, full of falsehoods, breaches, and treasons; all which are no meane motiues to care and needfull respect. But ha∣uing

now wone a little leisure, to rest your selfe a while from such serious affaires; can you giue way to the idle suggestions of Loue? Beleeue me Sir, it is no act becomming a magnanimious King; but rather the giddy folly of a young braine.

Moreouer you say (which most of all I mislike) that you intend to take the two Virgines from the Knight, who hath giuen you en∣tertainment in his house beyond his ability, and to testifie how much he honoured you, he suffered you to haue a sight of them, meerely (almost) in a naked manner: witnessing thereby, what con∣stant faith he reposed in you, beleeuing verily, that you were a iust King, and not a rauenous Woolfe. Haue you so soone forgot, that the rapes and violent actions, done by King Manfred to harmelesse Ladies, made your onely way of entrance into this Kingdome? What treason was euer committed, more worthy of eternall pu∣nishment, then this will be in you: to take away from him (who hath so highly honoured you) his chiefest hope and consolation? What will be said by all men, if you doe it?

Peraduenture you thinke, it will be a sufficient excuse for you, to say: I did it, in regard hee was a Ghihelline. Can you imagine this to be iustice in a King, that such as get into their possession in this manner (whatsoeuer it be) ought to vse it in this sort? Let me tell you Sir, it was a most worthy victory for you, to conquer King Manfred: but it is farre more famous victory, for a man to con∣••uer himselfe. You therfore, who are ordained to correct vices in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 men, learne first to subdue them in your selfe, and (by bride∣ling this inordinate appetite) set not a foule blemish on so faire a fame, as will be honour to you to preserue spotlesse.

These words pierced the heart of the King deepely, and so much the more afflicted him, because he knew them to be most true: wherefore, after he had ventred a very vehement sigh, thus he replyed. Beleeue me noble Count, there is not any enemy, how strong soeuer he be, but I hold him weake and easie to be vanquish∣ed, by him who is skilfull in the warre, where a man may learne to conquere his owne appetite. But because he shall find it a labori∣ous taske, requiring inestimable strength and courage: your words haue so toucht me to the quicke, that it becommeth me to let you effectually perceiue (and within the compasse of few dayes) that as I haue learned to conquer others, so I am not ignorant, in expressing the like power vpon my selfe.

Hauing thus spoken, within some few dayes after, the King be∣ing returned to Naples, he determined, as well to free himself from any the like ensuing follie, as also to recompence Signior Neri, for the great kindnesse he had shewne to him (although it was a diffi∣cult

thing, to let another enioy, what he rather desired for himselfe) to haue the two Damosels married, not as the Daughters of Signi∣or Neri, but euen as if they were his owne. And by consent of the Father, he gaue Geneuera the faire, to Signior Maffeo da Palizzi, and Isotta the amiable, to Signior Gulielmo della Magna, two Noble Knights and honourable Barons. After he had thus giuen them in marriage, in sad mourning he departed thence into Apuglia, where by following worthy and honourable actions, he so well ouercame all inordinate appetites: that shaking off the enthralling fetters of loue, he liued free from all passions, the rest of his life time, and dy∣ed as an honourable King.

Some perhaps will say, it was a small matter for a King, to giue a∣way two Damosels in marriage, and I confesse it: but I maintaine it to be great, and more then great, if we say, that a King, being so earnestly enamoured as this King was; should giue her away to another, whom he so dearely affected himsefe, without receiuing (in recompence of his affection) so much as a leaffe, flowre, or the least fruit of loue. Yet such was the vertue of this magnificent King, expressed in so highly recompencing the noble Knights cour∣tesie, honouring the two daughters so royally, and conquering his owne affections so vertuously.

Lisana, the Daughter of a Florentine Apothecary, named Bernardo Puccino, being at Palermo, and seeing Piero, King of Aragon run at the Tilt; fell so affectionately enamored of him, that she languish•••• in an extreame and long sickenesse. By her owne deuise, and means of a Song, sung in the hearing of the King: he vouchsafed to visite her, and giuing her a kisse, terming himselfe also to bee her Knight for euer after, hee honourably bestowed her in marriage on a young Gentleman, who was called Perdicano, and gaue him liberall en∣dowments with her.

The Seuenth Nouell.

Wherein is couertly giuen to vnderstand, that howsoeuer a Prince may make vse of his absolute power and authority, towards Maides or Wiues that are his Subiects: yet he ought to deny and reiect all things, as shall make him forgetfull of himselfe, and his true ho∣nour.

MAdame Fiammetta being come to the end of her Nouell, and the great magnificence of King Charles much com∣mended (howbeit, some of the Company, affecting the

Ghibelline faction, were otherwise minded) Madame Pampinea, by order giuen from the King, began in this manner.

There is no man of good vnderstanding (honourable Ladies) but will maintaine what you haue said of victorious Charles; except such as cannot wish well to any. But because my memory hath instantly informed me, of an action (perhaps) no lesse commenda∣ble then this, done by an enemy of the said King Charles, and to a yong Maiden of our City, I am the more willing to relate it, vpon your gentle attention vouchsafed, as hitherto it hath been courte∣ously granted.

At such time as the French were driuen out of Sicilie, there dwelt at Palermo a Florentine Apothecary, named Bernardo Puc∣cino, a man of good wealth and reputation, who had by his Wife one onely Daughter, of marriageable yeares, and very beautifull. Piero, King of Arragon, being then become Lord of that Kingdom, he made an admirable Feast Royall at Palermo, accompanyed with his Lords and Barons. In honour of which publique Feast, the King kept a triumphall day (of Iusts and Turnament) at Catalana, and whereat it chanced, that the Daughter of Bernardo, named Li∣sana, was present. Being in a window, accompanied with other Gentlewomen, she saw the King runne at the Tilt, who seemed so goodly a person in her eye; that being neuer satisfied with behol∣ding him, she grew enamoured, and fell into extremity of affection towards him.

When the Feastiuall was ended, she dwelling in the house of her Father, it was impossible for her to thinke on any thing else, but onely the loue, which she had fixed on a person of such height. And that which most tormented her in this case, was the know∣ledge of her owne condition, being but meane and humble in de∣gree; whereby she confessed, that she could not hope for any suc∣cessefull issue of her proud loue. Neuerthelesse, she would not re∣fraine from affecting the King, who taking no note of this kind∣nesse in her, by any perceiuable meanes; must needs be the more regardles, which procured (by wary obseruation) her afflictions to be the greater and intollerable.

Whereon it came to passe, that this earnest loue encreasing in her more and more, and one melancholly conceit taking hold on another: the faire Maide, when she could beare the burden of her griefe no longer; fell into a languishing sickenesse, consuming a∣way daily (by euident appearance) euen as the Snow melteth by the warme beames of the Sunne.

The Father and Mother, much dismayed and displeased at

this haplesse accident, applying her with continuall comforts, Phi∣sicke, and the best skill remayning in all the Phisitions, sought all possible meanes wayes to giue her succour: but all proued to no ef∣fect, because in regard of her choyce (which could sort to none other then a desper ate end) she was desirous to liue no longer. Now it fortuned, that her parents offering her whatsoeuer remained in their power to performe, a sudden apprehension entred her minde, to wit, that (if it might possible be done) before she dyed, she would first haue the King to know, in what manner she stood affected to him. Wherefore, one day she entreated her Father, that a Gentle∣man, named Manutio de Arezza, might be permitted to come see her. This Manutio was (in those times) held to be a most excellent Musitian, both for his voyce in singing, and exquisite skill in play∣ing on Instruments, for which he was highly in fauour with King Piero, who made (almost) daily vse of him, to heare him both sing and play.

Her tender and louing father conceiued immediately, that shee was desirous to heare his playing and singing, both being comfor∣table to a body in a languishing sickenesse, whereupon, he sent pre∣sently for the Gentleman, who came accordingly, and after he had comforted Lisana with kind and courteous speeches; he played dexteriously on his Lute, which purposely hee had brought with him, and likewise he sung diuers excellent Ditties, which insted of his intended consolation to the Maid, did nothing else but encrease her fire and flame.

Afterward, she requested to haue some conference with Manu∣tio alone, and euery one being gone forth of the Chamber, she spake vnto him in this manner.

Manutio, I haue made choyce of thee, to be the faithfull Guardian of an especial secret, hoping first of al, that thou wilt neuer reueale it to any liuing body, but onely to him whom I shall bid thee: And n••xt, to helpe me so much as possibly thou canst, because my onely hope relyeth in thee. Know then my dearest friend Manutio, that on the solemne festiuall day, when our Soueraigne Lord the King honoured his exaltation, with the noble exercises of Tilt and Tur∣ney; his braue behauiour kindled such a sparke in my soule, as since brake forth into a violent flame, and brought me to this weake con∣dition as now thou seest. But knowing and confessing, how farre vnbeseeming my loue is, to aime so ambitiously at a King, and be∣ing vnable to controule it, or in the least manner to diminish it: I haue made choyce of the onely and best remedy of all, namely, to dye, and so I am most willing to doe.

True it is, that I shall trauaile in this my latest iourney, with end∣lesse

torment and affliction of soule, except he haue some vnder∣standing thereof before, and not knowing by whom to giue him in∣telligence, in so oft and conuenient order, as by thee▪ I doe there∣fore commit this last office of a friend to thy trust, desiring thee, not to refuse me in the performance thereof. And when thou hast done it, to let me vnderstand what he saith, that I may dye the more contentedly, and disburdened of so heauy an oppression, the onely comfort to a parting spirit: and so she ceased, her teares flow∣ing forth abundantly.

Manutio did not a little wonder at the Maides great spirit, and her desperate resolution, which moued him to exceeding commi∣seration, and suddenly he conceiued, that honectly he might dis∣charge this duty for her, whereupon, he returned her this answer. Lisana, here I engage my faith to thee, that thou shalt find me firme and constant, and die I will, rather then deceiue thee. Greatly I doe commend thy high attempt, in fixing thy affection on so Potent a King, wherein I offer thee my vtmost assistance: and I make no doubt (if thou wouldest be of good comfort) to deale in such sort, as, before three dayes are fully past, to bring such newes as will con∣tent thee, and because I am loath to loose the least time, I will goe a∣bout it presently. Lisana the yong Maiden, once againe entreated his care and diligence, promising to comfort her selfe so well as she could, commending him to his good fortune. When Manutio was gone from her, hee went to a Gentleman, named Mico de Sienna, one of the best Poets in the composing of verses, as all those parts yeelded not the like. At his request, Mico made for him this ensuing Dittie.

The Song sung in the hearing of King Piero, on the behalfe of Loue∣sicke Lisana.

Goe Loue, and tell the torments I endure, Say to my Soueraigne Lord, that I must die Except he come, some comfort to procure, For tell I may not, what I feele, and why.

WIth heaued hands Great Loue, I call to thee, Goe see my Soueraigne, where he doth abide,

And say to him, in what extremity, Thou hast (for him) my firm affection tryed. To die for him, it is my sole desire, For liue with him I may not, nor a spire, To haue my fortunes thereby dignified, Onely his sight would lend me life a while: Grant it (great loue) mine anguish to beguile. Goe loue and tell the torments, &c.

Since the first houre that loue enthralled me, I neuer had the heart, to tell my griefe, My thoughts did speake, for thoughts be alwayes free, Yet hopefull thoughts doe find but poore reliefe. When Gnats will mount to Eagles in the ayre, Alas! they scorne them, for full well they know, They were not bred to prey so base and low, Aloft they look, to make their flight more faire. And yet his sight would lend me life a while: Grant it (great loue) mine anguish to beguile. Goe loue, and tell the torments, &c.

If sight shall be denyed, then tell them plaine, His high triumphall day procurd my death, The Launce that won him Honour, hath me slaine. For instantly it did bereaue my breath. That speake I could not, nor durst be so bold, To make the Ayre acquainted with my woe: Alas! I lookt so high, and doing so, Iustly deserue by death to be controld. Yet mercies sight would lend me life a while, Grant it (great loue) mine anguish to beguile.

Goe loue, and tell the torments I endure, Say to my Soueraigne Lord, that I must die: Except he come, some comfort to procure, For tell I may not, what I feele, and why.

The lines contained in this Ditty, Manutio fitted with noates so moouing and singularly musicall, that euery word had the sensible motion of life in it, where the King being (as yet) not risen from the Table, he commanded him to vse both his Lute and voyce.

This seemed a happy opportunity to Manutio, to sing the dittie so purposely done and deuised: which hee deliuered in such excel∣lent

manner, the voice and Instrument concording so extraordina∣ry pleasing; that all the persons then in the Presence; seemed rather Statues, then liuing men, so strangely they were wrapt with admi∣ration, and the King himselfe farre beyond all the rest, transported with a rare kinde of alteration.

When Manutio had ended the Song, the King demanded of him, whence this Song came, because he had neuer heard it before? My gracious Lord, answered Manutio, it must needes seeme straunge to your Maiesty, because it is not fully three dayes, since it was inuen∣ted, made, and set to the note. Then the King asked, whom it con∣cerned? Sir (quoth Manutio) I dare not disclose that to any but onely your selfe. Which answer made the King much more desi∣rous, and being risen from the Table, he tooke him into his Bed-chamber, where Manutio related all at large to him, according to the trust reposed in him. Wherwith the King was wonderfully well pleased, greatly commending the courage of the Maide, and said, that a Virgin of such a valiant spirit, did well deserue to haue her case commiserated: and commanded him also, to goe (as sent from him) and comfort her, with promise, that the very same day, in the euening, he would not faile to come and see her.

Manutio, more then contented, to carry such glad tydings to Li∣sana; without staying in any place, and taking his Lute also with him, went to the Apothecaries house, where speaking alone with the Maide: he told her what he had done, and afterward sung the song to her, in as excellent manner as he had done before, wherein Lisana conceiued such ioy and contentment, as euen in the very same moment, it was obserued by apparant signes, that the violence of her fits forsooke her, and health began to get the vpper hand of them. So, without suffering any one in the house to know it, or by the least meanes to suspect it; she comforted her selfe till the eue∣ning, in expectation of her Soueraignes arriuall.

Piero being a Prince, of most liberall and benigne nature, hauing afterward diuers times considered on the matters which Manutio had reuealed to him, knowing also the yong Maiden, to bee both beautifull and vertuous: was so much moued with pitty of her ex∣tremitie, as mounting on horse backe in the euening, and seeming as if he rode abroad for his priuate recreation; he went directly to the Apothecaries house, where desiring to see a goodly garden, ap∣pertaining then to the Apothecarie, he dismounted from his horse. Walking into the garden, he began to question with Bernardo, de∣maunding him for his Daughter, and whether he had (as yet) mar∣ryed her, or no? My Gracious Lord, answered Bernardo, as yet shee is not marryed, neither likely to bee, in regard shee hath had a long

and tedious sickenesse: but since Dinner time, she is indifferently eased of her former violent paine, which we could not discerne the like alteration in her, a long while before.

The King vnderstood immediately, the reason of this so sudden alteration, and said. In good faith Bernardo, the world would su∣staine a great maine & imperfection, by the losse of thy faire daugh∣ter; wherefore, we will goe our selfe in person to visite her. So, with two of his Lords onely, and the Father, he ascended to the Maides Chamber & being entred, he went to the Beds side, where she sate, somewhat raised, in expectation of his comming, and taking her by the hand, he said. Faire Lisana, how commeth this to passe? You be∣ing so faire a Virgin, yong, and in the delicacy of your daies, which should be the chiefest comfort to you, will you suffer your selfe to be ouer-awed with sickenesse? Let vs intreat you, that (for our sake) you will be of good comfort, and thereby recouer your health the sooner, especially, when it is requested by a King, who is sorry to see so bright a beauty sicke, and would helpe it, if it consisted in his power.

Lisana, feeling the touch of his hand, whom she loued aboue all things else in the world, although a bashfull blush mounted vp into her cheekes: yet her heart was seazed with such a rapture of plea∣sure, that she thought her selfe translated into Paradise, and, so well as she could, thus she replyed. Great King, by opposing my feeble strength, against a burden of ouer-ponderous weight, it became the occasion of this grieuous sickenesse: but I hope that the violence thereof is (almost) already kild, onely by this soueraigne mercy in you▪ and doubtlesse it will cause my speedy deliuerance. The King did best vnderstand this so well palliated answere of Lisana, which as he did much commend, in regard of her high aduenturing; so he did againe as greatly condemne Fortune, for not making her more happy in her birth.

So, after he had stayed there a good while, and giuen her many comfortable speeches, he returned backe to the Court. This hu∣manity in the King, was reputed a great honour to the Apothecary and his daughter, who (in her owne mind) receiued as much ioy and contentment thereby, as euer any wife could haue of her owne Husband.

And being assisted by better hopes, within a short while after, she became recouered, and farre more beautifull (in common iudg∣ment) then euer she was before.

