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

Wherein, all the Discourses are vnder the gouernment of Madam Philomena: Concerning such men or women, as (in diuers accidents) haue beene much mollested by Fortune, and yet afterward (contrary to their hope and expe∣ctation, haue had a happy and successefull deliuerance.

ALready had the bright Sunne renewed the day e∣uery where with his splendant beames, and the Birds sate merrily singing on the blooming bran∣ches, yeelding testimony thereof to the eares of all hearers; when the seuen Ladies, and the three Gentlemen (after they were risen) entered the Gardens, and there spent some time in walking, as also making of Nose-gayes and Chaplets of Flo∣wers. And euen as they had done the day before, so did they now follow the same course; for, after they had dined, in a coole and pleasing aire they fell to dancing, and then went to sleepe a∣while, from which being awaked, they tooke their places (according as it pleased the Queene to appoint) in the same faire Meadow about her. And she, being a goodly creature, and highly pleasing to beholde, ha∣uing put on her Crowne of Laurell, and giuing a gracious countenance to the whole company; commanding Madam Neiphila that her Tale should begin this daies delight. Whereupon she, without returning any excuse or deniall, began in this manner.

Martellino counterfetting to be lame of his members, caused himselfe to be set on the body of Saint Arriguo, where he made shew of his sudden recouery; but when his dissimulation was discouered, he was well beaten, being after∣ward taken prisoner, and in great danger of being hanged and strangled by the necke, and yet he escaped in the ende.

The first Nouell.

Wherein is signified, how easie a thing it is, for wicked men to deceiue the world, vnder the shadow and colour of miracles: and that such trechery (oftentimes) redoundeth to the harme of the deuiser.

FAire Ladies, it hath happened many times, that hee who striueth to scorne and floute other men, and especially in occasions deseruing to be respected, proueth to mocke himselfe with the selfe-same matter, yea, and to his no meane danger beside. As you shall perceiue by a Tale, which I intend to tell you, obeying therein the command of our Queene, and according to the subiect by her enioyned. In which discourse, you may first obserue, what great mischance happened to one of our Citizens; and yet afterward, how (beyond all hope) he happily escaped.

Not long since there liued in the City of Treuers,* 1.1 an Almaine or Ger∣maine, named Arriguo, who being a poore man, serued as a Porter, or bur∣den-bearer for money, when any man pleased to employ him. And yet, notwithstanding his poore and meane condition, he was generally repu∣ted, to be of good and sanctified life. In which regard (whether it were true or no, I know not) it happened, that when he died (at least, as the men of Treuers themselues affirmed) in the very instant houre of his de∣parting, all the Belles in the great Church of Treuers, (not being pulled by the helpe of any hand) beganne to ring: which being accounted for a miracle, euery one saide; that this Arriguo had been, and was a Saint. And presently all the people of the City ran to the house where the dead body lay, and carried it (as a sanctified body) into the great Church, where peo∣ple, halt, lame, and blinde, or troubled with any other diseases, were brought about it, euen as if euery one should forth-with be holpen, onely by their touching the bodie.

It came to passe; that in so great a concourse of people, as resorted thi∣ther from all parts; three of our Cittizens went to Treuers, one of them being named Stechio, the second Martellino, and the third Marquiso, all being men of such condition, as frequented Princes Courts, to giue them delight by pleasant & counterfeited qualities. None of these men hauing euer beene at Treuers before, seeing how the people crowded thorow the streetes, wondred greatly thereat: but when they knew the reason, why the throngs ranne on heapes in such sort together, they grew as desirous to see the Shrine, as any of the rest. Hauing ordered all affaires at their lodging, Marquiso saide; It is fit for vs to see this Saint, but I know not how we shall attaine thereto, because (as I haue heard) the place is guar∣ded by Germane Souldiers, and other warlike men, commanded thither

by the Gouernours of this City, least any outrage should be there com∣mitted: And beside, the Church is so full of people, as wee shall neuer compasse to get neere. Martellino being also as forward in desire to see it, presently replied: All this difficulty cannot dismay me, but I will goe to the very body of the Saint it selfe. But how? quoth Marquiso. I will tell thee, answered Martellino. I purpose to goe in the disguise of an impotent lame person, supported on the one side by thy selfe, and on the other by Stechio, as if I were not able to walke of my selfe: And you two thus su∣staining me, desiring to come neere the Saint to cure me; euery one will make way, and freely giue you leaue to goe on.

This deuise was very pleasing to Marquiso and Stechio, so that (without any further delaying) they all three left their lodging, and resorting into a secret corner aside, Martellino so writhed and mishaped his hands, fin∣gers, and armes, his legges, mouth, eyes, and whole countenance, that it was a dreadfull sight to looke vpon him, and whosoeuer beheld him, would verily haue imagined, that hee was vtterly lame of his limbes, and greatly deformed in his body. Marquiso and Stechio, seeing all sorted so well as they could wish, tooke and led him towards the Church, making very pitious moane, and humbly desiring (for Gods sake) of euery one that they met, to grant them free passage, whereto they charitably condis∣cended.

Thus leading him on, crying still; Beware there before, and giue way for Gods sake, they arriued at the body of Saint Arriguo, that (by his helpe) he might be healed. And while all eyes were diligently obseruing, what miracle would be wrought on Martellino, hee hauing sitten a small space vpon the Saints bodie, and being sufficiently skilfull in counterfeiting; be∣ganne first to extend for the one of his fingers, next his hand, then his arme, and so (by degrees) the rest of his body. Which when the people saw, they made such a wonderfull noyse in praise of Saint Arriguo, euen as if it had thundered in the Chu••ch.

Now it chanced by ill fortune, that there stood a Florentine neere to the body, who knew Martellino very perfectly; but appearing so monstrou∣sly mishapen, when he was brought into the Church, hee could take no knowledge of him. But when he saw him stand vp and walke, hee knew him then to be the man indeede; whereupon he saide: How commeth it to passe, that this fellow should be so miraculously cured, that neuer truly was any way impotent? Certaine men of the City hearing these words, entred into further questioning with him, demanding, how he knew that the man had no such imperfection? Well enough (answered the Floren∣tine) I know him to be as direct in his limbes and body, as you; I, or any of vs all are: but indeede, he knowes better how to dissemble counterfet trickes, then any man else that euer I saw.

When they heard this, they discoursed no further with the Florentine, but pressed on mainely to the place where Martellino stood, crying out a∣loude. Lay holde on this Traytor, a mocker of God, and his holy Saints, that had no lamenesse in his limbes; but to make a mocke of our Saint and

vs, came hither in false and counterfet manner. So laying hands vppon him, they threw him against the ground, haling him by the haire on his head, and tearing the garments from his backe, spurning him vvith their feete, and beating him with their fists, that many were much ashamed to see it.

Poore Martellino was in a pittifull case, crying out for mercy, but no man would heare him; for, the more he cried, the more stil they did beat him, as meaning to leaue no life in him, which Stechio and Marquiso see∣ing, considered with themselues, that they were likewise in a desperate case; and therfore, fearing to be as much misvsed, they cryed out among the rest; Kill the counterfet knaue, lay on loade, and spare him not; ne∣uerthelesse, they tooke care how to get him out of the peoples handes, as doubting, least they would kill him indeede, by their extreame vio∣lence.

Sodainly, Marquiso bethought him how to do it, and proceeded thus. All the Sergeants for Iustice standing at the Church doore, hee ran with all possible speede to the Potestates Lieutenant, and said vnto him. Good my Lord Iustice, helpe me in an hard case; yonder is a villaine that hath cut my purse, I desire he may bee brought before you, that I may haue my money againe. He hearing this, sent for a dozen of the Sergeants, who went to apprehend vnhappy Martellino, and recouer him from the peoples fury, leading him on with them to the Palace, no meane crowds thronging after him, when they heard that he was accused to bee a Cut∣purse. Now durst they meddle no more with him, but assisted the Of∣ficers; some of them charging him in like manner, that he had cut theyr purses also.

Vpon these clamours and complaints, the Potestates Lieutenant (be∣ing a man of rude quality) tooke him sodainly aside, and examined him of the crimes wherewith he was charged. But Martellino, as making no account of these accusations, laughed, and returned scoffing answeres. Whereat the Iudge, waxing much displeased, deliuered him ouer to the Strappado, and stood by himselfe, to haue him confesse the crimes im∣posed on him, and then to hang him afterward. Beeing let downe to the ground, the Iudge still demaunded of him, whether the accusations a∣gainst him were true, or no? Affirming, that it nothing auayled him to deny it: whereupon hee thus spake to the Iudge. My Lord, I am heere ready before you, to confesse the truth; but I pray you, demaund of all them that accuse me, when and where I did cut their purses, & then I wil tell you that, which (as yet) I haue not done, otherwise I purpose to make you no more answers.

Well (quoth the Iudge) thou requirest but reason; & calling diuers of the accusers, one of them saide, that he lost his purse eight dayes be∣fore; another saide six, another foure, and some saide the very same day. Which Martellino hearing, replyed. My Lord, they al lie in their throats, as I will plainly proue before you. I would to God I had neuer set foote within this City, as it is not many houres since my first entrance, and pre∣sently

after mine arriuall, I went (in an euill houre I may say for me) to see the Saints body, where I was thus beaten as you may beholde. That all this is true which I say vnto you, the Seigneuries Officer that keeps your Booke of presentations, will testifie for me, as also the Host where I am lodged. Wherefore good my Lord, if you finde all no otherwise, then as I haue said, I humbly entreate you, that vpon these bad mens reportes and false informations, I may not be thus tormented, and put in perill of my life.

While matters proceeded in this manner, Marquiso and Stechio, vn∣derstanding how roughly the Potestates Lieutenant dealt with Martellino and that he had already giuen him the Strappado; were in heauy per∣plexity, saying to themselues; we haue carried this businesse very badly, redeeming him out of the Frying-pan, and flinging him into the Fire. Whereupon, trudging about from place to place, & meeting at length with their Host, they told him truly how all had happened, whereat hee could not refraine from laughing. Afterward, he went with them to one Master Alexander Agolante, who dwelt in Treuers, and was in great cre∣dite with the Cities cheefe Magistrate, to whom hee related the whole Discourse; all three earnestly entreating him, to commisserate the case of poore Martellino.

Master Alexander, after he had laughed heartily at this hotte peece of seruice, went with him to the Lord of Treuers; preuailing so vvell with him, that he sent to haue Martellino brought before him. The Messengers that went for him, found him standing in his shirt before the Iudge, very shrewdly shaken with the Strappado, trembling and quaking pittifully. For the Iudge would not heare any thing in his excuse; but hating him (perhaps) because hee was a Florentine: flatly determined to haue him hangde by the necke, and would not deliuer him to the Lorde, vntill in meere despight he was compeld to do it.

The Lord of Treuers, when Martellino came before him, and had ac∣quainted him truly with euery particular: Master Alexander requested, that he might be dispatched thence for Florence, because he thought the halter to be about his necke, and that there was no other helpe but han∣ging. The Lord, smiling (a long while) at the accident, & causing Mar∣tellino to be handsomely apparrelled, deliuering them also his Passe, they escaped out of further danger, and tarried no where, till they came vnto Florence.

Rinaldo de Este, after he was robbed by Theeues, arriued at Chastea•• Guil∣laume, where he was friendly lodged by a faire widdow, and recompenced likewise for all his losses; returning afterward safe and well home vnto his owne house.

The second Nouell.

Whereby wee may learne, that such things as sometime seeme hurtfull to vs, may turne to our benefit and commodity.

MVch merriment was among the Ladies, hearing this Tale of Mar∣tellinos misfortunes, so familiarly reported by Madam Neiphila, and of the men, it was best respected by Philostratus, who sitting neerest vnto Neiphila, the Queene commanded his Tale to be the next, when present∣ly he began to speake thus.

[illustration]

Gracious Ladies, I am to speake of vniuersall occasions, mingled with some misfortunes in part, and partly with matters leaning to loue: as ma∣ny times may happen to such people, that trace the dangerous pathes of amorous desires, or haue not learned perfectly, to say S. Iulians pater no∣ster, hauing good beds of their owne, yet (casually) meete with worser lodging.

In the time of Azzo, Marquesse of Ferrara, there was a Marchant na∣med Rinaldo de Este, who being one day at Bologna, about some especiall businesse of his owne; his occasions there ended, and riding from thence towards Verona, he fell in company with other Horsemen, seeming to be Merchants like himselfe; but indeede were Theeues, men of most badde life and conuersation; yet he hauing no such mistrust of them, rode on,

conferring with them very familiarly. They perceiuing him to be a Mer∣chant, and likely to haue some store of money about him, concluded be∣tweene themselues to rob him, so soone as they found apt place and op∣portunity. But because he should conceiue no such suspition, they rode on like modest men, talking honestly & friendly with him, of good parts and disposition appearing in him, offering him all humble and gracious seruice, accounting themselues happy by his companie, as hee returned the same courtesie to them, because he was alone, and but one seruant with him.

Falling from one discourse to another, they began to talke of such prayers, as men (in iourney) vse to salute God withall; and one of the Theeues (they being three in number, spake thus to Rinaldo. Sir, let it be no offence to you, that I desire to know, what prayer you most vse when thus you trauell on the way? Whereto Rinaldo replyed in this manner. To tell you true Sir, I am a man grosse enough in such Diuine matters, as medling more with Marchandize, then I do with Bookes. Neuerthe∣lesse, at all times when I am thus in iourney, in the morning before I de∣part my Chamber, I say a Pater noster and an Aue Maria, for the souls of the father and mother of Saint Iulian, and after that, I pray God and S. Iulian to send me a good lodging at night. And let me tell you Sir, that very oftentimes heeretofore, I haue met with many great dangers vpon the way, from all which I still escaped, and euermore (when night drewe on) I came to an exceeding good Lodging. Which makes mee firmely beleeue, that Saint Iulian (in honour of whom I speake it) hath begd of God such great grace for me; and mee thinkes, that if any day I should faile of this prayer in the morning: I cannot trauaile securely, nor come to a good lodging. No doubt then Sir (quoth the other) but you haue saide that prayer this morning? I would be sory else, saide Rinaldo, such an especiall matter is not to be neglected.

He and the rest, who had already determined how to handle him be∣fore they parted, saide within themselues: Looke thou hast said thy prai∣er, for when we haue thy money, Saint Iulian and thou shift for thy lod∣ging. Afterward, the same man thus againe conferd with him. As you Sir, so I haue ridden many iournies, and yet I neuer vsed any such praier, although I haue heard it very much commended, and my lodging hath prooued neuer the worser. Perhaps this verie night will therein resolue vs both, whether of vs two shall be the best lodged; you that haue sayde the prayer, or I that neuer vsde it at all. But I must not deny, that in sted thereof, I haue made vse of some verses; as Dirupisti, or the Iutemerata, or Deprofundis, which are (as my Grandmother hath often told mee) of very great vertue and efficacy.

Continuing thus in talke of diuers things, winning way, and beguiling the time, still waiting when their purpose should sort to effect: it fortu∣ned, that the Theeues seeing they were come neere to a Towne, called Casteau Guillaume, by the foord of a Riuer, the houre somewhat late, the place solitarie, and thickely shaded with trees, they made their assault;

and hauing robd him, left him there on foote, stript into his shirt, saying to him. Goe now and see, whether thy Saint Iulian will allow thee this night a good lodging, or no, for our owne we are sufficiently prouided; so passing the Riuer, away they rode. Rinaldoes seruant, seeing his Ma∣ster so sharply assayled, like a wicked villaine, would not assist him in any sort: but giuing his horse the spurres, neuer left gallowping, vntill hee came to Chasteau Guillaume, where hee entred vpon the point of night, prouiding himselfe of a lodging, but not caring what became of his Master.

Rinaldo remaining there in his shirt, bare-foote and bare-legged, the weather extremely colde, and snowing incessantly, not knowing what to doe, darke night drawing on, and looking round about him, for some place where to abide that night, to the end he might not dye with colde: he found no helpe at all there for him, in regard that (no long while be∣fore) the late warre had burnt and wasted all, and not so much as the least Cottage left. Compelled by the coldes violence, his teeth quaking, and all his body trembling, hee trotted on towards Chasteau Guillaume, not knowing, whether his man was gone thither or no, or to what place else: but perswaded himselfe, that if he could get entrance, there was no feare of finding succour. But before he came within halfe a mile of the Towne, the night grew extreamely darke, and arriuing there so late, hee found the gates fast lockt, and the Bridges drawne vp, so that no entrance might be admitted.

Grieuing greatly hereat, and being much discomforted, rufully he•• went spying about the walls, for some place wherein to shrowd himselfe, at least, to keepe the snow from falling vpon him. By good hap, hee espied an house vpon the wall of the Towne, which had a terrace iutting out as a penthouse, vnder which he purposed to stand all the night, and then to get him gone in the morning. At length, hee found a doore in the wall, but very fast shut, and some small store of strawe lying by it, which he gathered together, and sitting downe thereon very pensiuely; made many sad complaints to Saint Iulian, saying: This was not accor∣ding to the trust he reposed in her. But Saint Iulian, taking compassion vpon him, without any ouer-long tarying; prouided him of a good lodging, as you shall heare how.

In this towne of Chasteau Guillaume, liued a young Lady, who was a widdow, so beautifull and comely of her person, as sildome was seene a more louely creature. The Marquesse Azzo most dearely affected her, and (as his choysest Iewell of delight) gaue her that house to liue in, vn∣der the terrace whereof poore Rinaldo made his shelter. It chaunced the day before, that the Marquesse was come thither, according to his fre∣quent custome, to weare away that night in her company, she hauing se∣cretly prepared a Bath for him, and a costly supper beside. All things be∣ing ready, and nothing wanting but the Marquesse his presence: sudden∣ly a Post brought him such Letters, which commanded him instantly to horsebacke, and word hee sent to the Lady, to spare him for that night,

because vrgent occasions called him thence, and hee rode away im∣mediately.

Much discontented was the Lady at this vnexpected accident, and not knowing now how to spend the time, resolued to vse the Bath which hee had made for the Marquesse, and (after supper) betake her selfe to rest, and so she entred into the Bath. Close to the doore where poore Rinaldo sate, stoode the Bath, by which meanes, shee being therein, heard all his quiuering moanes, and complaints, seeming to be such, as the Swanne singing before her death: whereupon, shee called her Chamber-maide, saying to her. Goe vp aboue, and looke ouer the terrace on the wall downe to this doore, and see who is there, and what hee doth. The Chamber-maide went vp aloft, and by a little glimmering in the ayre, she saw a man sitting in his shirt, bare on feete and legges, trembling in manner before rehearsed. Shee demaunding, of whence, and what hee was; Rinaldoes teeth so trembled in his head, as very hardly could hee forme any words, but (so well as he could) tolde her what hee was, and how hee came thither: most pittifully entreating her, that if shee could affoord him any helpe, not to suffer him starue there to death with colde.

The Chamber-maide, being much moued to compassion, returned to her Lady, and tolde her all; she likewise pittying his distresse, and re∣membring shee had the key of that doore, whereby the Marquesse both entred and returned, when he intended not to be seene of any, said to her Maide. Goe, and open the doore softly for him; we haue a good supper, and none to helpe to eate it, and if he be a man likely, we can allow him one nights lodging too. The Chamber-maide, commending her Lady for this charitable kindnesse, opened the doore, and seeing hee appeared as halfe frozen, shee said vnto him. Make hast good man, get thee into this Bath▪ which yet is good and warme, for my Lady her selfe came but newly out of it. Whereto very gladly he condiscended, as not tarrying to be bidden twise; finding himselfe so singularly comforted with the heare thereof, euen as if hee had beene restored from death to life. Then the Lady sent him garments, which lately were her deceased husbands, and fitted him so aptly in all respects, as if purposely they had beene made for him.

Attending in further expectation, to know what else the Lady would commaund him; hee began to remember God and Saint Iulian, hartily thanking her, for deliuering him from so bad a night as was threatned to∣wards him, and bringing him to so good entertainement. After all this, the Lady causing a faire fire to be made in the neerest Chamber beneath, went and sate by it her selfe, demaunding how the honest man fared. Madame, answered the Chamber-maide, now that he is in your deceased Lords garments, he appeareth to be a very goodly Gentleman, and (que∣stionlesse) is of respectiue birth and breeding, well deseruing this graci∣ous fauour which you haue afforded him. Goe then (quoth the Lady) and conduct him hither, to sit by this fire, and sup here with mee, for I feare he hath had but a sorrie supper. When Rinaldo was entred into the

Chamber, and beheld her to be such a beautifull Lady, accounting his fortune to exceede all comparison, hee did her most humble reuerence, expressing so much thankefulnesse as possibly hee could, for this her ex∣traordinary grace and fauour.

The Lady fixing a stedfast eye vpon him, well liking his gentle lan∣guage and behauiour, perceiuing also, how fitly her deceased husbands apparell was formed to his person, and resembling him in all familiar re∣spects, he appeared (in her iudgement) farre beyond the Chambermaides commendations of him; so praying him to sit downe by her before the fire, shee questioned with him, concerning this vnhappy nights accident befalne him, wherein he fully resolued her, and shee was the more per∣swaded, by reason of his seruants comming into the Towne before night, assuring him, that he should be found for him early in the morning.

Supper being serued in to the Table, and hee seated according as the Lady commanded, shee began to obserue him very considerately; for he was a goodly man, compleate in all perfections of person, a delicate pleasing countenance, a quicke alluring eye, fixed and constant, not wan∣tonly gadding, in the iouiall youthfulnesse of his time, and truest temper for amorous apprehension; all these were as battering ensignes against a Bulwarke of no strong resistance, and wrought strangely vpon her flexi∣ble affections. And though hee fed heartily, as occasion constrained, yet her thoughts had entertained a new kinde of diet, digested onely by the eye; yet so cunningly concealed, that no motiue to immodesty could be discerned. Her mercy thus extended to him in misery, drew on (by Table discourse) his birth, education, parents, friends, and alies; his wealthy possessions by Merchandize, aud a sound stability in his estate, but aboue all (and best of all) the single and sole condition of a batch••∣ler; an apt and easie steele to strike fire, especially vpon such quicke ta∣king tinder, and in a time fauoured by Fortune.

No imbarment remained, but remembrance of the Marquesse, and that being summond to her more aduised consideration, her youth and beauty stood vp as conscious accusers, for blemishing her honour and faire repute, with lewd and luxurious life; farre vnfit for a Lady of her de∣gree, and well worthy of generall condemnation. What should I further say? vpon a short conference with her Chambermaide, repentance for sinne past, and solemne promise of a constant conuersion, thus shee deli∣uered her minde to Rinaldo.

Sir, as you haue related your fortunes to me, by this your casuall hap∣pening hither, if you can like the motion so well as shee that makes it, my deceased Lord and husband liuing so perfectly in your person; this house, and all mine, is yours; and of a widow I will become your wife, ex∣cept (vnmanly) you denie me. Rinaldo hearing these words, and procee∣ding from a Lady of such absolute perfections, presuming vpon so proud an offer, and condemning himselfe of folly if he should refuse it, thus re∣plied. Madam, considering that I stand bound for euer hereafter, to con∣fesse that you are the gracious preseruer of my life, and I no way able to

returne requitall; if you please so to shadow mine insufficiency, and to accept me and my fairest fortunes to doe you seruice: let me die before a thought of deniall, or any way to yeeld you the least discontentment.

Here wanted but a Priest to ioyne their hands, as mutuall affection already had done their hearts, which being sealed with infinite kisses; the Chamber-maide called vp Friar Roger her Confessor, and wedding and bedding were both effected before the bright morning. In briefe, the Marquesse hauing heard of the marriage, did not mislike it, but confir∣med it by great and honourable gifts; and hauing sent for his dishonest seruant, he dispatched him (after sound reprehension) to Ferrara, with Letters to Rinaldoes Father and friends, of all the accidents that had be∣falne him. Moreouer, the very same morning, the three theeues, that had robbed, and so ill entreated Rinaldo, for another facte by them the same night committed; were taken, and brought to the Towne of Cha∣steau Guillaume, where they were hanged for their offences, and Rinaldo with his wife rode to Ferrara.

Three young Gentlemen, being brethren, and hauing spent all their Lands and possessions vainely, became poore. A Nephew of theirs (falling almost into as desperate a condition) became acquainted with an Abbot, whom he after∣ward found to be the King of Englands Daughter, and made him her Hus∣band in marriage, recompencing all his Vncles losses, and seating them againe in good estate.

The third Nouell.

Wherein is declared the dangers of Prodigalitie, and the manifold mutabilities of Fortune.

[illustration]

THe fortunes of Rinaldo de Este, being heard by the Ladies and Gen∣tlemen, they admired his happinesse, and commended his deuotion

to Saint I••lian, who (in such extreame necessity) sent him so good suc∣cour. Nor was the Lady to be blamed, for leauing base liberty, and con∣uerting to the chaste embraces of the marriage bed, the dignity of wo∣mens honour, and eternall disgrace liuing otherwise. While thus they descanted on the happy night betweene her and Rinaldo, Madam Pampi∣nea sitting next to Philostratus, considering, that her discourse must fol∣low in order, and thinking on what shee was to say; the Queene had no sooner sent out her command, but shee being no lesse faire then forward, beganne in this manner.

Ladies of great respect, the more we conferre on the accidents of For∣tune, so much the more remaineth to consider on her mutabilities, where∣in there is no need of wonder, if discreetly we obserue, that all such things as we fondly tearme to be our owne, are in her power, and so (conse∣quently) change from one to another, without any stay or arrest (accor∣ding to her concealed iudgement) or setled order (at least) that can bee knowne to vs. Now, although these things appeare thus daily to vs, euen apparantly in all occasions, and as hath beene discerned by some of our precedent discourses; yet notwithstanding, seeing it pleaseth the Queene, that our arguments should ayme at these ends, I will adde to the former tales another of my owne, perhaps not vnprofitable for the hearers, nor vnpleasing in obseruation.

Sometime heeretofore, there dwelt in our Citie, a Knight named Signior Thebaldo, who (according as some report) issued from the Fa∣mily of Lamberti, but others deriue him of the Agolanti; guiding (per∣haps) their opinion heerein, more from the traine of children, belong∣ing to the saide Thebaldo (euermore equall to that of the Agolanti) then a∣ny other matter else. But setting aside, from which of these two houses he came, I say, that in his time he was a very welthy Knight, & had three Sonnes; the first being named Lamberto, the second Thebaldo, & the third Agolanto, all goodly and gracefull youths: howbeit, the eldest had not compleated eighteene yeares, when Signior Thebaldo the father decea∣sed, who left them all his goods and inheritances. And they, seeing them selues rich in read••e monies and reuennewes, without any other gouern∣ment then their owne voluntary disposition, kept no restraint vpon their expences, but maintained many seruants, and store of vnvalewable hor∣ses, beside Hawkes and Hounds, with open house for all commers; and not onely all delights else fit for Gentlemen, but what vanities beside best agreed with their wanton and youthfull appetites.

