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

The Count D'Angiers being falsly accused, was banished out of France, & left his two children in England in diuers places. Returning afterward (vn∣knowne) thorow Scotland, hee found them aduanced vnto great dignity. Then, repayring in the habite of a Seruitour, into the King of France his Armie, and his innocencie made publiquely knowne; hee was reseated in his former honourable degree.

The eight Nouell.

Whereby all men may plainely vnderstand, that loyal••y faithfully kept to the Prince (what perils so euer doe ensue) doth ye neuerthelesse renowne a man, and bring him to farre greater honour.

[illustration]

THe Ladies sighed very often, hearing the variety of wofull miseries happening to Alathiella: but who knoweth, what occasion moued them to those sighes? Perhaps there were some among them, who ra∣ther sighed they could not be so often married as she was, rather then for any other compassion they had of her disasters. But leauing that to their owne construction, they smiled merrily at the last speeches of Pamphilus, and the Queene perceiuing the Nouell to be ended: shee fixed her eye vpon Madame Eliza, as signifying thereby, that she was next to succeede in order, which shee ioyfully embracing, spake as followeth. The field is very large and spacious, wherein all this day we haue walked, and there is not any one here, so wearied with running the former races, but nimbly would aduenture on as many more, so copious are the alterations of For∣tune, in sad repetition of her wonderfull changes: and among the infinity of her various courses, I must make addition of another, which I trust will no way discontent you.

When the Romaine Empire was translated from the French to the Germains, mighty dissentions grew between both the nations, insomuch that it drew a dismall and a lingring warre. In which respect, as well for the safety of his owne Kingdome, as to annoy and disturbe his enemies; the King of France and one of his sonnes, hauing congregated the forces of their owne dominions, as also of their friends and confederates, they resolued manfully to encounter their enemies. But before they would aduenture on any rash proceeding; they held it as the chiefest part of pollicie and Royall prouidence, not to leaue the State without a chiefe or Gouernour. And hauing had good experience of Gualtier, Counte D'Angiers, to be a wise, worthy, and most trusty Lord, singularly expert in militarie discipline, and faithfull in all affaires of the Kingdome (yet fitter for ease and pleasure, then laborious toyle and trauaile:) hee was elected Lieutenant Gouernour in their sted, ouer the whole Kingdome of France, and then they went on in their enterprize.

Now began the Counte to execute the office committed to his trust, by orderly proceeding, and with great discretion, yet not entring into any businesse, without consent of the Queene and her faire daughter in law: who although they were left vnder his care and custodie, yet (not∣withstanding) he honoured them as his superiours, and as the dignity of their quality required. Heere you are to obserue, concerning Counte Gualtier himselfe, that he was a most compleat person, aged little aboue forty yeares; as affable and singularly conditioned, as any Noble man possibly could be, nor did those times afford a Gentleman, that equalled him in all respects. It fortuned, that the King and his sonne being busie in the afore-named warre, the wife and Lady of Counte Gualtier died in the meane while, leauing him onely a sonne and a daughter, very young and of tender yeares, which made his owne home the lesse welcome to him, hauing lost his deare Loue and second selfe.

Hereupon, hee resorted to the Court of the said Ladies the more fre∣quently, often conferring with them, about the waighty affaires of the Kingdome: in which time of so serious interparlance, the Kings Sonnes wife, threw many affectionate regards vpon him, conuaying such con∣spiring passions to her heart (in regard of his person and vertues) that her loue exceeded all capacity of gouernement. Her desires out stepping all compasse of modesty, or the dignity of her Princely condition; throwes off all regard of ciuill and sober thoughts, and guides her into a Laby∣rinth of wanton imaginations. For, she regards not now the eminencie of his high authority, his grauity of yeares, and those parts that are the true conducts to honour: but lookes vpon her owne loose and lasciuious appetite, her young, gallant, and ouer-ready yeelding nature, compa∣ring them with his want of a wife, and likely hope (thereby) of her sooner preuailing; supposing, that nothing could be her hinderance, but onely bashfull shame-facednesse, which she rather chose vtterly to forsake and set aside, then to faile of her hote enflamed affection, and therefore, shee would needes be the discouerer of her owne disgrace.

Vpon a day, being alone by her selfe, and the time seeming suteable to her intention: shee sent for the Counte, vnder colour of some other important conference with him. The Counte D'Angiers, whose thoughts were quite contrary to hers: immediately went to her, where they both sitting downe together on a beds side in her Chamber, according as for∣merly shee had plotted her purpose; twice hee demaunded of her, vpon what occasion she had thus sent for him. She sitting a long while silent, as if she had no answere to make him: pressed by the violence of her amo∣rous passions, a vermillion tincture leaping vp into her face, yet shame enforcing teares from her eyes, with words broken and halfe confused, at last she began to deliuer her minde in this manner.

