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

THE FIFT DAY.

Whereon, all the Discourses do passe vnder the Go∣uernement of the most Noble Lady Fiammetta: Concerning such persons, as haue bene successefull in their Loue, after many hard and perillous misfortunes.

The Induction.

NOW began the Sunne to dart foorth his golden beames, when Madam Fiammetta (incited by the sweete singing Birdes, which since the breake of day, sat merrily chanting on the trees) arose from her bed: as all the other Ladies likewise did, and the three young Gentlemen descending downe into the fields, where they walked in a gentle pace on the greene grasse, vntill the Sunne were risen a little higher. On many pleasant matters they conferred together, as they walked in seuerall companies, til at the length the Queene, finding the heate to enlarge it selfe strongly, returned backe to the Castle; where when they were all arriued, shee commanded, that after this mornings walking, their stomackes should bee refreshed with wholsome Wines, as also diuers sorts of banquetting stuffe. Afterward, they all repaired into the Garden, not departing thence, vntill the houre of dinner was come: at which time, the Master of the houshold, hauing prepared euery thing in decent readinesse, after a solemn song was sung, by order from the Queene, they were seated at the Table.

When they had dined, to their owne liking and contentment, they be∣gan (in continuation of their former order) to exercise diuers dances, and afterward voyces to their instruments, with many pretty Madrigals and Roundelayes. Vppon the finishing of these delights, the Queene gaue them leaue to take their rest, when such as were so minded, went to sleep, others solaced themselues in the Garden. But after midday was ouerpast, they met (according to their wonted manner) and as the Queene had

commanded, at the faire Fountaine; where she being placed in her seate royall, and casting her eye vpon Pamphilus, shee bad him begin the dayes discourses, of happy successe in loue, after disastrous and troublesom ac∣cidents; who yeelding thereto with humble reuerence, thus began.

Many Nouels (gracious Ladies) do offer themselues to my memory, wherewith to beginne so pleasant a day, as it is her Highnesse desire that this should be, among which plenty, I esteeme one aboue all the rest: be∣cause you may comprehend thereby, not onely the fortunate conclusi∣on, wherewith we intend to begin our day; but also, how mighty the for∣ces of Loue are, deseruing to bee both admired and reuerenced. Albeit there are many, who scarsely knowing what they say, do condemne them with infinite grosse imputations: which I purpose to disproue, & (I hope) to your no little pleasing.

Chynon, by falling in loue, became wise, and by force of Armes, winning his faire Lady Iphigenia on the Seas, was afterward imprisoned at Rhodes. Be∣ing deliuered by one named Lysimachus, with him he recouered his Iphige∣nia againe, and faire Cassandra, euen in the middest of their mariage. They fled with them into Candye, where after they had married them, they were called home to their owne dwelling.

The first Nouell.

Wherein is approued, that Loue (oftentimes) maketh a man both wise and va∣liant.

[illustration]

ACcording to the ancient Annales of the Cypriots, there sometime li∣ued in Cyprus, a Noble Gentleman, who was commonly called Ari∣stippus, and exceeded all other of the Countrey in the goods of Fortune.

Diuers children he had, but (amongst the rest) a Sonne, in whose birth he was more infortunate then any of the rest; and continually greeued, in re∣gard, that hauing all the compleate perfections of beauty, good forme, and manly parts, surpassing all other youths of his age or stature, yet hee wanted the reall ornament of the soule, reason and iudgement; being (in∣deed a meere Ideot or Foole, and no better hope to be expected of him. His true name, according as he receyued it by Baptisme, was Galesus, but because neyther by the laborious paines of his Tutors, indulgence, and faire endeuour of his parents, or ingenuity of any other, he could bee brought to ciuility of life, vnderstanding of Letters, or common cariage of a reasonable creature: by his grosse and deformed kinde of speech, his qualities also sauouring rather of brutish breeding, then any way deriued from manly education; as an epithite of scorne and derision, generally, they gaue him the name of Chynon, which in their natiue Countrey lan∣guage, and diuers other beside, signifieth a very Sot or Foole, and so was he termed by euery one.

This lost kinde of life in him, was no meane burthen of greefe vnto his Noble Father, and all hope being already spent, of any future happy reco∣uery, he gaue command (because he would not alwayes haue such a sor∣row in his sight) that he should liue at a Farme of his owne in a Country Village, among his Peazants and Plough-Swaines. Which was not any way distastefull to Chynon, but well agreed with his owne naturall disposi∣tion; for their rurall qualities, and grosse behauiour pleased him beyond the Cities ciuility. Chynon liuing thus at his Fathers Countrey Village, exercising nothing else but rurall demeanour, such as then delighted him aboue all other: it chanced vpon a day about the houre of noone, as hee was walking ouer the fields, with a long Staffe on his necke, which com∣monly he vsed to carry; he entred into a small thicket, reputed the good∣liest in all those quarters, and by reason it was then the month of May, the Trees had their leaues fairely shot forth.

When he had walked thorow the thicket, it came to passe, that (euen as if good Fortune guided him) he came into a faire Meadow, on euerie side engirt with Trees, and in one corner thereof stoode a goodly Foun∣taine, whose current was both coole and cleare. Harde by it, vppon the greene grasse, he espied a very beautifull yong Damosell, seeming to bee fast asleepe, attired in such fine loose garments, as hidde verie little of her white body: onely from the girdle downward, shee ware a kirtle made close vnto her, of interwouen delicate silke, and at her feete lay two other Damosels sleeping, and a seruant in the same manner. No sooner hadde Chynon fixed his eie vpon her, but he stood leaning vppon his staffe, and viewed her very aduisedly, without speaking a word, and in no mean ad∣miration, as if he had neuer seene the forme of a woman before. He began then to feele in his harsh rurall vnderstanding (whereinto neuer till now, either by painfull instruction, or all other good meanes vsed to him, any honest ciuility had power of impression) a strange kinde of humour to a∣wake, which informed his grosse and dull spirite, that this Damosell was

the very fairest, which euer any liuing man beheld.

Then he began to distinguish her parts, commending the tresses of hir haire, which he imagined to be of gold; her forehead, nose, mouth, neck, armes, but (aboue all) her brests, appearing (as yet) but onely to shewe thēselues, like two little mountainets. So that, of a fielden clownish lout, he would needs now become a iudge of beauty, coueting earnestly in his soule, to see her eyes, which were veiled ouer with sound sleepe, that kept them fast enclosed together, and onely to looke on them, hee wished a thousand times, that she would awake. For, in his iudgement, she excel∣led all the women that euer he had seene, and doubted, whether she were some Goddesse or no; so strangely was he metamorphosed from folly, to a sensible apprehension, more then common. And so far did this sodaine knowledge in him extend; that he could conceiue of diuine and celestiall things, and that they were more to be admired & reuerenced, then those of humane or terrene consideration; wherefore the more gladly he con∣tented himselfe, to tarry til she awaked of her owne accord. And althogh the time of stay seemed tedious to him, yet notwithstanding, he was ouer∣come with such extraordinary contentment, as hee had no power to de∣part thence, but stood as if he had bin glued fast to the ground.