Not long had they run on this race, but the treasures lefte them by their Father, began greatly to diminish; and their reuennewes suffised not, to support such lauish expences as they had begun: but they fell to engaging and pawning their inheritances, selling one to day, and ano∣ther to morrow, so that they saw themselues quickly come to nothing, and then pouerty opened their eyes, which prodigality had before closed vp. Heereupon, Lamberto (on a day) calling his Brethren to him, she∣wed them what the honors of their Father had beene, to what height his

wealth amounted, and now to what an ebbe of pouerty it was falne, one∣ly thorow their inordinate expences. Wherefore hee counselled them, (as best he could) before further misery insulted ouer them; to make sale of the small remainder that was left, and then to betake themselues vnto some other abiding, where fairer Fortune might chance to shine vppon them.

This aduice preuailed with them; and so, without taking leaue of any body, or other solemnity then closest secrecy, they departed from Flo∣rence, not tarrying in any place vntill they were arriued in England. Com∣ming to the City of London, and taking there a small house vpon year∣ly rent, liuing on so little charge as possible might be, they began to lend out money at vse: wherein Fortune was so fauourable to them, that (in few yeares) they had gathered a great summe of mony: by means where∣of it came to passe, that one while one of them, and afterward another, returned backe againe to Florence: where, with those summes, a great part of their inheritances were redeemed, and many other bought be∣side. Linking themselues in marriage, and yet continuing their vsances in England; they sent a Nephew of theirs thither, named Alessandro, a yong man, and of faire demeanor, to maintaine their stocke in employ∣ment: while they three remained still at Florence, and growing forgetful of their former misery, fell againe into as vnreasonable expences as euer, neuer respecting their houshold charges, because they had good credite among the Merchants, and the monies still sent from Alessandro, suppor∣ted their expences diuers yeares.

The dealings of Alessandro in England grew very great, for hee lent out much money to many Gentlemen, Lords, and Barons of the Land, vpon engagement of their Manours, Castles, and other reuennues: from whence he deriued immeasurable benefite. While the three Brethren held on in their lauish expences, borrowing moneys when they wanted vntill their supplyes came from England, whereon (indeede) was their onely dependance: it fortuned, that (contrary to the opinion of al men) warre happened betweene the King of England, and one of his sonnes, which occasioned much trouble in the whole Countrey, by taking part on either side, some with the Sonne, and other with the Father. In regard whereof, those Castles and places pawned to Alessandro, were sodainely seized from him, nothing then remaining that returned him any profit. But liuing in hope day by day, that peace would be concluded betweene the Father and the Sonne, he neuer doubted, but all things then should be restored to him, both the principall and interest, & therfore he would not depart out of the Country.

The three Brethren at Florence, bounding within no limites their dis∣ordered spending; borrowed daily more and more. And after some few yeares, the Creditors seeing no effect of their hopes to com from them, all credit being lost with them, and no repayment of promised dues; they were imprisoned, their landes and all they had, not suffising to pay the moity of debts, but their bodies remained in prison for the rest, theyr

Wiues and yong children being sent thence, some to one village, some to another, so that nothing now was to be expected, but pouerty & mi∣sery of life for euer.

As for honest Alessandro, who had awaited long time for peace in Eng∣land, perceyuing there was no likelyhood of it; and considering also, that (beside his tarrying there in vaine to recouer his dues) he was in dan∣ger of his life; without any further deferring, hee set away for Italy. It came to passe, that as he issued foorth of Bruges, hee saw a yong Abbot also iourneying thence, being cloathed in white, accompanied with di∣uers Monkes, and a great traine before, conducting the needefull carri∣age. Two ancient Knights, Kinsmen to the King, followed after, with whom Alessandro acquainted himselfe, as hauing formerly known them, and was kindly accepted into their company. Alessandro riding along with them, courteously requested to know, what those Monks were that rode before, and such a traine attending on them? Whereto one of the Knights thus answered.

He that rideth before, is a yong Gentleman, and our Kinsman, who is newly elected Abbot of one of the best Abbeyes in England; & because he is more yong in yeares, then the decrees for such a dignity doe allow, we trauaile with him to Rome, to entreat our Holy Father, that his youth may be dispensed withall, and he confirmed in the sayd dignity; but hee is not to speake a word to any person. On rode this new Abbot, some∣times before his traine, and other whiles after, as we see great Lords vse to do, when they ride vpon the High-wayes.

It chanced on a day, that Alessandro rode somewhat neere to the Ab∣bot, who stedfastly beholding him, perceiued that he was a verie comely young man, so affable, louely, and gracious, that euen in this first en∣counter, he hadde neuer seene any man before, that better pleased him. Calling him a little closer, he began to conferre familiarly with him, de∣manding what he was, whence he came, and whether he trauelled. Ales∣sandro imparted freely to him all his affaires, in euery thing satisfying his demands, and offering (although his power was small) to doe him all the seruice he could.

When the Abbot had heard his gentle answers, so wisely & discreet∣ly deliuered, considering also (more particularly) his commendable ca∣riage; he tooke him to be (at the least) a well-borne Gentleman, and far differing from his owne logger-headed traine. Wherfore, taking com∣passion on his great misfortunes, he comforted him very kindly, wishing him to liue alwayes in good hope. For, if hee were vertuous and honest, he should surely attaine to the seate from whence Fortune had throwne him, or rather much higher. Entreating him also, that seeing he iourni∣ed towards Tuscany, as he himselfe did the like; to continue stil (if he plea∣sed) in his company. Alessandro most humbly thanked him for such gra∣cious comfort; protesting, that he would be alwaies ready, to doe what∣soeuer he commanded.

The Abbot riding on, with newer crochets in his braine, then hee had

before the sight of Alessandro; it fortuned, that after diuers dayes of tra∣uaile, they came to a small countrey Village, which affoorded little store of lodging, and yet the Abbot would needs lye there. Alessandro, be∣ing well acquainted with the Host of the house, willed him, to prouide for the Abbot and his people, and then to lodge him where hee thought meetest. Now, before the Abbots comming thither, the Harbinger that marshalled all such matters, had prouided for his traine in the Vil∣lage, some in one place, and others elsewhere, in the best maner that the Towne could yeelde. But when the Abbot had supt, a great part of the night being spent, and euery one else at his rest; Alessandro demaunded of the Host, what prouision he had made for him; and how hee should be lodged that night?

In good sadnesse Sir (quoth the Host) you see that my house is full of Guests, so that I and my people, must gladly sleepe on the tables & ben∣ches: Neuerthelesse, next adioyning to my Lord Abbots Chamber, there are certaine Corn-lofts, whether I can closely bring you, and ma∣king shift there with a slender Pallet-bed, it may serue for one night, in∣sted of a better. But mine Host (quoth Alessandro) how can I passe tho∣row my Lords Chamber, which is so little, as it would not allowe Lod∣ging for any of his Monkes? If I had remembred so much (said the Host) before the Curtaines were drawne, I could haue lodgd his Monkes in those Corn-lofts, and then both you and I might haue slept where now they do. But feare you not, my Lords Curtaines are close drawne, hee sleepeth (no doubt) soundly, and I can conueigh you thither quietly e∣nough, without the least disturbance to him, and a Pallet-bed shal be fit∣ted there for you. Alessandro perceyuing, that all this might bee easilie done, and no disease offered to the Abbot, accepted it willingly, & went thither without any noyse at all.

My Lord Abbot, whose thoughtes were so busied about amorous desires, that no sleepe at all could enter his eyes; heard all this talke be∣tweene the Host and Alessandro, and also where hee was appointed to lodge, wherefore he sayd to himselfe. Seeing Fortune hath fitted me with a propitious time, to compasse the happines of my hearts desire; I know no reason why I should refuse it. Perhaps, I shall neuer haue the like of∣fer againe, or euer be enabled with such an opportunity. So, being ful∣ly determined to prosecute his intention, and perswading himselfe also, that the silence of night had bestowed sleepe on all the rest; with a lowe and trembling voyce, he called Alessandro, aduising him to come and lye downe by him, which (after some few faint excuses) he did, and putting off his cloaths, lay downe by the Abbot, being not a little prowde of so gracious a fauour.

The Abbot, laying his arme ouer the others body, began to imbrace and hugge him; euen as amorous friends (prouoked by earnest affecti∣on) vse to do. Whereat Alessandro very much maruayling, and being an Italian himselfe, fearing least this folly in the Abbot, would conuert to foule and dishonest action, shrunk modestly from him. Which the

Abbot perceiuing, and doubting, least Alessandro would depart and leaue him, pleasantly smiling, and with bashfull behauiour, baring his stomack, he tooke Alessandroes hand, and laying it thereon, saide; Alessandro, let all bad thoughts of bestiall abuse be farre off from thee, and feele here, to re∣solue thee from all such feare. Alessandro feeling the Abbots brest, found there two pretty little mountainets, round, plumpe, and smooth, appea∣ring as if they had beene of polished Iuory; whereby he perceiued, that the Abbot was a woman: which, setting an edge on his youthfull desires, made him fall to embracing, and immediately he offered to kisse her; but shee somewhat rudely repulsing him, as halfe offended, saide.

Alessandro, forbeare such boldnesse, vpon thy liues perill, and before thou further presume to touch me, vnderstand what I shall tell thee. I am (as thou perceiuest) no man, but a woman; and departing a Virgin from my Fathers House, am trauelling towards the Popes holinesse, to the end that he should bestow me in mariage. But the other day, when first I be∣held thee, whether it proceeded from thy happinesse in fortune, or the fatall houre of my owne infelicity for euer, I know not; I conceiued such an effectuall kinde of liking towards thee, as neuer did woman loue a man more truly, then I doe thee, hauing sworne within my soule to make thee my Husband before any other; and if thou wilt not accept mee as thy wife, set a locke vpon thy lippes concerning what thou hast heard, and depart hence to thine owne bed againe.

No doubt, but that these were strange newes to Alessandro, and see∣med meerely as a miracle to him. What shee was, he knew not, but in regard of her traine and company, hee reputed her to be both noble and rich, as also shee was wonderfull faire and beautifull. His owne fortunes stood out of future expectation by his kinsmens ouerthrow, and his great losses in England; wherefore, vpon an opportunity so fairely offered, hee held it no wisedome to returne refusall, but accepted her gracious moti∣on, and referred all to her disposing. Shee arising out of her bed, called him to a little Table standing by, where hung a faire Crucifix vpon the wall; before which, and calling him to witnesse, that suffered such bitter and cruell torments on his Crosse, putting a Ring vpon his finger, there she faithfully espoused him, refusing all the World, to be onely his: which being on either side confirmed solemnely, by an holy vow, and chaste kis∣ses; shee commanded him backe to his Chamber, and shee returned to her bed againe, sufficiently satisfied with her Loues acceptation, and so they iournied on till they came to Rome.

When they had rested themselues there for some few dayes, the sup∣posed Abbot, with the two Knights, and none else in company but Ales∣sandro, went before the Pope, and hauing done him such reuerence as be∣seemed, the Abbot began to speake in this manner.

Holy Father (as you know much better then any other) euery one that desireth to liue well and vertuously, ought to shunne (so farre as in them lieth) all occasions that may induce to the contrary. To the ende therefore, that I (who desire nothing more) then to liue within the com∣passe

of a vertuous conuersation, may perfect my hopes in this behalfe: I haue fled from my Fathers Court, and am come hither in this habite as you see, to craue therein your holy and fatherly furtherance. I am daugh∣ter to the King of England, and haue sufficiently furnished my selfe with some of his treasures, that your holinesse may bestow me in marriage; because mine vnkind Father, neuer regarding my youth and beauty (infe∣rior to few in my natiue Country) would marry me to the King of North∣wales, an aged, impotent, and sickly man. Yet let me tell your sanctity, that his age and weakenesse hath not so much occasioned my flight, as feare of mine owne youth and frailety; when being married to him, in∣stead of loyall and vnstained life, lewd and dishonest desires might make me to wander, by breaking the diuine Lawes of wedlocke, and abusing the royall blood of my Father.

As I trauailed hither with this vertuous intention, our Lord, who onely knoweth perfectly, what is best fitting for all his creatures; presen∣ted mine eyes (no doubt in his meere mercy and goodnesse) with a man meete to be my husband, which (pointing to Alessandro) is this young Gentleman standing by me, whose honest, vertuous, and ciuill demea∣nour, deserueth a Lady of farre greater worth, although (perhaps) no∣bility in blood be denied him, and may make him seeme not so excellent, as one deriued from Royall discent. Holy and religious vowes haue past betweene vs both, and the Ring on his finger, is the firme pledge of my faith and constancie; neuer to accept any other man in marriage, but him onely, although my Father, or any else doe dislike it. Wherefore (holy Father) the principall cause of my comming hither, being already effectually concluded on, I desire to compleat the rest of my pilgrimage, by visiting the sanctified places in this City, whereof there are great plen∣ty: And also, that sacred marriage, being contracted in the presence of God onely, betweene Alessandro and my selfe, may by you be publiquely confirmed, and in an open congregation. For, seeing God hath so ap∣pointed it, and our soules haue so solemnely vowed it, that no disaster whatsoeuer can alter it: you being Gods vicar here on earth, I hope will not gaine-say, but confirme it with your fatherly benediction, that wee may liue in Gods feare, and dye in his fauour.

Perswade your selues (faire Ladies) that Alessandro was in no meane admiration, when hee heard, that his wife was daughter to the King of England; vnspeakeable ioy (questionlesse) wholly ouercame him: but the two Knights were not a little troubled and offended, at such a strange and vnexpected accident, yea, so violent were their passions, that had they beene any where else, then in the Popes presence, Alessandro had felt their fury, and (perhaps) the Princesse her selfe too. On the other side, the Pope was much amazed, at the habite she went disguised in, and likewise at the election of her husband; but, perceiuing there was no re∣sistance to be made against it, hee yeelded the more willingly to satisfie her desire. And therefore, hauing first comforted the two Knights, and made peace betweene them, the Princesse and Alessandro; he gaue order

for the rest that was to be done.

When the appointed day for the solemnity was come, hee caused the Princesse (cloathed in most rich and royall garments) to appeare before all the Cardinals, and many other great persons then in presence, who were come to this worthy Feast, which hee had caused purposely to be prepared, where she seemed so faire & goodly a Lady, that euery eye was highly delighted to behold her, commending her with no mean admira∣tion. In like manner was Alessandro greatly honored by the two Knights, being most sumptuous in appearance, and not like a man that had lent money to vsury, but rather of very royall quality; the Pope himselfe ce∣lebrating the marriage betweene them, which being finished, with the most magnificent pompe that could be deuised, hee gaue them his bene∣diction, and licenced their departure thence.

Alessandro, his Princesse and her traine thus leauing Rome, they would needes visite Florence, where the newes of this accident was (long before) noysed, and they receiued by the Citizens in royall manner. There did shee deliuer the three brethren out of prison, hauing first payed all their debts, and reseated them againe (with their wiues) in their former inhe∣ritances and possessions. Afterward, departing from Florence, and Ago∣lanto, one of the Vncles trauailing with them to Paris; they were there also most honourably entertained by the King of France. From whence the two Knights went before for England, and preuailed so succesfully with the King; that hee receiued his daughter into grace and fauour, as also his Sonne in law her husband, to whom hee gaue the order of Knighthoode, and (for his greater dignitie) created him Earle of Cornewall.

And such was the noble spirit of Alessandro, that he pacified the trou∣bles betweene the King and his sonne, whereon ensued great comfort to the Kingdome, winning the loue and fauour of all the people; and Ago∣lanto (by the meanes of Alessandro) recouered all that was due to him and his brethren in England, returning richly home to Florence, Counte Alessandro (his kinsman) hauing first dubd him Knight. Long time hee liued in peace and tranquility, with the faire Princesse his wife, prouing to be so absolute in wisedome, and so famous a Souldier; that (as some report) by assistance of his Father in law, hee conquered the Realme of Ireland, and was crowned King thereof.

Landolpho Ruffolo, falling into pouerty, became a Pirate on the Seas, and being taken by the Genewayes, hardly escaped drowning: Which yet (neuer∣thelesse) he did, vpon a little Chest or Coffer, full of very rich Iewels, being caried thereon to Corfu, where he was well entertained by a good woman; And afterward, returned richly home to his owne house.

The fourth Nouell.

Whereby may be discerned, into how many dangers a man may fall, through a couetous desire to enrich himselfe.

MAdame Lauretta, sitting next to Madame Pampinea, and seeing how triumphantly shee had finished her discourse; without attending any thing else, spake thus. Gracious Ladies, wee shall neuer behold (in mine opinion) a great act of Fortune, then to see a man so suddainly ex∣alted, euen from the lowest death of pouerty, to a Royall estate of dig∣nity; as the discourse of Madame Pampinea hath made good, by the hap∣py aduancement of Alessandro. And because it appeareth necessary, that whosoeuer discourseth on the subiect proposed, should no way varie from the very same termes; I shall not shame to tell a tale, which, though it containe farre greater mishaps then the former, may sort to as happy an issue, albeit not so noble and magnificent. In which respect, it may (perhaps) merit the lesse attention; but howsoeuer that fault shall be found in you, I meane to discharge mine owne duty.

[illustration]

Opinion hath made it famous for long time, that the Sea-coast of Rhe∣gium to Gaieta, is the onely delectable part of all Italy, wherein, somewhat neere to Salerno, is a shore looking vpon the Sea, which the inhabitants

there dwelling, doe call the coast of Malfy, full of small Townes, Gar∣dens, Springs and wealthy men, trading in as many kindes of Merchan∣dizes, as any other people that I know. Among which Townes, there is one, named Rauello, wherein (as yet to this day there are rich people) there was (not long since) a very wealthy man, named Landolpho Ruffolo, who being not contented with his riches, but coueting to multiply them double and trebble, fell in danger, to loose both himselfe and wealth to∣gether.

This man (as other Merchants are wont to doe) after hee had consi∣dered on his affaires, bought him a very goodly Ship, ••ading it with di∣uers sorts of Merchandizes, all belonging to himselfe onely, and making his voyage to the Isle of Cyprus. Where he found, ouer and beside the Merchandizes he had brought thither, many Ships more there arriued, and all laden with the selfe same commodities, in regard whereof, it was needefull for him, not onely to make a good Mart of his goods; but also was further constrained (if hee meant to vent his commodities) to sell them away (almost) for nothing, endangering his vtter destruction and ouerthrow. Whereupon, grieuing exceedingly at so great a losse, not knowing what to doe, and seeing, that from very abundant wealth, hee was likely to fall into as low pouerty: hee resolued to dye, or to recom∣pence his losses vpon others, because he would not returne home poore, hauing departed thence so rich.

Meeting with a Merchant, that bought his great Ship of him; with the money made thereof, and also of his other Merchandizes, hee pur∣chased another, being a lighter vessell, apt and proper for the vse of a Pi∣rate, arming and furnishing it in ample manner, for rouing and robbing vpon the Seas. Thus hee began to make other mens goods his owne, especially from the Turkes he tooke much wealth, Fortune being alwayes therein so fauourable to him, that hee could neuer compasse the like by trading. So that, within the space of one yeare, hee had robd and taken so many Gallies from the Turke; that he found himselfe well recouered, not onely of all his losses by Merchandize, but likewise his wealth was wholly redoubled. Finding his losses to be very liberally required, and hauing now sufficient, it were folly to hazard a second fall; wherefore, conferring with his owne thoughts, and finding that he had enough, and needed not to couer after more: he fully concluded, now to returne home to his owne house againe, and liue vpon his goods thus gotten.

Continuing still in feare, of the losses he had sustained by traffique, & minding, neuer more to imploy his mony that way, but to keep this light vessel, which had holpen him to all his wealth: he commanded his men to put forth their Oares, and shape their course for his owne dwelling. Being aloft in the higher Seas, darke night ouer-taking them, and a mighty winde suddainly comming vpon them: it not onely was contrary to their course, but held on with such impetuous violence; that the small vessell, being vnable to endure it, made to land-ward speedily, and in ex∣pectation of a more friendly wind, entred a litle port of the Sea, directing

vp into a small Island, and there safely sheltred it selfe. Into the same port which Landolpho had thus taken for his refuge, entred (soone after) two great Carrackes of Genewayes, lately come from Constantinople. When the men in them had espied the small Barke, and lockt vppe her passage from getting foorth; vnderstanding the Owners name, and that report had famed him to be very rich, they determined (as men euermore addi∣cted naturally, to couet after money and spoile) to make it their owne as a prize at Sea.

Landing some store of their men, well armed with Crosse-bowes and other weapons, they tooke possession of such a place, where none durst issue forth of the small Barke, but endangered his life with their Darts & Arrowes. Entering aboord the Barke, and making it their owne by full possession, all the men they threw ouer-boord, without sparing any but Landolpho himselfe, whom they mounted into one of the Carrackes, lea∣uing him nothing but a poore shirt of Maile on his backe, and hauing rifled the Barke of all her riches, sunke it into the bottome of the sea. The day following, the rough windes being calmed, the Carrackes set saile a∣game, hauing a prosperous passage all the day long; but vppon the en∣trance of darke night, the windes blew more tempestuously then before, and sweld the Sea in such rude stormes, that the two Carracks were sun∣dered each from other, and by violence of the tempest it came to passe, that the Carracke wherein lay poore miserable Landolpho (beneath the Isle of Cephalonia) ran against a rocke, and euen as a glasse against a wall, so split the Carracke in peeces, the goods and merchandizes floating on the Sea, Chests, Coffers, Beds, and such like other things, as often hap∣neth in such lamentable accidents.

Now, notwithstanding the nights obscurity, and impetuous violence of the billowes; such as could swimme, made shift to saue their liues by swimming. Others caught hold on such things, as by Fortunes fauour floated neerest to them, among whom, distressed Landolpho, desirous to saue his life, if possibly it might be, espied a Chest or Coffer before him, ordained (no doubt) to be the meanes of his safety from drowning. Now although the day before, he had wished for death infinite times, rather then to returne home in such wretched pouerty; yet, seeing how other men stroue for safety of their liues by any helpe, were it neuer so little, he tooke aduantage of this fauor offred him, and the rather in a necessitie so vrgent. Keeping fast vpon the Coffer so well as he could, and being dri∣uen by the winds & waues, one while this way, and anon quite contrarie, he made shift for himselfe till day appeared; when looking euery way a∣bout him, seeing nothing but clouds, the seas and the Coffer, which one while shrunke from vnder him, and another while supported him, accor∣ding as the windes and billowes carried it: all that day and night thus he floated vp and downe, drinking more then willingly hee would, but al∣most hunger-starued thorow want of foode. The next morning, either by the appointment of heauen, or power of the Windes, Landolpho who was (well-neere) become a Spundge, holding his armes strongly

about the Chest, as wee haue some doe, who (dreading drowning) take hold on any the very smallest helpe; drew neere vnto the shore of the I∣land Corfu, where (by good fortune) a poore woman was scowring di∣shes with the salt water and sand, to make them (house-wife like) neate and cleane.

When shee saw the Chest drawing neere her, and not discerning the shape of any man, shee grew fearefull, and retyring from it, cried out a∣loude. He had no power of speaking to her, neither did his sight doe him the smallest seruice; but euen as the waues and windes pleased, the Chest was driuen still neerer to the Land, and then the woman perceiued that it had the forme of a Cofer, and looking more aduisedly, beheld two armes extended ouer it, and afterward, shee espied the face of a man, not being able to iudge, whether he were aliue, or no. Moued by charitable and womanly compassion, shee stept in among the billowes, and getting fast holde on the haire of his head, drew both the Chest and him to the Land, and calling forth her Daughter to helpe her, with much adoe shee vnfolded his armes from the Chest, setting it vp on her Daughters head, and then betweene them, Landolpho was led into the Towne, and there conueyed into a warme Stoue, where quickly he recouered (by her pains) his strength benummed with extreame cold.

Good wines and comfortable broathes shee cherished him withall, that his sences being indifferently restored, hee knew the place where he was; but not in what manner he was brought thither, till the good wo∣man shewed him the Cofer that had kept him floating vpon the waues, and (next vnder God) had saued his life. The Chest seemed of such slen∣der weight, that nothing of any value could be expected in it, either to re∣compence the womans great paines and kindnesse bestowne on him, or any matter of his owne benefit. Neuerthelesse, the woman being absent, he opened the Chest, and found innumerable precious stones therein, some costly and curiously set in gold, and others not fixed in any mettall. Hauing knowledge of their great worth and value (being a Merchant, and skild in such matters) he became much comforted, praysing God for this good successe, and such an admirable meanes of deliuerance from danger.

Then considering with himselfe, that (in a short time) hee had beene twice well buffeted and beaten by Fortune, and fearing, least a third mis∣hap might follow in like manner; hee consulted with his thoughts, how he might safest order the businesse, and bring so rich a booty (without pe∣rill) to his owne home. Wherefore, wrapping vp the Iewels in very vn∣sightly cloutes, that no suspition at all should be conceiued of them, hee saide to the good woman, that the Chest would not doe him any further seruice; but if shee pleased to lende him a small sacke or bagge, shee might keepe the Cofer, for in her house it would diuers way stead her. The woman gladly did as he desired, and Landolpho returning her infinite thankes, for the louing kindnesse shee had affoorded him, throwing the sacke on his necke, passed by a Barke to Brundusiam, and from thence to

Tranium, where Merchants in the City bestowed good garments on him, hee acquainting them with his disasterous fortunes, but not a word con∣cerning his last good successe.

Being come home in safety to Rauello, hee fell on his knees, and than∣ked God for all his mercies towards him. Then opening the sacke, and viewing the Iewels at more leysure then formerly he had done, he found them to be of so great estimation, that selling them but at ordinary and reasonable rates, he was three times richer, then when hee departed first from his house. And hauing vented them all, he sent a great sum of mo∣ney to the good woman at Corfu, that had rescued him out of the Sea, and saued his life in a danger so dreadfull: The like hee did to Tranium, to the Merchants that had newly cloathed him; liuing richly vpon the remainder, and neuer aduenturing more to the Sea, but ended his dayes in wealth and honour.