Honourable Lord, and my dearely respected friend, being so wise a man as you are, it is no difficult matter for you to know, what a fraile condition is imposed both on men and women; yet (for diuers occasi∣ons) much more vpon the one, then the other. Wherefore desertfully, in the censure of a iust and vpright Iudge, a fault of diuers conditions (in respect of the person) ought not to be censured with one and the same punishment. Beside, who will not say, that a man or woman of poore and meane estate, hauing no other helpe for maintainance, but laborious trauaile of their bodies should worthily receiue more sharpe reprehensi∣on, in yeelding to amorous desires, or such passions as are incited by loue; then a wealthy Lady whose liuing relieth not on her paines or cares, neither wanteth any thing that she can wish to haue: I dare presume, that you your selfe will allow this to be equall and iust. In which respect, I am of the minde, that the fore-named allegations, ought to serue as a suffi∣cient excuse, yea, and to the aduantage of her who is so possessed, if the passions of loue should ouer-reach her: alwayes prouided, that shee can pleade (in her owne defence) the choise of a wise and vertuous friend, an∣swerable to her owne condition and quality, and no way to be taxed with a seruile or vile election.

These two especiall obseruations, allowable in my iudgement, and li∣uing now in me, seazing on my youthfull blood and yeares: haue found no mean inducement to loue, in regard of my husbands far distance from me, medling in the rude vnciuill actions of warre, when he should rather be at home in more sweet imployment. You see Sir, that these Orators aduance themselues here in your presence, to acquaint you with the ex∣tremity of my ouer-commanding agony: and if the same power hath do∣minion in you, which your discretion (questionlesse) cannot be voide of; then let me entreate such aduise from you, as may rather helpe, then hin∣der my hopes. Beleeue it then for trueth Sir, that the long absence of my husband from me, the solitary condition wherein I am left, ill agree∣ing with the hot blood running in my veines, & the temper of my earnest desires: haue so preuailed against my strongest resistances, that not onely so weake a woman as I am, but any man of much more potent might (liuing in ease and idlenesse as I doe) cannot withstand such continuall as∣saults, hauing no other helpe then flesh and blood.

Nor am I so ignorant, but publique knowledge of such an error in me, would be reputed a shrewd taxation of honesty: whereas (on the other side) secret carriage, and heedfull managing such amorous affaires, may passe for currant without any reproach. And let me tell you Noble Counte, that I repute Loue highly fauourable to mee, by guiding my iudgement with such moderation, to make election of a wise, worthy, and honourable friend, fit to enioy the grace of a farre greater Lady then I am, and the first letter of his name, is the Count D'Angiers. For if er∣ror haue not misled mine eye, as in Loue no Lady can be easily decei∣ued: for person, perfections, and all parts most to be commended in a man, the whole Realme of France containeth not your equall. Obserue beside, how forward Fortune sheweth her selfe to vs both in this case, you to be destitute of a wife, as I am of an husband; for I count him as dead to me, when he denies me the duties belonging to a wife. Where∣fore, in regard of the vnfaigned affection I beare you, and compassion, which you ought to haue of Royall Princesse, euen almost sicke to death for your sake: I earnestly entreate you, not to denie me your louing so∣ciety, but pittying my youth and fiery afflictions (neuer to be quenched but by your kindnesse) I may enioy my hearts desire.

As shee vttered these words, the teares streamed aboundantly downe her faire cheekes, preuenting her of any further speech: so that deie∣cting her head into her bosome, ouercome with the predominance of her passions; shee fell vpon the Countes knee, whereas else shee had falne vpon the ground. When hee, like a loyall and most honourable man, sharply reprehended her fonde and idle loue, and when shee would haue embraced him about the necke; hee repulsed her rough∣ly from him, protesting vpon his honourable reputation, that rather then hee would so wrong his Lord and Maister, he would endure a thou∣sand deathes.

The Lady seeing her desire disappointed, and her fond expectation vtterly frustrated: grewe instantly forgetfull of her intemperate loue, and falling into extremity of rage, conuerted her former gentle spee∣ches, into this harsh and ruder language. Villaine (quoth shee) shall the longing comforts of my life, be abridged by thy base and scorne∣full deniall? Shall my destruction bee wrought by thy currish vnkind∣nesse, and all my hoped ioyes be defeated in a moment? Know slaue, that I did not so earnestly desire thy sweet embracements before, but now as deadly I hate and despise them, which either thy death or banish∣ment shall dearely pay for. No sooner had shee thus spoken, but tea∣ring her haire, and renting her garments in pieces, shee ranne about like a distracted woman, crying out aloude: Helpe, helpe, the Count D'Angiers will forcibly dishonour mee, the lustfull Count will violence mine honour.