After some indifferent respite of time, it chanced that the young Da∣mosel (who was named Iphigenia) awaked before any of the other with her, and lifting vp her head, with her eyes wide open, shee saw Chynon standing before her, leaning stil on his staffe; whereat meruailing not a little, she saide vnto him: Chynon, whither wanderest thou, or what dost thou seeke for in this wood? Chynon, who not onely by his countenance, but likewise his folly, Nobility of birth, and wealthy possessions of his fa∣ther, was generally knowne throughout the Countrey, made no answere at all to the demand of Iphigenia: but so soone as he beheld her eies open, he began to obserue them with a constant regard, as being perswaded in his soule, that from them flowed such an vnvtterable singularity, as he had neuer felt til then. Which the yong Gentlewoman well noting, she be∣gan to wax fearfull, least these stedfast lookes of his, should incite his ru∣sticity to some attempt, which might redound to her dishonour: where∣fore awaking her women and seruant, and they all being risen, she saide. Farewell Chynon, I leaue thee to thine owne good Fortune; whereto hee presently replyed, saying: I will go with you. Now, although the Gen∣tlewoman refused his company, as dreading some acte of inciuility from him: yet could she not deuise any way to be rid of him, til he had brought her to her owne dwelling, where taking leaue mannerly of her, hee went directly home to his Fathers house, saying; Nothing should compel him to liue any longer in the muddy Countrey. And albeit his Father was much offended heereat, and all the rest of his kindred and frends: (yet not knowing how to helpe it) they suffered him to continue there still, expe∣cting the cause of this his so sodaine alteration, from the course of life, which contented him so highly before.

Chynon being now wounded to the heart (where neuer any ciuil instru∣ction

could before get entrance) with loues piercing dart, by the bright beauty of Iphigenia, mooued much admiration (falling from one change to another) in his Father, Kindred, and all else that knew him. For first, he requested of his Father, that he might be habited and respected like to his other Brethren, whereto right gladly he condiscended. And frequen∣ting the company of ciuill youths, obseruing also the cariage of Gentle∣men, especially such as were amorously enclined: he grew to a beginning in short time (to the wonder of euery one) not onely to vnderstande the first instruction of letters, but also became most skilfull, euen amongest them that were best exercised in Philosophie. And afterward, loue to I∣phigenia being the sole occasion of this happy alteration, not only did his harsh and clownish voyce conuert it selfe more mildely, but also hee be∣came a singular Musitian, & could perfectly play on any Instrument. Be∣side, he tooke delight in the riding and managing of great horses, and fin∣ding himselfe of a strong and able body, he exercised all kinds of Milita∣ry Disciplines, as wel by sea, as on the land. And, to be breefe, because I would not seeme tedious in the repetition of al his vertues, scarsly had he attained to the fourth yeare, after he was thus falne in loue, but hee be∣came generally knowne, to bee the most ciuil, wise, and worthy Gentle∣man, aswell for all vertues enriching the minde, as any whatsoeuer to beautifie the body, that very hardly he could be equalled throughout the whole kingdome of Cyprus.

What shall we say then (vertuous Ladies) concerning this Chynon? Surely nothing else, but that those high and diuine vertues, infused into his gentle soule, were by enuious Fortune bound and shut vppe in some small angle of his intellect, which being shaken and set at liberty by loue, (as hauing a farre more potent power then Fortune, in quickning and re∣uiuing the dull drowsie spirits; declared his mighty and soueraigne Au∣thority, in setting free so many faire and precious vertues vniustly detay∣ned, to let the worlds eye behold them truly, by manifest testimony, frō whence he can deliuer those spirits subiected to his power, & guide them (afterward) to the highest degrees of honor. And although Chynon by af∣fecting Iphigenia, failed in some particular things; yet notwithstanding, his Father Aristippus duely considering, that loue had made him a man, whereas (before) he was no better then a beast: not only endured all pa∣tiently, but also aduised him therein, to take such courses as best liked himselfe. Neuerthelesse, Chynon (who refused to be called Galesus, which was his naturall name indeede) remembring that Iphigenia tearmed him Chynon, and coueting (vnder that title) to accomplish the issue of his ho∣nest amorous desire: made many motions to Ciphaeus the Father of Iphi∣genia, that he would be pleased to let him enioy her in marriage. But Ci∣phaeus told him, that he had already passed his promise for her, to a Gen∣tleman of Rhodes, named Pasimondo, which promise he religiously inten∣ded to performe.

The time being come, which was concluded on for Iphigeniaes marri∣age, in regard that the affianced husband had sent for her: Chynon thus

communed with his owne thoughts. Now is the time (quoth he) to let my diuine Mistresse see, how truly and honourably I doe affect her, be∣cause (by her) I am become a man. But if I could bee possessed of her, I should growe more glorious, then the common condition of a mortall man, and haue her I will, or loose my life in the aduenture. Beeing thus resolued, he preuailed with diuers young Gentlemen his friends, making them of his faction, and secretly prepared a Shippe, furnished with all things for a Nauall fight, setting sodainly forth to sea, and hulling abroad in those parts by which the vessell should passe, that must conuey Iphige∣nia to Rhodes to her husband. After many honors done to them, who wer to transport her thence vnto Rhodes, being imbarked, they set saile vppon their Bon viaggio.

Chynon, who slept not in a businesse so earnestly importing him, set on them (the day following) with his Ship, and standing aloft on the decke, cried out to them that had the charge of Iphigenia, saying. Strike your sayles, or else determine to be sunke in the Sea. The enemies to Chynon, being nothing danted with his words, prepared to stand vpon their own defence; which made Chynon, after the former speeches deliuered, and no answer returned, to commaund the grapling Irons to bee cast forth, which tooke such fast hold on the Rhodians shippe, that (whether they would or no) both the vessels ioyned close together. And hee shewing himselfe fierce like a Lyon, not tarrying to be seconded by any, stepped a∣boord the Rhodians ship, as if he made no respect at all of them, and ha∣uing his sword ready drawne in his hand (incited by the vertue of vnfaig∣ned loue) sayed about him on all sides very manfully. Which when the men of Rhodes perceyued, casting downe their weapons, and all of them (as it were) with one voice, yeelded themselues his prisoners: whereupon he said.