Andrea de Piero, trauelling from Perouse to Naples to buy Horses, was (in the space of one night) surprised by three admirable accidents, out of all which hee fortunately escaped, and, with a rich Ring, returned home to his owne house.

The fift Nouell.

Comprehending, how needfull a thing it is, for a man that trauelleth in affaires of the World, to be prouident and well aduised, and carefully to keepe him∣selfe from the crafty and deceitfull allurements of Strumpets.

[illustration]

THe precious Stones and Iewels found by Landolpho, maketh mee to remember (said Madam Fiammetta, who was next to deliuer her dis∣course) a Tale, containing no lesse perils, then that reported by Madam

Lauretta: but somewhat different from it, because the one happened in sundry yeeres, and this other had no longer time, then the compasse of one poore night, as instantly I will relate vnto you.

As I haue heard reported by many, there sometime liued in Perouse or ••erugia, a young man, named Andrea de Piero, whose profession was to trade about Horses, in the nature of a Horse-courser, or Horse-master, who hearing of a good Faire or Market (for his purpose) at Naples, did put fiue hundred Crownes of gold in his purse, and iourneyed thither in the company of other Horse-coursers, arriuing there on a Sunday in the euening. According to instructions giuen him by his Host, he went the next day into the Horse-ma••ket, where he saw very many Horses that he liked, cheapening their prices as he went vp and downe, but could fall to no agreement; yet to manifest that he came purposely to buy, and not as a cheapener onely, oftentimes (like a shalow brainde trader in the world) he shewed his purse of gold before all passengers, neuer respecting who, or what they were that obserued his follie.

It came to passe, that a young Sicillian wench (very beautifull, but at commaund of whosoeuer would, and for small hire) passing then by, and (without his perceiuing) seeing such store of gold in his purse; presently she said to her selfe: why should not all those crownes be mine, when the foole that owes them, can keepe them no closer? And so she went on. With this young wanton there was (at the same time) an olde woman (as commonly such stuffe is alwayes so attended) seeming to be a Sicilli∣an also, who so soone as shee saw Andrea, knew him, and, leauing her youthfull commodity, ranne to him, and embraced him very kindly. Which when the younger Lasse perceiued, without proceeding any further, she stayed, to see what would ensue thereon. Andrea conferring with the olde Bawde, and knowing her (but not for any such creature) declared himselfe very affable to her; she making him promise, that shee would come and drinke with him at his lodging. So, breaking off further speeches for that time, shee returned to her young Cammerado; and An∣drea went about buying his horses, still cheapning good store, but did not buy any all that morning.

The Punke that had taken notice of Adreaes purse, vpon the olde wo∣mans comming backe to her (hauing formerly studied, how shee might get all the gold, or the greater part thereof) cunningly questioned with her, what the man was, whence hee came, and the occasion of his busi∣nesse there? wherein she fully informed her particularly, and in as ample manner as himselfe could haue done: That shee had long time dwelt in Sicily with his Father, and afterward at Perouse; recounting also, at what time she came thence, and the cause which now had drawne him to Na∣ples. The witty young housewife, being thorowly instructed, concer∣ning the Parents and kindred of Andrea, their names, quality, and all other circumstances thereto leading; began to frame the foundation of her purpose thereupon, setting her resolution downe constantly, that the purse and gold was (already) more then halfe her owne.

Being come home to her owne house, away shee sent the olde Pan∣dresse about other businesse, which might hold her time long enough of employment, and hinder her returning to Andrea according to promise, purposing, not to trust her in this serious piece of seruice. Calling a young crafty Girle to her, whom she had well tutoured in the like ambassages, when euening drew on, she sent her to Andreas lodging, where (by good fortune) she found him sitting alone at the dore, and demanding of him, if he knew an honest Gentleman lodging there, whose name was Signior Andrea de Piero; he made her answere, that himselfe was the man. Then taking him aside, shee said. Sir, there is a worthy Gentlewoman of this Citie, that would gladly speake with you, if you pleased to vouchsafe her so much fauour.

Andrea, hearing such a kinde of salutation, and from a Gentlewo∣man, named of worth; began to grow proud in his owne imaginations, and to make no meane estimation of himselfe: As (vndoubtedly) that he was an hansome proper man, and of such cariage and perfections, as had attracted the amorous eye of this Gentlewoman, and induced her to like and loue him beyond all other, Naples not contayning a man of better merit. Whereupon he answered the Mayde, that he was ready to attend her Mistresse, desiring to know, when it should be, and where the Gentle∣woman would speake with him? So soone as you please Sir, replied the Damosell, for she tarieth your comming in her owne house.

Instantly Andrea (without leauing any direction of his departure in his lodging, or when he intended to returne againe) said to the Girle: Goe before, and I will follow. This little Chamber-commodity, conducted him to her Mistresses dwelling, which was in a streete named Naupertuis, a title manifesting sufficiently the streetes honesty: but hee, hauing no such knowledge thereof, neither suspecting any harme at all, but that he went to a most honest house, and to a Gentlewoman of good respect; entred boldly, the Mayde going in before, and guiding him vp a faire payre of stayres, which he hauing more then halfe ascended, the cunning young Queane gaue a call to her Mistresse, saying; Signtor Andrea is come already, whereupon, she appeared at the stayres-head, as if she had stayed there purposely to entertaine him. She was young, very beauti∣full, comely of person, and rich in adornements, which Andrea well ob∣seruing, & seeing her descend two or three steps, with open armes to em∣brace him, catching fast hold about his neck; he stood as a man confoun∣ded with admiration, and she contained a cunning kinde of silence, euen as if she were vnable to vtter one word, seeming hindered by extremity of ioy at his presence, and to make him effectually admire her extraordi∣nary kindnesse, hauing teares plenteously at commaund, intermixed with sighes and broken speeches, at last, thus she spake.

Signior Andrea, you are the most welcom friend to me in all the world; sealing this salutation with infinite sweet kisses and embraces: whereat (in wonderfull amazement) he being strangely transported, replied; Ma∣dame, you honour me beyond all compasse of merit. Then, taking him

by the hand, shee guided him thorow a goodly Hall, into her owne Chamber, which was delicately embalmed with Roses, Orenge-flowres, and all other pleasing smelles, and a costly bed in the middest, curtained round about, very artificiall Pictures beautifying the walles, with many other embellishments, such as those Countries are liberally stored with∣all. He being meerely a nouice in these kinds of wanton carriages of the World, and free from any base or degenerate conceit; firmely perswa∣ded himselfe, that (questionlesse) shee was a Lady of no meane esteeme, and he more then happy, to be thus respected and honoured by her. They both being seated on a curious Chest at the Beds feete, teares cunningly trickling downe her cheekes, and sighes intermedled with inward sob∣bings, breathed forth in sad, but very seemely manner; thus shee be∣ganne.

I am sure Andrea, that you greatly maruell at me, in gracing you with this solemne and kinde entertainment, and why I should so melt my selfe in sighes and teares, at a man that hath no knowledge of me, or (perhaps) sildome or neuer heard any speeches of me: but you shall instantly re∣ceiue from mee matter to augment your greater maruell, meeting heere with your owne sister, beyond all hope or expectation in either of vs both. But seeing that Heauen hath beene so gracious to me, to let mee see one of my brethren before I die (though gladly I would haue seene them all) which is some addition of comfort to me, and that which (hap∣pily) thou hast neuer heard before, in plaine and truest manner, I will re∣ueale vnto thee.

Piero, my Father and thine, dwelt long time (as thou canst not chuse but to haue vnderstood) in Palermo, where, through the bounty, and o∣ther gracious good parts remaining in him, he was much renowned; and (to this day) is no doubt remembred, by many of his louing friends and well-willers. Among them that most intimately affected Piero, my mo∣ther (who was a Gentlewoman, and at that time a widow) did dearest of all other loue him; so that forgetting the feare of her Father, brethren, yea, and her owne honour, they became so priuately acquainted, that I was begotten, and am here now such as thou seest me. Afterward, oc∣casions so befalling our Father, to abandon Palermo, and returne to Pe∣rouse, he left my mother and me his little daughter, neuer after (for ought that I could learne) once remembring either her or me: so that (if he had not beene my Father) I could haue much condemned him, in regard of his ingratitude to my Mother, and loue which hee ought to haue shewne me as his childe, being borne of no Chamber-maide, neither of a City sinner; albeit I must needes say, that shee was blame-worthy, without any further knowledge of him (moued onely thereto by most loyal affection) to commit both her selfe, and all the wealth shee had, into his hands: but things ill done, and so long time since, are more easily controled, then amended.

Being left so young at Palermo, and growing (well neere) to the stature as now you see me; my mother, being wealthy, gaue mee in marriage to

one of the Gergentes Family, a Gentleman, and of great reuenewes, who in his loue to me and my mother, went and dwelt at Palermo: where fal∣ling into the Guelphes faction, and making one in the enterprize with Charles our King; it came to passe, that they were discouered to Frede∣ricke King of Arragon, before their intent could be put in execution, whereupon, we were enforced to flie from Sicilie, euen when my hope stood fairely to haue beene the greatest Lady in all the Iland. Packing vp then such few things as wee could take with vs, few I may well call them, in regard of our wealthy possessions, both in Pallaces, Houses, and Lands, all which we were constrained to forgoe: we made our recourse to this City, where wee found King Charles so benigne and gracious to vs, that recompencing the greater part of our losses, he bestowed Lands and Houses on vs here, beside a continuall large pension to my husband your brother in Law, as hereafter himselfe shall better acquaint you with∣all. Thus came I hither, and thus remaine here, where I am able to wel∣come my brother Andrea, thankes more to Fortune, then any friendli∣nesse in him: with which words she embraced and kissed him many times, sighing and weeping as shee did before.

Andrea hearing this fable so artificially deliuered, composed from point to point, with such likely protestations, without faltring or failing in any one words vtteranee; and remembring perfectly for truth, that his Father had formerly dwelt at Palermo; knowing also (by some sensible feeling in himselfe) the custome of young people, who are easily con∣quered by affection in their youthfull heate; seeing beside the teares, trem∣bling speeches, and earnest embracings of this cunning commodity: he tooke all to be faithfully true by her thus spoken, and vpon her silence, thus he replied. Lady, let it not seeme strange to you, that your words haue raised maruell in me, because (indeede) I had no knowledge of you, euen no more then as if I had neuer seene you, neuer also hauing heard my Father to speake either of you or your Mother (for some considerati∣ons best knowne to himselfe) or if at any time he vsed such language, ei∣ther my youth then, or defectiue memory since, hath vtterly lost it. But truly, it is no little ioy and comfort to me, to finde a sister here, where I had no such hope or expectation, and where also my selfe am a meere stranger. For to speake my mind freely of you, and the perfections grace∣fully appearing in you, I know not any man, of how great repute or qua∣lity soeuer, but you may well beseeme his acceptance, much rather then mine, that am but a meane Merchant. But faire sister, I desire to be re∣solued in one thing, to wit, by what meanes you had vnderstanding of my being in this City? whereto readily shee returned him this answer.

Brother, a poore woman of this City, whom I employ sometimes in houshold occasions, came to me this morning, and (hauing seene you) tolde me, that shee dwelt a long while with our Father, both at Palermo, and Perouse. And because I held it much better beseeming my condition, to haue you visit me in mine owne dwelling, then I to come see you at a common Inne; I made the bolder to send for you hither. After which

words, in very orderly manner, shee enquired of his chiefest kindred and friends, calling them readily by their proper names, according to her for∣mer instructions. Whereto Andrea still made her answer, confirming thereby his beliefe of her the more strongly, and crediting whatsoeuer shee saide, farre better then before.

Their conference hauing long time continued, and the heate of the day being somewhat extraordinary, shee called for Greeke wine, and ban∣quetting stuffe, drinking to Andrea; and he pledging her very contented∣ly. After which, he would haue returned to his lodging, because it drew neere supper time; which by no meanes shee would permit, but seeming more then halfe displeased, shee saide. Now I plainely perceiue brother, how little account you make of me, considering, you are with your owne Sister, who (you say) you neuer saw before, and in her owne House, whe∣ther you should alwayes resort when you come to this City; and would you now refuse her, to goe and sup at a common Inne. Beleeue me bro∣ther, you shall sup with me, for although my Husband is now from home, to my no little discontentment: yet you shall find brother, that his wife can bid you welcome, and make you good cheere beside.

Now was Andrea so confounded with this extremity of courtesie, that he knew not what to say, but onely thus replied. I loue you as a Sister ought to be loued, and accept of your exceeding kindnesse: but if I re∣turne not to my lodging, I shall wrong mine Host and his guests too much, because they will not sup vntill I come. For that (quoth shee) we haue a present remedy, one of my seruants shal goe and giue warning, whereby they shall not tarry your comming. Albeit, you might doe me a great kindnesse, to send for your friends to sup with vs here, where I assure ye they shall finde that your Sister (for your sake) will bid them welcome, and after supper, you may all walke together to your Inne. Andrea an∣swered, that he had no such friends there, as should be so burthenous to her: but seeing shee vrged him so farre, he would stay to sup with her, and referred himselfe solely to her disposition.

Ceremonious shew was made, of sending a seruant to the Inne, for not expecting Andreas presence at Supper, though no such matter was performed; but, after diuers other discoursings, the table being couered, and variety of costly viands placed thereon, downe they sate to feeding, with plenty of curious Wines liberally walking about, so that it was darke night before they arose from the table. Andrea then offring to take his leaue, she would (by no meanes) suffer it, but tolde him that Naples was a Citie of such strict Lawes and Ordinances, as admitted no night∣walkers, although they were Natiues, much lesse strangers, but punished them with great seuerity. And therefore, as she had formerly sent word to his Inne, that they should not expect his comming to supper, the like had she done concerning his bed, intending to giue her Brother Andrea one nights lodging, which as easily she could affoord him, as she hadde done a Supper. All which this new-caught Woodcocke verily credi∣ting, and that he was in company of his owne Sister Fiordeliza (for so did

she cunningly stile her selfe, and in which beleefe hee was meerely delu∣ded) he accepted the more gladly her gentle offer, and concluded to stay there all that night.

After supper, their conference lasted very long, purposely dilated out in length, that a great part of the night might therein be wasted: when, leauing Andrea to his Chamber, and a Lad to attend, that he shold lacke nothing; she with her women went to their lodgings, and thus our bro∣ther and supposed Sister were parted. The season then being somewhat hot and soultry, Andrea put off his hose and doublet, and beeing in his shirt alone, layed them vnderneath the beds boulster, as seeming carefull of his money. But finding a prouocation to the house of Office, he de∣manded of the Lad, where hee might find it; who shewed him a little doore in a corner of the Chamber, appointing him to enter there. Safely enough he went in, but chanced to tread vpon a board, which was faste∣ned at neither ende to the ioynts whereon it lay, being a pit-fall made of purpose, to entrap any such coxecombe, as would be trained to so base a place of lodging, so that both he and the board fell downe together into the draught; yet such being his good fortune, to receiue no harme in the fall (although it was of extraordinary height) onely the filth of the place, (it being ouer full) had fowly myred him.

Now for your better vnderstanding the quality of the place, and what ensued thereupon, it is not vnnecessary to describe it, according to a com∣mon vse obserued in those parts. There was a narrow passage or entrie, as often we see reserued betweene two houses, for eithers benefit to such a needfull place; and boards loosely lay vpon the ioynts, which such as were acquainted withall, could easily auoide any perill, in passing to or from the stoole. But our so newly created brother, not dreaming to find a queane to his Sister, receiuing so foule a fall into the vaulte, and know∣ing not how to helpe himselfe, being sorrowfull beyond measure; cryed out to the boy for light and aide, with intended not to giue him any. For the crafty wag, (a meete attendant for so honest a Mistresse) no sooner heard him to be fallen, but presently he ranne to enforme her thereof, and shee as speedily returned to the Chamber, where finding his cloathes vnder the beds head, shee needed no instruction for search in his pockets. But hauing found the gold, which Andrea indiscreetely carried alwayes a∣bout him, as thinking it could no where else be so safe: This was all shee aymed at, and for which shee had ensnared him, faigning her selfe to be of Palermo, and Daughter to Piero of Perouse, so that not regarding him any longer, but making fast the house of Office doore, there shee left him in that miserable taking.

Poore Andrea perceiuing, that his calles could get no answer from the Lad; cryed out louder, but all to no purpose: when seeing into his owne simplicity, and vnderstanding his error, though somewhat too late, hee made such meanes constrainedly, that he got ouer a wall, which seuered that foule sinke from the Worlds eye; and being in the open streete, went to the doore of the House, which then he knew too well to his cost, ma∣king

loude exclaimes with rapping and knocking, but all as fruitlesse as before. Sorrowing exceedingly, and manifestly beholding his misfor∣tune; Alas (quoth he) how soone haue I lost a Sister, and fiue hundred Crownes besides? with many other words, loude calles, and beatings v∣pon the doore without intermission, the neighbours finding themselues diseased, and vnable to endure such ceaselesse vexation, rose from their beds, and called to him, desiring him to be gone and let them rest. A maide also of the same House, looking forth at the window, and seeming as newly raised from sleepe, called to him, saying; What noyse is that be∣neath? Why Virgin (answered Andrea) know you not me? I am Andrea de Piero, Brother to your Mistresse Fiordeliza. Thou art a drunken knaue, replied the Maide, more full of drinke then wit, goe sleepe, goe sleepe, and come againe to morrow: for I know no Andrea de Piero, neither hath my Mistresse any such Brother, get thee gone good man, and suffer vs to sleepe I pray thee. How now (quoth Andrea) doest thou not vnderstand what I say? Thou knowest that I supt with thy Mistresse this night; but if our Sicilian kindred be so soone forgot, I pray thee giue me my cloathes which I left in my Chamber, and then very gladly will I get mee gone. Hereat the Maide laughing out aloude, saide; Surely the man is mad, or walketh the streetes in a dreame; and so clasping fast the window, away shee went and left him.

Now could Andrea assure himselfe, that his gold and cloathes were past recouery, which mouing him to the more impatience, his former intercessions became conuerted into fury, and what hee could not com∣passe by faire entreats, he entended to winne by outrage and violence, so that taking vp a great stone in his hand, hee layed vpon the doore very powerfull strokes. The neighbours hearing this molestation still, admit∣ting them not the least respite of rest, reputing him for a troublesome fel∣low, and that he vsed those counterfet words, onely to disturbe the Mi∣stresse of the House, and all that dwelled neere about her; looking againe out at their windowes, they altogether began to rate and reproue him, euen like so many bawling Curres, barking at a strange dog passing tho∣row the streete. This is shamefull villany (quoth one) and not to be suf∣fered, that honest women should be thus molested in their houses, with foolish idle words, and at such an vnseasonable time of the night. For Gods sake (good man) be gone, and let vs sleepe; if thou haue any thing to say to the Gentlewoman of the House, come to morrow in the day time, and no doubt but shee will make thee sufficient answer.

Andrea being somewhat pacified with these speeches, a shag-hairde swash-buckler, a grim-visagde Ruffian (as sildome bawdy houses are with∣out such swaggering Champions) not seene or heard by Andrea, all the while of his being in the house rapping out two or three terrible oathes, opened a casement, and with a stearne dreadfull voyce, demaunded who durst keepe that noyse beneath? Andrea fearefully looking vp, and (by a little glimmering of the Moone) seeing such a rough fellow, with a blacke beard, strowting like the quilles of a Porcupine, and patches on his face,

for hurts receiued in no honest quarels, yawning also and stretching, as angry to haue his sleepe disturbed: trembling and quaking, answered; I am the Gentlewomans brother of the house. The Ruffian interrupting him, and speaking more fiercely then before; sealing his words with hor∣rible oathes, said. Sirra, Rascall, I know not of whence or what thou art, but if I come downe to thee, I will so bombast thy prating cox∣combe, as thou was neuer better beaten in all thy life, like a drunken slaue and beast as thou art, that all this night wilt not let vs sleepe; and so hee clapt to the window againe.

The neighbours, well acquainted with this Ruffians rude conditions, speaking in gentle manner to Andrea, said. Shift for thy selfe (good man) in time, and tarrie not for his comming downe to thee; except thou art wearie of thy life, be gone therefore, and say thou hast a friendly war∣ning. These words dismaying Andrea, but much more the stearne oathes and vgly sight of the Ruffian, incited also by the neighbours counsell, whom he imagined to aduise him in charitable manner: it caused him to depart thence, taking the way homeward to his Inne, in no meane affli∣ction and torment of minde, for the monstrous abuse offered him, and losse of his money. Well he remembred the passages, whereby (the day before) the young Girle had guided him, but the loathsome smell about him, was so extreamely offensiue to himselfe: that, desiring to wash him at the Sea side, he strayed too farre wide on the contrary hand, wandring vp the streete called Ruga Gatellana.

Proceeding on still, euen to the highest part of the Citie, hee espied a Lanthorne and light, as also a man carrying it, and another man with him in company, both of them comming towards him. Now, because he suspected them two of the watch, or some persons that would appre∣hend him: he slept aside to shunne them, and entred into an olde house hard by at hand. The other mens intention was to the very same place, and going in, without any knowledge of Andreaes being there, one of them layd downe diuers instruments of yron, which he had brought thi∣ther on his backe, and had much talke with his fellow concerning those engines. At last one of them said, I smell the most abhominable stinke, that euer I felt in all my life. So, lifting vp his Lanthorne, he espied poore pittifull Andrea, closely couched behinde the wall. Which sight some∣what affrighting him, he yet boldly demaunded, what and who hee was: whereto Andrea aunswered nothing, but lay still and held his peace. Neerer they drew towards him with their light, demaunding how hee came thither, and in that filthy manner.

Constraint hauing now no other euasion, but that (of necessity) all must out: hee related to them the whole aduenture, in the same sort as it had befalne him. They greatly pittying his misfortune, one of them said to the other. Questionlesse, this villanie was done in the house of Scara∣bone Buttafuoco; And then turning to Andrea, proceeded thus. In good faith poore man, albeit thou hast lost thy money, yet art thou highly be∣holding to Fortune, for falling (though in a foule place) yet in succesfull

manner, and entring no more backe into the house. For, beleeue mee friend, if thou hadst not falne, but quietly gone to sleepe in the house; that sleepe had beene thy last in this world, and with thy money, thou hadst lost thy life likewise. But teares and lamentations are now help∣lesse, because, as easily mayest thou plucke the Starres from the firma∣ment, as get a gaine the least doyt of thy losse. And for that shag-haird Slaue in the house, he will be thy deaths-man, if he but vnderstand, that thou makest any enquiry after thy money. When he had thus admoni∣shed him, he began also in this manner to comfort him. Honest fellow, we cannot but pitty thy present condition, wherfore, if thou wilt friendly associate vs, in a businesse which wee are instantly going to effect: thy losse hath not beene so great, but on our words wee will warrant thee, that thine immediate gaine shall farre exceede it. What will not a man (in desperate extremity) both well like and allow of, especially, when it carrieth apparance of present comfort? So fared it with Andrea, hee per∣swaded himselfe, worse then had already happened, could not befall him; and therefore he would gladly aduenture with them.

The selfe same day preceding this disastrous night to Andrea, in the chiefe Church of the Citie, had beene buried the Archbishop of Naples, named Signior Philippo Minutulo, in his richest pontificall roabes and or∣naments, and a Ruby on his finger, valued to be worth fiue hundred duc∣kets of gold: this dead body they purposed to rob and rifle, acquainting Andrea with their whole intent, whose necessity (coupled with a coue∣tous desire) made him more forward then well aduised, to ioyne with them in this sacriligious enterprise. On they went towards the great Church, Andreaes vnsauourie perfume much displeasing them, where∣vpon the one said to his fellow. Can we deuise no ease for this foule and noysome inconuenience? the very smell of him will be a meanes to be∣tray vs. There is a Well-pit hard by, answered the other, with a pulley and bucket descending downe into it, and there we may wash him from this filthinesse. To the Well-pit they came, where they found the rope and pulley hanging ready, but the bucket (for safety) was taken away: whereon they concluded, to fasten the rope about him, and so let him downe into the Well-pit, and when he had washed himselfe, hee should wagge the rope, and then they would draw him vp againe, which accor∣dingly they forth-with performed.

Now it came to passe, that while hee was thus washing himselfe in the Well-pit, the watch of the Citie walking the round, and finding it to be a very hote and sweltring night; they grew dry and thirsty, and therefore went to the Well to drinke. The other two men, perceiuing the Watch so neere vpon them: left Andrea in the Pit to shift for himselfe, running away to shelter themselues. Their flight was not discouered by the Watch, but they comming to the Well-pit, Andrea remained still in the bottome, and hauing cleansed himselfe so well as hee could, sate wagging the rope, expecting when hee should be haled vp. This dumbe signe the Watch discerned not, but sitting downe by the Wells side,

they layde downe their Billes and other weapons, tugging to draw vp the rope, thinking the Bucket was fastened thereto, and full of water. Andrea being haled vp to the Pits brim, left holding the rope any longer, catching fast hold with his hands for his better safety: and the Watch at the sight heereof being greatly affrighted, as thinking that they had dragd vp a Spirit; not daring to speake one word, ranne away with all the hast they could make.

Andrea hereat was not a little amazed, so that if he had not taken very good hold on the brim: he might haue falne to the bottome, and doubt∣lesse there his life had perished. Being come forth of the Well, and tread∣ing on Billes and Halbards, which he well knew that his companions had not brought thither with them; his meruaile so much the more encrea∣sed, ignorance and feare still seizing on him, with silent bemoaning his many misfortunes, away thence he wandred, but hee wist not whither. As he went on, he met his two fellowes, who purposely returned to drag him out of the Well, and seeing their intent already performed, desired to know who had done it: wherein Andrea could not resolue them, re∣hearsing what hee could, and what weapons hee found lying about the Well. Whereat they smiled, as knowing, that the Watch had haled him vp, for feare of whom they left him, and so declared to him the rea∣son of their returne.

Leauing off all further talke, because now it was about midnight, they went to the great Church, where finding their entrance to be easie: they approached neere the Tombe, which was very great, being all of Mar∣ble, and the couer-stone weighty, yet with crowes of yron and other helps, they raised it so high, that a man might without perill passe into it. Now began they to question one another, which of the three should enter into the Tombe. Not I, said the first; so said the second: No, nor I, answered Andrea. Which when the other two heard, they caught fast hold of him, saying. Wilt not thou goe into the Tombe? Be aduised what thou sayest, for, if thou wilt not goe in: we will so beat thee with one of these yron crowes, that thou shalt neuer goe out of this Church aliue.