D'Angiers seeing this, and fearing more the malice of the ouer-cre∣dulous Court, then either his owne conscience, or any dishonourable act by him committed, beleeuing likewise, that her slanderous accusati∣on

would bee credited, aboue his true and spotlesse innocency: closely he conueyed himselfe out of the Court, making what hast hee could, home to his owne house, which being too weake for warranting his safe∣ty vpon such pursuite as would be vsed against him, without any further aduice or counsell, he seated his two children on horsebacke, himselfe al∣so being but meanly mounted, thus away thence hee went to Calice.

Vpon the clamour and noise of the Lady, the Courtiers quickly floc∣ked thither; and, as lies soone winne beleefe in hasty opinions, vpon any silly or shallow surmise: so did her accusation passe for currant, and the Counts aduancement being enuied by many, made his honest carriage (in this case) the more suspected. In hast and madding fury, they ran to the Counts houses, to arrest his person, and carry him to prison: but when they could not finde him, they raced his goodly buildings downe to the ground, and vsed all shamefull violence to them. Now, as il newes sildome wants a speedy Messenger; so, in lesse space then you will ima∣gine, the King and Dolphin heard thereof in the Camp, and were there∣with so highly offended, that the Count had a sodaine and seuere con∣demnation, all his progeny being sentenced with perpetuall exile, and promises of great and bountifull rewards, to such as could bring his bo∣dy aliue or dead.

Thus the innocent Count, by his ouer-hasty and sodaine flight, made himselfe guilty of this foule imputation: and arriuing at Callice with his children, their poore and homely habites, hid them from being knowne, and thence they crossed ouer into England, staying no where vntill hee came to London. Before he would enter into the City, he gaue diuers good aduertisements to his children, but especially two precepts aboue all the rest. First, with patient soules to support the poore condition, whereto Fortune (without any offence in him or them) had thus deiec∣ted them. Next, that they should haue most heedfull care, at no time to disclose from whence they came, or whose children they were, because it extended to the perill of their liues. His Sonne, being named Lewes, and now about nine yeares old, his daughter called Violenta, and aged seauen yeares, did both obserue their fathers direction, as afterward it did sufficiently appeare. And because they might liue in the safer securi∣tie, hee thought it for the best to change their names, calling his sonne Perotto, and his daughter Gianetta, for thus they might best escape vn∣knowne.

Being entred into the Citty, and in the poore estate of beggers, they craued euery bodies mercy and almes. It came to passe, that standing one morning at the Cathedral Church-doore, a great Lady of England, being then wife to the Lord high Marshall, cōming forth of the Church, espied the Count and his children there begging. Of him she demanded what Countrey-man he was? and whether those children were his owne, or no? The Count replyed, that he was borne in Picardy, and for an vn∣happy fact committed by his eldest sonne (a stripling of more hopefull expectation, then proued) hee was enforced, with those his two other

children to forsake his country. The Lady being by nature very pittiful, looking aduisedly on the yong Girle, beganne to grow in good liking of her; because (indeede) she was amiable, gentle, and beautifull, whereup∣on shee saide. Honest man, thy daughter hath a pleasing countenance, and (perhaps) her inward disposition may prooue answerable to hir out∣ward goods parts: if therefore thou canst bee content to leaue her with me, I will giue her entertainment, and vpon her dutifull carriage and be∣hauiour, if she liue to such yeares as may require it, I wil haue her honest∣ly bestowne in marriage. This motion was verie pleasing to the Count, who readily declared his willing consent thereto, and with the teares trickling downe his cheekes, in thankfull manner he deliuered his prettie daughter to the Lady.

Shee being thus happily bestowne, hee minded to tarry no longer in London; but, in his wonted begging manner, trauailing thorough the Country with his sonne Perotto, at length hee came into Wales: but not without much weary paine and trauell, being neuer vsed before, to iour∣ney so far on foote. There dwelt another Lord, in office of Marshalship to the King of England, whose power extended ouer those partes; a man of very great authority, keeping a most noble and bountifull house, which they termed the President of Wales his Court; whereto the Count and his son oftentimes resorted, as finding there good releefe and comfort. On a day, one of the Presidents sons, accompanied with diuers other Gen∣tlemens children, were performing certaine youthfull sports & pastimes, as running, leaping, and such like, wherein Perotto presumed to make one among them, excelling all the rest in such commendable manner, as none of them ca••e any thing nere him. Diuers times the President had taken notice thereof, and was so vvell pleased with the Lads behauiour, that he enquired, of whence he was? Answer vvas made, that hee vvas a poore mans son, that euery day came for an almes to his gate.