Honest Friends, neither desire of booty, or hatred to you, did occasi∣on my departure from Cyprus, thus to assaile you with drawne weapons: but that which heereto hath most mooued me, is a matter highly impor∣ting to me, and very easie for you to graunt, and so enioy your present peace. I desire to haue faire Iphigenia from you, whom I loue aboue all o∣ther Ladies liuing, because I could not obtain herof her Father, to make her my lawfull wife in marriage. Loue is the ground of my instant Con∣quest, and I must vse you as my mortall enemies, if you stand vppon any further tearmes with me, and do not deliuer her as mine owne: for your Pasimondo, must not enioy what is my right, first by vertue of my loue, & now by conquest: Deliuer her therefore, and depart hence at your plea∣sure.

The men of Rhodes, being rather constrained thereto, then of any free disposition in themselues; with teares in their eyes, deliuered Iphigenia to Chynon; wo beholding her in like manner to weepe, thus spake vnto her. Noble Lady, do not any way discomfort your selfe, for I am your Chy∣non, who haue more right and true title to you, and much better doe de∣serue to enioy you, by my long continued affection to you, then Pasimon∣do

can any way pleade; because you belong to him but only by promise. So, bringing her aboord his owne ship, where the Gentlemen his com∣panions gaue her kinde welcome, without touching any thing else belon∣ging to the Rhodians, he gaue them free liberty to depart.

Chynon being more ioyfull, by the obtaining of his hearts desire, then any other conquest else in the world could make him, after hee had spent some time in comforting Iphigenia, who as yet sate sadly sighing; he con∣sulted with his companions, who ioyned with him in opinion, that their safest course was, by no meanes to returne to Cyprus; and therefore all (with one consent) resolued to set saile for Candye, where euery one made account, but especially Chynon, in regard of ancient and newe combined Kindred, as also very intimate friends, to finde very worthy entertaine∣ment, and so to continue there safely with Iphigenia. But Fortune, who was so fauourable to Chynon, in granting him so pleasing a Conquest, to shew her inconstancy, as sodainly changed the inestimable ioy of our io∣cond Louer, into as heauy sorow and disaster. For, foure houres were not fully compleated, since his departure from the Rhodians, but darke night came vpon them, and he sitting conuersing with his fayre Mistris, in the sweetest solace of his soule; the winds began to blow roughly, the Seas swelled angerly, & a tempest arose impetuously, that no man could see what his duty was to do, in such a great vnexpected distresse, nor how to warrant themselues from perishing.

If this accident were displeasing to poore Chynon, I thinke the question were in vaine demanded: for now it seemed to him, that the Godds had granted his cheefe desire, to the end hee should dye with the greater an∣guish, in losing both his loue and life together. His friends likewise, felte the selfe same affliction, but especially Iphigenia, who wept and greeued beyond all measure, to see the ship beaten with such stormy billowes, as threatned her sinking euery minute. Impatiently she cursed the loue of Chynon, greatly blaming his desperate boldnesse, and maintaining, that so violent a tempest could neuer happen, but onely by the Gods displeasure, who would not permit him to haue a wife against their will; and therfore thus punished his proud presumption, not only in his vnauoidable death, but also that her life must perish for company.

She continuing in these wofull lamentations, and the Mariners labou∣ring all in vaine, because the violence of the tempest encreased more and more, so that euery moment they expected wracking: they were carried (contrary to their owne knowledge) very neere vnto the Isle of Rhodes, which they being no way able to auoid, and vtterly ignorant of the coast; for safety of their liues, they labored to land there if possibly they might. Wherein Fortune was somewhat furtherous to them, driuing them into a small gulfe of the Sea, whereinto (but a little while before) the Rhodi∣ans, from whom Chynon had taken Iphigenia, were newly entred with their ship. Nor had they any knowledge each of other, till the breake of day (which made the heauens to looke more clearly) gaue them discouerie, of being within a flight shoote together. Chynon looking forth, and espy∣ing

the same ship which he had left the day before, hee grew exceeding sorowfull, as fearing that which after followed, and therefore hee willed the Mariners, to get away from her by all their best endeauour, & let for∣tune afterward dispose of them as she pleased; for into a worse place they could not come, no•• fall into the like danger.

The Mariners employed their very vtmost paines, and all prooued but losse of time: for the winde was so stern, and the waues so turbulent, that still they droue them the contrary way: so that striuing to get foorth of the gulfe, whether they would or no, they were driuen on land, and in∣stantly knowne to the Rhodians, whereof they were not a little ioyful. The men of Rhodes being landed, ran presently to a neere neighbouring Vil∣lage, where dwelt diuers worthy Gentlemen, to whom they reported the arriuall of Chynon, what fortune befell them at Sea, and that Iphigenia might now be recouered againe, with chastisement to Chynon for his bold insolence. They being very ioyfull of these good newes, tooke so many men as they could of the same Village, and ran immediately to the Sea side, where Chynon being newly Landed and his people, intending flight into a neere adioyning Forrest, for defence of himselfe and Iphigenia, they were all taken, led thence to the Village, and afterwards to the chiefe Ci∣ty of Rhodes.

No sooner were they arriued, but Pasimondo, the intended Husband for Iphigenia (who had already heard the tydings) went and complayned to the Senate, who appointed a Gentleman of Rhodes, named Lysimachus, and being that yeare soueraigne Magistrate ouer the Rhodians, to go well prouided for the apprehension of Chynon and all his company, commit∣ting them to prison, which accordingly was done. In this manner, the poore vnfortunate louer Chynon, lost his faire Iphigenia, hauing won her in so short a while before, and scarsely requited with so much as a kisse. But as for Iphigenia, she was royally welcommed by many Lords and La∣dies of Rhodes, who so kindely comforted her, that she soone forgotte all her greefe and trouble on the Sea, remaining in company of those La∣dies and Gentlewomen, vntill the day determined for her mariage.

At the earnest entreary of diuers Rhodian Gentlemen, who were in the Ship with Iphigenia, and had their liues courteously saued by Chynon: both he and his friends had their liues likewise spared, although Pasimon∣do laboured importunately, to haue them all put to death; onely they were condemned to perpetuall imprisonment, which (you must thinke) was most greeuous to them, as being now hopelesse of any deliuerance. But in the meane time, while Pasimondo was ordering his nuptiall prepa∣ration, Fortune seeming to repent the wrongs shee had done to Chynon, prepared a new accident, whereby to comfort him in this deep distresse, and in such manner as I will relate vnto you.

Pasimondo had a Brother, yonger then he in yeares, but not a iot infe∣riour to him in vertue, whose name was Hormisda, and long time the case had bene in question, for his taking to wife a faire yong Gentlewoman of Rhodes, called Cassandra; whom Lysimachus the Gouernour loued verie

dearly, and hindred her marriage with Hormisda, by diuers strange acci∣dents. Now Pasimondo perceiuing, that his owne Nuptials required much cost and solemnity, hee thought it very conuenient, that one day might serue for both the Weddinges, which else would lanch into more lauish expences, and therefore concluded, that his brother Hormisda should marry Cassandra, at the same time as he wedded Iphigenia. Heereuppon, he consulted with the Gentlewomans parents, who liking the motion as well as he, the determination was set downe, and one day to effect the duties of both.