Thus poore Andrea is still made a property, and Fortune (this fatall night) will haue no other foole but he, as delighting in his hourly disasters. Feare of their fury makes him obedient, into the graue he goes, and being within, thus consults with himselfe. These cunning companions suppose me to be simple, & make me enter the Tombe, hauing an absolute inten∣tion to deceiue me. For, when I haue giuen them all the riches that I finde here, and am ready to come forth for mine equall portion: away will they runne for their owne safety, and leauing me here, not onely shall I loose my right among them, but must remaine to what danger may follow after. Hauing thus meditated, he resolued to make sure of his owne share first, and remembring the rich Ring, whereof they had tolde him: forth∣with hee tooke it from the Archbishops finger, finding it indifferently fitte for his owne. Afterward, hee tooke the Crosse, Miter, rich gar∣ments, Gloues and all, leauing him nothing but his shirt, giuing them

all these seuerall parcels; protesting, that there was nothing else. Stil they pressed vpon him, affirming that there was a Ring beside, vrging him to search diligently for it; yet still he answered, that hee could not finde it, and for their longer tarying with him, seemed as if he serched very care∣fully, but all appeared to no purpose.

The other two fellowes, as cunning in craft as the third could be, still willed him to search, and watching their aptest opportunity: tooke a∣way the props that supported the Tombe-stone, and running thence with their got booty, left poore Andrea mewed vp in the graue. Which when he perceiued, and saw this misery to exceede all the rest, it is farre easier for you to guesse at his greefe, then I am any way able to expresse it. His head, shoulders, yea all his vtmost strength he employeth, to re∣moue that ouer-heauy hinderer of his liberty: but all his labour beeing spent in vaine, sorrow threw him in a swoond vpon the Byshoppes dead body, where if both of them might at that instant haue bene obserued, the Arch-byshops dead body, and Andrea in greefe dying, very hardly had bene distinguished. But his senses regaining their former offices, among his silent complaints, consideration presented him with choyse of these two vnauoydable extremities. Dye staruing must he in the tombe, with putrifaction of the dead body; or if any man came to open the Graue, then must he be apprehended as a sacrilegious Theefe, and so be hanged, according to the lawes in that case prouided.

As he continued in these strange afflictions of minde, sodainely hee heard a noise in the Church of diuers men, who (as he imagined) came about the like businesse, as hee and his fellowes had vndertaken before; wherein he was not a iot deceiued, albeit his feare the more augmented. Hauing opened the Tombe, and supported the stone, they varied also a∣mong themselues for entrance, and an indiffrent while contended about it. At length, a Priest being one in the company, boldly said. Why how now you white-liuer'd Rascals? What are you affraid of? Do you thinke he will eate you? Dead men cannot bite, and therefore I my selfe will go in. Hauing thus spoken, he prepared his entrance to the Tombe in such order, that he thrust in his feete before, for his easier descending downe into it.

Andrea sitting vpright in the Tombe, and desiring to make vse of this happy opportunity, caught the Priest fast by one of his legges, making shew as if he meant to dragge him downe. Which when the Priest felt, he cryed out aloud, getting out with all the hast he could make, and all his companions, being well neere frighted out of their wits, ranne away amaine, as if they had bene followed by a thousand diuels••. Andrea lit∣tle dreaming on such fortunate successe, made meanes to get out of the graue, and afterward forth of the Church, at the very same place where he entred.

Now began day-light to appeare, when hee, hauing the rich Ring on his finger, wandred on hee knew not whether: till comming to the Sea∣side, he found the way directing to his Inne, where all his company were

with his Host, who had bene very carefull for him. Hauing related his manifold mischances, his Hoste friendly aduised him with speede to get him out of Naples. As instantly he did, returning home to Perouse, ha∣uing aduentured his fiue hundred Crownes on a Ring, where-with hee purposed to haue bought Horses, according to the intent of his iourney thither.

Madame Beritola Caracalla, was found in an Island with two Goates, hauing lost her two Sonnes, and thence trauailed into Lunigiana: where one of her Sonnes became seruant to the Lord thereof, and was found somewhat ouer∣familiar with his Masters daughter, who therefore caused him to bee impri∣soned. Afterward, when the Country of Sicily rebelled against K. Charles, the aforesaid Sonne chanced to be knowne by his Mother, and was married to his Masters daughter. And his Brother being found likewise; they both returned to great estate and credit.

The sixt Nouell.

Heerein all men are admonished, neuer to distrust the powerfull hand of Hea∣uen, when Fortune seemeth to be most aduerse against them.

[illustration]

THe Ladies and Gentlemen also, hauing smiled sufficiently at the se∣uerall accidents which did befall the poore Traueller Andrea, repor∣ted at large by Madame Fiametta, the Lady Aemillia, seeing her tale to be fully concluded, began (by commandement of the Queene) to speake in this manner.

The diuersitie of changes and alterations in Fortune as they are great, so must they needs be greeuous; and as often as we take occasion to talk of them, as often do they awake and quicken our vnderstandings, auou∣ching,

that it is no easie matter to depend vpon her flatteries. And I am of opinion, that to heare them recounted, ought not any way to offend vs, be it of men wretched or fortunate; because, as they instrust the one with good aduise, so they animate the other with comfort. And there∣fore, although great occasions haue beene already related, yet I purpose to tell a Tale, no lesse true then lamentable; which albeit it sorted to a suc∣cessefull ending, yet notwithstanding, such and so many were the bitter thwartings, as hardly can I beleeue, that euer any sorrow was more ioy∣fully sweetened.

You must vnderstand then (most gracious Ladies) that after the death of Fredericke the second Emperour, one named Manfred, was crowned King of Sicilie, about whom liued in great account and authority, a Nea∣politane Gentleman, called Henriet Capece, who had to Wife a beautifull Gentlewoman, and a Neapolitane also, named Madam Beritola Caracalla. This Henriet held the gouernment of the Kingdome of Sicilie, and vnder∣standing, that King Charles the first, had wonne the battle at Beneuentum, and slaine King Maufred; the whole Kingdome reuolting also to his de∣uotion, and little trust to be reposed in the Sicillians, or he willing to sub∣iect himselfe to his Lords enemy; prouided for his secret flight from thence. But this being discouered to the Sicillians, he and many more, who had beene loyall seruants to King Manfred, were suddenly taken and imprisoned by King Charles, and the sole possession of the Iland confir∣med to him.

Madam Beritola not knowing (in so sudden and strange an alteration of State affaires) what was become of her Husband, fearing also greatly before, those inconueniences which afterward followed; being ouer∣come with many passionate considerations, hauing left and forsaken all her goods, going aboard a small Barke with a Sonne of hers, aged about some eight yeeres, named Geoffrey, and growne great with childe with a∣nother; shee fled thence to Lipary, where shee was brought to bed of ano∣ther Sonne, whom shee named (answerable both to his and her hard for∣tune) The poore expelled.

Hauing prouided her selfe of a Nurse, they altogether went aboard a∣gaine, setting sayle for Naples to visit her Parents; but it chanced quite contrary to her expectation, because by stormie windes and weather, the vessell being bound for Naples, was hurried to the Ile of Ponzo, where en∣tring into a small Port of the Sea, they concluded to make their aboade, till a time more furtherous should fauour their voyage.

As the rest, so did Madam Boritola goe on shore in the Iland, where ha∣uing found a separate and solitary place, fit for her silent and sad medita∣tions, secretly by her selfe, shee sorrowed for the absence of her husband. Resorting daily to this her sad exercise, and continuing there her com∣plaints, vnseene by any of the Marriners, or whosoeuer else: there arriued suddenly a Galley of Pyrates, who seazing on the small Barke, carried it and all the rest in it away with them. When Beritola had finished her wo∣full complaints, as daily shee was accustomed to doe, shee returned backe

to her children againe; but finding no person there remaining, whereat she wondered not a little: immediately (suspecting what had happened indeede) she lent her lookes on the Sea, and saw the Galley, which as yet had not gone farre, drawing the smaller vessell after her. Heereby plainly she perceyued, that now she had lost her children, as formerly shee had done her husband; being left there poore, forsaken, and miserable, not knowing when, where, or how to finde any of them againe, and calling for her husband and children, shee fell downe in a swound vppon the shore.

Now was not any body neere, with coole water or any other remedy, to helpe the recouery of her lost powers; wherefore her spirites might the more freely wander at their own pleasure: but after they were retur∣ned backe againe, and had won their wonted offices in her body, drow∣ned in teares, and wringing her hands, shee did nothing but call for her children and husband, straying all about, in hope to finde them, seeking in Caues, Dennes, and euery where else, that presented the verie least glimpse of comfort. But when she saw all her paines sort to no purpose, and darke night drawing swiftly on, hope and dismay raising infinit per∣turbations, made her yet to be somewhat respectiue of her selfe, & there∣fore departing from the sea-shore, he returned to the solitary place, where she vsed to sigh and mourne alone by her selfe.

The night being ouer-past with infinite feares and affrights, & bright day saluting the world againe, with the expence of nine hours and more, she fell to her former fruitlesse trauailes. Being somewhat sharply bitten with hunger, because the former day and night shee hadde not tasted any food: she made therefore a benefit of necessity, and fed on the green hea••bes so well as she could, notwithout many piercing afflictions, what should become of her in this extraordinary misery. As shee walked in these pensiue meditations, she saw a Goate enter into a Caue, and (with∣in a while after) come forth againe, wandering along thorow the woods. Whereupon she stayed, and entred where she saw the beast issue forth, where she found two yong Kids, yeaned (as it seemed) the selfesame day, which sight was very pleasing to her, and nothing (in that distresse) could more content her.

As yet she had milke freshly running in both her brests, by reason of her so late deliuery in child-bed; wherefore shee lay downe vnto the two yong Kids, and taking them tenderly in her armes, suffered each of them to sucke a teate, whereof they made not any refusall, but tooke them as louingly as their dammes, and from that time forward, they made no di∣stinguishing betweene their damme and her. Thus this vnfortunate La∣dy, hauing found some company in this solitary desert, fed on hearbes & roots▪ drinking faire running water, and weeping silently to her selfe, so often as she remembred her husband, children, and former dayes past in much better maner. Here shee resolued now to liue and dye, being at last depriued both of the damme and yonger Kids also, by theyr wande∣ring further into the neere adioyning Woods, according to their Natu∣rall

inclinations; whereby the poore distressed Lady became more sa∣uage and wilde in her daily conditions, then otherwise shee would haue bene.

After many monthes were ouer-passed, at the very same place where she tooke landing; by chance, there arriued another small vessell of cer∣taine Pisans, which remained there diuers dayes. In this Bark was a Gen∣tleman, named Conrado de Marchesi Malespini, with his holy and vertuous wife, who were returned backe from a Pilgrimage, hauing visited all the sanctified places, that then were in the Kingdome of Apulia, & now were bound homeward to their owne abiding. This Gentleman, for the ex∣pelling of melancholy perturbations, one especiall day amongst other, with his wife, seruants, and waiting hounds, wandered vp into the Iland, not far from the place of Madam Beritolaes desert dwelling. The hounds questing after game, at last happened on the two Kiddes where they were feeding, and (by this time) had attained to indifferent growth: and fin∣ding themselues thus pursued by the hounds, fled to no other part of the wood, then to the Caue where Beritola remained, and seeming as if they sought to be rescued only by her, she sodainly caught vp a staffe, and for∣ced the hounds thence to flight.

By this time, Conrado and his wife, who had followed closely after the hounds, was come thither, and seeing what had hapned, looking on the Lady, who was become blacke, swarthy, meager, and hairy, they wonde∣red not a little at her, and she a great deale more at them. When (vpon her req••est) Conrado had checkt back his hounds, they preuailed so much by earnest intreaties, to know what she was, and the reason of her liuing there; that she intirely related her quality, vnfortunate accidents, and strange determination for liuing there. Which when the Gentleman had heard, who very well knew her husband, compassion forced teares from his eyes, and earnestly he laboured by kinde perswasions, to alter so cruel a deliberation; making an honourable offer, for conducting her home to his owne dwelling, where shee should remaine with him in noble re∣spect, as if she were his owne sister, without parting from him, till For∣tune should smile as fairely on her, as euer she had done before.

When these gentle offers could not preuaile with her, the Gentleman left his wife in her company, saying, that he would go fetch some foode for her; and because her garments were all rent and torne, hee woulde bring her other of his wiues, not doubting but to winne her thence with them. His wife abode there with Beritola, very much bemoaning her great disasters, and when both viands and garments were brought: by extremity of intercession, they caused her to put them on, and also to feede with them, albeit she protested, that shee would not part thence into any place, where any knowledge should be taken of her. In the end, they perswaded her, to go with them into Lunigiana, carrying also with her the two yong Goats and their damme, which were then in the Caue altogether, prettily playing before Beritola, to the great admiration of Conrado and his wife, as also the seruants attending on them.

When the windes and weather grew fauourable for them, Madam Beritola went aboard with Conrado and his wife, being followed by the two young Goates and his Damme; and because her name should bee knowne to none but Conrado, and his wife onely, shee would be stiled no otherwise, but the Goatherdesse. Merrily, yet gently blew the gale, which brought them to enter the Riuer of Macra, where going on shore, and into their owne Castell, Beritola kept company with the wife of Conrado, but in a mourning habite, and a wayting Gentlewoman of hers, honest, humble, and very dutifull, the Goates alwayes familiarly keeping them company.

Returne wee now to the Pyrates, which at Ponzo seized on the small Barke, wherein Madam Beritola was brought thither, and carried thence away, without any sight or knowledge of her. With such other spoiles as they had taken, they shaped their course for Geneway, and there (by consent of the Patrones of the Galley) made a diuision of their booties. It came to passe, that (among other things) the Nurse that attended on Beritola, and the two with her Children, fell to the share of one Messer Gasparino d'Oria, who sent them together to his owne House, there to be employed in seruice as seruants. The Nurse weeping beyond measure for the losse of her Lady, and bemoaning her owne miserable fortune, whereinto shee was now fallen with the two young Laddes; after long lamenting, which shee found vtterly fruitlesse and to none effect, though she was vsed as a seruant with them, and being but a very poore woman, yet was shee wise and discreetly aduised. Wherefore, comforting both her selfe, and them so well as she could, and considering the depth of their disaster; shee conceited thus, that if the Children should be knowne, it might redounde to their greater danger, and shee be no way aduantaged thereby.

Hereupon, hoping that Fortune (early or late) would alter her stearne malice, and that they might (if they liued) regaine once more their for∣mer condition: shee would not disclose them to any one whatsoeuer, till shee should see the time aptly disposed for it. Being thus determined, to all such as questioned her concerning them, she answered that they were her owne Children,* 1.2 naming the eldest not Geoffrey, but Iehannot de Pro∣cida. As for the youngest, shee cared not greatly for changing his name, and therefore wisely enformed Geoffrey, vpon what reason shee had alte∣red his name, and what danger be might fall into, if he should otherwise be discouered; being not satisfied with thus telling him once, but remem∣bring him thereof very often, which the gentle youth (being so well in∣structed by the wise and carefull Nurse) did very warily obserue.

The two young Laddes, very poorely garmented, but much worse hosed and shodde, continued thus in the house of Gasparino, where both they and the Nurse were long time imployed, about very base and drud∣ging Offices, which yet they endured with admirable patience. But Ie∣hannot, aged already about sixteene yeeres, hauing a loftier spirit, then belonged to a slauish seruant, despising the basenesse of his seruile condi∣tion;

departed from the drudgery of Messer Gasparino, and going aboard the Gallies, which were bound for Alexandria, fortuned into many pla∣ces, yet none of them affoording him any aduancement. In the ende, a∣bout three or foure houres after his departure from Gasparino, being now a braue young man, and of very goodly forme: he vnderstood, that his Fa∣ther (whom he supposed to be dead) was as yet liuing; but in captiuity, and prisoner to King Charles. Wherefore, despairing of any successe∣full fortune, hee wandred here and there, till he came to Lunigiana, and there (by strange accident) he became seruant to Messer Conrado Malespi∣na, where the seruice proued well liking to them both.

Very sildome times hee had a sight of his Mother, because shee al∣wayes kept company with Conradoes wife; and yet when they came with∣in view of each other, shee knew not him, nor he her, so much yeeres had altered them both, from what they were wont to be, and when they saw each other last. Iehannot being thus in the seruice of Messer Conrado, it fortuned that a daughter of his, named Spina, being the Widdow of one Messer Nicolas Grignan, returned home to her Fathers House. Very beau∣tifull and amiable shee was, young likewise, aged but little aboue sixteene; growing wonderously amorous of Iehannot, and he of her, in extraordi∣nary and most feruent manner; which loue was not long without full ef∣fect, continuing many mo••eths before any person could perceiue it: which making them to build on the more assurance, they began to carrie their meanes with lesse discretion, then is required in such nice cases, and which cannot be too prouidently managed.

Vpon a day, he and shee walking to a goodly wood, plentifully furni∣shed with spreading Trees, hauing out-gone the rest of their company; they made choise of a pleasant place, very daintily shaded, and beautified with all sorts of floures. There they spent sometime in amorous discourse, beside some other sweete embraces, which though it seemed ouer-short to them, yet was it so vnaduisedly prolonged; that they were on a sudden surprized, first by the Mother, and next by Messer Conrado himselfe: who greeuing beyond measure, to be thus trecherously dealt withall, caused them to be apprehended by three of his seruants, and (without telling them any reason why) ledde bound to another Castle of his, and fretting with extremity of rage, concluded in his minde, that they should both shamefully be put to death.

The Mother to this regardlesse Daughter, hauing heard the angry words of her Husband, and how hee would be reuenged on the faultie; could not endure that he should be so seuere: wherefore, although shee was likewise much afflicted in minde, and reputed her Daughter worthy (for so great an offence) of all cruell punishment: ••yet shee hasted to her displeased husband, who began to entreate, that he would not runne on in such a furious spleene, now in his aged yeares, to be the murtherer of his owne childe, and soile his hands in the blood of his seruant. Rather he might finde out some milde course for the satisfaction of his Anger, by committing them to close imprisonment, there to remaine & mourne

for their follie committed. The vertuous and religious Lady alledged so many commendable examples, and vsed such plenty of moouing per∣swasions; that she quite altred his minde, from putting them to death, and he commanded onely, that they should separately bee imprisoned, with little store of foode, and lodging of the vneasiest, vntill hee should otherwise determine of them, and so it was done. What their life now was in captiuity and continuall teares, with stricter abstinence then was needefull for them; all this I must commit to your consideration.

Iehannot and Spina remaining in this comfortlesse condition, and an whole yeere being now out-worne, yet Conrado keeping them thus still imprisoned: it came to passe, that Don Pedro King of Arragon, by the meanes of Messer Iohn de Procida, caused the Isle of Sicily to reuolt, and tooke it away from King Charles, whereat Conrado (he being of the Ghib∣biline faction) not a little reioyced. Iehannot hauing intelligence therof, by some of them that had him in custody, breathing foorth a vehement sigh, spake in this manner. Alas poore miserable wretch as I am! that haue already gone begging through the world aboue fourteene yeares, in expectation of nothing else but this opportunity; and now it is come, must I be in prison, to the end, that I should neuer more hope for any fu∣ture happinesse? And how can I get forth of this prison, except it be by death onely? How now, replied the Officer of the Guard? What doth this businesse of great Kings concerne thee? What affaires hast thou in Sicily?

Once more Iehannot sighed extreamly, and returned him this answer. Me thinkes my heart (quoth hee) doth cleaue in sunder, when I call to minde the charge which my Father had there, for although I was but a little boy when I fled thence: yet I can well remember, that I sawe him Gouernour there, at such time as King Manfred liued. The Guard, pur∣suing on still his purpose, demanded of him, what, and who his Father was? My Father (replyed Iehannot) I may now securely speake of him, being out of the perill which neerely concerned me if I had beene disco∣uered. He was the named (and so still if he be liuing) Henriet Capece, and my name is Geoffrey, not Iehannot; and I make no doubt, but if I vvere free from hence, and might be returned home to Sicily, I should (for his sake) be placed in some authority.

The honest man of the Guard, without seeking after any further infor∣mation; so soone as he could compasse the leysure, reported all to Mes∣ser Conrado, who hauing heard these newes (albeit he made no shew ther∣of to the reuealer) went to Madam Beritola, graciously demaunding of her, if she had any sonne by her husband, who was called Geoffrey. The Lady replyed in teares, that if her eldest sonne were as yet liuing, hee was so named, and now aged about two and twenty yeares. Conrado hearing this, imagined this same to be the man, considering further withall, that if it fell out to proue so: he might haue the better meanes of mercie, and closely concealing his daughters shame, ioyfully ioyne them in marriage together.

Hereupon he secretly caused Iehannot to be brought before him, exami∣ning him particularly of all his passed life, and finding (by most manifest arguments) that his name was truly Geoffrey, & he the eldest son of Henriet Capece, he spake to him alone in this manner. Iehannot, thou knowest how great the iniuries which thou hast done me, & my deare daughter, gently entreating thee (as became a good & honest seruant) that thou shouldest alwayes haue bin respectiue of mine honor, and all that do appertain vnto me. There are many noble gentlewomen, who sustaining the wrog which thou hast offred me, they would haue procured thy shameful death, which pitty & compassion wil not suffer in me. Wherfore seeing (as thou infor∣mest me) that thou art honorably deriued both by father & mother; I will giue end to all thine anguishes, euen when thy self art so pleased, releasing thee from the misery & captiuity, wherein I haue so long time kept thee, and in one instant, reduce thine honor & mine into compleat perfection. As thou knowest, my Daughter Spina, whom thou hast embraced in kind∣nesse as a friend (although farre vnfitting for thee or her) is a widow, and her mariage is both great and good; what her manners and conditions are, thou indifferently knowest, and art not ignorant of her Father and Mother: concerning thine owne estate, as now I purpose not to speake any thing. Therefore, when thou wilt, I am so determined, that whereas thou hast immodestly affected her, she shall become thy honest wife, and accepting thee as my Son, to remain with me so long as you both please.

Imprisonment had somewhat mishapen Iehannot in his outward forme, but not impaired a iot of that noble spirit, really deriued from his famous progenitors, much lesse the true loue he bare to his faire friend. And al∣though most earnestly he desired that, which Conrado now so franckly of∣fered him, and was in his power onely to bestow on him; yet could he not cloude any part of his greatnesse, but with a resolued iudgement, thus re∣plied. My Lord, affectation of rule, desire of wealthy possessions, or any other matter whatsoeuer, could neuer make me a traytor to you or yours; but that I haue loued, do loue & for euer shal loue your beautious daugh∣ter; if that be treason, I freely cōfesse it, & wil die a thousand deaths, before you or any else shal enforce me to denie it; for I hold her highly worthy of my loue. If I haue bin more vnmānerly with her, then became me, accor∣ding to the opinion of vulgar iudgment, I haue committed but that error, which euermore is so attendant vpon youth; that to denie it, is to denie youth also. And if reuerend age would but remember, that once he was young, & measure others offences by his own; they would not be thought so great or greeuous, as you (& many more) account them to be, mine be∣ing cōmitted as a friend, & not as an enemy: what you make offer of so wil∣lingly to do, I haue alwayes desired, & if I had thought it would haue bin granted, long since I had most humbly requested it; and so much the more acceptable would it haue bin to me, by how much the further off it stood from my hopes. But if you be so forward as your words doe witnesse, then feede mee not with any further fruitlesse expectation: but rather send me backe to prison, and lay as many afflictions on mee as you please: for my endeared loue to your Daughter Spina, maketh mee to loue

you the more for her sake; how hardly soeuer you entreate me, & bindeth me in the greater reuerence to you, as being the father of my fairest friend.

Messer Conrado hearing these words, stood as one confounded with ad∣miration, reputing him to be a man of lofty spirit, and his affection most feruent to his Daughter, which was as a little to his liking. Wherefore, embracing him, and kissing his cheeke, without any longer dallying, hee sent in like manner for his Daughter. Her restraint in prison had made her lookes me ager, pale and wanne, and very weake was shee also of her person, farre differing from the woman shee was wont to be, before her affection to Iehannot; there in presence of her Father, and with free con∣sent of either, they were contracted as man and wife, and the espousals a∣greed on according to custome. Some few dayes after, (without any ones knowledge of that which was done) hauing furnished them with all things fit for the purpose, and time aptly seruing, that the Mothers should be partakers in this ioy, he called his wife, and Madam Beritola, to whom first he spake in this manner.

What will you say Madam, if I cause you to see your eldest Son, not long since married to one of my Daughters? whereunto Beritola thus re∣plied. My Lord, I can say nothing else vnto you, but that I shall be much more obliged to you, then already I am, and so much the rather, because you will let me see the thing which is dearer to me then mine owne life; and rendring it vnto mee in such manner as you speake of, you will recall backe some part of my former lost hopes: and with these words the teares streamed aboundantly from her eyes. Then turning to his wife, he saide; And you deare Loue, if I shew you such a Sonne in Law, what will you thinke of it? Sir (quoth shee) what pleaseth you, must and shall satisfie me, be he Gentleman, or a beggar. Well said Madam, answered Messer Con∣rado, I hope (within few dayes) to make you both ioyfull. So when the a∣morous couple had recouered their former feature, and honourable gar∣ments were prepared for them, priuately thus he said to Geoffrey; Beyond the ioy which already thou art inriched withall, how would it please thee to meet with thine owne Mother here? I cannot beleeue Sir, replied Geof∣frey, that her greeuous misfortunes haue suffered her to liue so long: yet notwithstanding, if Heauen hath beene so merciful to her, my ioyes were incomparable, for by her gracious counsell, I might well hope to recouer no meane happinesse in Sicilie. Within a while after, both the Mothers were sent for, who were transported with vnspeakable ioyes, when they beheld the so lately maried couple; being also much amazed, when they could not guesse what inspiration had guided Conrado to this extraordi∣nary benignity, ioyning Iehannot in mariage with Spina. Hereupon Ma∣dam Beritola, remembring the speeches between her and Conrado, began to obserue him very aduisedly, and by a hidden vertue, which long had silently slept in her, and now with ioy of spirit awaked, calling to minde the lineatures of her Sonnes Infancy, without awaiting for any other demonstrations, shee folded him in her armes with earnest affection. Motherly ioy and pitty now contended so violently together, that shee was not able to vtter one word, the sensitiue vertues being

so closely combined, that (euen as dead) shee fell downe in the armes of her Sonne. And he wondering greatly thereat, making a better recolle∣ction of his thoughts, did well remember, that he had often before seene her in the Castell, without any other knowledge of her. Neuerthelesse, by meere instinct of Nature, whose power (in such actions) declares it selfe to be highly predominant; his very soule assured him, that shee was his Mother, and blaming his vnderstanding, that he had not before beene better aduised, he threw his armes about her, and wept exceedingly.