The President being desirous to make the boy his, the Count (whose dayly prayers were to the same purpose) frankly gaue his son to the No∣bleman: albeit naturall and fatherly affection, vrged some vnwillingnesse to part so with him; yet necessity and discretion, found it to bee for the benefit of them both. Being thus eased of care for his son and daughter, and they (though in different places) yet vnder good and woorthie go∣uernment: the Count would continue no longer in England: but, as best he could procure the meanes, passed ouer into Ireland, and being arriued at a place called Stanford, became seruant to an Earle of that Country, a Gentleman professing Armes, on whom he attended as a seruing man, & liued a long while in that estate very painfully.

His daughter Violenta, clouded vnder the borrowed name of Gianetta, dwelling with the Lady at London, grew so in yeares, beauty, comlinesse of person, and was so gracefull in the fauour of her Lord and Lady, yea, of euery one in the house beside, that it was wonderfull to behold. Such as but obserued her vsuall carriage, and what modesty shined clearely in her eyes, reputed her vvell vvorthy of honourable preferment; in which

regard, the Lady that had receiued her of her Father, not knowing of whence, or what shee was; but as himselfe had made report, intended to match her in honourable mariage, according as her vertues worthily de∣serued. But God, the iust rewarder of all good endeauours, knowing her to be noble by birth, and (causelesse) to suffer for the sinnes of another; disposed otherwise of her, and that so worthy a Virgin might be no mate for a man of ill conditions, no doubt ordained what was to be done, ac∣cording to his owne good pleasure.

The noble Lady, with whom poore Gianetta dwelt, had but one one∣ly Sonne by her Husband, and he most deerely affected of them both, as well in regard hee was to be their heire, as also for his vertues and com∣mendable qualities, wherein he excelled many young Gentlemen. En∣dued he was with heroycal valour, compleate in all perfections of person, and his mind euery way answerable to his outward behauiour, exceeding Gianetta about sixe yeeres in age. Hee perceiuing her to be a faire and comely Maiden, grew to affect her so entirely, that all things else he held contemptible, and nothing pleasing in his eye but shee. Now, in regard her parentage was reputed poore, hee kept his loue conceal••d from his Parents, not daring to desire her in marriage: for both hee was to loose their fauour, by disclosing the vehemency of his afflictions, which proued a greater torment to him, then if it had beene openly knowne.

It came to passe, that loue ouer-awed him in such sort, as he fell into a violent sicknesse, and store of Physicions were sent for, to saue him from death, if possibly it might be. Their iudgements obseruing the course of his sicknesse, yet not reaching to the cause of the disease, made a doubt∣full question of his recouery; which was so displeasing to his parents, that their griefe and sorrow grew beyond measure. Many earnest entreaties they moued to him, to know the occasion of his sicknesse, whereto he re∣turned no other answer, but heart-breaking sighes, and incessant teares, which drew him more and more into weakenesse of body.

It chanced on a day, a Physicion was brought vnto him, being young in yeeres, but well experienced in his practise, and as hee made triall of his pulse, Gianetta (who by his Mothers command, attended on him very diligently) vpon some especial occasion entred into the Chamber, which when the young Gentleman perceiued, and that shee neither spake word, nor so much as looked towards him, his heart grew great in amorous de∣sire, and his pulse did beate beyond the compasse of ordinary custome; whereof the Physicion made good obseruation, to note how long that fit would continue. No sooner was Gianetta gone forth of the Chamber, but the pulse immediately gaue ouer beating, which perswaded the Phy∣sicion, that some part of the disease had now discouered it selfe appa∣rantly.

Within a while after, pretending to haue some speech with Gianetta, and holding the Gentleman still by the arme, the Physicion caused her to be sent for, and immediately shee came. Vpon her very entrance into the Chamber, the pulse began to beate againe extreamely, and when shee de∣parted,

it presently ceased. Now was he thorowly perswaded, that hee had found the true effect of his sicknesse; when taking the Father and mo∣ther aside, thus he spake to them. If you be desirous of your Sons health, it consisteth not either in Physicion or physicke, but in the mercy of your faire Maide Gianetta; for manifest signes haue made it knowne to me, and he loueth the Damosell very dearely: yet (for ought I can perceiue, the Maide doth not know it) now if you haue respect of his life, you know (in this case) what is to be done. The Nobleman and his Wife hearing this, became somewhat satisfied, because there remained a remedy to preserue his life: but yet it was no meane griefe to them, if it should so succeede, as they feared, namely, the marriage betweene their Sonne and Gia∣netta.