When this came to the hearing of Lysimachus, it was very greatly dis∣pleasing to him, because now he saw himselfe vtterly depriued of al hope to attaine the issue of his desire, if Hormisda receyued Cassandra in marri∣age. Yet being a very wise and worthy man, hee dissembled his distaste, and began to consider on some apt meanes, whereby to disappoint the marriage once more, which he found impossible to bee done, except it were by way of rape or stealth. And that did not appear to him any dif∣ficult matter, in regard of his Office and Authority: onely it wold seeme dishonest in him, by giuing such an vnfitting example. Neuerthelesse, af∣ter long deliberation, honor gaue way to loue, and resolutely he conclu∣ded to steale her away, whatsoeuer became of it.

Nothing wanted now, but a conuenient company to assist him, & the order how to haue it done. Then he remembred Chynon and his friends, whom he detained as his prisoners, and perswaded himself, that he could not haue a more faithfull friend in such a busines, then Chynon was. Here∣upon, the night following, he sent for him into his Chamber, and being alone by themselues, thus he began. Chynon (quoth hee) as the Gods are very bountifull, in bestowing their blessings on men, so doe they therein most wisely make proofe of their vertues, and such as they finde firme and constant, in all occurrences which may happen, them they make worthy (as valiant spirits) of the very best and highest merites. Now, they being willing to haue more certain experience of thy vertues, then those which heeretofore thou hast shewne, within the bounds and limits of thy fathers possessions, which I know to be superabounding: perhaps do intend to present thee other occasions, of more important weight and conse∣quence.

For first of all (as I haue heard) by the piercing solicitudes of loue, of a senselesse creature, they made thee to become a man endued with reason. Afterward, by aduerse fortune, and now againe by wearisome imprison∣ment, it seemeth that they are desirous to make triall, whether thy manly courage be changed, or no, from that which heretofore it was, when thou enioyedst a matchlesse beautie, and lost her againe in so short a while. Wherefore, if thy vertue be such as it hath bin, the Gods can neuer giue thee any blessing more worthy of acceptance, then she whō they are now minded to bestow on thee: in which respect, to the end that thou mayst re-assume thy wonted heroicke spirit, and become more couragious then euer heeretofore, I will acquaint thee withall more at large.

Vnderstand then Noble Chynon, that Pasimondo, the onely glad man of thy misfortune, and diligent sutor after thy death, maketh all hast hee can possibly deu••se to do, to celebrate his marriage with thy faire mistris: because he would pleade possession of the prey, which Fortune (when she smiled) did first bestow, and (afterward frowning) took from thee again. Now, that it must needs be very irkesome to thee (at least if thy loue bee such, as I am perswaded it is) I partly can collect from my selfe, being in∣tended to be wronged by his brother Hormisda, euen in the selfsame ma∣ner, and on his marriage day, by taking faire Cassandra from me, the one∣ly Iewell of my loue and life. For the preuention of two such notorious iniuries, I see that Fortune hath left vs no other meanes, but only the ver∣tue of our courages, and the helpe of our right hands, by preparing our selues to Armes, opening a way to thee, by a second rape or stealth; and to me the first, for absolute possession of our diuine Mistresses. Where∣fore, if thou art desirous to recouer thy losse, I wil not onely pronounce liberty to thee (which I thinke thou dost little care for without her) but dare also assure thee to enioy Iphigenia, so thou wilt assist mee in mine en∣terprize, and follow me in my fortune, if the Gods do let them fall into our power.

You may well imagine, that Chynons dismayed soule was not a little cheared at these speeches; and therefore, without crauing any long respit of time for answer, thus he replyed. Lord Lysimachus, in such a busines as this is, you cannot haue a faster friend then my self at least, if such good hap may betide me, as you haue more then halfe promised: & therefore do no more but command what you would haue to be effected by mee, and make no doubt of my courage in the execution: whereon Lysima∣chus made this answer. Know then Chynon (quoth hee) that three dayes hence; these marriages are to bee celebrated in the houses of Pasimondo and Hormisda, vpon which day, thou, thy friends, and my self (with some others, in whom I repose especiall trust) by the friendly fauour of night, will enter into their houses, while they are in the middest of theyr Iouiall feasting; and (seizing on the two Brides) beare them thence to a Shippe, which I will haue lye in secret, waiting for our comming, and kil all such as shall presume to impeach vs. This direction gaue great contentment to Chynon, who remained stil in prison, without reuealing a word to his owne friends, vntil the limited time was come.

Vpon the Wedding day, performed with great and magnificent Tri∣umph, there was not a corner in the Brethrens houses, but it sung ioy in the highest key. Lysimachus, after he had ordered all things as they ought to be, and the houre for dispatch approached neere; he made a diuision in three parts, of Chynon, his followers, and his owne friendes, being all well armed vnder their outward habites. Hauing first vsed some encou∣raging speeches, for more resolute prosecution of the enterprize, he sent one troope secretly to the Port, that they might not be hindred of going aboord the ship, when the vrgent necessity should require it. Passing with the other two traines of Pasimondo, he left the one at the doore, that

such as were in the house might not shut them vp fast, and so impeach their passage forth. Then with Chynon, and the third band of Confede∣rates, he ascended the staires vp into the Hall, where he found the Brides with store of Ladies and Gentlewomen, all sitting in comely order at Supper. Rushing in roughly among the attendants, downe they threw the Tables, and each of them laying hold of his Mistris, deliuered them into the hands of their followers, commanding that they should be car∣ried aboord the ship, for auoiding of further inconueniences.

This hurrie and amazement beeing in the house, the Brides weeping, the Ladies lamenting, and all the seruants confusedly wondering; Chynon and Lysimachus (with their Friends) hauing their weapons drawn in their hands, made all opposers to giue them way, and so gayned the stair head for their owne descending. There stoode Pasimondo, with an huge long Staffe in his hand, to hinder their passage downe the stayres; but Chy∣non saluted him so soundly on the head, that it being cleft in twaine, hee fell dead before his feete. His Brother Hormisda came to his rescue, and sped in the selfe-same manner as he had done; so did diuers other beside, whom the companions to Lysimachus and Chynon, either slew out-right, or wounded.

So they left the house, filled with bloode, teares, and out-cries, go∣ing on together, without any hinderance, and so brought both the Brides aboord the shippe, which they rowed away instantly with theyr Oares. For, now the shore was full of armed people, who came in rescue of the stolne Ladies: but all in vaine, because they were lanched into the main, and sayled on merrily towardes Candye. Where beeing arriued, they were worthily entertained by honourable Friendes and Kinsmen, who pacified all vnkindnesses betweene them and their Mistresses: And, ha∣uing accepted them in lawfull marriage, there they liued in no meane ioy and contentment: albeit there was a long and troublesom difference (about these rapes) betweene Rhodes and Cyprus.