Afterward, by the louing paines of Conradoes wife, as also her daugh∣ter Spina, Madam Beritola (being recouered from her passionate trance, and her vitall spirits executing their Offices againe;) fell once more to the embracing of her Sonne, kissing him infinite times, with teares and spee∣ches of motherly kindnesse, he likewise expressing the same dutifull hu∣manity to her. Which ceremonious courtesies being passed ouer and o∣uer, to no little ioy in all the beholders, beside repetition of their seuerall misfortunes. Messer Conrado made all knowne to his friends, who were very glad of this new alliance made by him, which was honoured with many solemn & magnificent feastings. Which being all concluded, Geof∣frey hauing found out fit place and opportunity, for conference with his new created Father, without any sinister opposition; began as followeth.

Honourable Father, you haue raised my contentment to the highest degree, and haue heaped also many gracious fauours on my noble Mo∣ther; but now in the finall conclusion, that nothing may remaine vneffe∣cted, which consisteth in your power to performe: I would humbly en∣treate you, to honour my Mother with your company, at a Feast of my making, where I would gladly also haue my Brother present. Messer Ga∣sparino d' Oria (as I haue once heretofore told you) questing as a common Pyrate on the Seas, tooke vs, and sent vs home to his house as slaues, where (as yet he detaineth him.) I would haue you likewise send one into Sicilie, who informing himselfe more amply in the state of the Country; may vnderstand what is become of Henriet my Father, and whether he be liuing or no. If he remaine aliue, to know in what condition he is; and be∣ing secretly instructed in all things, then to returne backe againe to you.

This motion made by Geoffrey, was so pleasing to Conrado, that with∣out any reference to further leysure, hee dispatched thence two discreete persons, the one to Geneway, and the other to Sicilie: he which went for Geneway, hauing met with Gasparino, earnestly entreated him, (on the be∣halfe of Conrado) to send him the Poore expelled; and his Nurse recounting euery thing in order, which Conrado had tolde him, concerning Geoffrey and his Mother: when Gasparino had heard the whole discourse, he mar∣uelled greatly thereat, and saide; True it is, that I will doe any thing for Messer Conrado, which may be to his loue and liking, prouided, that it lie in my power to performe; and (about some foureteene yeeres since) I brought such a Lad as you seeke for, with his Mother home to my house, whom I will gladly send vnto him. But you may tell him from me, that I aduise him from ouer-rash crediting the fables of Iehannot, that now

tearmes himselfe by the name of Geoffrey, because hee is a more wicked boy, then he taketh him to be, and so did I find him.

Hauing thus spoken, and giuing kinde welcome to the Messenger, se∣cretly he called the Nurse vnto him, whom he heedfully examined con∣cerning this case. Shee hauing heard the rebellion in the Kingdome of Sicilie, and vnderstanding withall, that Henriet was yet liuing; ioyfully threw off all her former feare, relating euery thing to him orderly, and the reasons mouing her, to conceale the whole businesse in such manner as shee had done. Gasparino well perceiuing, that the report of the Nurse, and the message receiued from Conrado, varied not in any one circum∣stance, beganne the better to credit her wordes. And being a man most ingenious, making further inquisition into the businesse, by all the possi∣ble meanes he could deuise, and finding euery thing to yeeld vndoubted assurance; ashamed of the vile and base vsage, wherein hee had so long time kept the Ladde, and desiring (by his best meanes) to make him a∣mends; he had a faire Daughter, aged about thirteene yeeres, and know∣ing what manner of man he was, his father Henriet also yet liuing, he gaue her to him in marriage, with a very bountifull and honourable dowry.

The iouiall dayes of feasting being past, he went aboard a Galley, with the Poore expelled; his Daughter, the Ambassadour, and the Nurse, depar∣ting thence to Lericy, where they were nobly welcommed by Messer Con∣rado, and his Castle being not farre from thence, with an honourable traine they were conducted thither, and entertained with all possible kindnesse. Now concerning the comfort of the Mother, meeting so hap∣pily with both her Sonnes, the ioy of the Brethren and Mother together, hauing also found the faithfull Nurse, Gasparino and his Daughter, in com∣pany now with Conrado and his Wife, friends, familiars, and all generally in a Iubilee of reioycing: it exceedeth capacity in me to expresse it; and therefore I referre it to your more able imagination.

In the time of this mutuall contentment, to the ende that nothing might be wanting, to compleat and perfect this vniuersall ioy; our Lord, a most aboundant bestower where he beginneth, added long wished ty∣dings, concerning the life and good estate of Henriet Capece. For, euen as they were feasting, and the concourse great of worthy guests, both of Lords and Ladies: the first seruice was scarcely set on the Tables, but the Ambassador which was sent to Sicilie, arriued there before them. Among many other important matters, he spake of Henriet, who being so long a time detained in prison by King Charles, when the commotion arose in the City against the King; the people (grudging at Henriets long impri∣sonment) slew the Guards, and set him at liberty. Then as capitall enemy to King Charles, he was created Captaine generall, following the chase, and killing the French.

By meanes whereof, he grew great in the grace of King Pedro, who re∣planted him in all the goods and honours which he had before, with very high and eminent authority. Hereunto the Ambassadour added, that he was entertained with extraordinary grace, and deliuery of publike ioy

and exaltation, when his Wife and Sonne were knowne to be liuing, of whom no tydings had at any time beene heard, since the houre of his sur∣prizall. Moreouer, that a swift winged Barke was now sent thither (vpon the happy hearing of this newes) well furnished with noble Gentlemen, to attend till their returning backe. We neede to make no doubt concer∣ning the tydings brought by this Ambassadour, nor of the Gentlemens welcome, thus sent to Madam Beritola and Geoffrey; who before they would sit downe at the Table, saluted Messer Conrado and his kinde Lady (on the behalfe of Henriet) for all the great graces extended to her and her Sonne, with promise of any thing, lying in the power of Henriet, to rest continually at their command. The like they did to Signior Gasparino, (whose liberall fauours came vnlooked for) with certaine assurance, that when Henriet should vnderstand what hee had done for his other Sonne, the Poore expelled; there would be no defailance of riciprocall courte∣sies.

As the longest ioyes haue no perpetuity of lasting, so all these gracefull ceremonies had their conclusion, with as many sighes and teares at par∣ting, as ioyes abounded at their first encountring. Imagine then, that you see such aboard, as were to haue here no longer abiding, Madam Be∣ritola and Geoffrey, with the rest, as the Poore expelled, the so late married Wiues, and the faithfull Nurse bearing them company. With prospe∣rous windes they arriued in Sicilie, where the Wife, Sonnes, and Daugh∣ters, were ioyfully met by Henriet at Palermo, and with such honourable pompe, as a case so important equally deserued. The Histories make fur∣ther mention, that there they liued (a long while after) in much felicity, with thankfull hearts (no doubt) to Heauen, in acknowledgement of so many great mercies receiued.

The Soldan of Babylon sent one of his Daughters, to be ioyned in marriage with the King of Cholcos; who by diuers accidents (in the space of foure yeeres) happened into the custody of nine men, and in sundry places. At length be∣ing restored backe to her Father, shee went to the saide King of Cholcos, as a Maide, and as at first shee was intended to be his wife.

The seauenth Nouell.

Aliuely demonstration, that the beauty of a Woman, (oftentimes) is very hurt∣full to her selfe, and the occasion of many euils, yea, and of death, to diuers men.

PEraduenture the Nouell related by Madam Aemilia, did not extend it selfe so farre in length, as it moued compassion in the Ladies mindes, hearing the hard fortunes of Beritola and her Children, which had incited them to weeping: but that it pleased the Queene (vpon the Tales con∣clusion) to command Pamphilus, to follow (next in order) with his dis∣course, and hee being thereto very obedient, beganne in this man∣ner.

[illustration]

It is a matter of no meane difficulty (vertuous Ladies) for vs to take in∣tire knowledge of euery thing we doe, because (as oftentimes hath beene obserued) many men, imagining if they were rich, they should liue se∣curely, and without any cares. And therefore, not onely haue their prayers and intercessions aimed at that end, but also their studies and dai∣ly endeauours, without refusall of any paines or perils haue not meanely expressed their hourely solicitude. And although it hath happened ac∣cordingly to them, and their couetous desires fully accomplished; yet at length they haue met with such kinde of people, who likewise thirsting after their wealthy possessions, haue bereft them of life, being their kinde and intimate friends, before they attained to such riches. Some other, be∣ing of low and base condition, by aduenturing in many skirmishes and foughten battels, trampling in the bloud of their brethren and friends, haue beene mounted to the soueraigne dignity of Kingdomes, (beleeuing that therein consisted the truest happinesse) but bought with the dearest price of their liues. For, beside their infinite cares and feares, wherewith such greatnesse is continually attended, at their royall Tables, they haue drunke poyson in a golden pot. Many other in like manner (with most earnest appetite) haue coueted beauty and bodily strength, not foreseeing with any iudgement, that these wishes were not without perill; when be∣ing endued with them, they either haue beene the occasion of their death, or such a lingering lamentable estate of life, as death were a thousand times more welcome to them.

But because I would not speake particularly of all our fraile and hu∣mane affections, I dare assure ye, that there is not any one of these desires, to be elected among vs mortals, with entire foresight or prouidence, war∣rantable

against their ominous issue. Wherefore, if we would walke di∣rectly, wee should dispose our willes and affections, to be ordered and guided onely by him, who best knoweth what is needfull for vs, and will bestow them at his good pleasure. Nor let me lay this blamefull impu∣tation vpon men onely, for offending in many things through ouer lauish desires: because you your selues (gracious Ladies) sinne highly in one, as namely, in coueting to be beautifull. So that it is not sufficient for you, to enioy those beauties bestowne on you by Nature: but you pra∣ctise to encrease them, by the rarities of Art. Wherefore, let it not of∣fend you, that I tell you the hard fortune of a faire Sarrazines, to whom it happened (by strange aduentures) within the compasse of foure yeares, nine seuerall times to be maried, and onely for her beauty.

It is now a long time since, that there liued a Soldane in Babylon, na∣med Beminidab, to whom (while he liued) many things happened, answe∣rable to his owne desires. Among diuers other children both male and female, he had a daughter, called Alathiella, and shee (according to the common voyce of euery one that saw her) was the fayrest Lady then li∣uing in all the world. And because the King of Cholcos had wonderfully assisted him, in a valiant foughten battaile, against a mighty Armie of Arabes, who on a suddaine had assailed him: hee demaunded his faire daughter in marriage, which likewise was badly granted to him. A good∣ly and well armed Ship was prepared for her, with full furnishment of all necessary prouision, and accompanied with an honourable traine, both Lords and Ladies, as also most costly and sumptuous accoustrements; commending her to the mercy of heauen, in this manner was shee sent away.

The time being propitious for their parting thence, the Mariners hoi∣sed their sayles, leauing the part of Alexandria, and sayling prosperously many dayes together. When they had past the Country of Sardignia, and (as they imagined) were well neere to their iourneyes end: suddain∣ly arose boisterous and contrary windes, which were so impetuous be∣yond all measure, and so tormented the Ship wherein the Lady was; that the Mariners, seeing no signe of comfort, gaue ouer all hope of escaping with life. Neuerthelesse, as men most expert in implacable dangers, they laboured to their vttermost power, and contended with infinite blustring tempests, for the space of two dayes and nights together, hoping the third day would proue more fauourable. But therein they saw themselues de∣ceiued, for the violence continued still, encreasing in the night time more and more, being no way able to comprehend, either where they were, or what course they tooke, neither by mariuall iudgement, or any apprehension else whatsoeuer, the heauens were so clouded, and the nights darknesse so ext••eame.

Being (vnknowne to them) neere the Isle of Maiorica, they felt the Ship to split in the bottome, by meanes whereof, perceiuing now no hope of escaping (euery one caring for himselfe, and not any other) they threw forth a Squiffe on the troubled waues, reposing more confidence

of safety that way, then abiding any longer in the broken Ship. Howbeit, such as were first descended downe, made stout resistance against all o∣ther followers, with their drawne weapons: but safety of life so farre pre∣uailed, that what with the tempests violence, and ouer-lading of the Squiffe, it sunke to the bottome, and all perished that were therein. The The Ship being thus split, and more then halfe full of water, tossed and tormented by the blustring windes, first one way, and then another: was at last driuen into a strand of the Isle Maiorica, no other persons remai∣ning therein, but onely the Lady and her women, all of them (through the rude tempest, and their owne conceiued feare) lying still, as if they were more then halfe dead. And there, within a stones cast of the neigh∣bouring shore, the Ship (by the rough surging billowes) was fixed fast in the sands, and so continued all the rest of the night, without any further molestation of the windes.

When day appeared, and the violent stormes were more mildly ap∣peased, the Lady, who seemed well neere dead, lifted vp her head, and began (weake as she was) to call first one, and then another: but she cal∣led in vaine, for such as she named were farre enough from her. Where∣fore, hearing no answere, nor seeing any one, she wondered greatly, her feares encreasing then more and more. Raysing her selfe so well as shee could, she beheld the Ladies that were of her company, and some other of her women, lying still without any stirring: whereupon, first iogging one, and then another, and calling them seuerally by their names; shee found them bereft of vnderstanding, and euen as if they were dead, their hearts were so quailed, and their feare so ouer-ruling, which was no meane dismay to the poore Lady her selfe. Neuerthelesse, necessity now being her best counsailour, seeing her selfe thus all alone, and not knowing in what place she was, she vsed such meanes to them that were liuing, that (at the last) they came better to knowledge of themselues, And being vnable to guesse, what was become of the men and Mariners, seeing the Ship also driuen on the sands, and filled with water: she began (with them) to lament most grieuously, and now it was about the houre of mid-day, before they could descry any person on the shore, or any else to pitty them in so vrgent a necessity.

At length, noone being past, a Gentlewoman, named Baiazeth, atten∣ded by diuers of his followers on horseback, and returning from a Coun∣try house belonging to him, chanced to ride by on the sands. Vpon sight of the Ship lying in that case, he imagined truely what had happened, and commanded one of his men to enter aboord it, which (with some diffi∣culty) hee did, to resolue his Lord what remayned therein. There hee found the faire young Lady, with such small store of company as was left her, fearefully hidden vnder the prow of the Ship. So soone as they saw him, they held vp their hands, wofully desiring mercy of him: but he per∣ceiuing their lamentable condition, and that hee vnderstoode not what they said to them; their affliction grew the greater, labouring by signes and gestures, to giue them knowledge of their misfortune.

The seruaut, gathering what he could by their outward behauiour, de∣clared to his Lord, what hee had seene in the Ship: who caused the wo∣men to be brought on shore, and all the precious things remaining with them, conducting them with him to a place not farre off, where, with foode and warmth he gaue them comfort. By the rich garments which the Lady was cloathed withall, hee reputed her to be a Gentlewomen well deriued, as the great reuerence done to her by the rest, gaue him good reason to conceiue. And although her lookes were pale and wan, as also her person mightily altered, by the tempestuous violence of the Sea: yet notwithstanding, she appeared faire and louely in the eye of Ba∣iazeth, whereupon forthwith he determined, that if she were not maried, he would enioy her as his owne in mariage, or if he could not winne her to be his wife, yet (at the least) shee should be his friend, because shee re∣mained now in his power.

Baiazeth was a man of sterne lookes, rough and harsh both in speech and behauiour: yet causing the Lady to be honourably vsed diuers dayes together, she became thereby well comforted and recouered. And see∣ing her beauty to exceede all comparison, he was afflicted beyond mea∣sure, that he could not vnderstand her, nor she him, whereby hee could not know, of whence or what she was. His amorous flames encreasing more and more; by kinde, courteous, and affable actions, hee laboured to compasse what he aymed at. But all his endeauour proued to no pur∣pose, for shee refused all familiar priuacie with him, which so much the more kindled the fury of his fire. This being well obserued by the Lady, hauing now remayned there a moneth & more, and collecting by the cu∣stomes of the Countrey, that she was among Turkes, and in such a place, where although she were knowne, yet it would little aduantage her, be∣side, that long protraction of time vvould prouoke Baiazeth, by faire meanes or force to obtaine his vvill: she propounded to her selfe (with magnanimity of spirit) to tread all misfortunes vnder her feete, com∣maunding her vvomen (vvhereof she had but three now remaining aliue) that they should not disclose vvhat she vvas; except it vvere in some such place, where manifest signes might yeeld hope of regaining their liberty. Moreouer, shee admonished them, stoutly to defend their honour and chastity, affirming, that shee had absolutely resolued with her selfe, that neuer any other should enioy her, but her intended husband; vvherein her vvomen did much commend her, promising to preserue their reputa∣tion, according as she had commanded.

Day by day vvere the torments of Baiazeth, vvonderfully augmented, yet still his kinde offers scornefully refused, and he as farre off from com∣passing his desires, as vvhen hee first began to mooue the matter: where∣fore, perceiuing that all faire courses serued to no effect, hee resolued to compasse his purpose by craft and subtilty, reseruing rigorous extremity for his finall conclusion. And hauing once obserued, that vvine was very pleasing to the Lady, she being neuer vsed to drinke any at all, because (by her Countries law) it was forbidden her, and no meane store hauing

beene lately brought to Baiazeth in a Barke of Geneway: hee resolued to surprize her by meanes thereof, as a chiefe Minister of Venus, to heate the coolest blood. And seeming now in his outward behauiour, as if he had giuen ouer his amorous pursuite, and which she stroue by all her best endeauours to withstand: one night, after a very maiestick and solemne manner, he prepared a delicate and sumptuous supper, whereto the La∣dy was inuited: and hee had giuen order, that hee who attended on her Cup, should serue her with many wines compounded and mingled to∣gether, which hee accordingly performed, as being cunning enough in such occasions.

Alothiella, instructing no such trecherie intended against her, and liking the wines pleasing taste extraordinarily; dranke more then stoode with with her precedent modest resolution, and forgetting all her passed ad∣uersities, became very frollick and merry: so that seeing some women daunce after the manner obserued therein Maiorica, she also fell to daun∣cing, according to the Alexandrian custome. Which when Baiazeth be∣held, he imagined the victory to be more then halfe wone, and his hearts desire very neere the obtaining: plying her still with wine vpon wine, and continuing this reuelling the most part of the night. At the length, the inuited guests being all gone, the Lady retired then to her chamber, at∣tended on by none but Baiazeth himselfe, and as familiarly, as if hee had beene one of her women, shee no way contradicting his bold intrusion, so faire had wine ouer-gone her sences, and preuailed against all modest bashfulnesse. These wanton embracings, strange to her that had neuer tasted them before, yet pleasing beyond measure, by reason of his treche∣rous aduantage: afterward drew on many more of the like carowsing meetings, without so much as a thought of her passed miseries, or those more honourable and chaste respects, that euer ought to attend on Ladies.

Now, Fortune enuying these their stolne pleasures, and that she, be∣ing the purposed wife of a potent King, should thus become the wanton friend of a much meaner man, whose onely glory was her shame: altered the course of their too common pastimes, by preparing a farre greater infelicity for them. This Baiazeth had a Brother, aged about fiue and twenty yeares, of most compleate person, in the very beauty of his time, and fresh as the sweetest smelling Rose, he being named Amurath. After he had once seene this Lady (whose faire feature pleased him beyond all womens else) she seemed in his suddaine apprehension, both by her out∣ward behauiour and ciuill apparancie, highly to deserue his very best opinion, for she was not meanely entred into his fauour. Now he found nothing to his hinderance, in obtayning the height of his hearts desire, but onely the strict custody and guard, wherein his brother Baiazeth kept her: which raised a cruell conceit in his minde, whereon followed (not long after) as cruell an effect.

It came to passe, that at the same time, in the Port of the Citie, called Caffa, there lay then a Ship laden with Merchandize, being bound thence

for Sm••r••••, of which Ship two Geneway Merchants (being brethren) were the Patrones and owners, who had giuen direction for hoysing the sayles, to depart thence when the winde should serue. With these two Gene∣wayes Amarath had couenanted, for himselfe to goe abord the Ship the night ensuing, and the Lady in his company. When night was come, hauing resolued with himselfe what was to be done: in a disguised habite hee went to the house of Baiazeth, who stood not any way doubtfull of him, and with certaine of his most faithfull confederates (whom he had sworne to the intended action) they hid themselues closely in the house. After some part of the night was ouer-past, hee knowing the seuerall lodgings both of Baiazeth and Alathiella: slew his brother soundly slee∣ping, and seizing on the Lady, whom hee found awake and weeping, threatned to kill her also, if shee made any noyse. So, being well furni∣shed, with the greater part of costly Iewels belonging to Baiazeth, vn∣heard or vndescried by any body, they went presently to the Port, and there, without any further delay, Amurath and the Lady were receiued into the Ship, but his companions returned backe againe; when the Ma∣riners, hauing their sayles ready set, and the winde aptly fitting for them, launched forth merrily into the maine.

You may well imagine, that the Lady was extraordinarily afflicted with griefe for her first misfortune, and now this second chancing so sud∣dainly, must needes offend her in greater manner: but Amurath did so kindly comfort her, with milde, modest, and manly perswasions; that all remembrance of Baiazeth was quickly forgotten, and shee became con∣uerted to louely demeanour, euen when Fortune prepared a fresh misery for her, as not satisfied with those whereof shee had tasted already. The Lady being enriched with vnequalled beauty (as wee haue often related before) her behauiour also in such exquisite and commendable kinde ex∣pressed: the two brethren, owners of the Ship, became so deepely ena∣moured of her, that forgetting all their more serious affaires, they studied by all possible meanes, to be pleasing and gracious in her eye, yet with such a carefull cariage, that Amurath should neither see or suspect it.

When the brethren had imparted their loues extremity each to the other, and plainely perceiued, that though they were equally in their fiery torments, yet their desires were vtterly contrary: they began seue∣rally to consider, that gaine gotten by Merchandize, admitted an equall and honest diuision, but this purchase was of a different quality, pleading the title of a sole possession, without any partner or intruder. Fearefull and iealous were they both, least either should ayme at the others inten∣tion, yet willing enough to shake hands, in ridding Amurath out of the way, who onely was the hinderer of their hopes. Whereupon they con∣cluded together, that on a day, when the Ship sayled on very swiftly, and Amurath was sitting vpon the deck, studiously obseruing, how the bil∣lowes combatted each with other, and not suspecting any such treason in them towards him: stealing softly behinde him, suddainly they threw him into the Sea, the Ship fleeting on aboue halfe a leagues distance,

before any perceiued his fall into the Sea.

When the Lady heard thereof, and saw no likely meanes of recoue∣ring him againe, she fell to her wonted teares and lamentations: but the two Louers came quickly to comfort her, vsing kinde words and pithie perswasions (albeit she vnderstood them not, or at the most very little) to appease the violence of her passions; and, to speake vprightly, shee did not so much bemoane the losse of Amurath, as the multiplying of her owne misfortunes, still one succeeding in the necke of another. After diuers long and well deliuered Orations, as also very faire and courteous behauiour, they had indifferently pacified her complaynings: they began to discourse and commune with themselues, which of them had most right and title to Alathiella, and (consequently) ought to enioy her. Now that Amurath was gone, each pleaded his priuiledge to be as good as the others, both in the Ship, goods, and all aduantages else whatsoeuer hap∣pening: which the elder brother absolutely denied, alleadging first his propriety of birth, a reason sufficient, whereby his younger ought to giue him place; likewise his right and interest both in ship and goods, to be more then the others, as being heire to his Father, and therefore in iu∣stice to be highest preferred. Last of all, that his strength onely threw A∣murath into the Sea, and therefore gaue him the full possession of his prize, no right at all remaining to his brother.

From temperate and calme speeches, they fell to frownes and ruder language, which heated their blood in such violent manner, that forget∣ting brotherly affection, and all respect of Parents or friends, they drew forth their Poniards, stabbing each other so often and desperately, that before any in the shippe had the power or meanes to part them, both of them being very dangerously wounded, the younger brother fell downe dead▪ the elder being in little better case, by receiuing so many perilous hurts, remained (neuerthelesse) liuing. This vnhappy accident displea∣sed the Lady very highly, seeing her selfe thus left alone, without the help or counsell of any body, and fearing greatly, least the anger of the two Brethrens Parents and Friends, should now be laide to her charge, and thereon follow seueriry of punishment. But the earnest entreaties of the wounded suruiuer, and their arriuall at Smirna soone after, deliuered him from the danger of death, gaue some ease to her sorrow, and there with him shee went on shore.

Remaining there with him in a common Inne, while he continued in the Chirurgians cure, the fame of her singular and much admired beauty was soone spread abroade throughout all the City; and amongst the rest, to the hearing of the Prince of Ionia, who lately before (on very vrgent occasions) was come to Smirna. This rare rumour, made him desirous to see her, and after he had seene her, shee seemed farre fairer in his eye, then common report had noysed her to be, and suddenly grew so enamo∣red of her, that shee was the onely Idea of his best desires. Afterward, vn∣derstanding in what manner shee was brought thither, he deuised how to make her his owne; practising all possible meanes to accomplish it: which

when the wounded brothers Parents heard of, they not onely made ten∣der of their willingnesse therein, but also immediately sent her to him: a matter most highly pleasing to the Prince, and likewise to the Lady her selfe; because shee thought now to be freed from no meane perill, which (otherwise) the wounded Merchants friends might haue inflicted on her.

The Prince perceiuing, that beside her matchlesse beauty, shee had the true character of royall behauiour; greeued the more, that he could not be further informed of what Countrey shee was. His opinion being so stedfastly grounded, that (lesse then Noble) shee could not be, was a mo∣tiue to set a keener edge on his affection towards her, yet not to enioy her as in honourable and louing complement onely, but as his espoused Lady and Wife. Which appearing to her by apparant demonstrations, though entercourse of speech wanted to confirme it; remembrance of her so many sad disasters, and being now in a most noble and respected condition, her comfort enlarged it selfe with a setled hope, her feares grew free from any more molestations, and her beauties became the onely theame and argument of priuate and publike conference in all Natolia, that (welneere) there was no other discourse, in any Assembly what∣soeuer.