The Physicion being gone, and they repairing to their sicke Sonne, the Mother began with him in this manner. Sonne, I was alwayes per∣swaded, that thou wouldest not conceale any secret from me, or the least part of thy desires; especially, when without enioying them, thou must re∣maine in the danger of death. Full well art thou assured, or in reason oughtest to be, that there is not any thing for thy contentment, be it of what quality soeuer, but it should haue beene prouided for thee, and in as ample manner as for mine owne selfe. But though thou hast wandred so farre from duty, and hazarded both thy life and ours, it commeth so to passe, that Heauen hath been more mercifull to thee, then thou wouldest be to thy selfe or vs. And to preuent thy dying of this disease, a dreame this night hath acquainted me with the principall occasion of thy sicke∣nesse, to wit, extraordinary affection to a young Maiden, in some such place as thou hast seene her. I tell thee Sonne, it is a matter of no dis∣grace to loue, and why shouldst thou shame to manifest as much, it being so apt and conuenient for thy youth? For if I were perswaded, that thou couldst not loue, I should make the lesse esteeme of thee. Therefore deare Sonne, be not dismayed, but freely discouer thine affections. Expel those disastrous drouping thoughts, that haue indangered thy life by this long lingering sicknesse. And let thy soule be faithfully assured, that thou canst not require any thing to be done, remaining within the compasse of my power, but I will performe it; for I loue thee as dearely as mine owne life. Set therefore aside this nice conceit of shame and feare, reuealing the truth boldly to me, if I may stead thee in thy loue; resoluing thy selfe vn∣faignedly, that if my care stretch not to compasse thy content, account me for the most cruell Mother liuing, and vtterly vnworthy of such a Sonne.

The young Gentleman hauing heard these protestations made by his Mother, was not a little ashamed of his owne follie; but recollecting his better thoughts together, and knowing in his soule, that no one could better further his hopes, then shee; forgetting all his former feare, he re∣turned her this answere; Madam, and my dearely affected Mother, nothing hath more occasioned my loues so strict concealement, but an especiall errour, which I finde by daily proofe in many, who being growne to yeeres of graue discretion, doe neuer remember,

that they themselues haue bin yong. But because heerein I find you to be both discreet and wise, I will not onely affirme, what you haue seen in me to be true, but also will confesse, to whom it is: vpon condition, that the effect of your promise may follow it, according to the power remaining in you, whereby you onely may secure my life.

His Mother, desirous to bee resolued, whether his confession would agree with the Physitians words, or no, and reseruing another intention to her selfe: bad him feare nothing, but freely discouer his whole desire, and forthwith she doubted not to effect it. Then Madame (quoth hee) the matchlesse beauty, and commendable qualities of your maid Gianet∣ta, to whom (as yet) I haue made no motion, to commisserate this my languishing extremity, nor acquainted any liuing creature with my loue: the concealing of these afflictions to my selfe, hath brought mee to this desperate condition: and if some meane bee not wrought, according to your constant promise, for the full enioying of my longing desires, assure your selfe (most noble Mother) that the date of my life is very short.

The Lady well knowing, that the time now rather required kindest comfort, then any seuere or sharpe reprehension; smiling on him, saide. Alas deere sonne, wast thou sicke for this? Be of good cheare, and when thy strength is better restored, then referre the matter to me. The young Gentleman, being put in good hope by his mothers promise, began (in short time) to shew apparant signes of well-forwarded amendment: to the Mothers great ioy and comfort, disposing her selfe daily to prooue, how in honor she might keepe promise with her Son.

Within a short while after, calling Gianetta priuately to her, in gentle manner, and by the way of pleasant discourse, she demanded of her, whi∣ther she was prouided of a Louer, or no. Gianetta, being neuer acquain∣ted with any such questions, a scarlet Dye couering all her modest coun∣tenance, thus replied. Madam, I haue no neede of any Louer, and very vnseemly were it, for so poore a Damosell as I am, to haue so much as a thought of Louers: being banished from my friends and kinsfolke, and remaining in seruice as I do.

If you haue none (answered the Lady) wee will bestowe one on you, which shall content your minde, and bring you to a more pleasing kinde of life; because it is farre vnfit, that so faire a Maid as you are, should re∣maine destitute of a louer. Madam, sayde Gianetta, considering with my selfe, that since you receiued me of my poore Father, you haue vsed me rather like your daughter, then a seruant; it becommeth mee to doe as pleaseth you. Notwithstanding, I trust (in the regard of mine own good and honour) neuer to vse any complaint in such a case: but if you please to bestow a husband on me, I purpose to loue and honour him onely, & not any other. For, of all the inheritance left me by my progenitors, no∣thing remaineth to me but honourable honesty, and that shall bee my le∣gacie so long as I liue.