Lisana being now in perfect health, the King consulted with his Queene, what meete recompence he should gratifie her withall, for louing and affecting him in such feruent manner. Vpon a day

determined, the King mounting on horsebacke, accompanied with many of his cheefest Lords and Barons, he rode to the Apotheca∣ries house, where walking in his beautifull Garden, hee called for Bernardo and his daughter Lisana. In the meane space, the Queene also came thither, Royally attended on by her Ladies, and Lisana being admitted into their company, they expressed themselues ve∣ry gracious to her. Soone after, the King and the Queene cald Li∣sana, and the King spake in this manner to her.

Faire Virgin, the extraordinary loue which you bare to vs, cal∣leth for as great honour from vs to you; in which respect, it is our Royall desire, by one meanes or other to requite your kinde Loue. In our opinion, the chiest honour we can extend to you, is, that be∣ing of sufficient yeares for marriage, you would grace vs so much, as to accept him for your Husband, whom we intend to bestow on you. Beside this further grant from vs, that (nowithstanding what∣soeuer else) you shall call vs your Knight; without coueting any thing else from you, for so great fauour, but only one kisse, and thinke not to bestow it nicely on a King, but grant it the rather, be∣cause he begges it.

Lisana, whose lookes, were dyed with a vermillian tincture, or rather conuerted into a pure maiden blush, reputing the Kings de∣sire to be her owne; in a low and humbled voyce, thus answered. My Lord, most certaine am I, that if it had beene publikely knowne, how none but your highnes, might serue for me to fixe my loue on, I should haue been termed the foole of all fooles: they perhaps be∣leeuing, that I was forgetfull of my selfe, in being ignorant of mine owne condition, and much lesse of yours. But the Gods are my wit∣nesses (because they know the secrets of all hearts) that euen in the very instant, when Loues fire tooke hold on my yeelding affection: I knew you to be a King, and my selfe the daughter of poore Bernar∣do the Apothecary: likewise, how farre vnfitting it was for me, to be so ambitious in my loues presuming. But I am sure your Maie∣stie doth know (much better then I am able to expresse) that no one becommeth amourous, according to the duty of election, but as the appetite shapeth his course, against whose lawes my strength made many resistances, which not preuailing, I presumed to loue, did, and so for euer shall doe, your Maiestie.

Now Royall Soueraigne, I must needes confesse, that so soone as I felt my selfe thus wholly conquered by louing you, I resolued for euer after, to make your will mine owne, and therefore, am not one∣ly willing to accept him for my Husband, whom you shall please to appoint, befitting my honor and degree: but if you will haue me to liue in a flaming fire, my obedience shall sacrifice it selfe to your

will, with the absolute conformity of mine owne. To stile you by the name of my Knight, whom I know to be my lawfull King and Soueraigne; you are not ignorant, how farre vnfitting a word that were for me to vse: As also the kisse which you request, in requitall of my loue to you; to these two I wil neuer giue consent, without the Queenes most gracious fauour and license first granted. Neuer∣thelesse, for such admirable benignity vsed to me, both by your Royall selfe, and your vertuous Queene: heauen shower downe all boundlesse graces on you both, for it exceedeth all merit in me, and so she ceased speaking, in most dutifull manner.

The answer of Lisana pleased the Queene exceedingly, in finding her to be so wise and faire, as the King himself had before informed her: who instantly called for her Father and Mother, and knowing they would be well pleased with whatsoeuer he did; he called for a proper yong Gentleman, but somewhat poore, being named Per∣dicano, and putting certaine Rings into his hand, which he refused not to receiue, caused him there to espouse Lisana. To whome the King gaue immediately (besides Chaines and Iewels of inestimable valew, deliuered by the Queene to the Bride) Ceffala and Calatabe∣lotta, two great territories abounding in diuers wealthy possessions, saying to Perdicano. These wee giue thee, as a dowry in marriage with this beautifull Maid, and greater gifts we will bestow on thee hereafter, as we shal perceiue thy loue and kindnesse to her.

When he had ended these words, hee turned to Lisana, saying: Heere doe I freely giue ouer all further fruits of your affection to∣wards me, thanking you for your former loue: so taking her head betweene his hands, he kissed her faire forhead, which was the vsu∣all custome in those times. Perdicano, the Father and Mother of Lisana, and she her selfe likewise, extraordinarily ioyfull for this so fortunate a marriage, returned humble and hearty thankes both to the King and Queene, and (as many credible Authors doe affirme) the King kept his promise made to Lisana, because (so long as he li∣ued) he alwaies termed himselfe by the name of her Knight, and in al actions of Chiualry by him vndertaken, he neuer carried any o∣ther deuise, but such as he receiued still from her.

By this, and diuers other like worthy deeds, not onely did he win the hearts of his subiects; but gaue occasion to the whole world be∣side, to renowne his fame to all succeeding posterity. Whereto (in these more wretched times of ours) few or none bend the sway of their vnderstanding: but rather how to bee cruell and tyrranous Lords, and thereby win the hatred of their people.

Sophronia, thinking her selfe to be the maried wife of Gisippus, was (indeed) the wife of Titus Quintus Fuluius, & departed thence with him to Rome. Within a while after, Gisippus also came thither in very poore condition, and thinking that he was despised by Titus, grew wea∣ry of his life, and confessed that he had murdred a man, with ful intent to die for the fact. But Titus taking knowledge of him, and desiring to saue the life of Gisippus, charged himself to haue done the bloody deed. Which the murderer himself (standing then among the multitude) see∣ing, truly confessed the deed. By meanes whereof, all three were deliue∣red by the Emperor Octauius; and Titus gaue his Sister in mariage to Gisippus, giuing them also the most part of his goods & inheritances.

The eight Nouell.

Declaring, that notwithstanding the frownes of Fortune, diuersity of occurrences, and contrary accidents happening: yet loue and frend∣ship ought to be preciously preserued among men.

BY this time Madam Philomena, at command of the King, (Madam Pampinea ceasing) prepared to follow next in order, whereupon thus she began. What is it (Gracious Ladies) that Kings cannot do (if they list) in matters of greatest im∣portance, and especially vnto such as most they should declare their magnificence? He then that performe••h what he ought to do, when it is within his owne power, doth well. But it is not so much to bee admired, neither deserueth halfe the commendations, as when one man doth good to another, when least it is expected, as being out of his power, and yet performed. In which respect, because you haue so extolled king Piero, as appearing not meanly meritorious in your iudgements; I make no doubt but you will be much more pleased, when the actions of our equals are duly considered, and shal para∣lell any of the greatest Kings. Wherefore I purpose to tell you a Nouel, concerning an honorable curtesie of two worthy friends.

At such time as Octauius Caesar (not as yet named Augustus, but only in the office called Triumueri) gouerned the Romane Empire, there dwelt in Rome a Gentleman, named Publius Quintus Fuluius, a man of singular vnderstanding, who hauing one son, called Titus Quintus Fuluius, of towardly yeares and apprehension, sent him to Athens to learne Philosophy, but with letters of familiar commen∣dations, to a Noble Athenian Gentleman, named Chremes, being his ancient friend, of long acquaintance. This Gentleman lodged Titus in his owne house, as companion to his son, named Gisippus, both of them studying together, vnder the tutoring of a Philosopher, called Aristippus. These two yong Gentlemen liuing thus in one Citty, House, and Schoole, it bred betweene them such a brother-hoode and amity, as they could not be seuered from one another, but only

by the accident of death; nor could either of them enioy any con∣tent, but when they were both together in company.

Being each of them endued with gentle spirits, and hauing begun their studies together: they arose (by degrees) to the glorious height of Philosophy, to their much admired fame and commendation. In this manner they liued, to the no meane comfort of Chremes, hardly distinguishing the one from the other for his Son, & thus the Schol∣lers continued the space of three yeares. At the ending wherof (as it hapneth in al things else) Chremes died, whereat both the young Gentlemen conceiued such hearty griefe, as if he had bin their com∣mon father; nor could the kinred of Chremes discerne, which of the two had most need of comfort, the losse touched them so equally.

It chanced within some few months after, that the kinred of Gisip∣pus came to ••ee him, and (before Titus) auised him to marriage, and with a yong Gentlewoman of singular beauty, deriued from a most noble house in Athens, and she named Sophronia, aged about fifteen years. This mariage drawing neere, Gisippus on a day, intreated Ti∣tus to walk along with him thither, because (as yet) he had not seene her. Comming to the house, and she sitting in the midst betweene them, Titus making himselfe a considerator of beauty, & especially on his friends behalfe; began to obserue her very iudicially, & euery part of her seemed so pleasing in his eie, that giuing them al a priuat praise, yet answerable to their due deseruing; he becam so enflamed with affection to her, as neuer any louer could bee more violentlie surprized, so sodainly doth beauty beguile our best senses.

After they had sate an indifferent while with her, they returned home to their lodging, where Titus being alone in his chamber, be∣gan to bethink himselfe on her, whose perfections had so powerful∣ly pleased him: and the more he entred into this consideration, the fiercer he felt his desires enflamed, which being vnable to quench, by any reasonable perswasions, after hee had vented foorth infinite sighes, thus he questioned with himselfe.

Most vnhappie Titus as thou art, whether doost thou transport thine vnderstanding, loue, and hope? Dooest thou not know as well by the honourable fauours, which thou hast receiued of Chre∣mes and his house, as also the intire amity betweene thee and Gisip∣pus (vnto whom faire Sophronia is the affianced friend) that thou shouldst holde her in the like reuerent respect, as if shee were thy true borne Sister? Darest thou presume to fancie her? Whether shall beguiling Loue allure thee, and vaine immaging hopes car∣rie thee? Open the eyes of thy better vnderstanding, and acknow∣ledge thy selfe to bee a most miserable man. Giue way to reason, bridle thine in temperate appetites, reforme all irregulare desires,

and guide thy fancy to a place of better direction. Resist thy wan∣ton and lasciuio••s will in the beginning, and be master of thy selfe, while thou hast opportunity, for that which thou aimest at, is ney∣ther reasonable nor honest. And if thou wert assured to preuaile vp∣on this pursuite, yet thou oughtst to auoide it, if thou hast any re∣gard of true friendship, and the duty therein iustly required. What wilt thou do then Titus? Fly from this inordinate affection, if thou wilt be reputed to be a man of sensible iudgement.

After he had thus discoursed with himselfe, remembring Sophro∣nia, and conuerting his former allegations, into a quite contrarie sense, in vtter detestation of them, and guided by his idle appetite, thus he began againe. The lawes of loue are of greater force, then a∣ny other whatsoeuer, they not only breake the bands of friendship, but euen those also of more diuine consequence. How many times hath it bin noted, the father to affect his own daughter, the brother his sister, and the step mother her son in law, matters far more mon∣strous, then to see one friend loue the wife of another, a case happe∣ning continually? Moreouer, I am yong, and youth is wholly subie∣cted to the passions of Loue: is it reasonable then, that those should be bard from me, which are fitting and pleasing to Loue? Honest things, belong to men of more years and maturity, then I am trou∣bled withall; and I can couet none, but onely those wherein Loue is directer. The beauty of Sophronia is worthy of generall loue, and if I that am a yongman do loue her, what man liuing can iustly reproue me for it? Shold not I loue her, because she is affianced to Gisippus? That is no matter to me, I ought to loue her, because she is a womā, and women were created for no other occasion, but to bee Loued. Fortune had sinned in this case, and not I, in directing my frends af∣fection to her, rather then any other; and if she ought to be loued, as her perfections do challenge, Gisippus vnderstanding that I affect her, may be the better contented that it is I, rather then any other.

With these, and the like crosse entercourses, he often mockt him∣selfe, falling into the contrary, and then to this againe, and from the contrary, into another kind of alteration, wasting and consuming himselfe, not only this day and the night following, but many more afterward, til he lost both his feeding & sleepe, so that through debi∣lity of body, he was constrained to keepe his bed. Gisippus, who had diuers dayes noted his melancholly disposition, and now his falling into extreamitie of sicknesse, was very sorry to behold it: and with all meanes and inuentions he could deuise to vse, hee both questio∣ned the cause of this straunge alteration, and essayed euerie way, how hee might best comfort him, neuer ceassing to demaunde a reason, why he should become thus sad and sickely. But Titus

after infinite importuning (which still he answered with idle and fri∣uolous excuses, farre from the truth indeede, and (to the no meane affliction of his friend) when he was able to vse no more contradi∣ctions; at length, in sighes and teares, thus he replyed.

Gisippus, were the Gods so wel pleased, I could more gladly yeild to dye, then continue any longer in this wretched life, considering, that Fortune hath brought mee to such an extremity, as proofe is now to be made of my constancie and vertue; both which I finde conquered in me, to my eternall confusion and shame. But my best hope is, that I shal shortly be requited, as I haue in iustice deserued, namely with death, which will be a thousand times more welcome to me, then a loathed life, with remembrance of my base deiection in courage, which because I can no longer conceale from thee; not without blushing shame, I am well contented for to let thee know it.

Then began hee to recount, the whole occasion of this straunge conflict in him, what a maine battaile hee had with his priuate thoughts, confessing that they got the victory, causing him to die hourely for the loue of Sophronia, and affirming withall, that in due acknowledgement, how greatly hee had transgressed against the lawes of friendship, he thought no other penance sufficient for him, but onely death, which he willingly expected euery houre, and with all his heart would gladly bid welcome.

Gisippus hearing this discourse, and seeing how Titus bitterly wept, in agonies of most mouing afflictions: sat an indifferent while sad and pensiue, as being wounded with affection to Sophronia, but yet in a well-gouerned and temperate manner. So, without any long delaying, hee concluded with himselfe; that the life of his friend ought to be accounted much more deare, then any loue hee could beare vnto Sophronia: And in this resolution, the teares of Titus forcing his eyes to flow forth like two Fountaines, thus he re∣plyed.

Titus, if thou hadst not neede of comfort, as plainly I see thou hast, I would iustly complaine of thee to my selfe, as of the man who hath violated our friendship, in keeping thine extreamitie so long time concealed from mee, which hath beene ouer-tedious for thee to endure. And although it might seeme to thee a dishonest case, and therefore kept from the knowledge of thy friend, yet I plainly tell thee, that dishonest courses (in the league of amitie) de∣serue no more concealment, then those of the honestest nature. But leauing these impertinent wandrings, let vs come to them of much greater necessitie.

If thou doest earnestly loue faire Sophronia, who is betroathed and affianced to me, it is no matter for me to maruaile at: but I should rather be much abashed, if thou couldst not intyrely affect her, knowing how beautifull she is, and the nobility of her minde, being as able to sustaine passion, as the thing pleasing is fullest of excellence. And looke how reasonably thou fanciest Sophronia, as vniustly thou complainest of thy fortune, in ordaining her to be my wife, although thou doest not speake it expresly: as being of o∣pinion, that thou mightst with more honesty loue her, if she were a∣ny others, then mine. But if thou art so wise, as I haue alwayes held thee to be, tell me truely vpon thy faith, to whom could Fortune better guide her, and for which thou oughtest to be more thankfull, then in bestowing her on me? Any other that had enioyed her, al∣though thy loue were neuer so honest, yet he would better affect her himselfe, then for thee, which thou canst not (in like manner) looke for from me, if thou doest account me for thy friend, and as constant now as euer.

Reason is my warrant in this case, because I cannot remember, since first our entrance into friendship, that euer I enioyed any thing, but it was as much thine, as mine. And if our affaires had such an equall course before, as otherwise they could not subsist; must they not now be kept in the same manner? Can any thing more perticularly appertaine to me, but thy right therein is as ab∣solute as mine? I know not how thou maist esteeme of my friend∣ship, if in any thing concerning my selfe, I can plead my priuiledge to be aboue thine. True it is, that Sophronia is affianced to me, and I loue her dearely, daily expecting when our nuptials shall be cele∣brated. But seeing thou doest more feruently affect her, as being better able to iudge of the perfections, remaining in so excellent a creature as she is, then I doe: assure thy selfe, and beleeue it con∣stantly, that she shall come to my bed, not as my wife, but onely thine. And therefore leaue these despairing thoughts, shake off this cloudy disposition, reassume thy former Iouiall spirit, with comfort and what else can content thee: in expectation of the hap∣py houre, and the iust requitall of thy long, louing, and worthy friendship, which I haue alwayes valued equall with mine owne life.

Titus hearing this answer of Gisippus, looke how much the sweet hope of that which he desired gaue him pleasure, as much both du∣ty and reason affronted him with shame; setting before his eyes this du consideration, that the greater the liberality of Gisippus was, farre greater and vnreasonable it appeared to him in disgrace, if hee should vnmannerly accept it. Wherefore, being vnable to refrain

from teares, and with such strength as his weaknesse would giue leaue, thus he replyed.

Gisippus, thy bounty and firme friendship suffereth me to see ap∣parantly, what (on my part) is no more then ought to be done. All the Gods forbid, that I should receiue as mine, her whom they haue adiudged to be thine, by true respect of birth and desert. For if they had thought her a wife fit for me, doe not thou or any else imagine, that euer she should haue beene granted to thee. Vse freely there∣fore thine owne election, and the gracious fauour wherewith they haue blessed thee: leaue me to consume away in teares, a mourning garment by them appointed for me, as being a man vnworthy of such happinesse; for either I shall conquer this disaster, and that wil be my crowne, or else will vanquish me, and free me from all paine: whereto Gisippus presently thus answered.