Hereupon the Duke of Athens, being young, goodly, and valiant of person, as also a neere Kinsman to the Prince, had a desire to see her; and vnder colour of visiting his noble Kinsman, (as oftentimes before he had done) attended with an honourable traine, to Smirna he came, being there most royally welcommed, and bounteously feasted. Within some few dayes of his there being, conference passed betweene them, concerning the rare beauty of the Lady; the Duke questioning the Prince, whether shee was of such wonder, as fame had acquainted the World withall? Whereto the Prince replied; Much more (noble Kinsman) then can be spoken of, as your owne eyes shall witnesse, without crediting any words of mine. The Duke solliciting the Duke thereto very earnestly, they both went together to see her; and shee hauing before heard of their com∣ming, adorned her selfe the more maiestically, entertaining them with ce∣remonious demeanor (after her Countries custome) which gaue most gracious and vnspeakable acceptation.

At the Princes affable motion, shee sate downe betweene them, their delight being beyond expression, to behold her, but abridged of much more felicity, because they vnderstood not any part of her language: so that they could haue no other conference, but by lookes and outward signes onely; and the more they beheld her, the more they maruelled at her rare perfections, especially the Duke, who hardly credited that shee was a mortall creature. Thus not perceiuing, what deepe carowses of a∣morous poyson, his eyes dranke downe by the meere sight of her, yet thinking thereby onely to be satisfied; he lost both himselfe and his best sences, growing in loue (beyond all measure) with her. When the Prince and he were parted from her, and hee was at his owne priuate amorous

meditations in his Chamber; he reputed the Prince far happier then any man else whatsoeuer, by the enioying of such a peerelesse beauty.

After many intricate and distracted cogitations, which molested his braines incessantly, regarding more his loues wanton heate, then reason, kindred, and honourable hospitality; he resolutely determined (whatsoe∣uer ensued thereupon) to bereaue the Prince of his faire felicity, that none but himselfe might possesse such a treasure, which he esteemed to be the height of all happinesse. His courage being conformable to his bad intent, with all hast it must be put in execution; so that equity, iustice, and honesty, being quite abandoned, nothing but subtill stratagems were now his meditations. On a day, according to a fore compacted treachery, which he had ordered with a Gentleman of the Princes Chamber, who was named Churiacy; he prepared his horses to be in readinesse, and dis∣patched all his affaires else for a sudden departure. The night following, he was secretly conueyed by the said Churiacy, and a friend of his with him (being both armed) into the Princes Chamber, where he (while the Lady was soundly sleeping) stood at a gazing window towards the Sea, naked in his shirt, to take the coole ayre, because the season was excee∣ding hot. Hauing formerly enstructed his friend what was to be done, ve∣rie softly they stept to the Prince, and running their weapons quite tho∣row his body, immediately they threw him forth of the window.

Here you are to obserue, that the Pallace was seated on the Sea shore, and very high, and the window whereat the Prince then stood looking foorth, was directly ouer diuers houses, which the long continuance of time, and incessant beating on by the surges of the Sea, had so defaced and ruined them, as sildome they were visited by any person; whereof the Duke hauing knowledge before, was the easier perswaded, that the falling of the Princes body in so vaste a place, could neither be heard, or descried by any. The Duke and his companion hauing thus executed what they came for, proceeded yet in their cunning a little further; casting a strang∣ling coard about the necke of Churiacy, seeming as if they hugged and embraced him: but drew it with so maine strength, that he neuer spake one word after, and so threw him downe after the Prince.

This done, and plainely perceiuing that they were not heard or seene, either by the Lady, or any other: the Duke tooke a light in his hand, go∣ing on to the bed, where the Lady lay most sweetely sleeping; whom the more he beheld, the more he admired and commended: but if in her gar∣ments shee appeared so pleasing, what did shee now in a bed of such state and Maiesty? Being no way daunted by his so late committed sinne, but swimming rather in surfet of ioy, his hands all bloody, and his soule much more vglie; he laide him downe on the bed by her, bestowing infinite kis∣ses and embraces on her, she supposing him to be the Prince all this while, no•• opening her eyes to be otherwise resolued. But this was not the de∣light he aimed at, neither did he thinke it safe for him, to delay time with any longer tarying there: wherefore hauing his agents at hand fit and conuenient for the purpose, they surprized her in such sort, that she could

not make any noise or outcry, and carrying her thorough the same false posterne, whereat themselues had entred, laying her in a Princely litter; away they went with all possible speede, not tarrying in any place, vntill they were arriued neere Athens. But thither hee would not bring her, because himselfe was a married man, but rather to a goodly Castle of his owne, not distant farre off from the City; where he caused her to be kept very secretly (to her no little greefe and sorrow) yet attended on and serued in most honourable manner.

The Gentlemen vsually attending on the Prince, hauing waited all the next morning till noone, in expectation of his rising, and hearing no stirring in the Chamber: did thrust at the doore, which was but onely closed together, & finding no body there, they presently imagined, that he was priuately gone to some other place, where (with the Lady, whom he so deerely affected) hee might remaine some few dayes for his more contentment, and so they rested verily perswaded. Within some fewe dayes following, while no other doubt came in question, the Princes Foole, entering by chance among the ruined houses, where lay the dead bodies of the Prince and Churicy: tooke hold of the corde about Churia∣cyes necke, and so went along dragging it after him. The bodye being knowne to many, with no meane meruaile, how hee should bee murthe∣red in so vile manner: by giftes and faire perswasions they wonne him, to bring them to the place where hee found it. And there (to the no little greefe of all the Cittie) they found the Princes body also, which they caused to bee interred with all the most maiesticke pomp that might bee.

Vpon further inquisition, who should commit so horrid a deed, per∣ceyuing likewise, that the Duke of Athens was not to be found, but was closely gone: they iudged (according to the truth) that he had his hand in this bloody businesse, and had carried away the Lady with him. Im∣mediately, they elected the Princes brother to bee their Lord and Soue∣raigne, inciting him to reuenge so horrid a wrong, and promising to as∣sist him with their vtmost power. The new chosen Prince being assured afterward, by other more apparant and remarkeable proofes, that his people informed him with nothing but truth: sodainly, and according as they had concluded, with the helpe of neighbors, kindred, and frends, col∣lected from diuers places; he mustred a goodly and powerful army, mar∣ching on towards Athens, to make war against the Duke.

No sooner heard he of this warlike preparation made against him, but he likewise leuied forces for his owne defence, and to his succour came many great States: among whom, the Emperor of Constantinople sent his Sonne Constantine, attended on by his Nephew Emanuell, with troopes of faire and towardly horse, who were most honourably welcommed and entertained by the Duke, but much more by the Dutchesse, be∣cause she was their sister in law.

Military prouision thus proceeding on daily more and more, the Dut∣ches making choise of a fit and conuenient houre, took these two Princes

with her to a with-drawing Chamber; and there in flouds of teares flow∣ing from her eyes, wringing her hands, and sighing incessantly, shee re∣counted the whole History, occasion of the warre, and how dishonoura∣bly the Duke had dealt with her about this strange woman, whom he pur∣posed to keepe in despight of her, as thinking that she knew nothing ther∣of, and complaining very earnestly vnto them, entreated that for the Dukes honour, and her comfort, they would giue their best assistance in this case.

The two young Lords knew all this matter, before shee thus reported it to them; and therefore, without staying to listen her any longer, but comforting her so wel as they could, with promise of their best employed paines: being informed by her, in what place the Lady was so closely kept, they tooke their leaue, and parted from her. Often they had heard the La∣dy much commended, and her incomparable beauty highly extolled, yea, euen by the Duke himselfe; which made them the more desirous to see her: wherefore earnestly they solicited him, to let them haue a sight of her, and he (forgetting what happened to the Prince, by shewing her so vnad∣uisedly to him) made them promise to grant their request Causing a mag∣nificent dinner to be prepared, & in a goodly garden, at the Castle where the Lady was kept: on the morrow morning, attended on by a smal train, away they rode to dine with her.

Constantine being seated at the Table, he began (as one confounded with admiration) to obserue her iudiciously, affirming secretly to his soule that he had neuer seene so compleat a woman before; and allowing it for iustice, that the Duke, or any other whosoeuer, if (to enioy so rare a beau∣ty) they had committed treason, or any mischiefe else beside, yet in reason they ought to be held excused. Nor did he bestow so many lookes vpon her, but his prayses infinitely surpassed them, as thinking that he could not sufficiently commend her, following the Duke step by step in affection: for being now growne amorous of her, and remembrance of the intended warre vtterly abandoned; no other thoughts could come neerer him, but how to bereaue the Duke of her, yet concealing his loue, and not impar∣ting it to any one.

While his fancies were thus amorously set on fire, the time came, that they must make head against the Prince, who already was marching with∣in the Dukes Dominions: wherfore the Duke Constantine, and all the rest, according to a counsell held among them, went to defend certaine of the frontiers, to the end that the Prince might passe no further. Remaining there diuers dayes together, Constantine, who could thinke on nothing else, but the beautiful Lady, considered with himselfe, that while the Duke was not so far off from her, it was an easie matter to compasse his intent: hereupon, the better to colour his present returne to Athens, he seemed to be surprized with a sudden extreame sicknesse, in regard whereof (by the Dukes free lisence, and leauing all his power to his Cousen Emanuel) forthwith he iourneyed backe to Athens. After some conference bad with his sister, concerning her dishonorable wrongs endured at his hands only

by the Lady: he solemnly protested, that if shee were so pleased, he would aide her powerfully in the matter, by taking her from the place where she was, and neuer more afterward, to be seene in that Countrey any more.

The Dutchesse being faithfully perswaded, that he would doe this one∣ly for her sake, and not in any affection he bare to the Lady, made answer that it highly pleased her; alwayes prouided, that it might be performed in such sort, as the Duke her Husband should neuer vnderstand, that euer shee gaue any consent thereto, which Constantine sware vnto her by ma∣ny deep oathes, whereby she referred all to his owne disposition. Constan∣stine hereupon secretly prepared in readinesse a subtill Barke, sending it (in an euening) neere to the garden where the Lady resorted; hauing first informed the people which were in it, fully in the businesse that was to be done. Afterward, accompanied with some other of his attendants, hee went to the Palace to the Lady, where he was gladly entertained, not on∣ly by such as waited on her, but also by the Lady her selfe.

Leading her along by the arme towards the Garden, attended on by two of her seruants, and two of his owne, seeming as if he was sent from the Duke, to conferre with her: they walked alone to a Port opening on the Sea, which standing ready open, vpon a signe giuen by him to one of his complices, the Barke was brought close to the shore, and the Lady being suddenly seized on, was immediately conueyed into it; and he re∣turning backe to her people, with his sword drawne in his hand, saide: Let no man stir••e, or speake a word, except he be willing to loose his life: for I intend not to rob the Duke of his faire friend, but to expel the shame and dishonour which he hath offered to my Sister, no one being so hardy as to returne him any answer. Aboard went Constantine with his consorts, and sitting neer to the Lady, who wrung her hands, and wept bitterly; he commanded the Marriners to launch forth, flying away on the wings of the wind, till about the breake of day following, they arriued at Melasso. There they tooke landing, and reposed on shore for some few dayes, Con∣stantine labouring to comfort the Lady, euen as if shee had been his owne Sister, shee hauing good cause to curse her infortunate beauty.

Going aboard the Barke againe, within few dayes they came to Seta∣lia, and there fearing the reprehension of his Father, and least the Ladie should be taken from him; it pleased Constantine to make his stay, as in a place of no meane security. And (as before) after much kinde behaui∣our vsed towards the Lady, without any meanes in her selfe to redresse the least of all these great extremities: shee became more milde and affa∣ble, for discontentment did not a iot quaile her.

While occurrences passed on in this manner, it fortuned, that Osbech the King of Turky (who was in continuall war with the Emperour) came by accident to Laiazzo: and hearing there how lasciuiously Constantine spent his time in Setalia, with a Lady which he had stolne, being but weake and slenderly guarded; in the night with certaine well prouided ships, his men & he entred the Towne, & surprized many people in their beds, be∣fore they knew of their enemies cōming, killing such as stood vpon their

defence against them, (among whom was Constantine) and burning the whole Towne, brought their booty and prisoners aboard their ships, wherewith they returned backe to Laiazzo. Being thus come to Laiazzo, Osbech, who was a braue and gallant young man, vpon a reuiew of the pillage; found the faire Lady, whom hee knew to be the beloued of Con∣stantine, because shee was found lying on his bed. Without any further delay, he made choyse of her to be his Wife; causing his nuptials to be honourably sollemnized, and many moneths hee liued there in great ioy with her.

But before occasions grew to this effect, the Emperour made a con∣federacy with Bassano, King of Cappadocia, that hee should descend with his forces, one way vpon Osbech, and hee would assault him with his power on the other. But he could not so conueniently bring this to passe, because the Emperour would not yeeld to Bassano, in any vnreasonable matter he demanded. Neuerthelesse, when he vnderstood what had hap∣pened to his Son (for whom his griefe was beyond all measure) he gran∣ted the King of Cappadociaes request, solliciting him withall instancy, to be the more speedy in assailing Osbech. It was not long, before hee heard of this coniuration made against him; and therefore speedily mustered vp all his forces, ere he would be encompassed by two such potent Kings, and marched on to meete the King of Cappadocia, leauing his Lady and Wife, (for her safety) at Laiazzo, in the custodie of a true and loyall seruant of his.

Within a short while after, he drew neere the Campe belonging to the King of Cappadocia, where boldly he gaue him battell; chancing therein to be slaine, his Army broken and discomfited, by meanes whereof the King of Cappadocia remaining Conquerour, marched on towards Laiazzo, euery one yeelding him obeysance all the way as he went. In the meane space, the seruant to Osbech, who was named Antiochus, and with whom the faire Lady was left in guard; although hee was aged, yet seeing shee was so extraordinarily beautifull, he fell in loue with her, forgetting the sollemne vowes he had made to his Master. One happinesse hee had in this case to helpe him, namely, that he vnderstood and could speake her language, a matter of no meane comfort to her; who constrainedly had liued diuers yeeres together, in the state of a deafe or dumbe woman, be∣cause euery where else they vnderstood her not, nor shee them, but by shewes and signes.

This benefit of familiar conference, beganne to embolden his hopes, eleuate his courage, and make him seeme more youthfull in his owne o∣pinion, then any ability of body could speake vnto him, or promise him in the possession of her, who was so farre beyond him, and so vnequall to be enioyed by him; yet to aduance his hopes a great deale higher, newes came, that Osbech was vanquished and slaine, and that Bassano made eue∣rie where hauocke of all: whereon they concluded together, not to tarrie there any longer, but storing themselues with the goods of Osbech, secret∣ly they departed thence to Rhodes. Being seated there in some indifferent

abiding, it came to passe, that Antiochus fell into a deadly sicknesse, to whom came a Cyprian Merchant, one much esteemed by him, as being an intimate friend and kinde acquaintance, and in whom hee reposed no small confidence. Feeling his sicknesse to encrease more and more vpon him dayly, hee determined, not onely to leaue such wealth as hee had to this Merchant, but the faire Lady likewise; and calling them both to his beds side, he brake his minde vnto them in this manner.

Deare Loue, and my most worthily respected friend, I perceiue plain∣ly and infallibly, that I am drawing neere vnto my end, which much dis∣contenteth me; because my hope was, to haue liued longer in this world, for the enioying of your kinde and most esteemed company. Yet one thing maketh my death very pleasing and welcome to me, namely, that lying thus in my bed of latest comfort in this life: I shall expire and finish my course, in the armes of those two persons, whom I most affected in all this world, as you my euer dearest friend, and you faire Lady, whom (since the very first sight of you) I loued and honoured in my soule. Irk∣some and very grieuous it is to me, that (if I dye) I shall leaue you here a stranger, without the counsaile and helpe of any body: and yet much more offensiue would it become, if I had not such a friend as you here present, who I am faithfully perswaded, will haue the like care and respect of her (euen for my sake) as of my selfe, if time had allotted my longer tarying here. And therefore (worthy friend) most earnestly I desire you, that if I dye, all mine affaires and she may remaine to your trusty care, as being (by my selfe) absolutely commended to your prouidence, and so to dispose both of the one and other, as may best agree with the comfort of my soule. As for you (choise beauty) I humbly entreate, that after my death you would not forget mee, to the end, I may make my vaunt in another world, that I was affected here, by the onely fairest Lady that euer Nature framed. If of these two things you will giue me assurance; I shall depart from you with no meane comfort.

The friendly Merchant, and likewise the Lady, hearing these words, wept both bitterly, and after hee had giuen ouer speaking: kindly they comforted him, with promise and solemne vowes, that if hee dyed, all should be performed which he had requested. Within a short while af∣ter, he departed out of this life, and they gaue him very honourable bu∣riall, according to that Country custome. Which being done, the Mer∣chant dispatching all his affaires at Rhodes, was desirous to returne home to Cyprus, in a Carrack of the Catelans then there being: mouing the Lady in the matter, to vnderstand how shee stood enclined, because vr∣gent occasions called him thence to Cyprus. The Lady made answere, that she was willing to passe thither with him, hoping for the loue hee bare to deceased Antiochus, that he would respect her as his Sister. The Merchant was willing to giue her any contentment, but yet resolued her, that vnder the title of being his Sister, it would be no warrant of security to them both; wherefore hee rather aduised her, to stile him as her hus∣band, and hee would terme her his wife, and so hee should be sure to de∣fend

her from all iniuries whatsoeuer.

Being abord the Carrack, they had a Cabine and small bed conueni∣ently allowed them, where they slept together, that they might the better be reputed as man and wife; for, to passe otherwise, would haue beene very dangerous to them both. And questionlesse, their faithfull promise made at Rhodes to Antiochus, sicknesse on the Sea, and mutuall respect they had of each others credit, was a constant restraint to all wanton de∣sires, and a motiue rather to incite chastity, then otherwise, and so (I hope) you are perswaded of them. But howsoeuer, the windes blewe merily, the Carrack sayled lustily, and (by this time) they are arriued at Baffa, where the Cyprian Merchant dwelt, and where shee continued a long while with him, no one knowing otherwise, but that shee was his wife indeede.

Now it fortuned, that there arriued also at the same Baffa (about some especiall occasions of his) a Gentleman, whose name was Antigonus, well stept into yeares, and better stored with wisedome then wealth: because by medling in many matters, while hee followed the seruice of the King of Cyprus, Fortune had beene very aduerse to him. This ancient Gentle∣man, passing (on a day) by the house where the Lady lay, and the Mer∣chant being gone about his businesse into Armenia: hee chanced to see the Lady at a window of the house, and because shee was very beautifull, he obserued her the more aduisedly, recollecting his sences together, that (doubtlesse he had seene her before, but in what place hee could not re∣member. The Lady her selfe likewise, who had so long time beene For∣tunes tennis ball, and the terme of her many miseries drawing now neere ending: began to conceiue (vpon the very first sight of Antigonus) that she had formerly seene him in Alexandria, seruing her Father in place of great degree. Hereupon, a suddaine hope perswaded her, that by the aduice and furtherance of this Gentleman, she should recouer her won∣ted Royall condition: and opportunity now aptly fitting her, by the ab∣sence of her pretended Merchant, husband, she sent for him, requesting to haue a few words with him.

When he was come into the house, she bashfully demanded of him, if he was not named Antigonus of Famagosta, because shee knew one (like him) so called? Hee answered, that he was so named, saying moreouer: Madame, me thinkes that I should know you, but I cannot remember where I haue seene you, wherefore I would entreate (if it might stand with your good liking) that my memory might be quickned with better knowledge of you. The Lady perceiuing him to be the man indeede, weeping incessantly, she threw her armes about his necke, and soone af∣ter asked Antigonus (who stood as one confounded with meruaile) if hee had neuer seene her in Alexandria? Vpon these words, Antigonus knew her immediately to be Alathiella, daughter to the great Soldane, who was sup∣posed (long since) to be drowned in the Sea: and offering to doe her such reuerence as became him, she would not permit him, but desired, that he would be assistant to her, and willed him also to sit downe a while by her.

A goodly Chaire being brought him, in very humble manner he de∣manded of her, what had become of her in so long a time: because it was verily beleeued throughout all Egypt, that shee was drowned in the Sea. I would it had bin so, answered the Lady, rather then to leade such a life as I haue done; and I thinke my Father himselfe would wish it so, if euer he should come to the knowledge thereof. With these words the teares rained downe her faire cheekes: wherefore Antigonus thus spake vnto her. Madame, discomfort not your selfe before you haue occasion, but (if you be so pleased) relate your passed accidents to mee, and what the course of your life hath bene: perhaps, I shall giue you such friendly aduice as may stand you in sted, and no way be iniurious to you.

Fetching a sigh, euen as if her heart would haue split in sunder, thus she replyed. Ah Antigonus, me thinkes when I looke on thee, I seeme to behold my royall Father, and therefore mooued with the like religi∣ous zeale and charitable loue, as (in duty) I owe vnto him: I will make knowne to thee, what I rather ought to conceale, and hide from any per∣son liuing. I know thee to bee honourable, discreete, and truely wise, though I am a fraile, simple, and weake woman, therefore I dare disco∣uer to thee, rather then any other that I know, by what straunge and vn∣expected misfortunes, I haue liued so long obscurely in the world. And if in thy great and graue iudgement (after the hearing of my many mise∣ries) thou canst any way restore me to my former estate, I pray thee do it: but if thou perceiue it impossible to bee done, as earnestly likewise I en∣treate thee, neuer to reueale to any liuing person, that either thou hast seene me, or heard any speech of me. After these words, the teares still streaming from her faire eyes, shee recounted the whole passage of her rare mishaps, euen from her shipwracke in the Sea of Maiorica, vntil that very instant houre; speaking them in such harsh manner as they hapned, and not sparing any iot of them.

Antigonus being mooued to much compassion, declared how hee pi∣tied her by his teares, and hauing bene silent an indifferent while, as con∣sidering in this case) what was best to be done, thus he began. Madam, seeing you haue past through such a multitude of misfortunes, yet vndis∣couered, what and who you are: I will render you as blamelesse to your Father, and estate you as fairely in his loue, as at the hour when you par∣ted from him, and afterward make you wife to the King of Cholcos. She demanding of him, by what meanes possibly this could be accomplished: breefely he made it knowne to her, how, and in what manner hee would performe it.

To cut off futther tedious circumstances, forthwith he returned to Fa∣magosta, and going before the King of the country, thus he spake to him. Sir, you may (if so you will be pleased) in an instant, do me an exceeding honor, who haue bene impouerished by your seruice, and also a deed of great renowne to your selfe, without any much matter of expence and cost. The King demanding how? Antigonus thus answered. The fayre daughter of the Soldane, so generally reported to be drowned, is arriued

at Baffa, and to preserue her honour from blemishing, hath suffered ma∣ny crosses and calamities: being at this instant in very poore estate, yet desirous to re-visite her father. If you please to send her home vnder my conduct, it will be great honour to you, and no meane benefite to mee; which kindnesse will for euer be thankfully remembred by the Soldan.

The King in royall magnificence, replied sodainly, that he was highly pleased with these good tydings; & hauing sent honourably for her from Baffa, with great pompe she was conducted to Famagosta, and there most graciously welcommed both by the King and Queene, with solemne tri∣umphes, bankets, and reuelling, performed in most Maiesticke manner. Being questioned by the King and Queene, concerning so large a time of strange misfortunes: according as Antigonus had formerly enstructed her, so did she shape the forme of her answers, and satisfied (with honor) all their demands. So, within few dayes after, vpon her earnest & instant request; with an honourable traine of Lords and Ladies, shee was sent thence, and conducted all the way by Antigonus, vntill she came vnto the Soldans Court.

After some few dayes of her reposing there, the Soldan was desirous to vnderstand, how she could possibly liue so long, in any Kingdome or Prouince whatsoeuer, and yet no knowledge to bee taken of her? The Lady, who perfectly retained by heart, and had all her lessons at her fin∣gers ends, by the warie instructions which Antigonus had giuen her, an∣swered her father in this manner. Sir, about the twentith day after my departure from you, a verie terrible and dreadfull tempest ouer-tooke vs, so that in dead time of the night, our ship being split in sunder vpon the sands, neere to a place called Varna; what became of all the men that were aboord, I neither know, or euer heard of. Onely I remember, then when death appeared, and I being recouered from death to life, certaine pezants of the countrey, comming to get what they could finde in the ship so wrackt, I was first (with two of my women) brought and set safely on the shore.

No sooner were we there, but certaine rude shagge-haird villaines set vpon vs, carrying away from me both my women, then haling me along by the haire of my head, neither teares or intercessions could draw any pitty from them. As thus they dragd me into a spacious Woodd, foure horsemen on a sodaine came riding by, who seeing how dishonourably the villaines vsed me, rescued me from them, and forced them to flight. But the foure horsemen, seeming (in my iudgement) to bee persons of power and authority, letting them go, came to mee, vrging sundry que∣stions to me, which neither I vnderstood, or they mine answers. After many deliberations held among themselues, setting me vpon one of their horses, they brought me to a Monastery of religious women, according to the custome of their law: and there, whatsoeuer they did or sayde, I know not, but I was most benignely welcommed thither, and honoured of them extraordinarily, where (with them in deuotion) I dedicated my selfe to the Goddesse of chastity, who is highly reuerenced and regarded

among the women of that Countrey, and to her religious seruice, they are wholly addicted.

After I had continued some time among them, and learned a little of their language; they asked me, of whence, and what I was. Reason gaue me so much vnderstanding, to be fearfull of telling them the trueth, for feare of expulsion from among them, as an enemy to their Law and Re∣ligion: wherefore I answered (according as necessity vrged) that I was daughter to a Gentleman of Cyprus, who sent me to bee married in Can∣die; but our fortunes (meaning such as had the charge of mee) fell out quite contrary to our expectation, by losses, Shipwracke, and other mis∣chances; adding many matters more beside, onely in regard of feare, & yeelding obediently to obserue their customes.

At length, she that was in cheefest preheminence among these Wo∣men (whom they termed by the name of their Lady Abbesse) demaun∣ded of me, whither I was willing to abide in that condition of life, or to returne home againe into Cyprus. I answerd, that I desired nothing more. But she, being very carefull of mine honour, would neuer repose confi∣dence in any that came for Cyprus; till two honest Gentlemen of France, who hapned thither about two moneths since, accompanied with their wiues, one of them being a neere kinswoman to the Lady Abbesse. And she well knowing, that they trauelled in pilgrimage to Ierusalem, to visit the holy Sepulcher, where (as they beleeue) that he whom they held for their God was buried, after the Iewes had put him to death: recom∣mended me to their louing trust, with especial charge, for deliuering me to my Father in Cyprus. What honourable loue and respect I found in the company of those Gentlemen and their wiues, during our voyage backe to Cyprus: the history would be ouer-tedious in reporting, neither is it much materiall to our purpose, because your demand is to another end.