But yet in the end, by the meanes of Noble Friends and Kindred on either side, labouring to haue such discontentment appeased, endange∣ring warre betweene the Kingdomes: after a limited time of banishment, Chynon returned ioyfully with his Iphigenia home to Cyprus, and Lysima∣chus with his beloued Cassandra vnto Rhodes, each liuing in their seuerall Countries, with much felicity.

Faire Constance of Liparis, fell in loue with Martuccio Gomito: and hea∣ring that he was dead, desperately she entred into a Barke, which being tran∣sported by the windes to Susa in Barbary, from thence she went to Thunis, where she found him to be liuing. There she made her selfe knowne to him, and he being in great authority, as a priuy Counsellor to the King: he marri∣ed the saide Constance, and returned richly home with her, to the Island of Liparis.

The second Nouell.

Wherein is declared the firme loyaltie of a true Louer: And how Fortune doth sometime humble men, to raise them afterward to a farre higher degree.

[illustration]

WHen the Queene perceyued, that the Nouell recited by Pamphilus was concluded, which she graced with especial commendations: shee commaunded Madame Aemillia, to take her turne as next in order; whereupon, thus she began. Me thinkes it is a matter of equity, that eue∣ry one should take delight in those things, whereby the recompence may be noted, answerable to their owne affection. And because I rather de∣sire to walke along by the paths of pleasure, then dwell on any ceremoni∣ous or scrupulons affectation, I shall the more gladly obey our Queen to day, then yesterday I did our melancholly King.

Vnderstand then (Noble Ladies) that neere to Sicily, there is a small Island, commonly called Liparis, wherein (not long since) liued a yong Damosell, named Constance, born of very sufficient parentage in the same Island. There dwelt also a young man, called Martuccio Gomito, of come∣ly feature, well conditioned, and not vnexpert in many vertuous quali∣ties; affecting Constance in hearty manner: and she so answerable to him

in the same kinde, that to be in his company, was her onely felicity. Mar∣tuccio coueting to enioy her in marriage, made his intent knowne to her Father: who vpbraiding him with pouerty, tolde him plainly that hee should not haue her. Martuccio greeuing to see himselfe thus despised, because he was poore: made such good meanes, that he was prouided of a small Barke; and calling such friends (as he thought fit) to his associati∣on, made a solemne vow, that hee would neuer returne backe to Liparis, vntill he was rich, and in better condition.

In the nature and course of a Rouer or Pirate, so put he thence to sea, coasting all about Barbarie, robbing and spoyling such as hee met with; who were of no greater strength then himselfe: wherein Fortune was so fauourable to him, that he became wealthy in a very short while. But as felicities are not alwayes permanent, so hee and his followers, not con∣tenting themselues with sufficient riches: by greedy seeking to get more, happened to be taken by certaine ships of the Sarazins, and so were rob∣bed themselues of all that they had gotten, yet they resisted them stoutly a long while together, though it proued to the losse of many liues among them. When the Sarazens had sunke his shippe in the Sea, they tooke him with them to Thunis, where he was imprisoned, and liued in extrea∣mest misery.

Newes came to Liparis, not onely by one, but many more beside, that all those which departed thence in the smal Barke with Martuccio, were drowned in the Sea, and not a man escaped. When Constance heard these vnwelcome tydings (who was exceeding full of greefe, for his so despe∣rate departure) she wept and lamented extraordinarily, desiring now ra∣ther to dye, then liue any longer. Yet shee had not the heart, to lay any violent hand on her selfe, but rather to end her dayes by some new kinde of necessity. And departing priuately from her Fathers house, shee went to the port or hauen, where (by chance) she found a small Fisher-boate, lying distant from the other vessels, the owners whereof being all gone on shore, and it well furnished with Masts, Sailes, and Oares, she entred into it; and putting forth the Oares, beeing some-what skilfull in sayling, (as generally all the Women of that Island are) shee so well guyded the Sailes, Rudder, and Oares, that she was quickly farre off from the Land, and soly remained at the mercy of the windes. For thus she had resolued with her selfe, that the Boat being vncharged, and without a guide) wold either be ouer-whelmed by the windes, or split in peeces against some Rocke; by which meanes she could not escape although shee would, but (as it was her desire) must needs be drowned.

In this determination, wrapping a mantle about her head, and lying downe weeping in the boats bottome, she hourely expected her finall ex∣piration: but it fell out otherwise, and contrary to her desperate intenti∣on, because the winde turning to the North, and blowing very gently, without disturbing the Seas a iot, they conducted the small Boat in such sort, that after the night of her entering into it, and the morowes sailing vntill the euening, it came within an hundred leagues of Thunis, and to a

strond neere a Towne called Susa. The young Damosell knew not whe∣ther she were on the sea or land; as one, who not by any accident hap∣ning, lifted vp her head to look about her, neither intended euer to doe. Now it came to passe, that as the boate was driuen to the shore, a poore woman stood at the Sea side, washing certaine Fishermens Nets; and see∣ing the boate comming towards her vnder saile, without any person ap∣pearing in it, she wondred thereat not a little. It being close at the shore, and she thinking the Fishermen to be asleepe therein: stept boldly, and looked into the boate, where she saw not any body, but onely the poore distressed Damosell, whose sorowes hauing broght her now into a sound sleepe, the woman gaue many cals before she could awake her, which at the length she did, and looked very strangely about her.

The poore woman perceyuing by her habite that she was a Christian, demanded of her (in speaking Latine) how it was possible for her, beeing all alone in the boate, to arriue there in this manner? When Constance heard her speake the Latine tongue, she began to doubt, least some con∣trary wi••de had turned her backe to Liparis againe, and starting vp so∣dainly, to looke with better aduice about her, shee saw her selfe at Land: and not knowing the Countrey, demanded of the poore woman where she was? Daughter (quoth she) you are heere hard by Susa in Barbarie. Which Constance hearing, and plainly perceyuing, that death had deni∣ed to end her miseries, fearing least she should receiue some dishonour, in such a barbarous vnkinde Country, and not knowing what shold now become of her, she sate downe by the boates side, wringing her hands, & weeping bitterly.

The good Woman did greatly compassionate her case, and preuailed so well by gentle speeches, that shee conducted her into her owne poore habitation; where at length she vnderstoode, by what meanes shee hap∣ned thither so strangely. And perceyuing her to be fasting, shee set such homely bread as she had before her, a few small Fishes, and a Crewse of Water, praying her for to accept of that poore entertainement, which meere necessity compelled her to do, and shewed her selfe very thankefull for it.