These words were of a quite contrary complexion, to those which the Lady expected from her, and for effecting the promise made vnto hir

Sonne: howbeit (like a wise and noble Lady) much shee inwardly com∣mended the maids answers, and saide vnto her. But tell me Gianetta, what if my Lord the King (who is a gallant youthfull Prince, and you so bright a beauty as you are) should take pleasure in your loue, would ye denie him? Sodainly the Maide returned this answer: Madam, the King (per∣haps) might enforce me; but with my free consent, hee shall neuer haue any thing of me that is not honest. Nor did the Lady mislike her Maides courage and resolution, but breaking off all her further conference, in∣tended shortly to put her proiect in proofe, saying to her son, that when he was fully recouered, he should haue priuate accesse to Gianetta, whom shee doubted not but would be tractable enough to him; for she held it no meane blemish to her honour, to mooue the Maide any more in the matter, but let him compasse it as he could.

Farre from the yong Gentlemans humour was this answer of his Mo∣ther, because he aimed not at any dishonourable end: true, faithfull, & honest loue was the sole scope of his intention, foule and loathsome lust he vtterly defied; whereupon, he fell into sickenesse againe, rather more violently then before. Which the Lady perceiuing, reuealed her whole intent to Gianetta, and finding her constancie beyond common compa∣rison, acquainted her Lord with all she had done, and both consented (though much against their mindes) to let him enioy her in honourable marriage: accounting it better, for preseruation of their onely sons life, to match him farre inferiour to his degree, then (by denying his desire) to let him pine away, and die for her loue.

After great consultation with kindred and friendes, the match was a∣greed vpon, to the no little ioy of Gianetta, who deuoutly returned infi∣nite thankes to heauen, for so mercifully respecting her deiected poore estate, after the bitter passage of so many miseries, and neuer tearming her selfe any otherwise, but the daughter of a poore Piccard. Soone was the yong Gentleman recouered and married, no man aliue so well con∣tented as he, and setting downe an absolute determination, to lead a lo∣uing life with his Gianetta.

Let vs now conuert our lookes to Wales, to Perotto; being lefte there with the other Lord Marshall, who was the President of that Countrey. On he grew in yeares, choisely respected by his Lord, because hee vvas most comely of person, and addicted to all valiant attempts: so that in Tourneyes, Iustes, and other actions of Armes, his like was not to bee found in all the Island, being named onely Perotto the valiant Piccard, and so was he famed farre and neere. As God had not forgotten his Sister, so in mercy he became as mindefull of him; for, a contagious mortalitie hapning in the Country, the greater part of the people perished thereby, the rest flying thence into other partes of the Land, whereby the whole Prouince became dispeopled and desolate.

In the time of this plague and dreadful visitation, the Lord President, his Lady, Sonnes, Daughters, Brothers, Nephewes, and Kindred dyed, none remaining aliue, but one onely Daughter marriageable a few of

the houshold seruants, beside Perotto, whom (after the sicknesse was more mildly asswaged) with counsaile and consent of the Country peo∣ple, the young Lady accepted to be her husband, because hee was a man so worthy and valiant, and of all the inheritance left by her deceased Fa∣ther, she made him Lord and sole commaunder. Within no long while after, the King of England, vnderstanding that his President of Wales was dead, and fame liberally relating, the vertues, valour, and good parts of Perotto the Piccard: hee created him to be his President there, and to supply the place of his deceased Lord. These faire fortunes, within the compasse of so short a time, fell to the two innocent children of the Count D'Angiers, after they were left by him as lost and forlorne.

Eighteene yeares were now fully ouer-past, since the Count D'An∣giers fled from Paris, hauing suffered (in miserable so••t) many hard and lamentable aduersities, and seeing himselfe now to be growne aged hee was desirous to leaue Ireland, and to know (if hee might) what was be∣come of both his children. Hereupon, perceiuing his wonted forme to be so altered, that such as formerly had conuersed most with him, could now not take any knowledge of him, & feeling his body (through long labour and exercise endured in seruice) more lusty, then in his idle youthfull yeares, especially when he left the Court of France, hee purpo∣sed to proceede in his determination. Being very poore and simple in apparell, hee departed from the Irish Eare his Maister, with whom hee had continued long in seruice, to no aduantage or aduancement, and crossing ouer into England, trauailed to the place in Wales, where he left Perotto: and where hee found him to be Lord Marshall and President of the Country, lusty and in good health, a man of goodly feature, and most honourably respected and reuerenced of the people.

Well may you imagine, that this was no small comfort to the poore aged Countes heart, yet would he not make himselfe knowne to him, or any other about him? but referred his ioy to a further enlarging or di∣minishing, by sight of the other limme of his life, his dearely affected daughter Gianetta, denying rest to his body in any place, vntill such time as he came to London. Making there secret enquiry, concerning the La∣dy with whom he had left his daughter: hee vnderstoode, that a young Gentlewoman, named Gianetta, was married to that Ladies onely Son; which made a second addition of ioy to his soule, accounting all his passed aduersities of no value, both his children being liuing, and in so high honour.