Sayling on prosperously in our Ship, it was not long, before wee arri∣ued at Baffa, where being landed, and not knowing any person, neither what I should say to the Gentlemen, who onely were carefull for deli∣uering me to my Father, according as they were charged by the reuerend Abbesse: it was the will of heauen doubtlesse (in pitty and compassion of my passed disasters) that I was no sooner come on shore at Baffa: but I should there haply meete with Antigonus, whome I called vnto in our countrey Language, because I would not be vnderstood by the Gentle∣men nor their wiues, requesting him to acknowledge me as his Daugh∣ter. Quickly he apprehended mine intention, accomplishing what I re∣quested, and (according to his poore power) most bounteously feasted the Gentlemen and their wiues, conducting me to the K. of Cyprus, who receiued me royally, and sent me home to you with so much honour, as I am no way able to relate. What else remaineth to be said, Antigonus who hath oft heard the whole story of my fortunes, at better leisure wil report.

Antigonus then turning to the Soldan, said: My Lord, as shee hath of∣ten told me, and by relation both of the Gentlemen and their wiues, she

hath deliuered nothing but trueth. Onely shee hath forgotten some∣what worth the speaking, as thinking it not fit for her to vtter, because (indeede) it is not so conuenient for her. Namely, how much the Gen∣tlemen and their wiues (with whom she came) commended the rare ho∣nesty and integrity of life, as also the vnspotted vertue, wherein she liued, among those chaste Religious women, as they constantly (both with teares and solemne protestations) auouched to me, when kindly they re∣signed their charge to mee. Of all which matters, and many more be∣side, if I should make discourse to your Excellencie; this whole day, the night ensuing, and the next dayes full extendure, are not sufficient to ac∣quaint you withall. Let it suffice then, that I haue said so much, as (both by the reports, and mine owne vnderstanding) may giue you faithfull assurance, to make your Royall vaunt; of hauing the fayrest, most vertuous, and honest Lady to your Daughter, of any King or Prince whatsoeuer.

The Soldane was ioyfull beyond all measure, welcomming both him and the rest in most stately manner, oftentimes entreating the Gods very heartily, that he might liue to requite them with equall recompence, who had so graciously honoured his daughter: but (aboue all the rest) the King of Cyprus, who sent her home so maiestically. And hauing bestowne great gifts on Antigonus, within a few dayes after, hee gaue him leaue to returne to Cyprus: with thankfull fauours to the King as well by Letters, as also by Ambassadours expresly sent, both from himselfe and his daughter.

When as this businesse was fully finished, the Soldane, desiring to ac∣complish what formerly was intended and begun, namely, that shee might be wife to the King of Cholcos: he gaue him intelligence of all that had happened, writing moreouer to him, that (if he were so pleased) hee would yet send her in Royall manner to him. The King of Cholcos was exceeding ioyfull of these glad tydings, and dispatching a worthy trayne to fetch her, she was conuayed thither very pompously, and she who had beene embraced by so many, was receiued by him as an honest virgine, liuing long time after with him in much ioy and felicity. And therefore, it hath beene said as a common Prouerbe: The mouth well kist comes not short of good fortune, but is still renewed like the Moone.

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.

Bernardo, a Merchant of Geneway, being deceiued by another Merchant, named Ambrosio, lost a great part of his goods. And commanding his in∣nocent Wife to be murthered, shee escaped, and (in the habite of a man) be∣came seruant to the Soldane. The deceiuer being found at last, shee compas∣sed such meanes, that her Husband Bernardo came into Alexandria, and there, after due punishment inflicted on the false deceiuer, shee resumed the garments againe of a woman, and returned home with her Husband to Ge∣neway.

The ninth Nouell.

Wherein is declared, that by ouer-liberall commending the chastity of Women, it falleth out (oftentimes) to be very dangerous, especially by the meanes of treacherers, who yet (in the ende) are iustly punished for their treachery.

MAdam Eliza hauing ended her compassionate discourse, which in∣deede had moued all the rest to sighing; the Queene, who was faire, comely of stature, and carrying a very maiesticall countenance, smiling more familiarly then the other, spake to them thus. It is very necessary, that the promise made to Dioneus, should carefully be kept, and because now there remaineth none, to report any more Nouels, but onely he and my selfe: I must first deliuer mine, and he (who takes it for an honour) to be the last in relating his name, last let him be for his owne deliuerance. Then pausing a little while, thus shee began againe. Many times among vulgar people, it hath passed as a common Prouerbe: That the deceiuer is often trampled on, by such as he hath deceiued. And this cannot shew it selfe (by any reason) to be true, except such accidents as awaite on trea∣chery, doe really make a iust discouery thereof. And therefore according to the course of this day obserued, I am the woman, that must make good what I haue saide for the approbation of that Prouerbe: no way (I hope) distastfull to you in the hearing, but aduantageable to preserue you from any such beguiling.

There was a faire and good Inne in Paris, much frequented by many

[illustration]

great Italian Merchants, according to such variety of occasions and busi∣nesse, as vrged their often resorting thither. One night among many o∣ther, hauing had a merry Supper together, they began to discourse on di∣uers matters, and falling from one relation to another; they communed in very friendly manner, concerning their wiues, lefte at home in their houses. Quoth the first, I cannot well imagine what my wife is now do∣ing, but I am able to say for my selfe, that if a pretty female should fall in∣to my company: I could easily forget my loue to my wife, and make vse of such an aduantage offered.

A second replyed; And trust me, I should do no lesse, because I am perswaded, that if my wife be willing to wander, the law is in her owne hand, and I am farre enough from home: dumbe walles blab no tales, & offences vnknowne are sildome or neuer called in question. A thirde man vnapt in censure, with his former fellowes of the Iury; and it plain∣ly appeared, that al the rest were of the same opinion, condemning their wiues ouer-rashly, and alledging, that when husbands strayed so far from home, their wiues had wit enough to make vse of their time.

Onely one man among them all, named Bernardo Lomellino, & dwel∣ling in Geneway, maintained the contrary; boldly auouching, that by the especiall fauour of Fortune, he had a wife so perfectly compleat in al gra∣ces and vertues, as any Lady in the world possibly could be, and that Ita∣ly scarsely contained her equall. For, she was goodly of person, and yet very young, quicke, quaint, milde, and courteous, and not any thing ap∣pertaining to the office of a wife, either for domesticke affayres, or any other imployment whatsoeuer, but in woman-hoode shee went beyond all other. No Lord, Knight, Esquire, or Gentleman, could bee better

serued at his table, then himselfe dayly was, with more wisedome, mo∣desty and discretion. After all this, hee praised her for riding, hawking, hunting, fishing, fowling, reading, writing, enditing, and most absolute keeping his Bookes of accounts, that neither himselfe, or any other Mer∣chant could therein excell her. After infinite other commendations, he came to the former point of their argument, concerning the easie falling of women into wantonnesse, maintaining (with a solemne oath) that no woman possibly could be more chaste and honest then she: in which re∣spect, he was verily perswaded, that if he stayed from her ten yeares space, yea (all his life time) out of his house; yet neuer would shee falsifie her faith to him, or be lewdly allured by any other man.

Among these Merchants thus communing together, there was a young proper man, named Ambroginolo of Placentia, who began to laugh at the last praises, which Bernardo had vsed of his wife, and seeming to make a mockerie thereat, demaunded, if the Emperour had giuen him this priuiledge, aboue all other married men? Bernardo being somewhat offended, answered: No Emperour bath done it, but the especiall bles∣sing of heauen, exceeding all the Emperours on the earth in grace, and thereby haue receiued this fauour; whereto Ambroginolo presently thus replied. Bernardo, without all question to the contrary, I beleeue that what thou hast said, is true, but, for ought I can perceiue, thou hast slen∣der iudgement in the nature of things: because, if thou didst obserue them well, thou couldst not be of so grosse vnderstanding; for, by com∣prehending matters in their true kinde and nature, thou wouldst speake of them more correctly then thou doest. And to the end, thou mayest not imagine, that wee who haue spoken of our wiues, doe thinke any otherwise of them, then as well and honestly as thou canst of thine, nor that any thing else did vrge these speeches of them, or falling into this kinde of discourse, but onely by a naturall instinct and admonition; I will proceede familiarly a little further with thee, vpon the matter already propounded.

I haue euermore vnderstood, that man was the most noble creature, formed by God to liue in this world, and woman in the next degree to him: but man, as generally is beleeued, and as is discerned by apparant effects, is the most perfect of both. Hauing then the most perfection in him, without all doubt, he must be so much the more firme and constant. So in like manner, it hath beene, and is vniuersally graunted, that wo∣man is more various and mutable, and the reason thereof may be appro∣ued, by many naturall circumstances, which were needlesse now to make any mention of. If a man then be possessed of the greater stability, and yet cannot containe himselfe from condiscending, I say not to one that entreates him, but to desire any other that may please him, and beside, to couet the enioying of his owne pleasing contentment (a thing not chancing to him once in a moneth, but infinite times in a dayes space.) What can you then conceiue of a fraile woman, subiect (by nature) to entreaties, flatteries, gifts, perswasions, and a thousand other enticing

meanes, which a man (that is affected to her) can vse? Doest thou think then that shee hath any power to containe? Assuredly, though thou shouldst rest so resolued, yet cannot I be of the same opinion. For I am sure thou beleeuest, and must needes confesse it, that thy wife is a wo∣man, made•• of flesh and blood, as other women are: if it be so, shee cannot be without the same desires, and the weakenesse or strength as other women haue, to resist such naturall appetites as her owne are. In regard whereof, it is meerely impossible (although shee be most honest) but she must needs do that which other women do; for there is nothing else possible, either to be denied or affirmed to the contrary, as thou most vnaduisedly hast done.

Bernardo answered in this manner. I am a Merchant▪ and no Philo∣sopher, and like a Merchant I meane to answere thee. I am not to learne, that these accidents by thee related, may happen to fooles, who are void of vnderstanding or shame: but such as are wise, and endued with ver∣tue, haue alwayes such a precious esteeme of their honour, that they will containe those principles of constancie, which men are meerely carelesse of, and I iustifie my wife to be one of them. Beleeue me Bernardo (repli∣ed Ambroginolo) if so often as thy wiues minde is addicted to wanton fol∣ly, a badge of scorne should arise on thy forehead, to render testimonie of her female frailty; I beleeue the number of them would be more, then willingly you would wish them to be. And among all married men, in euery degree, the notes are so secret of their wiues imperfections, that the sharpest sight is not able to discerne them; and the wiser sort of men are willing not to know them; because shame and losse of honour is ne∣uer imposed, but in cases euident and apparant.

Perswade thy selfe then Bernardo, that, what women may accomplish in secret, they will rarely faile to doe: or if they abstaine, it is through feare and folly. Wherefore, hold it for a certaine rule, that that woman is onely chaste, that neuer was solicited personally, or if she endured any such sute, either shee answered yea, or no. And albeit I know this to be true, by many infallible and naturall reasons, yet could I not speake so ex∣actly as I doe; if I had not tried experimentally, the humours and affecti∣ons of diuers women. Yea, and let me tell thee more Bernardo, were I in priuate company with thy wife, howsoeuer pure and precise thou pre∣sumest her to be: I should account it a matter of no impossibility, to finde in her the selfe same frailty.

Bernardoes blood began now to boile, and patience being a little put downe by choller, thus hee replied. A combat of words requires ouer∣long continuance, for I maintaine the matter, which thou deniest, and all this sorts to nothing in the end. But seeing thou presumest, that all women are so apt and tractable, and thy selfe so confident of thine owne power: I willingly yeeld (for the better assurance of my wifes constant loyalty) to haue my head smitten off, if thou canst winne her to any such dishonest act, by any meanes whatsoeuer thou canst vse vnto her; which if thou canst not doe, thou shalt onely loose a thousand duckets of gold.

Now began Ambroginolo to be heated with these words, answering thus. Bernardo, if I had won the wager, I know not what I should doe with thy head; but if thou be willing to stand vpon the proofe, pawne downe fiue thousand Duckets of gold, (a matter of much lesse value then thy head) against a thousand Duckets of mine, granting me a lawfull limitted time, which I require to be no more then the space of three moneths, after the day of my departiug hence. I will stand bound to goe for Geneway, and there winne such kinde consent of thy Wife, as shall be to mine owne consent. In witnesse whereof, I will bring backe with me such priuate and especiall tokens, as thou thy selfe shalt confesse that I haue not failed. Prouided, that thou doe first promise vpon thy faith, to absent thy selfe thence during my limitted time, and be no hinderance to me by thy Let∣ters, concerning the attempt by me vndertaken.

Bernardo saide, be it a bargaine, I am the man that will make good my fiue thousand Duckets; and albeit the other Merchants then present, earnestly laboured to breake the wager, knowing great harme must needs ensue thereon: yet both the parties were so hot and fiery, as all the other men spake to no effect, but writings were made, sealed, and deliuered vn∣der either of their hands, Bernardo remaining at Paris, and Ambroginolo departing for Geneway. There he remained some few dayes, to learne the streetes name where Bernardo dwelt, as also the conditions and qualities of his Wife, which scarcely pleased him when he heard them; because they were farre beyond her Husbands relation, and shee reputed to be the onely wonder of women; whereby he plainely perceiued, that he had vndertaken a very idle enterprise, yet would he not giue it ouer so, but proceeded therein a little further.

He wrought such meanes, that he came acquainted with a poore wo∣man, who often frequented Bernardoes house, and was greatly in fauour with his wife; vpon whose pouerty he so preuailed, by earnest perswasi∣ons, but much more by large gifts of money, that he won her to further him in this manner following. A faire and artificiall Chest he caused to be purposely made, wherein himselfe might be aptly contained, and so conueyed into the House of Bernardoes Wife, vnder colour of a formall excuse; that the poore woman should be absent from the City two or three dayes, and shee must keepe it safe till he returne. The Gentlewo∣man suspecting no guile, but that the Chest was the receptacle of all the womans wealth; would trust it in no other roome, then her owne Bed∣chamber, which was the place where Ambroginolo most desired to bee.

Being thus conueyed into the Chamber, the night going on apace, and the Gentlewoman fast asleepe in her bed, a lighted Taper stood bur∣ning on the Table by her, as in her Husbands absence shee euer vsed to haue: Ambroginolo softly opened the Chest, according as cunningly hee had contriued it; and stepping forth in his sockes made of cloath, obser∣ued the scituation of the Chamber, the paintings, pictures, and beautifull hangings, with all things else that were remarkable, which perfectly he

committed to his memory. Going neere to the bed, he saw her lie there sweetly sleeping, and her young Daughter in like manner by her, shee see∣ming then as compleate and pleasing a creature, as when shee was atti∣red in her best brauery. No especiall note or marke could hee descrie, whereof he might make credible report, but onely a small wart vpon her left pappe, with some few haires growing thereon, appearing to be as yel∣low as gold.

Sufficient had he seene, and durst presume no further; but taking one of her Rings, which lay vpon the Table, a purse of hers, hanging by on the wall, a light wearing Robe of silke, and her girdle, all which he put into the Chest; and being in himselfe, closed it fast as it was before, so con∣tinuing there in the Chamber two seuerall nights, the Gentlewoman neither mistrusting or missing any thing. The third day being come, the poore woman, according as formerly was concluded, came to haue home her Chest againe, and brought it safely into her owne house; where Ambroginolo comming forth of it, satisfied the poore woman to her own liking, returning (with all the forenamed things) so fast as conueniently he could to Paris.

Being arriued there long before his limitted time, he called the Mer∣chants together, who were present at the passed words and wager; auou∣ching before Bernardo, that he had won his fiue thousand Duckets, and performed the taske he vndertooke. To make good his protestation, first he described the forme of the Chamber, the curious pictures hanging a∣bout it, in what manner the bed stood, and euery circumstance else be∣side. Next he shewed the seuerall things, which he brought away thence with him, affirming that he had receiued them of her selfe. Bernardo con∣fessed, that his description of the Chamber was true, and acknowledged moreouer, that these other things did belong to his Wife: But (quoth he) this may be gotten, by corrupting some seruant of mine, both for intelligence of the Chamber, as also of the Ring, Purse, and what else is beside; all which suffice not to win the wager, without some other more apparant and pregnant token. In troth, answered Ambroginolo, me thinks these should serue for sufficient proofes; but seeing thou art so desirous to know more: I plainely tell thee, that faire Geneura thy Wife, hath a small round wart vpon her left pappe, and some few little golden haires grow∣ing thereon.

When Bernardo heard these words, they were as so many stabs to his heart, yea, beyond all compasse of patient sufferance, and by the changing of his colour, it was noted manifestly, (being vnable to vtter one word) that Ambroginolo had spoken nothing but the truth. Within a while af∣ter, he saide; Gentlemen, that which Ambroginolo hath saide, is very true, wherefore let him come when he will, and he shall be paide; which accor∣dingly he performed on the very next day, euen to the vtmost penny, de∣parting then from Paris towards Geneway, with a most malicious inten∣tion to his Wife: Being come neere to the City, he would not enter it, but rode to a Countrey house of his, standing about tenne miles distant

thence. Being there arriued, he called a seruant, in whom hee reposed especiall trust, sending him to Geneway with two Horses, writing to his Wife, that he was returned, and shee should come thither to see him. But secretly he charged his seruant, that so soone as he had brought her to a conuenient place, he should there kill her, without any pitty or compas∣sion, and then returne to him againe.

When the seruant was come to Geneway, and had deliuered his Let∣ter and message, Geneura gaue him most ioyfull welcome, and on the morrow morning mounting on Horse-backe with the seruant, rode mer∣rily towards the Countrey house; diuers things shee discoursed on by the way, til they descended into a deepe solitary valey, very thickly beset with high and huge spreading Trees, which the seruant supposed to be a meete place, for the execution of his Masters command. Suddenly drawing forth his Sword, and holding Geneura fast by the arme, he saide; Mistresse, quickly commend your soule to God, for you must die, before you passe any further. Geneura seeing the naked Sword, and hearing the words so peremptorily deliuered, fearefully answered; Alas deare friend, mercy for Gods sake; and before thou kill me, tell me wherein I haue offended thee, and why thou must kill me? Alas good Mistresse replied the serua••t, you haue not any way offended me, but in what occasion you haue dis∣pleased your Husband, it is vtterly vnknowne to me: for he hath strictly commanded me, without respect of pitty or compassion, to kill you by the way as I bring you, and if I doe it not, he hath sworne to hang me by the necke. You know good Mistresse, how much I stand obliged to him, and how impossible it is for me, to contradict any thing that he comman∣deth. God is my witnesse, that I am truly compassionate of you, and yet (by no meanes) may I let you liue.

Geneura kneeling before him weeping, wringing her hands, thus re∣plied. Wilt thou turne Monster, and be a murtherer of her that neuer wronged thee, to please another man, and on a bare command? God, who truly knoweth all things, is my faithfull witnesse, that I neuer committed any offence, whereby to deserue the dislike of my Husband, much lesse so harsh a recompence as this is. But flying from mine owne iustificati∣on, and appealing to thy manly mercy, thou mayest (wert thou but so well pleased) in a moment satisfie both thy Master and me, in such man∣ner as I will make plaine and apparant to thee. Take thou my garments, spare me onely thy doublet, and such a Bonnet as is fitting for a man, so returne with my habite to thy Master, assuring him, that the deede is done. And here I sweare to thee, by that life which I enioy but by thy mercy, I will so strangely disguise my selfe, and wander so farre off from these Countries, as neither he or thou, nor any person belonging to these parts, shall euer heare any tydings of me.

The seruant, who had no great good will to kill her, very easily grew pittifull, tooke off her vpper garments, and gaue her a poore ragged dou∣blet, a sillie Chapperone, and such small store of money as he had, desi∣ring her to forsake that Countrey, and so left her to walke on foote out

of the vally. When he came to his Maister, and had deliuered him her garments, he assured him, that he had not onely accomplished his com∣maund, but also was most secure from any discouery: because he had no sooner done the deede, but foure or fiue very rauenous Wolfes, came presently running to the dead body, and gaue it buriall in their bellies. Bernardo soone after returning to Geneway, was much blamed for such vnkinde cruelty to his wife; but his constant auouching of her treason to him (according then to the Countries custome) did cleare him from all pursuite of law.

Poore Geneura, was left thus alone and disconsolate, and night stealing fast vpon her, shee went to a silly village neere adioyning▪ where (by the meanes of a good olde woman) she got such prouision as the place affor∣ded, making the doublet fit to her body, and conuerting her petticote to a paire of breeches, according to the Mariners fashion: then cutting her haire, and queintly disguised like to a Sayler, shee went to the Sea coast. By good fortune, she met there with a Gentleman of Cathalogna, whose name was Signior Enchararcho, who came on land from his Ship, which lay hulling there about Albagia, to refresh himselfe at a pleasant Spring. Enchararcho taking her to be a man, as shee appeared no other∣wise by her habite; vpon some conference passing betweene them, shee was entertained into his seruice, and being brought aboord the Ship, she went vnder the name of Sicurano da Finale. There shee had better apparell bestowne on her by the Gentleman, and her seruice proued so pleasing and acceptable to him, that hee liked her care and diligence be∣yond all comparison.

It came to passe within a short while after, that this Gentleman of Cathalogna sayled (with some charge of his) into Alexandria, carying thi∣ther c••rtaine peregrine Faulcons, which hee presented to the Soldane: who oftentimes welcommed this Gentleman to his table, where hee ob∣serued the behauiour of Sicurano, attending on his Maisters tre••cher, and therewith was so highly pleased; that he requested to haue him from the Gentleman, who (for his more aduancement) willingly parted with his so lately entertained seruant▪ Sicurano was so ready and discreete in his dayly seruices; that he grew in as great grace with the Soldane, as be∣fore he had done with Enchararcho.

At a certaine season in the yeare, as customarie order (there obserued) had formerly beene, in the Citie of Acres, which was vnder the Soldanes subiection: there yearely met a great assembly of Merchants, as Christi∣ans, Moores, Iewes, Sarrazines, and many other Nations beside, as at a common Mart or Fayre. And to the end, that the Merchants (for the better sale of their goods) might be there in the safer assurance; the Sol∣dane vsed to send thither some of his ordinarie Officers, and a strong guard of Souldiers beside, to defend them from all iniuries and molesta∣tion, because he reaped thereby no meane benefit. And who should be now sent about this businesse, but his new elected fauourite Sicurano; be∣cause she was skilfull and perfect in the languages.

Sicurano being come to Acres, as Lord and Captaine of the Guard for the Merchants, and for the safety of their Merchandizes▪ she dischar∣ged her office most commendably, walking with her traine through eue∣ry part of the Fayre, where shee obserued a worthy company of Mer∣chants, Sicilians, Pisanes, Genewayes, Venetians, and other Italians, whom the more willingly shee noted, in remembrance of her natiue Countrey. At one especiall time, among other, chancing into a Shop or Boothe belonging to the Venetians; she espied (hanging vp with other costly wares) a Purse and a Girdle, which suddainly shee remembred to be sometime her owne, whereat she was not a little abashed in her mind. But, without making any such outward shew, courteously she requested to know, whose they were, and whether they should be sold, or no.

Ambroginolo of Placentia, was likewise come thither, and great store of Merchandizes hee had brought with him, in a Carrack appertaining to the Venetians, and hee, hearing the Captaine of the Guard demaund, whose they were; stepped foorth before him, and smiling, answered: That they w••re his, but not to be solde, yet if hee liked them gladly, hee would bestowe them on him. Sicurano seeing him smile, suspected, least himselfe had (by some vnfitting behauiour) beene the occasion thereof: and therefore, with a more setled countenance, hee said. Perhaps thou smilest, because I that am a man, professing Armes, should question af∣ter such womanish toyes. Ambroginolo replied. My Lord, pardon me, Ismile not at you, or your demaund; but at the manner how I came by these things.

Sicurano, vpon this answere, was ten times more desirous then before, and said. If Fortune fauoured thee in friendly manner, by the obtaining of these things: if it may be spoken, tell me how thou hadst them. My Lord (answered Ambroginolo) these things (with many more beside) were giuen me by a Gentlewoman of Geneway, named Madame Geneura, the wife to one Bernardo Lomellino, in recompence of one nights lodging with her, and she desired me to keepe them for her sake. Now, the maine reason of my smiling, was the remembrance of her husbands folly, in wa∣ging fiue thousand Duckets of golde, against one thousand of mine, that I should not obtaine my will of his wife, which I did, and thereby wone the wager. But hee, who better deserued to be punished for his folly, then shee, who was but sicke of all womens disease: returning from Pa∣ris to Geneway, caused her to be slaine, as afterward it was reported by himselfe.

When Sicurano heard this horrible lye, immediatly shee conceiued, that this was the occasion of her husbands hatred to her, and all the hard haps which she had since suffered: whereupon, shee reputed it for more then a mortall sinne, if such a villaine should passe without due punish∣ment. Sicurano seemed to like well this report, and grew into such fami∣liarity with Ambroginolo, that (by her perswasions) when the Fayre was ended, she tooke him higher with her into Alexandria, and all his Wares along with him, furnishing him with a fit and conuenient Shop, where he

made great benefit of his Merchandizes, trusting all his monies in the Captaines custody, because it was the safest course for him, and so he con∣tinued there with no meane contentment.

Much did shee pitty her Husbands perplexity, deuising by what good and warrantable meanes, she might make knowne her innocency to him; wherein her place and authority did greatly sted her, and shee wrought with diuers gallant Merchants of Geneway, that then remained in Alexan∣dria, and by vertue of the Soldans friendly Letters, beside to bring him thi∣ther vpon an especiall occasion. Come he did, albeit in poore and meane order, which soone was better altered by her appointment, and he very honourably (though in priuate) entertained by diuers of her worthy friends, till time did fauour what shee further intended.

In the expectation of Bernardoes arriuall, shee had so preuailed with Ambroginolo, that the same tale which he formerly tolde to her, he deliue∣red againe in presence of the Soldane, who seemed to be well pleased with it: But after shee had once seene her Husband, shee thought vpon her more serious businesse; prouiding her selfe of an apt opportunity, when shee entreated such fauour of the Soldane, that both the men might be brought before him, where if Ambroginolo would not confesse (without constraint) that which he had made his vaunt of concerning Bernardoes Wife, he might be compelled thereto perforce.