Worthy Titus, if our amity would giue me so much licence, as but to contend with my selfe, in pleasing thee with such a thing as I desire, and could also induce thee therein to be directed: it is the onely end whereat I aime, and am resolued to pursue it. In which regard, let my perswasions preuaile with thee, and thereto I coniure thee, by the faith of a friend, suffer me to vse mine authority, when it extendeth both to mine owne honour, and thy good, for I will haue Sophronia to bee onely thine. I know sufficiently, how farre the forces of loue doe extend in power, and am not igno∣rant also, how not once or twice, but very many times, they haue brought louers to vnfortunate ends, as now I see thee very neere it, and so farre gone, as thou art not able to turne backe againe, nor yet to conquer thine owne teares, but proceeding on further in this ex∣tremity, thou wilt be left vanquished, sinking vnder the burthen of loues tyrannicall oppression, and then my turne is next to follow thee. And therefore, had I no other reason to loue thee, yet be∣cause thy life is deare to me, in regard of mine owne depending thereon; I stand the neerer thereto obliged. For this cause, Sophro∣nia must and shal be thine, for thou canst not find any other so con∣forme to thy fancy: albeit I who can easily conuert my liking to a∣nother wife, but neuer to haue the like friend againe, shall hereby content both thee, and my selfe.

Yet perhaps this is not a matter so easily done, or I to expresse such liberality therein, if wiues were to be found with the like diffi∣cultie, as true and faithfull friends are: but, (being able to recouer another wife) though neuer such a worthy friend; I rather chuse to change, I doe not say loose her (for in giuing her to thee, I loose her not my selfe) and by this change, make that which was good before, tenne times better, and so preserue both thee and my selfe. To this

end therefore, if my prayers and perswasions haue any power with thee, I earnestly entreat thee, that, by freeing thy selfe out of this af∣fliction, thou wilt (in one instant) make vs both truely comforted, and dispose thy selfe (liuing in hope) to embrace that happinesse, which the feruent loue thou bearest to Sophronia, hath iustly de∣serued.

Now although Titus was confounded with shame, to yeeld con∣sent, that Sophronia should be accepted as his wife, and vsed many obstinate resistances: yet notwithstanding, Loue pleading on the one side powerfully, and Gisippus as earnestly perswading on the o∣ther, thus he answered. Gisippus, I know not what to say, neither how to behaue my selfe in this election, concerning the fitting of mine contentment, or pleasing thee in thy importunate perswasion. But seeing thy liberality is so great, as it surmounteth all reason or shame in me, I will yeeld obedience to thy more then noble nature. Yet let this remaine for thine assurance, that I doe not receiue this grace of thine, as a man not sufficiently vnderstanding, how I enioy from thee, not onely her whom most of all I doe affect, but also doe hold my very life of thee. Grant then you greatest Gods (if you be the Patrones of this mine vnexpected felicitie) that with honor and due respect, I may hereafter make apparantly knowne: how highly I acknowledge this thy wonderfull fauour, in being more mercifull to me, then I could be to my selfe.

For abridging of all further circumstances, answered Gisippus, and for easier bringing this matter to full effect, I hold this to be our onely way. It is not vnknowne to thee, how after much dis∣course had between my kindred, and those belonging to Sophronia, the matrimoniall coniunction was fully agreed on, and therefore, if now I shall flye off, and say, I will not accept thee as my wife: great scandall would arise thereby, and make much trouble among our friends, which could not be greatly displeasing to me, if that were the way to make her thine. But I rather stand in feare, that if I forsake her in such peremptory sort, her kinred and friends will bestow her on some other, and so she is vtterly lost, without all pos∣sible meanes of recouery. For preuention therefore of all sinister accidents, I thinke it best, (if thy opinion iumpe with mine) that I still pursue the busines, as already I haue begun, hauing thee alwaies in my company, as my dearest friend and onely associate. The nup∣tials being performed with our friends, in secret manner at night (as we can cunningly enough contriue it) thou shalt haue her maiden honour in bed, euen as if she were thine owne wife. Afterward, in apt time and place, we will publiquely make knowne what is done; if they take it well, we will be as iocond as they: if they

frowne and waxe offended, the deed is done, ouer-late to be recal∣led, and so perforce they must rest contented.

You may well imagine, this aduise was not a little pleasing to Titus, wherupon Gisippus receiued home Sophronia into his house, with publike intention to make her his wife, according as was the custome then obserued, and Titus being perfectly recouered, was present at the Feast very ceremonially obserued. When night was come, the Ladies and Gentlewomen conducted Sophronia to the Bride-Chamber, where they lest her in her Husbands bed, and then departed all away. The Chamber wherein Titus vsed to lodge, ioy∣ned close to that of Gisippus, for their easier accesse each to the o∣ther, at all times whensoeuer they pleased, and Gisippus being alone in the Bride-Chamber, preparing as if he were comming to bed: extinguishing the light, he went softly to Titus, willing him to goe to bed to his wife. Which Titus hearing, ouercome with shame and feare, became repentant, and denyed to goe. But Gisippus, being a true intyre friend indeed, and confirming his words with actions: after a little lingring dispute, sent him to the Bride, and so soone as he was in the bed with her, taking Sophronia gently by the hand, softly he moued the vsuall question to her, namely, if she were wil∣ling to be his wife.

She beleeuing verily that he was Gisippus, modestly answered. Sir, I haue chosen you to be my Husband, reason requires then, that I should be willing to be your wife. At which words, a costly Ring, which Gisippus vsed daily to weare, he put vpon her finger, saying. With this Ring, I confesse my selfe to be your Husband, and bind you (for euer) my Spouse and Wife; no other kind of marriage was obserued in those dayes, and so he continued all the night with her, she neuer suspecting him to be any other then Gisip∣pus, and thus was the marriage consumated, betweene Titus and So∣phronia, albeit the friends (on either side) thought otherwise.

By this time, Publius, the father of Titus, was departed out of this mortall life, & letters came to Athens, that with all speed he should returne to Rome, to take order for occasions there concerning him; wherefore he concluded with Gisippus about his departure, and ta∣king Sophronia thither with him, which was no easie matter to be done, vntil it were first known, how occasions had bin caried among them. Wherupon, calling her one day into her Chamber, they told her entirely, how all had past, which Titus confirmed substantially, by such direct passages betweene themselues, as exceeded all possi∣bility of denyall, and moued in her much admiration; looking each on other very discontentedly, she heauily weeping and lamenting, & greatly complaining of Gisippus, for wronging her so vnkindly.

But before any further noyse was made in the house, shee went to her Father, to whom, as also to her Mother, shee declared the whole trecherie, how much both they and their other friends were wronged by Gisippus, auouching her selfe to be the wife of Titus, and not of Gisippus, as they supposed. These newes were highly displeasing to the Father of Sophronia, who with hir kinred, as also those of Gisippus, made great complaints to the Senate, very dange∣rous troubles and commotions arising daily betweene them, draw∣ing both Gisippus and Sophronia into harsh reports; he being gene∣rally reputed, not onely worthy of all bitter reproofe, but also the seuerest punishment. Neuerthelesse, hee maintained publikely what he had done, auouching it for an act both of honour and ho∣nestie, wherewith Sophronia's friends had no reason to bee offen∣ded, but rather to take it in very thankfull part, hauing married a man of farre greater worth and respect, than himselfe was, or could be.

On the other side, Titus hearing these vnciuill acclamations, be∣came much moued and prouoked at them, but knowing it was a cu∣stome obserued among the Greekes, to be so much the more hurried away with rumours and threatnings, as lesse they finde them to be answered, and when they finde them, shew themselues not onely humble enough, but rather as base men, and of no courage; he re∣solued with himselfe, that their braueries were no longer to be en∣dured, without some some bold and manly answere. And hauing a Romane heart, as also an Athenian vnderstanding, by politique perswasions, he caused the kinred of Gisippus and Sophronia, to be as∣sembled in a Temple, and himselfe comming thither, accompanied with none but Gisippus onely, he began to deliuer his minde before them all, in this manner following.

The Oration vttered by Titus Quintus Fuluius, in the hearing of the Athenians, being the kinred and friends to Gisippus and Sophronia.

MAny Philosophers doe hold opinion, that the actions performed by mortall men, doe proceed from the disposing and ordination of the immortall gods. Whereupon some doe maintaine, that things which be done, or neuer are to be done, proceed of necessity: how∣beit some other doe hold, that this necessity is onely referred to things done. Both which opinions (if they be considered with mature iudgment) doe most manifestly approue, that they who reprehend any thing which is irreuocable, doe nothing else but shew themselues, as if they were wiser

then the Gods, who we are to beleeue, that with perpetuall reason, and void of any error, doe dispose and gouerne both vs, and all our actions; In which respect, how foolish and beast-like a thing it is, presumptuously to checke or controule their operations, you may very easily consider; and likewise, how iustly they deserue condigne punishment, who suffer them∣selues to be transported in so temerarious a manner.

In which notorious transgression, I vnderstand you all to be guiltie, if common fame speake truely, concerning the marriage of my selfe and So∣phronia, whom you imagined as giuen to Gisippus; for you neuer re∣member that it was so ordained from eternitie, shee to be mine, and no Wife for Gisippus, as at this instant is made manifest by full effect. But because the kinde of speaking, concerning diuine prouidence, and intention of the Gods, may seeme a difficult matter to many, and some∣what hard to bee vnderstood: I am content to presuppose, that they meddle not with any thing of ours, and will onely stay my selfe on hu∣mane reasons, and in this nature of speech, I shall be enforced to doe two things, quite contrary to my naturall disposition. The one is, to speake somewhat in praise and commendation of my selfe: And the o∣ther, iustly to blame and condemne other mens seeming estimation. But because both in the one and the other, I doe not intend to swerue a iot from the Truth, and the necessitie of the present case in question, doth not onely require, but also command it, you must pardon what I am to say.

Your complaints doe proceed, rather from furie then reason, and (with continuall murmurings, or rather seditious) slander, backe-bite and condemne Gisippus, because (of his owne free will and noble disposi∣tion) hee gaue her to be my Wife, whom (by your election) was made his; wherein I account him most highly praise-worthy: and the reasons inducing mee thereunto, are these. The first, because he hath performed no more then what a friend ought to doe: And the second, in regard he hath dealt more wisely, then you did. I haue no intention, to display (at this present) what the sacred law of amitie requireth, to be acted by one friend towards another, it shall suffice mee onely to informe you, that the league of friendship (farre stronger then the bond of bloud and kin∣red) confirmed vs in our election of either at the first, to be true, loyall and perpetuall friends; whereas that of kinred, commeth onely by for∣tune or chance. And therefore if Gisippus affected more my life, then your beneuolence, I being ordained for his friend, as I confesse my selfe to be; none of you ought to wonder thereat, in regard it is no matter of meruaile.

But let vs come now to our second reason, wherein, with farre greater instance I will shew you, that he hath (in this occasion) shewen himselfe to be much more wise, then you did, or haue done: because it plainely appea∣reth,

that you haue no feeling of the diuine prouidence, and much lesse knowledge in the effects of friendship. I say, that your foresight, councell and deliberation, gaue Sophronia to Gisippus, a yong Gentleman, and a Philosopher: Gisippus likewise hath giuen her to a yong Gentleman, and a Philosopher, as himselfe is. Your discretion gaue her to an Athe∣nian; the gift of Gisippus, is to a Romaine. Yours, to a Noble and ho∣nest man; that of Gisippus, to one more Noble by race, and no lesse honest then himselfe. Your iudgement hath bestowed her on a rich young man: Gisippus hath giuen her to one farre richer. Your wisedome gaue her to one who not onely loued her not, but also one that had no desire to know her: Gisippus gaue her vnto him, who, aboue all fe∣licitie else, yea, more than his owne life, both entirely loued and desi∣red her.

Now, for proofe of that which I haue said, to be most true and infalli∣ble, and that his deede deserueth to bee much more commended then yours, let it bee duely considered on, point by point. That I am a young man and a Philosopher, as Gisippus is; my yeares, face, and studies, without seeking after further proofe, doth sufficiently testifie: One selfe-same age is both his and mine, in like quality of course haue wee liued and studied together. True it is, that hee is an Athenian, and I am a Romaine. But if the glory of these two Cities should bee disputed on: then let mee tell you, that I am of a Citie that is Francke and Free, and hee is of a Tributarie Citie. I say, that I am of a Citie, which is chiefe Lady and Mistresse of the whole World, and hee is of a Citie subiect to mine. I say that I am of a Citie, that is strong in Arms, Empire, and studies: whereas his can commend it selfe but for Stu∣dies onely. And although you seeme heere to bee a Scholler, in appea∣rance meane enough, yet I am not descended of the simplest stocke in Rome.

My houses and publique places, are filled with the ancient Statues of my Predecessors, and the Annales recorde the infinite triumphs of the Quintij, brought home by them into the Romane Capitole, and yeares cannot eate out the glory of our name, but it will liue and flourish to all posteritie.

Modest shame makes me silent in my wealth and possessions, my minde truely telling mee, that honest contented pouertie, is the most ancient and richest inheritance, of our best and Noblest Romanes, which opinion, if it bee condemned by the vnderstanding of the ignorant multitude, and heerein wee shall giue way to them by preferring riches and worldly treasures, then I can say that I am aboundantly prouided, not as am∣bitious, or greedily couetous, but sufficiently stored with the goods of Fortune.

I know well enough, that you held it as a desired benefit, Gisippus

being a Natiue of your Citie; should also be linked to you by alliance: but I know no reason, why I should not be as neere and deere to you at Rome, as if I liued with you heere. Considering, when I am there, you haue a ready and well wishing friend, to stead you in all beneficiall and seruiceable offices, as carefull and prouident for your support, yea, a protectour of you and your affaires, as well publique as particular. Who is it then, not transported with partiall affection, that can (in reason) more approue your act, then that which my friend Gisippus hath done? Questionlesse, not any one, as I thinke. Sophronia is married to Titus Quintus Fuluius, a Noble Gentleman by antiquitie, a rich Citizen of Rome, and (which is aboue all) the friend of Gisip∣pus: therfore, such a one as thinkes it strange, is sorrie for it, or would not haue it to be; knoweth not what he doth.

Perhaps there may be some, who will say, they doe not so much com∣plain, that Sophronia is the wife to Titus; but of the manner where∣by it was done, as being made his wife secretly, and by theft, not any of her parents, kinred or friends called thereto: no, nor so much as ad∣uertised thereof Why Gentlemen, this is no miraculous thing, but heeretofore hath oftentimes happened, and therefore no noueltie.

I cannot count vnto you, how many there haue beene, who (against the will of their Fathers) haue made choice of their husbands; nor them that haue fled away with their louers into strange Countries, be∣ing first friends, before they were wiues: nor of them who haue sooner made testimonie of marriage by their bellies, then those ceremonies due to matrimonie, or publication thereof by the tongue; so that meere necessity & constraint, hath forced the parents to yeeld consent: which hath not so happened to Sophronia, for shew was giuen to me by Gisip∣pus discreetly, honestly, and orderly.

Others also may say, that shee is married to him, to whom it belon∣ged no to marrie her. These complaints are foolish, and womanish, proceeding from verie little, or no consideration at all. In these daies of ours, Fortune makes no vse of nouell or inconsiderate meanes, where∣by to bring matters to their determined effect. Why should it offend me, if a Cobler, rather than a Scholler, hath ended a businesse of mine, either in priuate or publique, if the end be well made? Well I may take order, if the Cobler bee indiscreet, that hee meddle no more with any matters of mine, yet I ought, in courtesie, to thanke him for that which hee did.

In like mauner, if Gisippus hath married Sophronia well, it is foolish and superfluous, to finde fault with the manner hee vsed in her marriage. If you mislike his course in the case, beware of him hereaf∣ter, yet thanke him because it is no worse.

Neuerthelesse, you are to vnderstand, that I sought not by fraud or

deceit, (but onely by witte) any opportunitie, whereby any way to sullie the honestie and cleere Nobilitie of your bloud, in the person of Sophro∣nia: for although in secret I made her my wife, yet I came not as an ene∣mie, to take her perforce, nor (like a rauisher) wronged her virginitie, to blemish your noble titles, or despising your alliance. But feruently, enfla∣med by her bright beauty, and incited also by her vnparalleld vertues, I shaped my course; knowing well enough, that if I tooke the ordinarie way of wiuing, by mouing the question to you, I should neuer winne your consent, as fearing, lest I would take her with me to Rome, and so con∣neigh out of your sight, a Iewell by you so much esteemed, as she is.

For this, and no other reason, did I presume to vse the secret cunning which now is openly made knowne vnto you: and Gisippus disposed himselfe thereunto, vvhich otherwise hee neuer determined to haue done, in contracting the marriage for mee, and shee consenting to me in his name.