Constance hearing that she spake the Latine language so well; desired to know what she was. Whereto the olde woman thus answered: Gen∣tlewoman (quoth she) I am of Trapanum, named Carapresa, and am a ser∣uant in this Countrey to certaine Christian Fishermen. The yong Mai∣den (albeit she was very full of sorow) hearing her name to be Carapresa, conceiued it as a good augury to her selfe, & that she had heard the name before, although shee knew not what occasion should moue her thus to do. Now began her hopes to quicken againe, and yet shee could not tell vpon what ground; nor was she so desirous of death as before, but made more precious estimation of her life, and without any further declarati∣on of her selfe or countrey, she entreated the good woman (euen for cha∣rities sake) to take pitty on her youth, and help her with such good aduice, to preuent all iniuries which might happen to her, in such a solitary wofull condition.

Carapresa hauing heard her request, like a good woman as shee was, left Constance in her poore Cottage, and went hastily to leaue her nets in safety: which being done, she returned backe againe, and couering Con∣stance with her Mantle, led her on to Susa with her, where being arriued, the good woman began in this manner. Constance, I will bring thee to the house of a very worthy Sarazin Lady, to whome I haue done manie honest seruices, according as she pleased to command me. She is an an∣cient woman, full of charity, and to her I will commend thee as best I may, for I am well assured, that shee will gladly entertaine thee, and vse thee as if thou wert her owne daughter. Now, let it be thy part, during thy time of remaining with her, to employ thy vtmost diligence in plea∣sing her, by deseruing and gaining her grace, till heauen shall blesse thee with better fortune: And as she promised, so she performed.

The Sarazine Lady, being well stept into yeares, vpon the commen∣dable speeches deliuered by Carapresa, did the more seriously fasten her eye on Constance, and compassion prouoking her to teares, she tooke her by the hand, and (in louing manner) kissed her fore-head. So she led her further into her house, where dwelt diuers other women (but not one man) all exercising themselues in seuerall labours, as working in all sorts of silke, with Imbroideries of Gold and Siluer, and sundry other excellent Arts beside, which in short time were verie familiar to Constance, and so pleasing grew her behauiour to the old Lady, and all the rest beside; that they loued and delighted in her wonderfully, and (by little and little) she attained to the speaking of their language, although it were verie harsh and difficult.

Constance continuing thus in the old Ladies seruice at Susa, & thought to be dead or lost in her owne Fathers house; it fortuned, that one reig∣ning then as King of Thunis, who named himselfe Mariabdela: there was a young Lord of great birth, and very powerfull, who liued as then in Granada, and pleaded that the Kingdome of Thunis belonged to him. In which respect, he mustred together a mighty Army, and came to assault the King, as hoping to expell him. These newes comming to the eare of Martuccio Gomito, who spake the Barbarian Language perfectly; and hea∣ring it reported, that the King of Thunis made no meane preparation for his owne defence: he conferred with one of his keepers, who had the cu∣stody of him, and the rest taken with him, saying: If (quoth hee) I could haue meanes to speake with the King, and he were pleased to allow of my counsell, I can enstruct him in such a course, as shall assure him to win the honor of the field. The Guard reported these speeches to his master, who presently acquainted the King therewith, and Martuccio being sent for; he was commanded to speake his minde: Whereupon he began in this manner.

My gracious Lord, during the time that I haue frequented your coun∣trey, I haue heedfully obserued, that the Militarie Discipline vsed in your fights and battailes, dependeth more vpon your Archers, then any other men imployed in your warre. And therefore, if it could bee so ordered,

that this kinde of Artillery might fayle in your enemies Campe, & yours be sufficiently furnished therewith, you neede make no doubt of winning the battaile: whereto the King thus replyed. Doubtlesse, if such an acte were possible to be done, it would giue great hope of successefull preuai∣ling. Sir, said Martuccio, if you please it may bee done, and I can quickly resolue you how. Let the strings of your Archers Bowes bee made more soft and gentle, then those which heretofore they haue formerly vsed; and next, let the nockes of the Arrowes be so prouided, as not to receiue any other, then those pliant gentle strings. But this must be done so secretly, that your enemies may haue no knowledge therof, least they should pro∣uide themselues in the ••ame manner. Now the reason (Gracious Lord) why thus I counsell you, is to this end. When the Archers on the Ene∣mies side haue shot their Arrowes at your men, and yours in the like ma∣ner at them: it followeth, that (vpon meere constraint) they must gather vp your Arrowes, to shoote them backe againe at you, for so long while as the battell endureth, as no doubt but your men wil do the like to them. But your enemies will finde themselues much deceiued, because they can make no vse of your peoples Arrowes, in regard that the nockes are too narrow to receiue their boysterous strings. Which will fall out contrary with your followers, for the pliant strings belonging to your Bowes, are as apt for their enemies great nockt Arrowes, as their owne, and so they shall haue free vse of both, reseruing them in plentifull store, when your aduersaries must stand vnfurnished of any, but them that they cannot any way vse.

This counsell pleased the King very highly, and hee being a Prince of great vnderstanding, gaue order to haue it accordingly followed, and thereby valiantly vanquished his enemies. Heereupon, Martuccio came to be great in his grace, as also consequently rich, and seated in no meane place of authority. Now, as worthy and commendable actions are soone spread abroad, in honor of the man by whome they hapned: euen so the fame of this rare got victory, was quickly noysed throughout the Coun∣trey, and came to the hearing of poore Constance, that Martuccio Gomito (whom she supposed so long since to be dead) was liuing, and in honou∣rable condition. The loue which formerly he bare vnto him, being not altogether extinct in her heart; of a small sparke, brake foorth into a so∣daine flame, and so encreased day by day, that her hope (being before al∣most quite dead) reuiued againe in chearfull manner.

Hauing imparted all her fortunes to the good olde Lady with whome she dwelt; she told her beside, that she had an earnest desire to see Thu∣nis, to satisfie her eyes as well as her eares, concerning the rumor blazed abroad. The good olde Lady commended her desire, and (euen as if she had bene her mother) tooke her with her aboord a Barke, and so sayled thence to Thunis, where both she and Constance found honourable wel∣come, in the house of a kinsman to the Sarazin Lady. Carapresa also went along with them thither, and her they sent abroad into the Citie, to vn∣derstand the newes of Martuccio Gomito. After they knew for a certaintie

that hee was liuing) and in great authority about the King, according as the former report went of him. Then the good old Lady, being desirous to let Martuccio know, that his faire friend Constance was come thither to see him; went her selfe to the place of his abiding, and spake vnto him in this manner. Noble Martuccio, there is a seruant of thine in my house, which came from Liparis, and requireth to haue a little priuate confe∣rence with thee: but because I durst not trust any other with the message, my selfe (at her entreaty) am come to acquaint thee therewith. Martuccio gaue her kinde and hearty thankes, and then went along with her to the house.