Hauing found her dwelling, and (like a kinde Father) being earnestly desirous to see her; he dayly resorted neere to the house, where Sir Roger Mandauill (for so was Gianettaes husband named) chauncing to see him, being moued to compassion, because he was both poore and aged: com∣maunded one of his men, to take him into the house, and to giue him some foode for Gods sake, which (accordingly) the seruant performed. Gianetta had diuers children by her husband, the eldest of them being but eight yeares olde, yet all of them so faire and comely as could be. As the

olde Count sate eating his meate in the Hall, the children came all a∣bout him, embracing, hugging, and making much of him, euen as if Na∣ture had truly instructed them, that this was their aged, though poore Graundfather, and hee as louingly receiuing these kinde relations from them, wisely and silently kept all to himselfe, with sighes, teares, and ioyes entermixed together. So that the children would not part from him, though their Tutour and Maister called them often, which being tolde to their Mother, shee came foorth of the neere adioyning Parlour, and threatned to beate them, if they would not doe what their Maister com∣manded them.

Then the children began to cry, saying, that they would tarie still by the good olde man, because he loued them better then their Maister did; whereat both the Lady and the Count began to smile. The Count, like a poore beggar, and not as father to so great a Lady, arose, and did her humble reuerence, because shee was now a Noble woman, conceiuing wonderfull ioy in his soule, to see her so faire and goodly a creature: yet could she take no knowledge of him, age, want and misery had so migh∣tily altred him, his head all white, his beard without any comely forme, his garments so poore, and his face so wrinkled, leane and meager, that hee seemed rather some Carter, then a Count. And Gianetta percei∣uing, that when her children were fetcht away, they returned againe to the olde man, and would not leaue him; desired their Maister to let them alone.

While thus the children continued making much of the good olde man, Lord Andrew Mandeuile, Father to Sir Roger, came into the Hall, as being so willed to doe by the Childrens Schoolemaister. He being a ha∣stie minded man, and one that euer despised Gianetta before, but much more since her mariage to his sonne, angerly said. Let them alone with a mischiefe, and so befall them, their best company ought to be with beggers, for so are they bred and borne by the Mothers side: and there∣fore it is no meruaile, if like will to like, a beggers brats to keepe compa∣ny with beggers. The Count hearing these contemptible words, was not a little greeued thereat, and although his courage was greater, then his poore condition would permit him to expresse; yet, clouding all in∣iuries with noble patience, hanging downe his head, and shedding ma∣ny a salt teare, endured this reproach, as hee had done many, both before and after.

But honourable Sir Roger, perceiuing what delight his children tooke in the poore mans company; albeit he was offended at his Fathers harsh words, by holding his wife in such base respect; yet fauoured the poore Count so much the more, and seeing him weepe, did greatly compassio∣nate his case, saying to the poore man, that if hee would accept of his ser∣uice, he willingly would entertaine him. Whereto the Count replied, that very gladly he would embrace his kinde offer: but hee was capable of no other seruice, saue onely to be an horse-keeper, wherein he had im∣ployed the most part of his time. Heereupon, more for pleasure and

pitty, then any necessity of his seruice, he was appointed to the keeping of one Horse, which was onely for his Daughters saddle, and daily after he had done his diligence about the Horse, he did nothing else but play with the children. While Fortune pleased thus to dally with the poore Count D'Angiers, & his children, it came to passe, that the King of France (after diuers leagues of truces passed between him & the Germaines) died, and next after him, his Son the dolphin was crowned King, and it was his wife that wrongfully caused the Counts banishment. After expiration of the last league with the Germains, the warres began to grow much more fierce and sharpe, and the King of England, (vpon request made to him by his new brother of France) sent him very honourable supplies of his people, vnder the conduct of Perotto, his lately elected President of Wales, and Sir Roger Mandeuile, Son to his other Lord high Marshall; with whom al∣so the poore Count went, and continued a long while in the Campe as a common Souldier, where yet like a valiant Gentleman (as indeed he was no lesse) both in aduice and actions; he accomplished many more nota∣ble matters, then was expected to come from him.

It so fell out, that in the continuance of this warre, the Queen of France fell into a grieuous sicknes, and perceiuing her selfe to be at the point of death, shee became very penitently sorrowfull for all her sinnes, earnestly desiring that shee might be confessed by the Archbishop of Roane, who was reputed to be an holy and vertuous man. In the repetition of her o∣ther offences, she reuealed what great wrong she had done to the Count D'Angiers, resting not so satisfied, with disclosing the whole matter to him alone; but also confessed the same before many other worthy persons, and of great honour, entreating them to worke so with the King, that (if the Count were yet liuing, or any of his Children) they might be restored to their former honour againe.