Moreouer, albeit most earnestly I affected her, I sought to procure your vnion, not like a louer, but as a true husband, nor would I immo∣destly touch her, till first (as her selfe can testifie) with the words be∣comming wedlocke, and the Ring also I espoused her, demanding of her, if shee would accept mee as her husband, and shee answered mee, with her full consent. Wherein, if it may seeme that shee was deceiued, I am not any way to be blamed, but she, for not demanding, what, and who I was.

This then is the great euill, the great offence, and the great iniurie committed by my friend Gisippus, and by mee as a Louer: that Sophro∣nia is secretly become the wife of Titus Quintus Fuluius. And for this cause, like spies you watch him, threaten him daily, as if you intended to teare him in pieces. What could you doe more, if hee had giuen her to a man of the very vilest condition? to a villaine, to a slaue? VVhat pri∣sons? what fetters? Or what torments are sufficient for this fact? But leauing these friuolous matters, let vs come to discourse of more moment, and better beseeming your attention.

The time is come, that I may no longer continue heere, because Pub∣lius my Father is dead, and I must needs returne to Rome, wherefore be∣ing minded to take Sophronia thither with mee, I was the more willing to acquaint you therewith, as also what else I haue said, which otherwise had still beene concealed from you. Nor can you but take it in good part, if you be wise, and rest well contented with what is done: considering, if I had any intention eyther to deceiue, or otherwise wrong you; I could haue basely left her, and made a scorne both of her and you, you not ha∣uing any power to stay mee heere. But the Gods will neuer permitte that any couragious Romane, should euer conceiue so vile and degenerate a thought.

Sophronia, by ordination of the Gods, by force of humane Lawes, and by the laudable consent of my friend Gisippus, as also the powerfull command of Loue is mine. But you perchance, imagining your selues to be wiser then the Gods, or any other men whatsoeuer; may thinke ill of it, and more brutishly then beasts, condemne their working in two kinds, which would be offensiue to mee. The one is, your detaining of Sophro∣nia from mee, of whom you haue no power, but what pleaseth mee. The other, is your bitter threatnings against Gisippus my deare friend, to whom you are in duty obliged. In both which cases, how vnreasonablie soeuer you carrie your selues, I intend not at this time to presse any fur∣ther. But rather let mee counsell you like a friend, to cease your hatred and disdaine, and suffer Sophronia to be deliuered mee, that I may de∣part contentedly from you as a kinsman, and (being absent) remaine your friend: assuring you, that whether what is done shall please or displease you, if you purpose to proceed any otherwise: I will take Gisippus along with mee, and when I come to Rome, take such sure order, to fetch her hence, who in Iustice is mine, euen in meere despight of you all, and then you shall feele by sound experience, how powerfull is the iust indig∣nation of the wronged Romanes.

WHen Titus had thus concluded his Oration, he arose with a sterne and discontented countenance, and tooke Gisip∣pus by the hand, plainly declaring, that he made small ac∣count of all the rest that were in the Temple; and shaking his head at them, rather menaced then any other wise seemed to care for them.

They which tarried, when they were gone, considering partly on the reasons alleadged by Titus, and partly terrified by his latest speeches; became induced, to like well of his alliance and amitie, as (with common consent) they concluded: that it was much better to accept Titus as their kinsman (seeing Gisippus had made manifest refusall thereof) than to lose the kinred of the one, and procure the hatred of the other. Wherefore they went to seeke Titus, and said vnto him, they were very well contented that Sophronia should bee his Wife, hee their deare and louing kinsman, and Gisippus to remaine their much respected friend. And embracing one a∣nother, making a solemne feast, such as in the like cases is neces∣sarilie required, they departed from him, presently sending So∣phronia to him, who making a vertue of necessity, conuerted her loue (in short time after) to Titus, in as effectuall manner, as formerly shee had done to Gisippus, and so was sent away with

him to Rome, where she was receiued and welcommed with very great honour.

Gisippus remaining still at Athens, in small regard of eyther theirs or his owne friends: not long after by meanes of sundry trouble∣some Citizens; and partialities happening among the common people, was banished from Athens, and hee, as also all his familie, condemned to perpetuall exile: during which tempestuous time, Gisippus was become not onely wretchedly poore, but wandred a∣broad as a common begger; in which miserable condition he tra∣uelled to Rome, to try if Titus would take any acknowledgement of him. Vnderstanding that he was liuing, and one most respected a∣mong the Romanes, as being a great Commander and a Senator: he enquired for the place where hee dwelt, and going to be neere about his house, stayed there so long, till Titus came home, yet not daring to manifest himselfe, or speake a word to him, in re∣gard of his poore and miserable estate, but stroue to haue him see him, to the end, that hee might acknowledge and call him by his name; notwithstanding, Titus passed by him without either speech, or looking on him. Which when Gisippus perceiued, and making full account, that (at the least) he would remember him, in regard of former courtesies, done to him: confounded with griefe and desperate thoughts, hee departed thence, neuer meaning to see him any more.

Now, in regard it was night, he hauing eaten nothing all that day, nor prouided of one penny to buy him any food, wandred he knew not whether, desiring rather to die than liue; hee came at last to an old ruinous part of the City, ouer-spred with briers and bushes, and seldome resorted vnto by any: where finding a hollow Caue or vault, he entred into it, meaning there to weare away the comfort∣lesse night, and laying himselfe downe on the hard ground, almost starke naked, and without any warme garments, ouer-wearied with weeping, at last he fell into a sleepe.

It fortuned that two men, who had beene abroad the same night, committing thefts and robberies together; somwhat very earlie in the morning, came to the same Caue, intending there to share and diuide their booties, and difference happening betweene them about it, hee that was the stronger person, slew there the other, and then went away with the whole purchase.

Gisippus hauing heard and seene the manner of this accident, was not a little ioyfull, because he had now found a way to death, with∣out laying any violent hand on himselfe; for life being very loath∣some to him, it was his only desire to die. Wherfore, he would not budge from the place, but taried there so long, till the Sergeants

and Officers of Iustice (by information of him that did the deede) came thither well attended, and furiously ledde Gisippus thence to prison.

Being examined concerning this bloudy fact, he plainly confes∣sed, that hee himselfe had committed the murder, and afterward would not depart from the Caue, but purposely stayed for appre∣hension, as being truely toucht with compunction for so foule an offence: vpon which peremptorie confession, Marcus Varro being then Praetor, gaue sentence that he should be crucified on a Crosse, as it was the vsuall manner of death in those dayes. Titus chan∣cing to come at the same time into Praetorium, aduisedly beholding the face of the condemned man (as hee sate vpon the bench) knew him to bee Gysippus, not a little wondring at this strange accident, the pouertie of his estate, and what occasion should bring him thi∣ther, especially in the questioning for his life, and before the Tribu∣nall of Iustice.

His soule earnestly thirsting, by all possible meanes to helpe and defend him, and no other course could now be taken for safetie of his life, but by accusing himselfe, to excuse and cleare the other of the crime: hee stept from off the iudgement bench, and crouding through the throng to the Barre, called out to the Praetor in this manner. Marcus Varro, recall thy sentence giuen on the condem∣ned man sent, away because hee is truely guiltlesse and innocent: With one bloudie blow haue I offended the Gods, by killing that wretched man, whom the Serieants found this morning slaine, wherefore Noble Praetor, let no innocent mans bloud be shed for it, but onely mine that haue offended.

Marcus Varro stood like a man confounded with admiration, be∣ing very sorrie, for that which the whole assistants had both seene and heard, yet hee could not (with honour) desist from what must needs be done, but would performe the Lawes seuere iniunction. And sending for condemned ••isippus backe againe, in the presence of Titus, thus he spake to him. How becamest thou so madly in∣censed, as (without any torment inflicted on thee) to confesse an of∣fence by thee neuer committed? Art thou wearie of thy life? Thou chargest thy selfe falsly, to be the person who this last night murde∣red the man in the Caue, and there is another that voluntarily also doth confesse his guiltinesse.

Gisippus lifting vp his eyes, and perceiuing it was Titus, concei∣ued immediately, that he had done this onely for his deliuerance, as one that remembred him sufficiently, and would not be vngrate∣full for former kindnesses receiued. Wherefore, the teares flow∣ing abundantly down his cheekes, he said to the Iudge Varro, it was

none but I that murdered the man, wherefore, I commiserate the case of this Noble Gentleman Titus, who speakes now too late for the safety of my life. Titus on the other side, said. Noble Praetor, this man (as thou seest) is a stranger heere, and was found without any weapon, fast asleepe by the dead body: thou mayst then easily perceiue, that meerely the miserable condition wherein he is, hath made him desperate, and he would make mine offence the occasion of his death. Absolue him, and send me to the Crosse, for none but I haue deserued to die for this fact.

Varro was amazed, to obserue with what earnest instance each of them stroue to excuse the other, which halfe perswaded him in his soule, that they were both guiltlesse. And as he was starting vp, with full intent to acquaint them: a yong man, who had stood there all this while, and obserued the hard pleading on either side; he crow∣ded into the Barre, being named Publius Ambustus, a fellow of lewd life, and vtterly out of hopes, as being debauched in all his for∣tunes, and knowne among the Romaines to be a notorious theefe, who verily had committed the murder. Well knew his conscience, that none of them were guilty of the crime, wherewith each so wilfully charged himselfe: being therefore truely toucht with re∣morse, he stept before Marcus Varro, saying.

Honourable Praetor, mine owne horrid and abominable acti∣ons, haue induced me thus to intrude my selfe, for clearing the strict contention betweene these two persons. And questionlesse, some God or greater power, hath tormented my wretched soule, and so compunctually solicited me, as I cannot chuse, but make open con∣fession of my sinne. Here therefore, I doe apparantly publish, that neither of these men is guilty of the offence, wherewith so wilfully each chargeth himselfe. I am the villaine, who this morning mur∣dered the man in the Caue, one of no greater honesty then my selfe, and seeing this poore man lie there sleeping, while we were diui∣ding the stolne booties betweene vs; I slew my Companyon, be∣cause I would be the sole possessor. As for Noble Lord Titus, he had no reason thus to accuse himselfe, because is a man of no such base quality: let them both then be deliuered, and inflict the sen∣tence of death on me.

Octauius Caesar, to whom tydings was brought of this rare ac∣cident, commanding them al three to be brought before him; would needs vnderstand the whole History, in euery particular as all had happened, which was substantially related to him. Whereupon, Octauius pleased them all three: the two noble friendes, because they were innocent, and the third, for openly reuealing the very truth.

Titus tooke home with him his friend Gisippus, and after he had sharpely reproued him for his distrust, and cold credence of his friendship: he brought him to Sophronia, who welcomed him as louingly, as if he had bin her naturall borne brother, bemoaning his hard and disastrous fortune, and taking especiall care, to conuert all passed distresses, into as happy and comfortable a change, fitting him with garments and attendants, beseeming his degree both in Nobility and vertue▪ Titus, out of his honourable bounty, impar∣ted halfe his lands and rich possessions to him, and afterward gaue him in marriage, his owne Sister, a most beautifull Lady, named Fuluia, saying to him beside. My deare friend Gisippus, it remaineth now in thine owne election, whether thou wilt liue liue here still with me, or returne backe to Athens, with all the wealth which I haue bestowed on thee. But Gisippus, being one way constrayned, by the sentence of banishment from his natiue City, & then againe, in regard of the constant loue, which he bare to so true and thanke∣full friend as Titus was: concluded to liue there as a loyall Roman, where he with his Fuluia, and Titus with his faire Sophronia, liued long after together in one and the same house, augmenting daily (if possible it might be) their amity beyond all other equali∣zing.

A most sacred thing therefore is cordiall amity, worthy not one∣ly of singuler reuerence, but also to be honoured with eternall commendation, as being the onely wise Mother of all magnifi∣cence and honesty, the Sister of Charity and Gratitude, the enemy to hatred and auarice, and which is alwayes ready (without atten∣ding to be requested) to extend all vertuous actions to others, which she would haue done to her selfe. Her rare and diuine effects, in these contrary times of ours, are not to be found between two such persons, which is a mighty fault, and greatly checketh the miserable couetousnesse of men, who respecting nothing but one∣ly their particular benefit; haue banished true Amity, to the vtmost confines of the whole earth, and sent her into perpetuall exile.

What loue, what wealth, or affinity of kindred, could haue made Gisippus feele (euen in the intyrest part of his soule) the feruent compassion, the teares, the sighes of Titus, and with such efficacy as plainely appeared: to make him consent, that his faire elected Spouse, by him so dearely esteemed, should become the wife of his Companion, but onely the precious league of Amity? What Lawes, what threatnings, what feares, could cause the yong armes of Gisippus to abstaine embraces, betaking himselfe to solitary

walkes, and obscure places, when in his owne bedde, he might haue enioyed so matchlesse a beauty (who perhaps desired it so much as himselfe) but onely the gracious title of Amity? What greatnesse, what merits or precedence, could cause Gisippus not to care, for the losse of his kindred, those of Sophronia, yea, of Sophronia her selfe, not respecting the dishonest murmurings of base minded people, their vile and contemptible language, scornes and mockeries, and all to content and satisfie a friend, but onely Diuine A∣mity?

Come now likewise to the other side. What occasions could compell Noble Titus, so promptly and deliberatly, to procure his owne death, to rescue his friend from the crosse, and inflict the pain and shame vpon himselfe, pretending not see or know Gisippus at all, had it not bin wrought by powerfull Amity? What cause else could make Titus so liberall, in diuiding (with such willingnesse) the larger part of his patrimony to Gisippus, when Fortune had dispos∣sest him of his owne, but onely heauen-borne Amity? What else could haue procured Titus, without any further dilation, feare or suspition, to giue his Sister Fuluia in marriage to Gisippus, when he saw him reduced to such extreame pouerty, disgrace and mi••ery, but onely infinite Amity? To what end doe men care then, to co∣uet and procure great multitudes of kinred, store of brethren, num∣bers of children, and to encrease (with their owne monyes) plenty of seruants: when by the least losse and dammage happening, they forget all duty to Father, Brother, or Master? Amity and true friendship is of a quite contrary nature, satisfying (in that sacred bond) the obligation due to all degrees, both of parentage, and all alliences else.

Saladine, the great Soldan of Babylon, in the habite of a Merchant, was houourably receiued and welcommed, into the house of Signior Thorello d'Istria. Who trauelling to the Holy Land, prefixed a certaine time to his Wife, for his returne backe to her againe, where∣in, if he failed, it was lawfull for her to take another Husband. By clouding himselfe in the disguise of a Faulkner, the Soldan tooke notice of him, and did him many great honours. Afterward, Tho∣rello falling sicke, by Magicall Art, he was conueighed in one night to Pauia, when his Wife was to be married on the morrow: where making himselfe knowne to her, all was disappointed, and shee went home with him to his owne house.

The Ninth Nouell.

Declaring what an honourable vertue Courtesie is, in them that true∣ly know how to vse them.

MAdame Philomena hauing concluded her discourse, and the rare acknowledgement, which Titus made of his esteemed friend Gisippus, extolled iustly as it deserued by all the Company: the King, reseruing the last office to Dioneus (as it was at the first granted him) began to speake thus. Without all question to the contrary (worthy Ladies) nothing can be more true∣ly said, then what Madame Philomena, hath deliuered, concerning Amity, and her complaint in the conclusion of her Nouell, is not without great reason, to see it so slenderly reuerenced and respected (now a dayes) among all men. But if we had met here in duty one∣ly for correcting the abuses of iniquity, and the maleuolent courses of this preposterous age; I could proceed further in this iust cause of cōplaint. But because our end aimeth at matters of other nature, it commeth to my memory to tel you of a History, which (perhaps) may seeme somewhat long, but altogether pleasant, concerning a magnificent act of great Saladine: to the end, that by obseruing those things which you shall heare in my Nouell, if we cannot (by reason of our manifold imperfections) intirely compasse the amity of any one; yet (at least) we may take delight, in stretching our kind∣nesse (in good deeds) so farre as we are able, in hope one day after, some worthy reward will ensue thereon, as thereto iustly appertai∣ning.

Let me tell you then, that (as it is affirmed by many) in the time of the Emperour Frederick, first of that name, the Christians, for the better recouery of the holy land, resolued to make a generall voyage ouer the Seas. Which being vnderstood by Saladine, a very worthy Prince, and then Soldan of Babylon: he concluded with himselfe, that he would (in person) goe see, what preparation the Christian Potentates made for this Warre, that hee might the better prouide for himselfe. Hauing setled all things orderly in Aegypt for the busines, and making an outward appearance, as if he purposed a pilgrimage to Mecha: he set onward on his iourney, habited like a Merchant, attended onely with two of his most No∣ble and wisest Baschaes, and three waiting seruants.