No sooner did Constance behold him, but shee was ready to dye with conceite of ioy, and being vnable to containe her passion: sodainely she threw her armes about his necke, and in meere compassion of her many misfortunes, as also the instant solace of her soule (not being able to vtter one word) the teares trickled abundantly downe her cheekes. Martuccio also seeing his faire friend, was ouercome with exceeding admiration, & stood awhile, as not knowing what to say; till venting forth a vehement sighe, thus he spake. My deerest loue Constance! art thou yet liuing? It is a tedious long while since I heard thou wast lost, and neuer any tydinges knowne of thee in thine owne Fathers house. With which wordes, the teares standing in his eyes, most louingly he embraced her. Constance re∣coun••ed to him all her fortunes, and what kindnesse she hadde receyued from the Sarazine Lady, since her first houre of comming to her. And after much other discourse passing betweene them, Martuccio departed from her, and returning to the King his master, tolde him all the historie of his fortunes, and those beside of his Loue Constance, beeing purposely minded (with his gracious liking) to marry her according to the Christi∣an Law.

The King was much amazed at so many strange accidents, and send∣ing for Constance to come before him; from her own mouth he heard the whole relation of her continued affection to Martuccio, whereuppon hee saide. Now trust me faire Damosell, thou hast dearly deserued him to be thy husband. Then sending for very costly Iewels, and rich presents, the one halfe of them he gaue to her, and the other to Martuccio, graunting them license withall, to marry according to their owne mindes.

Martuccio did many honors, and gaue great giftes to the aged Sara∣zine Lady, with whom Constance had liued so kindly respected: which al∣though she had no neede of, neither euer expected any such rewarding; yet (conquered by their vrgent importunity, especially Constance, who could not be thankfull enough to her) she was enforced to receiue them, and taking her leaue of them weeping, sayled backe againe to Susa.

Within a short while after, the King licensing their departure thence, they entred into a small Barke, and Carapresa with them, sailing on with prosperous gales of winde, vntill they arriued at Liparis, where they were entertained with generall reioycing. And because their marriage was not sufficiently performed at Thunis, in regard of diuers Christian cere∣monies

there wanting, their Nuptials were againe most honourably so∣lemnized, and they liued (many yeares after) in health and much happi∣nesse.

Pedro Bocamazzo, escaping away with a yong Damosell which he loued, na∣med Angelina, met with Theeues in his iourney. The Damosell flying fear∣fully into a Forrest, by chance arriueth at a Castle. Pedro being taken by the Theeues, and happening afterward to escape from them; commeth (acciden∣tally to the same Castle where Angelina was. And marrying her, they then returned home to Rome.

The third Nouell.

Wherein, the seuerall powers both of Loue and Fortune, is more at large appro∣ued.

[illustration]

THere was not any one in the whole company, but much commen∣ded the Nouell reported by Madam Emillia, and when the Queene perceiued it was ended, she turned towards Madam Eliza, commanding her to continue on their delightfull exercise: whereto shee declaring her willing obedience, began to speak thus. Courteous Ladies, I remember one vnfortunate night, which happened to two Louers, that were not in∣dued with the greatest discretion. But because they had very many faire and happy dayes afterwardes, I am the more willing for to let you heare it.

In the Citie of Rome, which (in times past) was called the Ladie and Mistresse of the world, though now scarsely so good as the waiting maid: there dwelt sometime a yong Gentleman, named Pedro Boccamazzo, des∣cended from one of the most honorable families in Rome, who was much

enamoured of a beautifull Gentlewoman, called Angelina, daughter to one named Gigliuozzo Saullo, whose fortunes were none of the fairest, yet he greatly esteemed among the Romaines. The entercourse of loue be∣tween these twaine, had so equally enstructed their hearts and souls, that it could hardly be iudged which of them was the more feruent in affecti∣on. But he, not being imputed to such oppressing passions, and therefore the lesse able to support them, except he were sure to compasse his desire plainly made the motion, that he might enioy her in honorable mariage. Which his parents and friends hearing, they went to conferre with him, blaming him with ouer-much basenesse, so farre to disgrace himselfe and his stocke. Beside, they aduised the Father to the Maid, neither to cre∣dit what Pedro saide in this case, or to liue in hope of any such match, be∣cause they all did wholly despise it.

Pedro perceiuing, that the way was shut vp, wherby (and none other) he was to mount the Ladder of his hopes; began to waxe weary of longer liuing: and if he could haue won her fathers consent, he would haue ma∣ried her in the despight of all his friends. Neuerthelesse, he had a conceit hammering in his head, which if the maid would bee as forward as him∣selfe, should bring the matter to full effect. Letters and secret intelligen∣ces passing still betweene, at length he vnderstood her ready resolution, to aduenture with him thorough all fortunes whatsoeuer, concluding on their sodaine and secret flight from Rome. For which Pedro did so well prouide, that very early in a morning, and well mounted on horsebacke, they tooke the way leading vnto Alagna, where Pedro had some honest friends, in whom he reposed especiall trust. Riding on thus thorow the countrey, hauing no leysure to accomplish their marriage, because they stoode in feare of pursuite: they were ridden aboue foure leagues from Rome, still shortning the way with their amorous discoursing.

It fortuned, that Pedro hauing no certaine knowledge of the way, but following a trackt guiding too farre on the left hand; rode quite out of course, and came at last within sight of a small Castle, out of which (be∣fore they were aware) yssued twelue Villaines, whom Angelina sooner e∣spyed, then Pedro could do, which made her cry 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to him, saying: Help deere Loue to saue vs, or else we shall be assayled. Pedro then turning his horse so expeditiously as he could, and giuing him the spurres as neede re∣quired; mainly be gallopped into a neere adioyning Forrest, more min∣ding the following of Angelina, then any direction of his way, or thē that endeauoured to be his hinderance. So that by often winding & turning about, as the passage appeared troublesom to him, when he thought him selfe free and furthest from them, he was round engirt, and seized on by them. When they had made him to dismount from his horse, questio∣ning him of whence and what he was, and he resoluing them therin, they fell into a secret consultation, saying thus among themselues. This man is a friend to our deadly enemies, how can wee then otherwise dispose of him, but bereaue him of all he hath, and in despight of the Orsini (men in nature hatefull to vs) hang him vp heere on one of these Trees?

All of them agreeing in this dismall resolution, they commanded Pe∣dro to put off his garments, which he yeelding to do (albeit vnwillingly) it so fell out, that fiue and twenty other theeues, came sodainly rushing in vpon them, crying, Kill, kill, and spare not a man.

They which before had surprized Pedro, desiring nowe to shifte for their owne safetie; left him standing quaking in his shirt, and so ranne away mainely to defend themselues. Which the new crewe perceyuing, and that their number farre exceeded the other: they fol∣lowed to robbe them of what they had gotten, accounting it as a pre∣sent purchase for them. Which when Pedro perceyued, and saw none tarrying to prey vppon him; hee put on his cloathes againe, and moun∣ting on his owne Horsse, gallopped that way, which Angelina before had taken: yet could hee not descry any tracke or path, or so much as the footing of a horse; but thought himselfe in sufficient securitie, beeing rid of them that first seized on him, and also of the rest, which followed in the pursuite of them.