It was not long after, but the Queene left this life, and was most roy∣ally enterred, when her confession being disclosed to the King, after much sorrow for so iniuriously wronging a man of so great valour and honour: Proclamation was made throughout the Camp, and in many other parts of France beside, that whosoeuer could produce the Count D'Angiers, or any of his Children, should richly be rewarded for each one of them; in regard he was innocent of the foule imputation, by the Queenes owne confession, and for his wrongfull exile so long, he should be exalted to his former honour with farre greater fauours, which the King franckely would bestow vpon him. When the Count (who walked vp and downe in the habite of a common seruitor) heard this Proclamation, forth-with he went to his Master Sir Roger Mandeuile, requesting his speedy repaire to Lord Perotto, that being both assembled together, he would acquaint them with a serious matter, concerning the late Proclamation published by the King. Being by themselues alone in the Tent, the Count spake in this māner to Perotto. Sir, S. Roger Mādeuile here, your equal competitor in this military seruice, is the husband to your naturall sister, hauings yet neuer receiued any dowry with her, but her inherent vnblemishable vertue & honor. Now because she may not stil remain destitute of a competent

Dowry: I desire that Sir Roger, and none other, may enioy the royall re∣ward promised by the King. You Lord Perotto, whose true name is Le∣wes, manifest your selfe to be nobly borne, and sonne to the wrongfull banished Count D'Angiers: auouch moreouer, that Violenta, shadowed vnder the borrowed name of Gianetta, is your owne Sister; and deliuer me vp as your Father, the long exiled Count D'Angiers. Perotto hearing this, beheld him more aduisedly, and began to know him: then, the tears flowing abundantly from his eyes, he fell at his feete, and often embra∣cing him, saide: My deere and noble Father! a thousand times more deerely welcome to your Sonne Lewes.

Sir Roger Mandeuile, hearing first what the Count had said, and seeing what Perotto afterward performed; became surprized with such extraor∣dinary ioy and admiration, that he knew not how to carry himselfe in this case. Neuerthelesse, giuing credite to his words, and being somewhat ashamed, that he had not vsed the Count in more respectiue manner, & remembring beside, the vnkinde language of his furious Father to him: he kneeled downe, humbly crauing pardon, both for his fathers rudenes and his owne, which was courteously granted by the Count, embracing him louingly in his armes.

When they had a while discoursed their seuerall fortunes, sometime in teares, and then againe in ioy, Perotto and Sir Roger, would haue the Count to be garmented in better manner, but in no wise he would suffer it; for it was his onely desire, that Sir Roger should be assured of the pro∣mised reward, by presenting him in the Kings presence, and in the home∣ly habit which he did then weare, to touch him with the more sensible shame, for his rash beleefe, and iniurious proceeding. Then Sir Roger Mandeuile, guiding the Count by the hand, and Perotto following after, came before the King, offering to present the Count and his children, if the reward promised in the Proclamation might be performed. The king immediately commanded, that a reward of inestimable valew should be produced; desiring Sir Roger vppon the sight thereof, to make good his offer, for forthwith presenting the Count and his children. Which hee made no longer delay of, but turning himselfe about, deliuered the aged Count, by the title of his seruant, and presenting Perotto next, said. Sir, heere I deliuer you the Father and his Son, his daughter who is my wife, cannot so conueniently be heere now, but shortly, by the permission of heauen, your Maiesty shall haue a sight of her.

When the King heard this, stedfastly he looked on the Count; and, notwithstanding his wonderfull alteration, both from his wonted feature and forme: yet, after he had very seriously viewed him, he knew him per∣fectly; and the teares trickling downe his cheekes, partly with remorse∣full shame, and ioy also for his so happy recouery, he tooke vp the Count from kneeling, kissing, and embracing him very kindely, welcomming Perotto in the selfesame manner. Immediately also he gaue commaund, that the Count should be restored to his honors, apparrell, seruants, hor∣ses, and furniture, answerable to his high estate and calling, which was as

speedily performed. Moreouer, the King greatly honoured Sir Roger Mandeuile, desiring to be made acquainted with all their passed fortunes.

When Sir Roger had receiued the royall reward, for thus surrendring the Count and his Sonne, the Count calling him to him, saide. Take that Princely remuneration of my soueraigne Lord the King, and commen∣ding me to your vnkinde Father, tell him that your Children are no beg∣gars brats, neither basely borne by their Mothers side. Sir Roger retur∣ning home with his bountifull reward, soone after brought his Wife and Mother to Paris, and so did Perotto his Wife, where in great ioy and tri∣umph, they continued a long while with the noble Count; who had all his goods and honours restored to him, in far••e greater measure then euer they were before: his Sonnes in Law returning home with their Wiues into England, left the Count with the King at Paris, where he spent the rest of his dayes in great honour and felicity.