When he had visited many Christian Prouinces, and was riding thorow Lombardie, to passe the mountaines; it fortuned, in his iour∣neying from Millaine to Pauia, and the day being very farre spent, so that night hastened speedily on him: he met with a Gentleman, named Signior Thorella d'Istria, but dwelling at Pauia, who with

his men, Hawkes and Hounds, went to a house of his, seated in a singular place, and on the Riuer of Ticinum. Signior Thorello see∣ing such men making towardes him, presently imagined, that they were some Gentle-strangers, and such hee desired to respect with honor.

Wherefore, Saladine demanding of one of Thorelloes men, how farre (as then) it was to Pauia, and whether they might reach thi∣ther by such an houre, as would admit their entrance into the Cit∣ty: Thorello would not suffer his seruant to returne the answer, but replyed thus himselfe. Sir (quoth he) you cannot reach Pauia, but night will abridge you of any entraunce there. I beseech you then Sir, answered Saladine, fauour vs so much (because we are all stran∣gers in these parts) as to tell vs where we may be well lodged. That shal I Sir, said Thorello, and very gladly too.

Euen at the instant Sir, as we met with you, I had determined in my mind, to send one of my seruants somewhat neere to Pauia, a∣bout a businesse concerning my selfe: he shall go along with you, and conduct you to a place, where you will be very well entertay∣ned. So, stepping to him, who was of best discretion amongst his men, he gaue order to him what should bee done, and sent him with them. Himselfe, making hast by a farre neerer way, caused Supper to be prepared in worthy manner, and the Tables to be co∣uered in his Garden; and all things being in good readinesse, he sate downe at his doore, to attend the comming of his guests. The Ser∣uingman, discoursing with the Gentlemen on diuers occasions, gui∣ded them by such vnvsuall passages, as (before they could discerne it) he brought them to his Masters house; where so soone as Thorel∣lo saw them arriued, he went forth to meet them, assuring them all of most hearty welcome.

Saladine, who was a man of accute vnderstanding, did well per∣ceiue, that this Knight Thorello misdoubted his going with him, if (when he met him) hee should haue inuited him; and therefore, be∣cause he would not be denied, of entertaining him into his house; he made choise of this kinde and honourable course, which caused him to returne this answer. Gentle Sir, if courtesie in one man to another, do deserue condemning, then may we iustly complaine of you, who meeting vs vpon the way, which you haue shortened by your kindnesse and which we are no way able to deserue, wee are constrained to accept, taking you to bee the mirrour of courtesie. Thorello being a Knight of ingenious apprehension, and wel langua∣ged, replyed thus.

Gentlemen; this courtesie (seeing you terme it so) which you re∣receiue

of me, in regard of that iustly belonging to you, as your fa∣ces do sufficiently informe mee, is matter of very slender account. But assuredly out of Pauia, you could not haue any lodging, deser∣uing to be termed good. And therefore, let it not bee displeasing to you, if you haue a little gone forth of the common rode way, to haue your entertainment somewhat bettered, as many trauaylers are easily induced to do.

Hauing thus spoken, all the people of the house shewed them∣selues, in seruiceable manner to the Gentlemen, taking their horses as they dismounted, and Thorello himselfe, conducted the three Gentlemen, into three seuerall faire Chambers, which in costly ma∣ner were prepared for them, where their boots were pluckt off, faire Napkins with Manchets lay ready, and delicate Wines to refresh their wearied spirits, much prety conference being entercoursed, til Supper time inuited them thence.

Saladine, and they that were with him, spake the Latine tongue very readily, by which meanes they were the better vnderstoode; and Thorello seemed (in their iudgement) to bee the most gracious, compleate, and best spoken Gentleman, as euer they met with in all their iourney. It appeared also (on the other side) to Signiour Tho∣rello, that his guests were men of great merit, and worthy of much more esteeme, then there he could vse towards them: wherefore, it did highly distast him, that he had no more friends there this night to keepe them company, or himselfe better prouided for their en∣tertainment, which hee intended (on the morrow) to recompence with larger amends at dinner.

Heereupon, hauing instructed one of his men with what hee in∣tended, he sent him to Pauia, which was not farre off (and where he kept no doore shut) to his Wife, named Madam Adialetta; a Wo∣man singularly wise, and of a Noble spirit, needing little or no dire∣ction, especially when she knew her husbands minde. As they were walking in the Garden, Thorello desired to vnderstand, of whence, and what they were? Whereto Saladine thus answered. Sir, wee are Cyprian Marchants, comming now from Cyprus, and are trauai∣ling to Paris, about affaires of importance. Now trust me Syr, re∣plyed Thorello, I could heartily wish, that this Countrey of ours would yeeld such Gentlemen, as your Cyprus affordeth Marchants. So, falling from one discourse vnto another, Supper was serued in; and looke howe best themselues pleased, so they sate at the Table, where (we neede make no doubt) they were respected in honoura∣ble order.

So soone as the Tables were withdrawne, Thorello knowing they might be weary, brought them againe to their Chambers, where

committing them to their good rest, himselfe went to bed soone af∣ter. The Seruant sent to Pauia, deliuered the message to his Lady; who, not like a woman of ordinary disposition, but rather truely Royall, sent Thorelloes seruants into the City, to make preparation for a Feast indeed, and with lighted Torches (because it was some∣what late) they inuited the very greatest and noblest persons of the Citie, all the roomes being hanged with the richest Ar••s, Clothes of Golde worke, Veluets, Silkes, and all other rich adornments, in such manner as her husband had commanded, and answerable to her owne worthy mind, being no way to learne, in what manner to entertaine strangers.

On the morrow morning, the Gentlemen arose, and mounting on horsebacke with Signior Thorello, he called for his Hawkes and Hounds, brought them to the Riuer, where he shewed two or three faire flights: but Saladine desiring to know, which was the fayrest Hostery in all Pauia, Thorello answered. Gentlemen, I wil shew you that my selfe, in regard I haue occasion to ride thither. Which they beleeuing, were the better contented, and rode on directly vnto Pa∣uia, arriuing there about nine of the clocke, and thinking he guided them to the best Inne, he brought them to his owne house; where, aboue fifty of the worthiest Citizens, stood ready to welcome the Gentlemen, imbracing them as they lighted from their Horsses. Which Saladine, and his associates perceiuing, they guessed as it was indeede, and Saladine sayd. Beleeue me worthy Thorello, this is not answerable to my demand; you did too much yester-night, and much more then we could desire or deserue: Wherefore, you might wel be the sooner discharged of vs, and let vs trauaile on our iourney.

Noble Gentlemen, replyed Thorello (for in mine eye you seeme no lesse) that courtesie which you met with yester-night, I am to thanke Fortune for, more then you, because you were then straited by such necessity, as vrged your acceptance of my poore Country house. But now this morning, I shall account my selfe much be∣holding to you (as the like will all these worthy Gentlemen here a∣bout you) if you do but answer kindnes with kindnes, and not re∣fuse to take a homely dinner with them.

Saladine and his friends, being conquerd with such potent per∣swasions, and already dismounted from their horses, saw that all deniall was meerly in vaine: and therefore thankfully condiscen••∣ing (after some few ceremonious complements were ouer-past) the Gentlemen conducted them to their Chambers, which were most sumptuously prepared for them, and hauing laid aside their riding garments, being a little refreshed with Cakes and choice Wines;

they descended into the dining Hall, the pompe whereof I am not able to report.

When they had washed, and were seated at the Tables, dinner was serued in most magnificent sort; so that if the Emperor himself had bin there, he could not haue bin more sumptuously serued. And although Saladine and his Baschaes were very Noble Lords, and wonted to see matters of admiration: yet could they do no lesse now, but rather exceeded in maruaile, considering the qualitie of the Knight, whom they knew to bee a Citizen, and no Prince or great Lord. Dinner being ended, and diuers familiar conferences passing amongst them: because it was exceeding hot, the Gentle∣men of Pauia (as it pleased, Thorello to appoint) went to repose themselues awhile, and he keeping company with his three guests, brought them into a goodly Chamber, where, because he would not faile in the least scruple of courtesie, or conceale from them the richest Iewell which he had; he sent for his Lady and wife, because (as yet) they had not seene her.

She was a Lady of extraordinary beauty, tall stature, very sump∣tuously attired, and hauing two sweet Sonnes (resembling Angels) she came with them waiting before her, and graciously saluted her guests. At her comming, they arose, and hauing receiued hir with great reuerence, they seated her in the midst, kindly cherishing the two Children. After some gracious Language past on eyther side, she demanded of whence, and what they were, which they answe∣red in the same kind as they had done before to her husband. Af∣terward, with a modest smiling countenance, she sayd. Worthy Gentlemen, let not my weake Womanish discretion appeare di∣stastable, in desiring to craue one especiall fauour from you, name∣ly, not to refuse or disdaine a small gift, wherewith I purpose to pre∣sent you. But considering first, that women (according to their sim∣ple faculty) are able to bestow but silly gifts: so you would be plea∣sed, to respect more the person that is the giuer, then the quality or quantity of the gift.

Then causing to be brought (for each of them) two goodly gowns or Robes (made after the Persian manner) the one lyned thorough with cloth of Gold, and the other with the costlyest Fur; not after such fashion as Citizens or Marchants vse to weare, but rather be∣seeming Lords of greatest account, and three light vnder-wearing Cassocks or Mandillions, of Carnatian Sattin, richly Imbroidred with Gold and Pearles, and lined thorow with White Taffata, pre∣senting these gifts to him, she sayd. I desire you Gentlemen to re∣ceiue these meane trifles, such as you see my Husband weares the like, and these other beside, considering you are so far from your

Wiues, hauing trauailed a long way already, and many miles more yet to ouertake; also Marchants (being excellent men) affect to be comely and handsome in their habits; although these are of slender value, yet (in necessity) they may do you seruice.

Now was Saladine and his Baschaes halfe astonyed with admi∣ration, at the magnificent minde of Signiour Thorello, who would not forget the least part of courtesie towardes them, and greatly doubted (seeing the beauty and riches of the Garments) least they were discouered by Thorello. Neuerthelesse, one of them thus an∣swered the Lady. Beleeue me Madame, these are rich guiftes, not lightly either to be giuen, or receyued: but in regard of your strict imposition, we are not able to deny them. This being done, with most gracious and courteous demeanour, she departed from them, leauing her Husband to keepe them still companie; who furnished their seruants also, with diuers worthy necessaries fitting for their iourney.

Afterward, Thorello (by very much importunitie) wonne them to stay with him all the rest of the day; wherefore, when they had rested themselues awhile, being attyred in their newly giuen robes; they rode on Horsebacke thorow the Citty. When supper time came, they supt in most honourable and worthy company beeing afterwards Lodged in most faire and sumptuous Chambers, and being risen in the morning, in exchange of their ho••ses (ouer-weari∣ed with Trauaile) they found three other very richly furnished, and their men also in like manner prouided. Which when Saladine had perceyued, he tooke his Baschaes aside, and spake in this man∣ner.

By our greatest Gods, I neuer met with any man, more compleat in all noble perfections, more courteous and kinde then Thorello is. If all the Christian Kings, in the true and heroicall nature of Kings, do deale as honourably as I see this Knight doeth, the Soldane of Babylon is not able to endure the comming of one of them, much lesse so many, as wee see preparing to make head against vs. But beholding, that both refusall and acceptation, was all one in the minde of Thorello: after much kinde Language had bin intercour∣sed betweene them, Saladine (with his Attendants) mounted on horsebacke.

Signiour Thorello, with a number of his honourable Friends (to the number of an hundred Horsse) accompanied them a great di∣stance from the Citie, and although it greeued Saladine exceeding∣ly, to leaue the company of Thorello, so dearely he was affected to him: but necessity (which controlleth the power of all lawes what∣soeuer) must needs diuide them: yet requesting his returne agayne

that way, if possibly it might be granted; which Saladine promised but did not performe. Well Gentlemen (quoth Thorello at parting) I know not what you are, neither (against your will) do I desire it: but whether you be Marchants or no, remember me in your kind∣nesse, and so to the heauenly powers I commend you. Saladine, ha∣uing taken his leaue of all them that were with Thorello, returned him this answer. Sir, it may one day hereafter so happen, as we shal let you see some of our Marchandises, for the better confirmation of your beleefe, and our profession.

Thus parted Signior Thorello and his friends, from Saladine and his company, who verily determined in the heighth of his minde, if he should be spared with life, and the warre (which he expected) concluded: to requite Thorello with no lesse courtesie, then hee had already declared to him; conferring a long while after with his Baschaes, both of him and his beauteous Lady, not forgetting any of their courteous actions, but gracing them all with deserued com∣mendation. But after they had (with very laborious paines) sur∣ueyed most of the Westerne parts, they all tooke Shipping, and re∣turned into Alexandria: sufficiently informed, what preparation was to be made for their owne defence. And Signior Thorello be∣ing come backe againe to Pauia, consulted with his priuat thoughts (many times after) what these three trauailers should be, but came farre short of knowing the truth, till (by experience) hee became better informed.

When the time was come, that the Christians were to make their passage, and wonderfull great preparations, in all places per∣formed: Signiour Thorello, notwithstanding the teares and intrea∣ties of his Wife, determined to be one in so woorthy and honou∣rable a voyage: and hauing made his prouision ready, nothing wan∣ting but mounting on Horsebacke, to go where he should take ship∣ping; to his Wife (whom he most intirely affected) thus hee spake. Madame, I goe as thou seest in this famous Voyage, as well for mine Honour, as also the benefite of my soule; all our goodes and possessions, I commit to thy vertuous care. And because I am not certaine of my returning backe againe, in regard of a thousand ac∣cidents which may happen, in such a Countrey as I goe vnto: I de∣sire onely but one fauour of thee, whatsoeuer daunger shall befall mee; Namely, when any certaine tydings shall be brought mee of my death; to stay no longer before thy second marriage, but one yeare, one month, and one day; to begin on this day of my depar∣ting from thee.

The Lady, who wept exceedingly, thus answered. Alas Sir: I know not how to carry my selfe, in such extremity of greefe, as now

you leaue me; but if my life surmount the fortitude of sorrow, and whatsoeuer shall happen to you for certainty, either life or death: I will liue and dye the Wife of Signiour Thorello, and make my ob∣sequies in his memory onely.

Not so Madame (replyed her Husband) not so; Be not ouerrash in promising any thing, albeit I am well assured, that so much as consisteth in thy strength, I make no question of thy performance. But consider withall (deare heart) thou art a yong woman, beauti∣full, of great parentage, and no way thereto inferior in the blessings of Fortune.

Thy Vertues are many, and vniuersally both divulged and kno∣wen, in which respect, I make no doubt; but diuers and sundrie great Lords and Gentlemen (if but the least rumor of my death be noysed) will make suite for thee to thy parents and brethren, from whose violent solicitings, wouldst thou neuer so resolutely make re∣sistance, yet thou canst not be able to defend thy selfe; but whether thou wilt or no, thou must yeeld to please them; and this is the on∣ly reason, why I would tie thee to this limited time, and not one day or minute longer.

Adalietta, sweetly hugging him in her armes, and melting her selfe in kisses, sighes, and teares on his face, said. Well Sir, I will do so much as I am able, in this your most kinde and louing impositi∣on: and when I shall bee compelled to the contrary: yet rest thus constantly assured, that I will not breake this your charge, so much as in thought. Praying euer heartily to the heauenly powers, that they will direct your course home againe to me, before your prefi∣xed date, or else I shall liue in continual languishing. In the knitting vp of this woful parting, embracing and kissing either infinit times, the Lady tooke a Ring from off her finger, and giuing it to her hus∣band, said. If I chaunce to die before I see you againe, remember me when you looke on this. He receiuing the Ring, and bidding all the rest of his Friends farewell, mounted on horsebacke, and rode away wel attended.

Being come vnto Geneway, he and his company boorded a Gal∣ley, and (in few dayes after) arriued at Acres, where they ioyned themselues with the Christian Army, wherein there happened a verie dangerous mortality: During which time of so sharpe visi∣tation (the cause vnknowne whence it proceeded) whether tho∣rough the industrie, or rather the good Fortune of Saladine, well-neere all the rest of the Christians (which escaped death) were surprized his prisoner (without a blow strucken) and sundred and imprisoned in diuers Townes and Citties. Amongest the which number of prisoners, it was Signior Thorelloes chaunce to be one,

and walked in bonds to Alexandria, where being vnknowne, and fearing least he should be discouered: constrained thereto meerly by necessity, hee shewed himselfe in the condition of a Faulconer; wherein he was very excellently experienced, and by which means his profession was made knowne to Saladine, hee deliuered out of prison, and created the Soldans Faulconer.

Thorello (whom the Soldane called by no other name, then the Christian, neyther of them knowing the other) sadly now remem∣bred his departure from Pauia, deuising and practising many times, how he might escape thence, but could not compasse it by a∣ny possible meanes. Wherefore, certaine Ambassadours beeing sent by the Genewayes, to redeeme diuers Cittizens of theirs, there detained as prisoners, and being ready to returne home againe: he purposed to write to his Wife, that he was liuing, and wold repaire to her so soone as he could, desiring the still continued remembe∣rance of her limited time. By close and cunning meanes hee wrote the Letter, earnestly intreating one of the Ambassadors (who knew him perfectly, but made no outward apparance thereof) to deale in such sort for him, that the Letter might be deliuered to the handes of the Abbot Di San Pietro ni Ciel d'Oro, who was (indeede) his Vnckle.