Sicuranoes word was a Law with the Soldane, so that Ambroginolo and Bernardo being brought face to face, the Soldane, with a sterne and angry countenance, in the presence of a most Princely Assembly; commanded Ambroginolo to declare the truth, yea, vpon peril of his life, by what means he won the wager, of the fiue thousand golden Duckets he receiued of Bernardo. Ambroginolo seeing Sicurano there present, vpon whose fauour he wholly relied, yet perceiuing her lookes likewise to be as dreadfull as the Soldanes, and hearing her threaten him with most greeuous torments, except he reuealed the truth indeede: you may easily guesse (faire com∣pany) in what condition he stood at that instant.

Frownes and fury he beheld on either side, and Bernardo standing be∣fore him, with a world of famous witnesses, to heare his lie confounded by his owne confession, and his tongue to denie what it had before so constantly auouched. Yet dreaming on no other paine or penalty, but re∣storing backe the fiue thousand Duckets of gold, and the other things by him purloyned, truly he reuealed the whole forme of his falshood. Then Sicurano according as the Soldane had formerly commanded him, tur∣ning to Bernardo, saide. And thou, vpon the suggestion of this foule lie, what didst thou to thy Wife? Being (quoth Bernardo) ouercome with rage, for the losse of my money, and the dishonour I supposed to receiue by my Wife; I caused a seruant of mine to kill her, and as he credibly a∣uouched, her body was deuoured by rauenous Wolues in a moment after.

These things being thus spoken and heard, in the presence of the Sol∣dane, and no reason (as yet) made knowne, why the case was so seriously

vrged, and to what end it would succeede: Sicurano spake in this manner to the Soldane. My gracious Lord, you may plainely perceiue, in what degree that poore Gentlewoman might make her vaunt, being so well prouided, both of a louing friend, and a husband. Such was the friends loue, that in an instant, and by a wicked lye, hee robbed her both of her renowne and honour, and bereft her also of her husband. And her hus∣band, rather crediting anothers falshood, then the inuincible trueth, whereof he had faithfull knowledge, by long and very honourable expe∣rience; caused her to be slaine, and made foode for deuouring Wolues. Beside all this, such was the good will and affection, borne to that wo∣man both by friend and husband, that the longest continuer of them in her company, makes them alike in knowledge of her. But because your great wisedome knoweth perfectly, what each of them haue worthily de∣serued: if you please (in your euer knowne gracious benignity) to per∣mit the punishment of the deceiuer, and pardon the party so deceiued; I will procure such meanes, that she shall appeare here in your presence, and theirs.

The Soldane, being desirous to giue Sicurano all manner of satisfacti∣on, hauing followed the course so industriously: bad him to produce the woman, and hee was well contented. Whereat Bernardo stoode much amazed, because he verily beleeued that she was dead. And Ambroginolo foreseeing already a preparation for punishment, feared, that the repay∣ment of the money would not now serue his turne: not knowing also what he should further hope or suspect, if the woman her selfe did per∣sonally appeare, which hee imagined would be a miracle. Sicurano ha∣uing thus obtayned the Soldanes permission, in teares, humbling her selfe at his feete, in a moment shee lost her manly voyce and demeanour, as knowing, that she was now no longer to vse them, but must truely wit∣nesse what she was indeede, and therefore thus spake.

Great Soldane, I am the miserable and vnfortunate Geneura, that, for the space of sixe whole yeares, haue wandered through the world, in the habite of a man, falsly and most maliciously slaundered, by this villai∣nous traytour Ambroginolo, and by this vnkinde cruell husband, betrayed to his seruant to be slaine, and left to be deuoured by sauage beasts. Af∣terward, desiring such garments as better fitted for her, and shewing her brests; she made it apparant, before the Soldane and his assistants, that she was the very same woman indeede. Then turning her selfe to Am∣broginolo, with more then manly courage, she demaunded of him, when, and where it was, that he lay with her, as (villainously) he was not asha∣med to make his vaunt. But hee, hauing alreadie acknowledged the contrarie, being stricken dumbe with shamefull disgrace, was not able to vtter one word.

The Soldane, who had alwayes reputed Sicurano to be a man, hauing heard and seene so admirable an accident: was so amazed in his minde, that many times he was very doubtfull, whether this was a dreame, or an absolute relation of trueth. But, after hee had more seriously considered

thereon, and found it to be reall and infallible: with extraordinary gra∣cious praises, he commended the life, constancie, conditions and vertues of Geneura, whom (till that time) he had alwayes called Sicurano. So com∣mitting her to the company of honourable Ladies, to be changed from her manly habite: he pardoned Bernardo her husband (according to her request formerly made) although hee had more iustly deserued death; which likewise himselfe confessed, and falling at the feete of Geneura, de∣sired her (in teares) to forgiue his rash transgression, which most louingly she did, kissing and embracing him a thousand times.

Then the Soldane strictly commaunded, that on some high and emi∣nent place of the Citie, Ambroginolo should be bound and impaled on a Stake, hauing his naked body anointed all ouer with honey, and neuer to be taken off, vntill (of it selfe) it fell in pieces, which, according to the sentence, was presently performed. Next, he gaue expresse charge, that all his mony and goods should be giuen to Geneura, which valued aboue ten thousand double Duckets. Forth-with with a solemne feast was pre∣pared, wherein, much honour was done to Bernardo, being the husband of Geneura: and to her, as to a most worthy woman, and matchlesse wife, he gaue in costly Iewels, as also vessels of gold and siluer plate, so much as amounted to aboue ten thousand double Duckets more.

When the feasting was finished, he caused a Ship to be furnished for them, graunting them licence to depart for Geneway when they pleased: whither they returned most rich and ioyfully, being welcommed home with great honour, especially Madame Geneura, whom euery one suppo∣sed to be dead, and alwayes after, so long as shee liued, shee was most fa∣mous for her manifold vertues. But as for Ambroginolo, the very same day that he was impaled on the Stake, annointed with honey, and fixed in the place appointed, to his no meane torment: he not onely died, but likewise was deuoured to the bare bones, by Flyes, Waspes and Hornets, whereof the Countrey notoriously aboundeth. And his bones, in full forme and fashion, remained strangely blacke for a long while after, knit together by the sinewes; as a witnesse to many thousands of people, which afterward beheld his carkasse of his wickednesse against so good and vertuous a woman, that had not so much as a thought of any euill towards him. And thus was the Prouerbe truly verified, that shame suc∣ceedeth after vgly sinne, and the deceiuer is trampled and trod, by such as himselfe hath deceiued.

Pagammo da Monaco, a rouing Pirate on the Seas, caried away the faire Wife of Signior Ricciardo di Chinzica, who vnderstanding where shee was▪ went thither; and falling into friendship with Pagamino, demaunded his Wife of him; whereto he yeelded, prouided, that shee would willingly goe away with him. She denied to part thence with her Husband, and Signior Ricciardo dying; she became the Wife of Pagamino.

The tenth Nouell.

Wherein olde men are wittily reprehended, that will match themselues with younger women, then is fit for their yeares and insufficiencie; neuer con∣sidering, what afterward may happen to them.

[illustration]

EVery one in this honest and gracious assembly, most highly commen∣ded the Nouell recounted by the Queene: but especially Dioneus, who remained, to finish that dayes pleasure with his owne discourse; and after many praises of the former tale were past, thus he began. Faire La∣dies, part of the Queenes Nouell, hath made an alteration of my minde, from that which I intended to proceede next withall, and therefore I will report another. I cannot forget the vnmanly indiscretion of Bernardo, but much more the base arrogancie of Ambroginolo, how iustly deserued shame fell vpon him; as well it may happen to all other, that are so vile in their owne opinions, as he apparantly approued himselfe to be. For, as men wander abroade in the world, according to their occasions in di∣uersity of Countries, and obseruation of the peoples behauiour: so are their humours as variously transported. And if they finde women wan∣tonly disposed abroade, the like iudgement they giue of their wiues at home; as if they had neuer knowne their birth and breeding, or made

proofe of their loyall carriage towards them. Wherefore, the Tale that I purpose to relate, will likewise condemne all the like kinde of men; but more especially such, as suppose themselues to be endued with more strength, then Nature euer meant to bestow vpon them, foolishly belee∣uing, that they can couer and satisfie their owne defects, by fabulous de∣monstrations; and thinking to fashion other of their owne complexions, that are meerely strangers to such grosse follies.

Let me tell you then, that there liued in Pisa (about some hundred yeeres before Tuscanie & Liguria came to embrace the Christian Faith) a Iudge better stored with wisdome and ingenuity, then corporall abilities of the body, ••e being named Signior Ricciardo di Cinzica. He being more then halfe perswaded, that he could content a woman with such satisfaction as he daily bestowed on his studies, being a widdower, and extraordinarily wealthy; laboured (with no meane paines and endeauour) to enioy a faire and youthfull wife in marriage: both which qualities he should much ra∣ther haue auoyded, if he could haue ministred as good counsell to him, as he did to others, resorting to him for aduice.

Vpon this his amorous and diligent inquisition, it came so to passe, that a worthy Gentleman, called Bertolomea, one of the very fairest and choysest young Maides in Pisa, whose youth did hardly agree with his age; but mucke was the motiue of this mariage, and no expectation of mutuall contentment. The Iudge being maried, and the Bride brought solemnly home to his house, we need make no question of braue cheare & banqueting, wel furnished by their friends on either side: other matters were now hammering in the Iudges head, for though he could please all his Clyents with counsell; yet now such a sute was commenced against himself, and in Beauties Court of continual requests, that the Iudge failing in plea for his owne defence, was often non-suited by lacke of answer; yet he wanted neither good wines, drugges, and all restauratiues, to comfort the heart, and encrease good blood; but all auayled not in this case.

But well fare a good courage, where performance faileth, he could libe∣rally commend his passed iouiall dayes, and make a promise of as faire fe∣licities yet to come; because his youth would renew it selfe, like to the Eagle, and his vigour in as full force as before. But beside all these idle al∣legations, he would needs instruct his wife in an Almanack or Calender, which (long before) he had bought at Rauenna, and wherein he plainely shewed her, that there was not any one day in the yeere, but it was dedi∣cated to some Saint or other. In reuerence of whom, and for their sakes, he approued by diuers arguments & reasons, that a man & his wife ought to abstaine from bedding together. Hereto he added, that those Saints dayes had their fasts & feasts, beside the foure seasons of the yeere, the vi∣gils of the Apostles, and a thousand other holy dayes, with Fridayes, Sa∣turdayes, & Sundayes, in honor of our Lords rest, and all the sacred time of Lent; as also certaine obseruations of the Moone, & infinite other ex∣ceptions beside; thinking perhaps, that it was as conuenient for men to refraine from their wiues conuersation, as he did often times from sitting in the Court. These were his daily documents to his young wife, where∣with

with (poore soule) she became so tired, as nothing could be more irksome to her; and very careful she was, lest any other shold teach her what belō∣ged to working daies, because he wold haue herknow none but holidaies.

Afterwa••d it came to passe, that the season waxing extremely hot, Sig∣nior Ricciardo would goe recreate himselfe at his house in the Countrey, neere vnto the black Mountaine, where for his faire wiues more content∣ment, he continued diuers dayes together. And for her further recreati∣on, he gaue order, to haue a day of fishing, he going aboard a small Pin∣nace among the Fishers, and shee was in another, consorted with diuers other Gentlewomen, in whose company shee shewed her selfe very well pleased. Delight made them launch further into the Sea, then either the Iudge was willing they should haue done, or agreed with respect of their owne safety. For suddenly a Galliot came vpon them, wherein was one Pagamino, a Pyrate very famous in those dayes, who espying the two Pin∣naces, made out presently to them, and seized on that wherein the wo∣men were. When he beheld there so faire a young woman, he coueted after no other purchase; but mounting her into his Galliot, in the sight of Signior Ricciardo, who (by this time) was fearefully landed, he caried her a∣way with him. When Signior Iudge had seene this theft (he being so iea∣lous of his wife, as scarcely he would let the ayre breathe on her) it were a needlesse demand, to know whether he was offended, or no. He made complaint at Pisa, and in many other places beside, what iniury he had sustained by those Pryrates, in carying his wife thus away from him: but all was in vaine, he neither (as yet) knew the man, nor whether he had conuey∣ed her from him. Pagamino perceiuing what a beautifull woman she was, made the more precious esteeme of his purchase, and being himselfe a ba∣chelar, intended to keepe her as his owne; comforting her with kind and pleasing speeches, not vsing any harsh or vnciuill demeanor to her, be∣cause shee wept and lamented grieuously. But when night came, her hus∣bands Calendar falling from her girdle, and all the fasts & feasts quite out of her remembrance; she receiued such curteous consolations from Paga∣mino, that before they could arriue at Monaco, the Iudge & his Law cases, were almost out of her memory, such was his affable behauiour to her, and she began to conuerse with him in more friendly manner, and he entrea∣ting her as honourably, as if shee had beene his espoused wife.

Within a short while after, report had acquainted Ricciardo the Iudge, where, & how his wife was kept from him; whereupon he determined, not to send any one, but rather to go himselfe in person, & to redeem her from the Pyrate, with what sums of mony he should demand. By Sea he passed to Monaco, where he saw his wife, and shee him, as (soone after) shee made known to Pagamino. On the morrow following, Signior Ricciardo meeting with Pagamino, made means to be acquainted with him, & within lesse thē an houres space, they grew into familiar & priuate conference: Pagamino yet pretending not to know him, but expected what issue this talke would sort to. When time serued, the Iudge discoursed the occasion of his com∣ming thither, desiring him to demand what ransome he pleased, & that he might haue his wife home with him; whereto Pagamino thus answered.

My Lord Iudge, you are welcome hither, and to answer you breefely very true it is, that I haue a yong Gentlewoman in my house, whome I neither know to be your wife, or any other mans else whatsoeuer: for I am ignorant both of you and her, albeit she hath remained a while here with me. If you bee her husband, as you seeme to auouch, I will bring her to you, for you appeare to be a worthy Gentleman, and (questionles) she cannot chuse but know you perfectly. If she do confirme that which you haue said, and be willing to depart hence with you: I shall rest well satisfied, and will haue no other recompence for her ransome (in regard of your graue and reuerent yeares) but what your selfe shall please to giue me. But if it fall out otherwise, and proue not to be as you haue affirmed: you shall offer me great wrong, in seeking to get her from me; because I am a young man, and can as well maintaine so faire a wife, as you, or any man else that I know. Beleeue it certainly, replied the Iudge, that she is my wife, and if you please to bring me where she is, you shall soone per∣ceiue it: for, she will presently cast her armes about my neck, and I durst aduenture the vtter losse of her, if shee denie to doe it in your presence. Come on then, said Pagamino, and let vs delay the time no longer.

When they were entred into Pagaminoes house, and sate downe in the Hall, he caused her to be called, and shee, being readily prepared for the purpose, came forth of her Chamber before them both, where friendly they sate conuersing together; neuer vttering any one word to Signior Ricciardo, or knowing him from any other stranger, that Pagamino might bring in to the house with him. Which when my Lord the Iudge be∣held, (who expected to finde a farre more gracious welcome) he stoode as a man amazed, saying to himselfe. Perhaps the extraordinary griefe and mellancholly, suffered by me since the time of her losse; hath so altred my wonted complexion, that shee is not able to take knowledge of me. Wherefore, going neerer to her, hee said. Faire Loue, dearely haue I bought your going on fishing, because neuer man felt the like afflictions, as I haue done since the day when I lost you: but by this your vnciuill si∣lence, you seeme as if you did not know me. Why dearest Loue, seest thou not that I am thy husband Ricciardo, who am come to pay what ransome this Gentleman shall demaund, euen in the house where now we are: so to conuay thee home againe, vpon his kinde promise of thy deliuerance, after the payment of thy ransome?

Bertolomea turning towards him, and seeming as if shee smiled to her selfe, thus answered. Sir, speake you to me? Aduise your selfe well, least you mistake me for some other, because, concerning my selfe, I doe not remember, that euer I did see you till now. How now quoth Ricciardo? consider better what you say, looke more circumspectly on me, and then you will remember, that I am your louing husband, and my name is Ricci∣ardo di Cinzica. You must pardon me Sir, replied Bertolomea, I know it not so fitting for a modest woman (though you (perhaps) are so perswa∣ded) to stand gazing in the faces of men: and let mee looke vpon you ne∣uer so often, certaine I am, that (till this instant) I haue not seene you.

My Lord Iudge cōceiued in his mind, that thus she denied all knowledg

of him, as standing in feare of Pagamino, and would not confesse him in his presence. Wherefore hee entreated of Pagamino, to affoord him so much fauour, that he might speake alone with her in her Chamber. Paga∣mino answered, that he was well contented therewith, prouided, that he should not kisse her against her will. Then he requested Bartolomea, to goe with him alone into her Chamber, there to heare what he could say, and to answere him as shee found occasion. When they were come into the Chamber, and none there present but he and shee, Signior Ricciardo be∣gan in this manner. Heart of my heart, life of my life, the sweetest hope that I haue in this world; wilt thou not know thine owne Ricciardo, who loueth thee more then he doth himselfe? Why art thou so strange? Am I so disfigured, that thou knowest me not? Behold me with a more pleasing eye, I pray thee.

Bertolomea smiled to her selfe, and without suffering him to proceed any further in speech, returned him this answere. I would haue you to vnder∣stand Sir, that my memory is not so obliuious, but I know you to be Sig∣nior Ricciardo di Cinzica, and my husband, by name or title; but during the time that I was with you, it very ill appeared that you had any knowledge of me. For if you had been so wise and considerate, as (in your own iudge∣ment) the world reputed you to be, you could not be voide of so much apprehension, but did apparantly perceiue, that I was young, fresh, and cheerefully disposed; and so (by consequent) meet to know matters requi∣site for such young women, beside allowance of food & garments, though bashfulnesse & modesty forbid to vtter it. But if studying the Lawes were more welcome to you then a wife, you ought not to haue maried, & you loose the worthy reputation of a Iudge, when you fall from that venera∣ble profession, and make your selfe a common proclaimer of feasts and fa∣sting dayes, lenten seasons, vigils, & solemnities due to Saints, which pro∣hibite the houshold conuersation of husbands and wiues.

Here am I now with a worthy Gentleman, that entertained mee with very honourable respect, and here I liue in this chamber, not so much as hearing of any feasts or fasting daies; for, neither Fridaies, Saturdaies, vi∣gils of Saints, or any lingering Lents, enter at this doore: but here is ho∣nest and ciuill conuersation, better agreeing with a youthfull disposition, then those harsh documents wherewith you tutord me. Wherefore my purpose is to continue here with him, as being a place sutable to my mind & youth, referring feasts, vigils, & fasting dayes, to a more mature & stay∣ed time of age, when the body is better able to endure them, & the mind may be prepared for such ghostly meditations: depart therefore at your owne pleasure, and make much of your Calender, without enioying any company of mine, for you heare my resolued determination.

The Iudge hearing these words, was ouercome with exceeding griefe, & when she was silent, thus he began. Alas deare Loue, what an answer is this? Hast thou no regard of thine owne honor, thy Parents, & friends? Canst thou rather affect to abide here, for the pleasures of this man, and so sin capitally, then to liue at Pisa in the state of my wife? Consider deare heart, when this man shall waxe weary of thee, to thy shame & his owne

disgrace, he will reiect thee. I must and shall loue thee for euer, and when I dye, I leaue thee Lady and commandresse of all that is mine. Can an inordinate appetite, cause thee to be carelesse of thine honour, and of him that loues thee as his owne life? Alas, my fairest hope, say no more so, but returne home with me, and now that I am acquainted with thy in∣clination; I will endeauour heereafter to giue thee better contentment. Wherefore (deare heart) doe not denie me, but change thy minde, and goe with me, for I neuer saw merry day since I lost thee.

Sir (quoth she) I desire no body to haue care of mine honor, beside my selfe, because it cannot be here abused. And as for my parents, what re∣spect had they of me, when they made me your wife: If then they could be so carelesse of mee, what reason haue I to regard them now? And whereas you taxe me, that I cannot liue here without capitall sin; farre is the thought thereof from me, for, here I am regarded as the wife of Pa∣gamino, but at Pisa, you reputed me not worthy your society: because, by the point of the Moone, and the quadratures of Geomatrie; the Planets held coniunction betweene you and me, whereas here I am subiect to no such constellations. You say beside, that hereafter you will striue to giue me better contentment then you haue done; surely, in mine opinion it is no way possible, because our complexions are so farre different, as Ice is from fire, or gold from drosse. As for your allegation, of this Gentle∣mans reiecting me, when his humour is satisfied; should if it proue to be so (as it is the least part of my feare) what fortune soeuer shall betide me, neuer will I make any meanes to you, what miseries or misaduentures may happen to me; but the world will affoord me one resting place or o∣ther, and more to my contentment, then if I were with you. Therefore I tell you once againe, to liue secured from all offence to holy Saints, and not to iniury their feasts, fasts, vigills, and other ceremonious seasons: here is my demourance, and from hence I purpose not to part.

Our Iudge was now in a wofull perplexity, and confessing his folly, in marying a wife so yong, and far vnfit for his age and abilitie: being halfe desperate, sad and displeased, he came forth of the Chamber, vsing diuers speeches to Pagamino, whereof he made little or no account at all, and in the end, without any other successe, left his wife there, & returned home to Pisa. There, further afflictions fell vpon him, because the people began to scorne him, demanding dayly of him, what was become of his gallant young wife, making homes, with ridiculous pointings at him: whereby his sences became distracted, so that he ran rauing about the streetes, and af∣terward died in very miserable manner. Which newes came no sooner to the eare of Pagamino, but, in the honourable affection hee bare to Ber∣tolomea, he maried her, with great solemnity; banishing all Fasts, Vigils, and Lents from his house, and liuing with her in much felicity. Where∣fore (faire Ladies) I am of opinion, that Bernardo of Geneway, in his dispu∣tation with Ambroginolo, might haue shewne himselfe a great deale wiser, and spared his rash proceeding with his wife.

This tale was so merrily entertained among the whole company, that each one smiling vpon another, with one consent commended Dioneus,

maintaining that he spake nothing but the truth, & condemning Bernardo for his cruelty. Vpon a generall silence commanded, the Queene percei∣uing that the time was now very farre spent, and euery one had deliuered their seuerall Nouels, which likewise gaue a period to her Royalty: shee gaue the Crowne to Madam Neiphila, pleasantly speaking to her in this order. Heereafter, the gouernment of these few people is committed to your trust and care, for with the day concludeth my dominion. Madam Neiphila, blushing at the honor done vnto her, her cheekes appeared of a vermillion tincture, her eyes glittering with gracefull desires, and sparke∣ling like the morning Starre. And after the modest murmure of the Assi∣stants was ceased, and her courage in chearfull manner setled, seating her selfe higher then she did before, thus she spake.

Seeing it is so, that you haue elected me your Queene, to varie some∣what from the course obserued by them that went before me, whose go∣uernment you haue all so much commended: by approbation of your counsell, I am desirous to speake my mind, concerning what I wold haue to be next followed. It is not vnknown to you all, that to morrow shal be Friday, and Saturday the next day following, which are daies somewhat molestuous to the most part of men, for preparation of their weekly food & sustenance. Moreouer, Friday ought to be reuerendly respected, in re∣membrance of him, who died to giue vs life, and endured his bitter passi∣on, as on that day; which makes me to hold it fit and expedient, that wee should mind more weighty matters, and rather attend our prayers & de∣uotions, then the repetition of tales or Nouels. Now concerning Satur∣day, it hath bin a custom obserued among women, to bath & wash them∣selues from such immundicities as the former weekes to ile hath imposed on thē. Beside, it is a day of fasting, in honor of the ensuing Sabath, wher∣on no labor may be done, but the obseruation of holy exercises.

By that which hath bin saide, you may easily conceiue, that the course which we haue hitherto continued, cannot bee prosecuted, in one and the same manner: wherfore, I would aduice and do hold it an action wel performed by vs, to cease for these few dayes, from recounting any other Nouels. And because we haue remained here foure daies already, except we would allow the enlarging of our company, with some other friends that may resort vnto vs: I think it necessary to remoue from hence, & take our pleasure in another place, which is already by me determined. When we shalbe there assembled, and haue slept on the discourses formerly de∣liuered, let our next argument be stil the mutabilities of Fortune, but es∣pecially to concerne such persons, as by their wit and ingenuity, industri∣ously haue attained to some matter earnestly desired, or else recouered a∣gaine, after the losse. Heereon let vs seuerally study and premeditate, that the hearers may receiue benefit thereby, with the comfortable mainte∣nance of our harmlesse recreations; the priuiledge of Dioneus alwayes re∣serued to himselfe.

Euery one cōmended the Queens deliberation, concluding that it shold be accordingly prosecuted: and therupon, the master of the houshold was

called, to giue him order for that euenings Table seruice, and what else concerned the time of the Queenes Royalty, wherein he was sufficiently instructed: which being done, the company arose, licensing euery one to doe what they listed. The Ladies and Gentlemen walked to the Garden, and hauing sported themselues there a while; when the houre of supper came, they sate downe, and fared very daintily. Being risen from the Ta∣ble, according to the Queenes command, Madam Aemilia led the dance, and the ditty following, was sung by Madam Pampinea, being answered by all the rest, as a Chorus.

The Song.

And if not I, what Lady else can sing, Of those delights, which kind contentment bring? Come, come, sweet Loue, the cause of my chiefe good, Of all my hopes, the firme and full effect; Sing we together, but in no sad moode, Of sighes or teares, which ioy doth counterchecke: Stolne pleasures are delightfull in the taste, But yet Loues fire is often times too fierce; Consuming comfort with ore-speedy haste, Which into gentle hearts too far doth pierce. And if not I, &c.

The first day that I felt this fiery heate, So sweete a passion did possesse my soule, That though I found the torment sharpe, and great; Yet still me thought t' was but a sweete controule. Nor could I count it rude, or rigorous, Taking my wound from such a piercing eye: As made the paine most pleasing, gracious, That I desire in such assaults to die. And if not I, &c.

Grant then great God of Loue, that I may still Enioy the benefit of my desire; And honour her with all my deepest skill, That first enflamde my heart with holy fire. To her my bondage is free liberty, My sicknesse health, my tortures sweet repose; Say shee the word, in full felicity, All my extreames ioyne in an happy close. Then if not I, what Louer else can sing, Of those delights which kind contentment bring.

After this Song was ended, they sung diuers other beside, and hauing great variety of instruments, they parted to them as many pleasing dan∣ces.

But the Queene considering that the meete houre for rest was come, with their lighted Torches before them they all repaired to their Cham∣bers; sparing the other dayes next succeeding, for those reasons by the Queene alleaged, and spending the Sunday in solemne deuotion.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Or Arrigo.
• * 1.2

  Or Gran∣notto da Prochyta.