While Thorello remayned in this his Faulconers condition, it fortuned vppon a day, that Saladine, conuersing with him about his Hawkes: Thorello chanced to smile, and vsed such a kinde of gesture or motion with his Lippes, which Saladine (when he was in his house at Pauia) had heedfully obserued, and by this note, in∣stantly he remembred Signior Thorello, and began to eye him very respectiuely, perswading himselfe that he was the same man. And therefore falling from their former kinde of discoursing: Tell mee Christian (quoth Saladine) what Country-man art thou of the West? Sir, answered Signiour Thorello, I am by Country a Lom∣bard, borne in a Citty called Pauia, a poore man, and of as poore condition.

So soone as Saladine had heard these Words; becomming assu∣red in that which (but now) he doubted, he saide within himselfe. Now the Gods haue giuen me time, wherein I may make knowne to this man, how thankefully I accepted his kinde courtesie, and cannot easily forget it. Then, without saying any thing else, cau∣sing his Guard-robe to be set open, he tooke him with him thither, and sayde. Christian, obserue well all these Garments, and quick∣en thy remembrance, in telling mee truly, whether thou hast seene any of them before now, or no. Signiour Thorello looked on them all aduisedly, and espyed those two especiall Garments, which his

wife had giuen one of the strange Merchants; yet he durst not credit it, or that possibly it could be the same, neuerthelesse he said. Sir, I doe not know any of them, but true it is, that these two doe re∣semble two such Robes, as I was wont to weare my selfe, and these (or the like) were giuen to three Merchants, that happened to visite my poore house.

Now could Saladine containe no longer, but embracing him ioyfully in his armes, he said. You are Signior Thorello d'Istria, and I am one of those three Merchants, to whom your Wife gaue these Roabes: and now the time is come to giue you credible intelligence of my Merchandise, as I promised at my departing from you, for such a time (I told you) would come at length. Thorello, was both glad, and bashfull together: glad, that he had entertained such a Guest, and bashfully ashamed, that his welcome had not exceeded in more bountifull manner. Thorello, replyed Saladine, seeing the Gods haue sent you so happily to me: account your selfe to be so∣ly Lord here, for I am now no more then a priuate man.

I am not able to expresse their counterchanges of courtesie, Sa∣ladine commanding him to be cloathed in Royall garments, and brought into the presence of his very greatest Lords, where hauing spoken liberally in his due commendation, he commanded them to honour him as himselfe, if they expected any grace or fauour from him, which euery one did immediatly, but (aboue all the rest) those two Baschaes, which accompanied Saladine at his house. The greatnesse of this pompe and glory, so suddenly throwne on Signi∣or Thorello, made him halfe forget all matters of Lomberdie; and so much the rather, because he had no doubt at all, but that his let∣ters, were safely come to the hands of his Vncle.

Here I am to tell you, that in the Campe or Army of the Chri∣stians, on the day when Saladine made his surprizall, there was a Prouinciall Gentleman dead and buried, who was Signior Thorello de Dignes, a man of very honourable and great esteeme, in which respect (Signior Thorello d'Istria, knowne throughout the Army, by his Nobility and valour) whosoeuer heard that Signior Thorello was dead: beleeued it to be Thorello d'Istria, and not he of Dignes, so that Thorello d'Istriaes vnknowne surprizall and thraldome, made it also to passe for an assured truth.

Beside, many Italians returning home, and carrying this report for credible; some were so audaciously presumptuous, as they a∣uouched vpon their oathes, that not onely they saw him dead, but were present at his buriall likewise. Which rumour comming to the eare of his Wife, and likewise to his kinred and hers: procured

a great and grieuous mourning among them, and all that happened to heare thereof.

Guer-tedious time it would require, to relate at large, the pub∣lique griefe and sorrow, with the continuall lamentations of his Wife, who (within some few moneths after) became tormented with new marriage solicitings, before she had halfe sighed for the first: the very greatest persons of Lomberdie making the motion, being daily followed and furthered by her owne brothers and friends. Still (drowned in teares) she returned denyall, till in the end, when no contradiction could preuaile, to satisfie her parents, and the importunate pursuers: she was constrained to reueale, the charge imposed on her by her Husband, which shee had vowed in∣fallibly to keepe, and till that very time, she would in no wise con∣sent.

While wooing for a second wedding with Adalietta, procee∣ded in this manner at Pauia, it chanced on a day, that Signior Tho∣rello had espied a man in Alexandria, whom he saw with the Gene∣way Ambassadours, when they set thence towards Geneway with their Gallies. And causing him to be sent for, he demaunded of him, the successe of the voyage, and when the Gallies arriued at Ge∣neway; whereto he returned him this answere. My Lord, our Gal∣lies made a very fatall voyage, as it is (already) too well knowne in Creete, where my dwelling is. For when we drew neere Sicilie, there suddenly arose a very dangerous North-West-winde, which droue vs on the quicke-Sands of Barbarie, where not any man esca∣ped with life, onely my selfe excepted, but (in the wracke) two of my brethren perished.

Signior Thorello, giuing credit to the mans words, because they were most true indeed, and remembring also, that the time limitted to his Wife, drew neere expiring within very few dayes, and no newes now possibly to be sent thither of his life, his Wife would questionlesse be marryed againe: he fell into such a deepe concei∣ted melancholly, as food and sleepe forsooke him, whereupon, he kept his bed, setting downe his peremptory resolution for death. When Saladine (who dearely loued him) heard thereof, he came in all haste to see him, and hauing (by many earnest perswasions and entreaties) vnderstood the cause of his melancholly and sickenesse: he very seuerely reproued him, because he could no sooner ac∣quaint him therewith. Many kind and comfortable speeches, he gaue him, with constant assurance, that (if he were so minded) he would so order the businesse for him; as he should be at Pauia, by the same time as he had appointed to his Wife, and reuealed to him also the manner how.

Thorello verily beleeued the Soldanes promise, because he had often heard the possibility of performance, and others had effected as much, diuers times else-where: whereupon he began to comfort himselfe, soliciting the Soldan earnestly that it might be accompli∣shed. Saladine sent for one of his Sorcerers (of whose skill he had formerly made experience) to take a direct course, how Signior Thorello should be carryed (in one night) to Pauia, and being in his bed. The Magitian vndertooke to doe it, but, for the Gentlemans more ease, he must first be possessed with an entraunced dead sleep. Saladine being thus assured of the deeds full effecting, he came a∣gaine to Thorello, and finding him to be setled for Pauia (if possibly it might be accomplished by the determined time, or else no other expectation but death) he said vnto him as followeth.

Signior Thorello, if with true affection you loue your Wife, and misdoubt her marriage to some other man: I protest vnto you, by the supreme powers, that you deserue no reprehension in any manner whatsoeuer. For, of all the Ladyes that euer I haue seene, she is the onely woman, whose carriage, vertues, and ciuile speaking (setting aside beauty, which is but a fading flowre) deserueth most graciously to be respected, much more to be affected in the highest degree. It were to me no meane fauour of our Gods, (seeing For∣tune directed your course so happily hither) that for the short or long time we haue to liue, we might reigne equally together in these Lingdomes vnder my subiection. But if such grace may not be granted me, yet, seeing it stands mainly vpon the perill of your life, to be at Pauia againe by your own limitted time, it is my chie∣fest comfort, that I am therewith acquainted, because I intended to haue you conueighed thither, yea, euen into your owne house, in such honourable order as your vertues doe iustly merit, which in regard it cannot be so conueniently performed, but as I haue alrea∣dy informed you, and as the necessity of the case vrgently comman∣deth; accept it as it may be best accomplished,

Great Saladine (answered Thorella) effects (without words) haue already sufficiently warranted your Gracious disposition towards me, farre beyond any requitall remayning in me; your word onely being enough for my comfort in this case, either dying or liuing. But in regard you haue taken such order for my departure hence, I desire to haue it done with all possible expedition, because to mor∣row is the very last day, that I am to be absent. Saladine protested that it should be done, and the same euening in the great Hall of his Pallace, commanded a rich and costly Bedde to be set vp, the mattras formed after the Alexandrian manner, of Veluet and cloth

Gold, the Quilts, counter-points and couerings, sumptuously im∣broydered with Orient Pearles and Precious Stones, supposed to be of inestimable value, and two rarely wroug••▪ Pillowes, such as best beseemed so stately a Bedde, the Curtaines and Vallans euery way equall to the other pompe.

Which being done, he commanded that Thorello (who was in∣differently recouered) should be attyred in one of his owne sump∣tuous Saracine Roabes, the very fairest and richest that euer was seene, and on his head a Maiesticall Turbant, after the manner of his owne wearing, and the houre appearing to be somewhat late, he with many of his best Baschaes, went to the Chamber where Tho∣rello was, and sitting downe a while by him, in teares thus he spake. Signior Thorello, the houre for sundering you and me, is now ve∣ry neere, and because I cannot beare you company, in regard of the businesse you goe about, and which by no meanes will admit it: I am to take my leaue of you in this Chamber, and therefore am purposely come to doe it. But before I bid you farewell, let me entreat you, by the loue and friendship confirmed betweene vs, to be mindfull of me, and to take such order (your affaires being fully finished in Lombardie) that I may once more enioy the sight of you here, for a mutuall solace and satisfaction of our mindes, which are now diuided by this vrgent hast. Till which may be granted, let me want no visitation of your kind letters, commanding thereby of me, whatsoeuer here can possibly be done for you: assuring your selfe, no man liuing can command me as you doe.

Signior Thorello could not forbeare weeping, but being much hindred therby, answered in few words. That he could not possibly forget, his Gracious fauours and extraordinary benefits vsed to∣wards him, but would accomplish whatsoeuer hee commaunded, according as heauen did enable him.

Hereupon, Saladine embracing him, and kissing his forehead, said. All my Gods goe with you, and guard you from any perill, departing so out of the Chamber weeping, and his Baschaes (ha∣uing likewise taken their leaue of Thorello) followed Saladine into the Hall, whereas the Bedde stood readily prepared. Because it waxed very late, and the Magitian also there attending for his dispatch: the Phisitian went with the potion to Thorello, and perswading him, in the way of friendship, that it was onely to strengthen him after his great weaknes: he drank it off, being there∣by immediately entraunced, and so presently sleeping, was (by Saladines command) laid on the sumptuous and costly Bed, where∣on stood an Imperiall Crowne of infinite value, appearing

(by a description engrauen on it) that Saladine sent it to Madame Adalietta, the wife of Thorello. On his finger also hee put a Ring, wherein was enchased an admirable Carbuncle, which seemed like a flaming Torche, the value thereof not to bee estimated. By him likewise hee laid a rich sword, with the girdle, hangers, and other furniture, such as seldome can be seene the like. Then hee laid a Iewell on the Pillow by him, so sumptuouslie embelished with Pearles and precious Stones, as might haue beseemed the grea∣test Monarch in the World to weare. Last of all, on either side of them, hee set two great Basons of pure Gold, full of double ducates, many cords of Orient Pearles, Rings, Girdles, and other costly Iewells (ouer-tedious to bee recounted) and kissing him once more as hee lay in the bedde, commanded the Magitian to dis∣patch and be gone.

Instantly, the bedde and Thorello in it, in the presence of Saladine, was inuisibly carried thence, and while he sate conferring with his Baschaes, the bed, Signior Thorello, and all the rich Iewells about him, was transported and set in the Church of San Pietro in Ciel d' Ore in Pauia, according to his own request, and soundly sleeping, being placed directly before the high Altar. Afterward, when the bells rung to Mattines, the Sexton entring the Church with a light in his hand (where hee beheld a light of greater splendor) and sud∣denly espied the sumptuous bedde there standing: not only was he smitten into admiration, but hee ranne away also very fearefully. When the Abbot and the Monkes mette him thus running into the Cloyster, they became amazed, and demanded the reason why he ranne in such haste, which the Sexton told them. How? quoth the Abbot, thou art no childe, or a new-come hither, to be so easilie affrighted in our holy Church, where Spirits can haue no power to walke, God and Saint Peter (wee hope) are stronger for vs then so: wherefore turne backe with vs, and let vs see the cause of thy feare.

Hauing lighted many Torches, the Abbot and his Monkes en∣tred with the Sexton into the Church, where they beheld the wonderfull riche bedde, and the Knight lying fast a-sleepe in it. While they stood all in amazement, not daring to approach neere the bedde, whereon lay such costly Iewells: it chanced that Sig∣nior Thorello awaked, and breathed forth a vehement sigh. The Monkes and the Abbot seeing him to stirre, ranne all away in feare, crying aloud, God and S. Peter defend vs.

By this time Thorello had opened his eyes, and looking round a∣bout him, perceiued that hee was in the place of Saladines promise, whereof hee was not a little ioyfull. Wherefore, sitting vp in the

bedde, and particularly obseruing all the things about him: albeit he knew sufficiently the magnificence of Saladine, yet now it appea∣red far greater to him, and imagined more largely thereof, then hee could doe before. But yet, without any other ceremony, seeing the flight of the Monkes, hearing their cry, and perceiuing the reason; he called the Abbot by his name, desiring him not to be afraid, for he was his Nephew Thorello, and no other.

When the Abbot heard this, hee was ten times worse affrighted then before, because (by publique fame) hee had beene so many moneths dead and buried; but receiuing (by true arguments) bet∣ter assurance of him, and hearing him still call him by his name: blessing himselfe with the signe of the Crosse, hee went somewhat neerer to the bed, when Thorello said. My louing Vncle, and religi∣ous holy Father, wherof are you afraid? I am your louing Nephew, newly returned from beyond the Seas. The Abbot, seeing his beard to be grown long, and his habit after the Arabian fashion, did yet collect some resemblance of his former countenance; and being better perswaded of him, tooke him by the hand, saying:

Sonne thou art happily returned, yet there is not any man in our Citie, but doth verily beleeue thee to bee dead, and therefore doe not much wonder at our feare. Moreouer; I dare assure thee, that thy Wife Adalietta, being conquered by the controuling com∣mand, and threatnings of her kinred (but much against her owne minde) is this very morning to be married to a new husband, and the marriage feast is solemnly prepared, in honour of this second nuptialls.

Thorello arising out of the bedde, gaue gracious salutations to the Abbot and his Monkes, intreating earnestly of them all, that no word might be spoken of his returne, vntill he had compleated an important businesse. Afterward, hauing safely secured the bedde, and all the rich Iewells, he fully acquainted the Abbot with all his passed fortunes, whereof he was immeasurably ioyfully, & hauing satisfied him, concerning the new elected husband, Thorello said vn∣to the Abbot. Vnckle, before any rumour of my returne, I would gladly see my wiues behauior at this new briding feast, & although men of religion are seldome seene at such Iouiall meetings: yet (for my sake) doe you so order the matter, that I (as an Arabian stran∣ge••) may be a guest vnder your prorection▪ wherto the Abbot very gladly condescended.

In the morning, he sent to the Bridegroom, and aduertised him, that he (with a stranger newly arriued) intented to dine with him, which the Gentleman accepted in thankefull manner. And when dinner time came, Thorello in his strange disguise went with the

Abbot to the Bridegroomes house, where he was lookt on with ad∣miration of all the guests, but not knowne or suspected by any one; because the Abbot reported him to be a Sarracine, and sent by the Soldane (in Ambassage) to the King of France. Thorello was seated at a by-table, but directly opposite to the new Bride, whom hee much delighted to looke on, and easily collected by her sad counte∣nance, that shee was scarcely well pleased with this new nuptialls. She likewise beheld him very often, not in regard of any knowlege she took of him: for the bushiness of his beard, strangeness of habit, (but most of all) firm beleefe of his death, was the maine preuentiō.

At such time as Thorello thought it conuenient, to approue how farre he was falne out of her remembrance; he took the ring which she gaue him at his departure, and calling a young Page that waited on none but the Bride, said to him in Italian: Faire youth, goe to the Bride, and saluting her from me, tell her, it is a custome obser∣ued in my Country, that when any Stranger (as I am heere) sitteth before a new married Bride, as now shee is, in signe that hee is wel∣come to her feast, she sendeth the same Cup (wherein she drinketh her selfe) full of the best wine, and when the stranger hath drunke so much as him pleaseth, the Bride then pledgeth him with all the rest. The Page deliuered the message to the Bride, who, being a woman of honourable disposition, and reputing him to be a Noble Gentleman, to testifie that his presence there was very acceptable to her, shee commanded a faire Cuppe of gold (which stood directlie before her) to bee neately washed, and when it was filled with excellent Wine, caused it to bee carried to the stranger, and so it was done.

Thorello hauing drunke a heartie draught to the Bride, conuey∣ed the Ring into the Cuppe, before any person could perceiue it, and hauing left but small store of Wine in it, couered the Cuppe, and sent it againe to the Bride, who receiued it very graciously, and to honour the Stranger in his Countries custome, dranke vp the rest of the Wine, and espying the Ring, shee tooke it forth vn∣descried by any: Knowing it to be the same Ring which shee gaue Signior Thorello at his parting from her; she fixed her eyes often on it, & as often on him, whom she thought to be a stranger, the cheer∣full bloud mounting vp into her cheeks, and returning againe with remembrance to her heart, that (howsoeuer thus disguised) he only was her husband.

Like one o•• Bacchus Froes, vp furiously she started, and throw∣ing downe the Table before her, cried out aloud: This is my Lord and Husband, this truely is my Lord Thorello. So running to the Table where he sate, without regard of all the riches thereon, down

she threw it likewise, and clasping her armes about his necke, hung so mainly on him (weeping, sobbing, and kissing him) as she could not be taken off by any of the company, nor shewed any modera∣tion in this excesse of passion, till Thorello spake, and entreated her to be more patient, because this extremity was ouer-dangerous for her. Thus was the solemnitie much troubled, but euery one there very glad and ioyfull for the recouery of such a famous and worthy Knight, who intreated them all to vouchsafe him silence, and so re∣lated all his fortunes to them, from the time of his departure, to the instant houre. Concluding withall, that hee was no way offended with the new Bride-groome, who vpon the so constant report of his death, deserued no blame in making election of his wife.

The Bridegroome, albeit his countenance was somewhat clou∣die, to see his hope thus disappointed: yet granted freely, that Ada∣lietto was Thorello's wife in equitie, and hee could not iustly lay any claime to her. She also resigned the Crown and Rings which she had so lately receiued of her new Spouse, and put that on her fin∣ger which she found in the Cup, and that Crowne was set vpon her head, in honor sent her from great Saladine. In which triumphant manner, she left the new Bridegrooms abiding, and repayred home to Thorello's house, with such pompe and magnificence as neuer had the like been seene in Pauia before, all the Citizens esteeming it as a miracle, that they had so happily recouered Signior Thorello againe.

Some part of the Iewells he gaue to him, who had beene at cost with the marriage feasting, and some to his Vncle the Abbot, be∣side a bountie bestowed on the Monkes. Then he sent a messenger to Saladine, with Letters of his whole successe, and confessing him∣selfe (for euer) his obliged seruant: liuing many yeeres (after) with his wife Adalietta, and vsing greater curtesies to strangers, then euer before he had done.

In this manner ended the troubles of Signior Thorello, and the af∣flictions of his dearely affected Lady, with due recompence to their honest and ready courtesies. Many striue (in outward shew) to doe the like, who although they are sufficiently able, doe performe it so basely, as it rather redoundeth to their shame, then honour. And therefore if no merit ensue thereon, but onely such disgrace as iustly should follow; let them lay the blame vpon themselues.

The Marquesse of Saluzzo, named Gualtiero, being constrained by the importunate solliciting of his Lords, and other inferiour people, to ioyne himselfe in marriage; tooke a woman according to his owne li∣king, called Grizelda, she being the daughter of a poore Countriman, named Ianiculo, by whom he had two children, which he pretended to be secretly murdered. Afterward, they being grown to yeres of more stature, and making shew of taking in marriage another wife, more worthy of his high degree and Calling: made a seeming publique li∣king of his owne daughter, expulsing his wife Grizelda poorely from him. But finding her incomparable patience; more dearely (then be∣fore) hee receiued her into fauour againe, brought her home to his owne Pallace, where (with her children) hee caused her and them to be respectiuely honoured, in despight of all her aduerse enemies.

The Tenth Nouell.

Set downe as an example or warning to all wealthie men, how to haue care of marrying themselues. And likewise to poore and meane wo∣men, to be patient in their fortunes, and obedient to their husbands.

QVestionlesse, the Kings Nouell did not so much exceed the rest in length, but it proued as pleasing to the whole assem∣bly, & past with their generall approbation, till Dioneus (in a merry iesting humour) said. The plaine honest simple man, that stood holding the Candle, to see the setting on of his Mules tayle; deserued two penny-worth of more praise, then all our applauding of Signior Thorello: And knowing himselfe to bee left for the last speaker, thus he began.

Milde & modest Ladies, for ought I can perceiue to the contrary, this day was dedicated to none but Kings, Soldanes, and great Po∣tentates, not in fauour of any inferiour or meaner persons. And therefore, because I would be loth to dis-ranke my selfe from the rest, I purpose to speake of a Lord Marquesse, not any matter of great magnificence, but rather in a more humble nature, and sorted to an honest end: which yet I will not aduise any to immitate, be∣cause (perhaps) they cannot so well digest it, as they did whom my Nouell concerneth; thus then I begin.

It is a great while since, when among those that were Lord Mar∣quesses of Saluzzo, the very greatest and worthiest man of them al, was a young Noble Lord, named Gualtiero, who hauing neyther wife nor childe, spent his time in nothing else but hawking & hun∣ting: nor had he any minde of marriage, or to enioy the benefit of

children, wherein many did repute him the wiser. But this being distastfull to his subiects, they very often earnestly solicited him, to match himselfe with a wife, to the end, that hee might not decease without an heire, nor they be left destitute of a succeeding Lord; offering themselues to prouide him of such a one, so well descen∣ded by Father and Mother, as not only should confirm their hope, but also yeeld him high contentment; whereto the Lord Marquess thus answered.

Worthie friends, you would constraine me to the thing, where∣with I neuer had any intent to meddle, considering, how difficult a case it is to meet with such a woman, who can agree with a man in all his conditions, and how great the number is of them, who daily happen on the contrarie: but most (and worst of all the rest) how wretched and miserable prooues the life of man, who is bound to liue with a wife not fit for him. And in saying, you can learn to vn∣derstand the custome and qualities of children, by behauiour of the fathers and mothers, and so to prouide mee of a wife, it is a meere argument of folly: for neither shall I comprehend, or you either, the secret inclinations of parents; I meane of the Father, and much lesse the complexion of the mother. But admitte it were within compasse of power to know them; yet it is a frequent sight, and obserued euery day; that daughters doe resemble neither father nor mother, but that they are naturally gouerned by their owne instinct.

But because you are so desirous to haue me fettered in the chains of wedlocke; I am contented to grant what you request. And be∣cause I would haue no complaint made of any but my selfe, if mat∣ters should not happen answerable to expectation; I will make mine owne eyes my electors, and not see by any others sight. Giuing you this assurance before, that if she whom I shall make choice of, be not of you honoured and respected as your Lady and Mistresse: it will ensue to your detriment, how much you haue displeased me, to take a wife at your request, and against mine owne will.

The Noble men answered, that they were well satisfied, proui∣ded that he tooke a wife.

Some indifferent space of time before, the beauty, manners, and well-seeming vertues, of a poore Countrie-mans daughter, dwel∣ling in no farre distant village, had appeared very pleasing to the Lord Marquesse, and gaue him full perswasion, that with her hee should lead a comfortable life. And therefore without any further search or inquisition, he absolutely resolued to marry her, and ha∣uing conferred with her Father, agreed, that his daughter should be his wife. Whereupon, the Marquesse made a generall conuocation

Conuocation of all his Lords, Barons, and other of his especiall friends, from all parts of his Dominion; and when they were assembled together, hee then spake vnto them in manner as fol∣loweth.

Honourable friends, it appeared pleasing to you all, and yet (I thinke) you are of the same minde, that I should dispose my selfe to take a wife: and I thereto condescended, more to yeeld you con∣tentment, then for any particular desire in my selfe. Let mee now remember you of your solemne made promise, with full consent to honor and obey her (whosoeuer) as your Soueraigne Lady and Mi∣stresse, that I shall elect to make my wife: and now the time is come, for my exacting the performance of that promise, and which I look you must constantly keepe. I haue made choyce of a yong virgine, answerable to mine owne heart and liking, dwelling not farre off hence, whom I intend to make my wife, and (within few daies) to haue her brought home to my Pallace. Let your care and diligence then extend so farre, as to see that the feast may be sumptuous, and her entertainment to bee most honourable: to the end that I may receiue as much contentment in your promise performed, as you shall perceiue I doe in my choice.

The Lords and all the rest, were wondrously ioyfull to heare him so well inclined, expressing no lesse by their shouts and iocund suf∣frages: protesting cordially, that she should be welcommed with pompe and maiestie, and honoured of them all, as their Liege La∣die and Soueraigne. Afterward, they made preparation for a princely and magnificent feast, as the Marquesse did the like, for a marriage of extraordinary state and qualitie, inuiting all his kin∣red, friends, and acquaintance in all parts and Prouinces, about him. Hee made also readie most riche and costly garments, shaped by the body of a comely young Gentlewoman, who he knew to be e∣quall in proportion and stature, to her of whom hee hade made his election.

When the appointed nuptiall day was come, the Lord Marques, about nine of the clocke in the morning, mounted on horse-backe, as all the rest did, who came to attend him honourably, and hauing all things in due readinesse with them, he said: Lords, it is time for vs to goe fetch the Bride. So on hee rode with his traine, to the same poore Village whereas shee dwelt, and when hee was come to her Fathers house, hee saw the maiden returning very ha∣stily from a Well, where shee had beene to fetch a paile of water, which shee set downe, and stood (accompanied with other mai∣dens) to see the passage by of the Lord Marquesse and his traine. Gualtiero called her by her name, which was Grizelda, and asked

her, where her Father was: who bashfully answered him, and with an humble courtesie, saying. My gracious Lord, hee is in the house.

Then the Marquesse dismounted from his horse, commanding euery one to attend him, then all alone hee entred into the poore Cottage, where he found the maides father, being named Ianiculo, and said vnto him. God speed good Father, I am come to espouse thy daughter Grizelda: but first I haue a few demands to make, which I will vtter to her in thy presence. Then hee turned to the maide, and saide.

Faire Grizelda, if I make you my wife, will you doe your best endeauour to please me, in all things which I shall doe or say? will you also be gentle, humble, and patient? with diuers other the like questions: whereto she still answered, that she would, so neere as heauen (with grace) should enable her.

Presently he tooke her by the hand, so led her forth of the poore homely house, and in the presence of all his company, with his owne hands, he took off her meane wearing garments, smocke and all, and cloathed her with those Robes of State which he had pur∣posely brought thither for her, and plaiting her haire ouer her shoulders, hee placed a Crowne of gold on her head, whereat eue∣ry one standing as amazed, and wondring not a little, hee said: Grizelda, wilt thou haue me to thy husband. Modestly blushing, and kneeling on the ground, she answered. Yes my gracious Lord, if you will accept so poore a maiden to be your wife. Yes Grizelda, quoth hee, with this holy kisse, I confirme thee for my wife; and so espoused her before them all. Then mounting her on a milke∣white Palfray, brought thither for her, shee was thus honourably conducted to her Pallace.

Now concerning the marriage feast and triumphes, they were performed with no lesse pompe, then if she had beene daughter to the King of France. And the young Bride apparantly declared, that (with her garments) her minde and behauior were quite chan∣ged. For indeed shee was (as it were shame to speake otherwise) a rare creature, both of person and perfections, and not onely was shee absolute for beautie, but so sweetely amiable, gracious, and goodlie; as if she were not the daughter of poore Ianiculo, and a Countrie Shepheardesse, but rather of some Noble Lord, where∣at euery one wondred that formerly had knowne her. Beside all this, shee was so obedient to her husband, so feruent in all dutifull offices, and patient, without the very least prouoking: as hee held himselfe much more then contented, and the onely happy man of the world.

In like manner, towards the subiects of her Lord and Husband, she shewed her selfe alwayes so benigne and gracious; as there was not any one, but the more they lookt on her, the better they loued her, honouring her voluntarily, and praying to the heauens, for her health, dignity and well-fa•••• long continuance. Speaking now (quite contrary to their former opinion of the Marquesse) honou∣rably and worthily, that he had shewne him selfe a singular wise man, in the election of his Wife, which few else (but he) in the world would haue done: because their iudgement might fall farre short, of discerning those great and precious vertues, veiled vnder a homely habite, and obscured in a poore Countrey cottage. To be briefe, in very short time, not onely the Marquisate it selfe, but all neighbouring Prouinces round about, had no other common talke, but of her rare course of life, deuotion, charity, and all good actions else; quite quailing all sinister Instructions of her Husband, before he receiued her in marriage.

About foure or fiue yeeres after the birth of her daughter, shee conceiued with child againe, and (at the limitted houre of deliue∣rance) had a goodly Sonne, to the no little liking of the Mar∣quesse. Afterward, a strange humour entred into his braine, name∣ly, that by a long continued experience, and courses of intollerable quality; he would needes make proofe of his faire Wiues patience. First he began to prouoke her by iniurious speeches, shewing fierce and frowning lookes to her, intimating; that his people grew dis∣pleased with him, in regard of his Wiues base birth and education, and so much the rather, because she was likely to bring children, who (by her blood) were no better then beggers, and murmured at the daughter already borne. Which words when Grizelda heard, without any alteration of countenance, for the least distemperature in any appearing action, she said.

My honourable and gracious Lord, dispose of me, as you thinke best, for your owne dignity and contentment, for I shall therewith be well pleased: as she that knowes her selfe, farre inferiour to the meanest of your people, much lesse worthy of the honour, where∣to you liked to aduance me.

This answere was very welcome to the Marquesse, as apparantly perceiuing hereby, that the dignity whereto hee had exalted her, or any particular fauours beside, could not infect her with any pride, coynesse, or disdaine. Not long after, hauing told her in plaine and open speeches, that his subiects could not endure her so late borne daughter: he called a trusty seruant of his, and hauing instru∣cted him what he should doe, sent him to Grizelda, and he being a∣lone with her, looking very sadde, and much perplexed in mind, he

saide. Madame, except I intend to loose mine owne life, I must accomplish what my Lord hath strictly enioyned me, which is, to take this your yong daughter, and then I must: So breaking off abruptly, the Lady hearing his words, and noting his frowning lookes, remembring also what the Marquesse himselfe had former∣ly said; she presently imagined, that he had commanded his ser∣uant to kill the childe. Suddenly therefore, she tooke it out of the Cradle, and hauing sweetly kissed, and bestowne her blessing on it (albeit her heart throbbed, with the inward affection of a Mother) without any alteration of countenance, she tenderly laid it in the seruants armes, and said. Here friend, take it, and doe with it as thy Lord and mine hath commanded thee: but leaue it in no rude place, where birds or sauage beasts may deuoure it, except it be his will to haue it so.

The seruant departing from her with the child, and reporting to the Marquesse what his Lady had said; he wondered at her in∣comparable constancy. Then he sent it by the same seruant to Bologna, to an honourable Lady his kinsewoman, requesting her (without reuealing whose child it was) to see it both nobly and care∣fully educated.

At time conuenient afterward, being with child againe, and de∣liuered of a Princely Sonne (then which nothing could be more ioyfull to the Marquesse) yet all this was not sufficient for him; but with farre ruder language then before, and lookes expressing harsh intentions, he said vnto her. Grizelda, though thou pleasest me wonderfully, by the birth of this Princely Boy, yet my subiects are not therewith contented, but blunder abroad maliciously; that the grand-child of Ianiculo, a poore countrey pezant, when I am dead and gone, must be their Soueraigne Lord and Master. Which makes me stand in feare of their expulsion, and to preuent that, I must be rid of this childe, as well as the other, and then send thee away from hence, that I may take another wife, more pleasing to them.

Grizelda, with a patient sufferent soule, hearing what he had said, returned no other answere but this. Most Gracious and Honoura∣ble Lord, satisfie and please your owne Royall minde, and neuer vse any respect of me: for nothing is precious or pleasing to mee, but what may agree with your good liking. Within a while after, the Noble Marquesse in the like manner as he did before for the Daughter, so he sent the same seruant for the Sonne, and seeming as if he had sent it to haue been slaine, conueighed it to be nursed at Bologna, in company of his sweete Sister. Whereat the Lady shewed no other discontentment in any kinde, then formerly

she had done for her Daughter, to the no meane maruell of the Marquesse, who protested in his soule, that the like woman was not in all the world beside. And were it not for his heedfull obser∣uation, how louing and carefull she was of her children, prizing them as dearely as her owne life: rash opinion might haue per∣swaded him, that she had no more in her, then a carnall affection, not caring how many she had, so shee might thus easily be rid of them; but he knew her to be a truely vertuous mother, and wisely liable to endure his seuerest impositions.

His Subiects beleeuing, that he had caused the children to bee slaine, blamed him greatly, thought him to be a most cruell man, and did highly compassionate the Ladies case: who when shee came in company of other Gentlewomen, which mourned for their deceassed children, would answere nothing else: but that they could not be more pleasing to her, then they were to the fa∣ther that begot them.

Within certaine yeares after the birth of these children, the Marquesse purposed with himselfe, to make his last and finall proofe of faire Grizeldaes patience, and said to some neere about him: that he could no longer endure, to keepe Grizelda as hi wife, confessing, he had done foolishly, and according to a young giddie braine, when he was so rash in the marriage of her. Wherfore he would send to the Pope, and purchase a dispensation from him, to repudiate Grizelda, and take another Wife. Wherein although they greatly reproued him; yet he told them plainely, that it must needes be so.

The Lady hearing these newes, and thinking she must returne a∣gaine to her poore fathers house, and (perhaps) to her old occupa∣tion of keeping sheepe, as in her yonger dayes she had done, vnder∣standing withall, that another woman must enioy him, whom shee dearely loued and honoured; you may well thinke (worthy Ladies) that her patience was now put to the maine proofe indeede. Neuer∣thelesse, as with an inuincible true vertuous courage, she had out∣stood all the other iniuries of Fortune; so did she constantly settle her soule, to beare this with an vndaunted countenance and beha∣uiour.

At such time as was prefixed for the purpose, counterfeit Letters came to the Marquesse (as sent from Rome) which he caused to be publikely read in the hearing of his subiects: that the Pope had dis∣pensed with him, to leaue Grizelda, and marry with another Wife, wherefore, sending for her immediatly, in presence of them all, thus he spake to her. Woman, by concession sent me from the Pope, he hath dispensed with me, to make choyce of another Wife, and

to free my selfe from thee. And because my predecessors haue beene Noblemen, and great Lords in this Country, thou being the daughter of a poore Countrey Clowne, and their blood and mine notoriously imbased, by my marriage with thee: I intend to haue thee no longer my Wife, but will returne thee home to thy Fathers house, with all the rich Dowry thou broughtest me; and then I wil take another Wife, with whom I am already contracted, better beseeming my birth, and farre more contenting and pleasing to my people.

The Lady hearing these words (not without much paine and difficulty) restrayned her teares, quite contrary to the naturall incli∣nation of women, and thus answered. Great Marquesse, I neuer was so empty of discretion, but did alwayes acknowledge, that my base and humble condition, could not in any manner sute with your high blood and Nobility, and my being with you, I euer ac∣knowledged, to proceed from heauen and you, not any merit of mine, but onely as a fauour lent me, which you being now pleased to recall backe againe, I ought to be pleased (and so am) that it bee restored. Here is the Ring, wherewith you Espoused me; here (in all humility) I deliuer it to you. You command me, to carry home the marriage Dowry which I brought with me: there is no need of a Treasurer to repay it me, neither any new purse to carry it in, much lesse any Sumpter to be laden with it. For (Noble Lord) it it was neuer out of my memory, that you tooke me starke naked, and if it shall seeme sightly to you, that this body which hath borne two children, and be gotten by you, must againe be seene naked; willingly must I depart hence naked. But I humbly beg of your Excellency, in recompence of my Virginity, which I brought you blamelesse, so much as in thought: that I may haue but one of my wedding Smocks, onely to conceale the shame of nakednesse, and then I depart rich enough.

The Marquesse whose heart wept bloody teares, as his eyes would likewise gladly haue yeelded their naturall tribute; couered all with a dissembled angry countenance, and starting vp, said. Goe, giue her a Smocke onely, and so send her gadding. All there pre∣sent about him, entreated him to let her haue a petticote, because it might not be said, that she who had been his Wife thirteene yeares and more, was sent away so poorely in her Smocke: but all their perswasions preuailed not with him. Naked in her Smocke, with∣out hose or shooes, bareheaded, and not so much as a Cloth about her necke, to the great griefe and mourning of all that saw her, she went home to her old fathers house.

And he (good man) neuer beleeuing, that the Marquesse would long keepe his daughter as his Wife, but rather expected daily, what now had happened: safely laid vp the garments, whereof the Marquesse despoyled her, the same morning when he espoused her. Wherefore he deliuered them to her, and she fell to her fathers houshold businesse, according as formerly she had done; sustay∣ning with a great and vnconquerable spirit, all the cruell assaults of her enemy Fortune.

About such time after, as suted with his owne disposition, the Marquesse made publiquely knowne to his subsects, that he meant to ioyne in marriage again, with the daughter to one of the Counts of Panago, and causing preparation to be made for a sumptuous wedding; he sent for Grizelda, and she being come, thus he spake to her. The Wife that I haue made the new election of, i••to ar∣riue here within very few dayes, and at her first comming, I would haue her to be most honourably entertained. Thou knowest I haue no women in my house, that can decke vp the Chambers, and set all requisite things in due order, befitting for so solemne a Feast: and therefore I sent for thee, who knowing (better then any other) all the partes, prouision and goods in the house, set euery thing in such order, as thou shalt thinke necessary.

Inuite such Ladies and Gentlewomen as thou wilt, and giue them welcome, euen as if thou wert the Lady of the house: and when the marriage is ended, returne then home to thy father a∣gaine.

Although these words pierced like wounding daggers, the heart of poore (but Noble patient) Grizelda, as being vnable to forget the vnequal'd loue she bare to the Marquesse, though the dignitie of her former fortune, more easily slipt out of her remembrance; yet neuerthelesse, thus she answered.

My Gracious Lord, I am glad I can doe you any seruice; where∣in you shall find mee both willing and ready. In the same poore garments, as she came from her fathers house, (although shee was turned out in her Smocke) she began to sweep and make cleane the Chambers, rubbe the stooles and benches in the Hall, and ordered things in the Kitchin, as if she were the worst maide in al the house, neuer ceasing or giuing ouer, till all things were in due and decent order as best beseemed in such a case. After all which was done, the Marquesse, hauing inuited all the Ladies of the Countrey, to be present at so great a Feast: when the marriage day came, Grizelda, in her gowne of Countrey gray, gaue them welcome, in honou∣rable manner, and graced them all with very cheerefull counte∣nance.

Gualtiero the Marquesse, who had caused his two children to be nobly nourished at Bologna, with a neere kinswoman of his, who had married with one of the Counts of Panago, his daughter being now aged twelue yeares old, and some-what more, as also the Son about sixe or seuen. He sent a Gentleman expresly to his kindred, to haue them come and visite him at Saluzza, bringing his daugh∣ter and Sonne with them, attended in very honourable manner, and publishing euery where as they came along, that the young Virgin (knowne to none but himselfe and them) should be the Wife to the Marquesse, and that onely was the cause of her comming. The Gentleman was not slacke, in the execution of the trust reposed in him: but hauing made conuenient preparation; with the kindred, Sonne, daughter, and a worthy company attending on them, arri∣ued at Saluzza about dinner time, where wanted no resort, from all neighbouring parts round about, to see the comming of the Lord Marquesses new Spouse.

By the Lords and Ladies she was ioyfully entertained, and com∣ming into the great Hall, where the Tables were readily couered: Grizelda, in her homely Country habite, humbled her selfe before her, saying. Gracious welcome, to the new elected Spouse of the Lord Marquesse.

All the Ladies there present, who had very earnestly importu∣ned Gualtiero (but in vaine) that Grizelda, might either be shut vp in some Chamber, or else to lend her the wearing of any other gar∣ments, which formerly had been her owne, because she should not be so poorely seene among strangers: being seated at the Tables, she waited on them very seruiceably. The yong Virgin was obser∣ued by euery one, who spared not to say; that the Marquesse had made an excellent change: but aboue them all, Grizelda did most commend her, and so did her brother likewise, as young as he was, yet not knowing her to be his Sister.

Now was the Marquesse sufficiently satisfied in his soule, that he had seene so much as he desired, concerning the patience of his Wife, who in so many hart grieuing trials, was neuer noated so much as to alter her countenance. And being absolutely perswa∣ded, that this proceeded not from any want of vnderstanding in her, because he knew her to be singularly wise: he thought it high time now, to free her from these afflicting oppressions, and giue her such assurance as she ought to haue. Wherefore, commanding her into his presence, openly before all his assembled friends, smiling on her, he said. What thinkst thou Grizelda of our new chosen Spouse? My Lord (quoth she) I like her exceeding well, and if she be so wise, as she is faire (which verely I thinke she is) I make no doubt but

you shall liue with her, as the onely happy man of the world. But I humbly entreat your Honor (if I haue any power in me to preuaile by) that you would not giue her such cutting and vnkind language, as you did to your other wife: for I cannot thinke her armed with such patience, as should (indeed) support them: as wel in regard she is much yonger, as also her more delicate breeding and education, whereas she who you had before, was brought vp in continual toile and trauaile.

When the Marquesse perceyued, that Grizelda beleeued verily, this yong daughter of hers should be his wife, and answered him in so honest and modest manner: he commanded her to sit downe by him, and saide. Grizelda, it is now more then fitte time, that thou shouldst taste the fruite of thy long admired patience, and that they who haue thought me cruell, harsh and vnciuill natured, should at length obserue, that I haue done nothing basely, or vnaduisedly. For this was a worke premeditated before, for enstructing thee, what it is to be a married wife, and to let them know (whosoeuer they be) how to take and keepe a wife. Which hath begotten (to me) perpetuall ioy and happinesse, so long as I haue a day to liue with thee: a matter whereof I stoode before greatly in feare, and which (in marriage I thought) would neuer happen to me.

It is not vnknown to thee, in how many kinds (for my first proofe) I gaue thee harsh and vnpleasing speeches, which drawing no dis∣contentment from thee, either in lookes, words, or behauiour, but rather such comfort as my soule desired, and so in my other suc∣ceedings afterward: in one minute now, I purpose to giue thee that consolation, which I bereft thee of in many tempestuous stormes, and make a sweet restauration, for all thy former sower sufferinges. My faire and dearly affected Grizelda, shee whom thou supposest for my new elected Spouse, with a glad and cheerfull hart, imbrace for thine owne daughter, and this also her Brother, beeing both of them thy children and mine, in common opinion of the vulgar mul∣titude, imagined to be (by my command) long since slaine. I am thy honourable Lord and Husband, who doth, and will loue thee farre aboue all women else in the world; giuing thee iustly this deserued praise and commendation, That no man liuing hath the like Wife, as I haue.

So, sweetly kissing her infinitely, and hugging her ioyfully in his armes (the teares now streaming like new-let-loose Riuers, downe her faire face, which no disaster before could force from her) hee brought her, and seated her by her daughter, who was not a little a∣mazed at so rare an alteration. Shee hauing (in zeale of affection) kissed and embraced them both, all else there present being clearely

resolued from the former doubt which too long deluded them; the Ladies arose iocondly from the tables, and attending on Grizelda to her Chamber, in signe of a more successefull augury to follow: tooke off her poor contemptible rags, and put on such costly robes, which (as Lady Marchionesse) she vsed to weare before.

Afterward, they waited on her into the Hall againe, being their true Soueraigne Lady and Mistresse, as she was no lesse in her poo∣rest Garments; where all reioycing for the new restored Mother, & happy recouery of so noble a son and daughter, the Festiuall conti∣nued many months after. Now euery one thought the Marquesse to be a noble and wise Prince, though somewhat sharpe and vnsuffe∣rable, in the seuere experiences made of his wife: but (aboue al) they reputed Grizelda, to be a most wise, patient, & vertuous Lady. The Count of Panago, within few daies after returned backe to Bologna; and the Lord Marques, fetching home old Ianiculo from his coun∣try drudgery, to liue with him (as his Father in law) in his Princely Palace, gaue him honorable maintenance, wherein hee long conti∣nued, and ended his daies. Afterward, he matched his daughter in a Noble marriage: he and Grizelda liuing long time together, in the highest honor that possibly could be.

What can now be saide to the contrary, but that poore Country Cottages, may yeeld as diuine & excellent spirits, as the most state∣ly and Royall mansions, which breed and bring vppe some, more worthy to be Hog-rubbers, then hold any soueraignty ouer men? Where is any other (beside Grizelda) who not only without a wet eye, but imboldned by a valiant and inuincible courage: that can suffer the sharpe rigors, and (neuer the like heard of proofes) made by the Marquesse? Perhaps he might haue met with another, who would haue quitted him in a contrary kinde, and for thrusting her forth of doores in her smocke, could haue found better succor some∣where else, rather then walke so nakedly in the cold streets.

DIoneus hauing thus ended his Nouel, and the Ladies deli∣uering their seuerall iudgements, according to their owne fancies, some holding one conceite, others leaning to the contrary; one blaming this thing, and another commending that, the King lifting his eyes to heauen, and seeing the Sun begin to fal¦low, by rising of the Euening Starre; without arising from his seat, spake as followeth. Discreet Ladies, I am perswaded you know suf∣ficiently, that the sense and vnderstanding of vs mortals, consisteth not onely (as I think) by preseruing in memory things past, or know∣ledge of them present; but such as both by the one and other, kuow how to foresee future occasions, are worthily thought wise, and of no common capacity.

It will be (to morrow) fifteene dayes, since we departed from the City of Florence, to come hither for our pastime and comfort, the conseruation of our liues, and support of our health, by auoyding those melanchollies, griefes and anguishes, which we beheld daylie in our City, since the pestilentiall visitation beganne there, wherein (by my iudgement) we haue done well and honestly. Albeit some light Nouels, perhaps attractiue to a little wantonnes, as some say, and our Iouiall feasting with good cheare, singing and dancing, may seeme matters inciting to inciuility, especially in weake and shallow vnderstandings. But I haue neither seene, heard, or knowne, any acte, word, or whatsoeuer else, either on your part or ours, iustly deseruing to be blamed: but all has bin honest, as in a sweete and hermonious concord, such as might well beseeme the communitie of Brethren and Sisters; which assuredly, as well in regard of you, as vs, hath much contented me.

And therefore, least by ouer-long consuetude, something should take life, which might be conuerted to a bad construction, & by our country demourance for so many dayes, some captious conceit may wrest out an ill imagination; I am of the minde (if yours be the like) seeing each of vs hath had the honor, which now remaineth still on me: that it is very fitting for vs, to returne thither from whence we came. And so much the rather, because this sociable meeting of ours, which already hath wonne the knowledge of many dwellers here about vs, should not grow to such an increase, as might make our purposed pastime offensiue to vs. In which respect (if you allow of my aduise) I wil keepe the Crowne till our departing hence; the which I intend shalbe to morrow: but if you determine otherwise, I am the man ready to make my resignation.

Many imaginations passed amongst the Ladies, and likewise the men, but yet in the end, they reputed the Kings counsell to bee the best and wisest, concluding to do as he thought conuenient. Wher∣vpon, hee called the Master of the housholde, and conferred with him, of the businesse belonging to the next morning, and then gaue the company leaue to rise. The Ladies and the rest, when they were risen, fel some to one kinde of recreation, and others as their fancies serued them, euen as (before) they had done. And when Supper time came, they dispatcht it in very louing manner. Then they be∣gan to play on instruments, sing and dance, and Madame Lauretta leading the dance: the King commaunded Madame Fiammetta to sing a song, which pleasantly she began in this manner.

THE SONG.

The Chorus sung by all the rest of the Company.

IF Loue were free from Iealousie, No Lady liuing, Had lesse heart-greeuing, Or liu'd so happily as I.

If gallant youth In a faire friend, a woman could content, If vertues prize, valour and hardiment, Wit, carriage, purest eloquence, Could free a Woman from impatience: Then I am she can vaunt (if I were wise) All these in one faire flower, Are in my power, And yet I boast no more but trueth. If Loue were free from iealousie, &c.

But I behold That other Women are as wise as I Which killes me quite, Fearing false sirquedrie. For when my fire begins to flame Others desires misguide my aim, And so bereaues me of secure delight. Onely through fond mistrust, he is vniust: Thus are my comforts hourely hot and cold. If Loue were free, &c.

If in my friend, I found like faith, as manly minde I know; Mistrust were slaine. But my fresh griefes still grow, By sight of such as do allure, So I can thinke none true, none sure, But all would rob me of my golden gaine. Loe thus I dye, in Iealousie, For losse of him, on whom I most depend. If Loue were free, &c.

Let me aduise Such Ladies as in Loue are brauely bold, Not to wrong me, I scorne to be controld. If any one I chance to finde, By winkes, words, smiles, in crafty kinde, Seeking for that, which onely mine should be: Then I protest, to do my best, And make them know, that they are scarsly wise.

If Loue were free from iealousie, I know no Lady liuing, Could haue lesse heart-greeuing, Or liue so happily as I.

So soone as Madam Fiammetta had ended her Song; Dioneus, who sate by her, smiling said. Truly Madam, you may do vs a great courtesie, to expresse your selfe more plainly to vs all, least (thorow ignorance) the possession may be imposed on your selfe, and so you remaine the more offended. After the Song was past, diuers other were sung beside, and it now drawing wel-neere midnight, by the Kings command, they all went to bed. And when new day appea∣red, and all the world awaked out of sleepe, the Maste of the Hous∣hold hauing sent away the carriages; they returned (vnder the con∣duct of their discreet King) to Florence, where the three Gentlemen left the seven Ladies at the Church of Santa Maria Nouella, from whence they went with them at the first. And hauing parted with kinde salutations; the Gentlemen went whether themselues best pleased, and the Ladies repaired home to their houses.