For the losse of his beloued Angelina, he was the most wofull man in the world, wandering one while this way, and then againe another, calling for her all about the Forrest, without any answere returning to him. And not daring to ride backe againe, on he trauailed stil, not kno∣wing where to make his arriuall. And hauing formerly heard of sauage rauenous beasts, which commonly liue in such vnfrequented Forrests: he not onely was in feare of loosing his owne life, but also despayred much for his Angelina, least some Lyon or Woolfe, had torne her body in pee∣ces.

Thus rode on poore vnfortunate Pedro, vntill the breake of day ap∣peared, not finding any meanes to get forth of the Forrest, still crying and calling for his fayre friend, riding many times backeward, when as hee thought hee rode forward, vntill hee became so weake and faint, what with extreame feare, lowd calling, and continuing so long a while with∣out any sustenance, that the whole day beeing thus spent in vaine, and darke night sodainly come vppon him, hee was not able to hold out any longer.

Now was hee in farre worse case then before, not knowing where, or how to dispose of himselfe, or what might best bee done in so great a ne∣cessity. From his Horse hee alighted, and tying him by the bridle vnto a great tree, vppe he climbed into the same Tree, fearing to bee deuoured (in the night time) by some wilde beast, choosing rather to let his Horsse perish, then himselfe. Within a while after, the Moone beganne to rise, and the skies appeared bright and clcare: yet durst hee not nod, or take a nap, lest he should fall out of the tree; but sate still greeuing, sighing, and mourning, despairing of euer seeing his Angelina any more, for he could not be comforted by the smallest hopefull perswasion, that any good for∣tune might befall her in such a desolate Forrest, where nothing but dis∣mall feares was to be expected, and no likelihood that she should escape with life.

Now, concerning poore affrighted Angelina, who (as you heard be∣fore) knew not any place of refuge to flye vnto: but euen as it pleased hir horse to carry her: she entred so farre into the Forest, that she could not deuise where to seeke her owne safety. And therefore, euen as it fared with her friend Pedro, in the same manner did it fall out with her, wan∣dering the whole night, and all the day following, one while taking one hopefull tracke, and then another, calling, weeping, wringing hir hands, and greeuously complaining of her hard fortune. At the length, percey∣uing that Pedro came not to her at all, she found a little path (which shee lighted on by great good fortune) euen when dark night was apace draw∣ing, and followed it so long, til it brought her within the sight of a small poore Cottage, whereto she rode on so fast as she could; and found ther∣in a very old man, hauing a wife rather more aged then he, who seeing hir to be without company, the old man spake thus vnto her.

Faire daughter (quoth he) whether wander you at such an vnseasona∣ble houre, and all alone in a place so desolate? The Damosell weeping, replied; that shee had lost her company in the forest, and enquired how neere shee was to Alagna. Daughter (answered the old man) this is not the way to Alagna, for it is a boue sixe leagues hence. Then shee desired to knowe, how farre off shee was from such houses, where she might haue any reasonable lodging? There are none so neere, said the old man, that day light will giue you leaue to reach. May it please you then good Fa∣ther (replied Angelina) seeing I cannot trauaile any whether else; For Gods sake, to let me remaine heere with you this night. Daughter answe∣red the good old man, wee can gladly giue you entertainement here, for this night, in such poore manner as you see: but let mee tell you withall, that vp and downe these wooddes (as well by night as day) walke com∣panies of all conditions, and rather enimies then friends, who doe vs ma∣ny greeuious displeasures and harmes. Now if by msifortune, you beeing heere, any such people should come, and seeing you so loouely faire, as indeed you are, offer you any shame or iniurie: Alas you see it lies not in our power to lend you any helpe or succour. I thought it good (there∣fore) to acquaint you heerewith; because if any such mischance do hap∣pen, you should not afterward complaine of vs.

The yong Maiden, seeing the time to be so farre spent, albeit the olde mans words did much dismay her, yet she thus replyed. If it be the wil of heauen, both you and I shall be defended from any misfortune: but if a∣ny such mischance do happen, I account the matter lesse deseruing grief, if I fall into the mercy of men, then to be deuoured by wild beasts in this Forrest. So, being dismounted from her horse, and entred into the home∣ly house; she supt poorely with the olde man and his wife, with such mean cates as their prouision affoorded: and after supper, lay downe in hir gar∣ments on the same poore pallet, where the aged couple tooke their rest, and was very well contented therewith, albeit she could not refraine from sighing and weeping, to bee thus diuided from her deare Pedro, of whose life and welfare she greatly despaired.

When it was almost day, she heard a great noise of people trauailing by, whereupon sodainly she arose, and ranne into a Garden plot, which was on the backside of the poore Cottage, espying in one of the corners a great stacke of Hay, wherein she hid her selfe, to the end, that trauelling strangers might not readily finde her there in the house. Scarsely was she fully hidden, but a great company of Theeues and Villaines, finding the doore open, rushed into the Cottage, where looking round about them for some booty, they saw the Damosels horse stand ready sadled, which made them demand to whom it belonged. The good olde man, not see∣ing the Maiden present there, but immagining that shee had made some shift for her selfe, answered thus. Gentlemen, there is no body here but my wife and my selfe: as for this Horse, which seemeth to bee escaped from the Owner; hee came hither yesternight, and we gaue him house∣roome heere, rather then to be deuoured by Wolues abroad. Then said the principall of the Theeuish crew: This horse shall be ours, in regard he hath no other master, and let the owner come claime him of vs.

When they had searched euery corner of the poore Cottage, & found no such prey as they looked for, some of them went into the backe side, where they had left their Iauelins and Targets, wherewith they vsed com∣monly to trauaile. It fortuned, that one of them, being more subtily sus∣pitious then the rest, thrust his Iaueline into the stacke of Hay, in the ve∣ry same place where the Damosell lay hidden, missing very little of killing her; for it entred so farre, that the iron head pierced quite thorough her Garments, and touched her left bare brest: whereupon, shee was ready to cry out, as fearing that she was wounded: but considering the place where she was, she lay still, and spake not a word. This disordred com∣pany, after they had fed on some young Kids, and other flesh which they brought with them thither, they went thence about their theeuing exer∣cise, taking the Damosels horse along with them.

After they were gone a good distance off, the good old man beganne thus to question his Wife. What is become (quoth hee) of our young Gentlewoman, which came so late to vs yesternight? I haue not seen hir to day since our arising. The old woman made answer, that she knew not where she was, and sought all about to finde her. Angelinaes feares being well ouer-blowne, and hearing none of the former noise, which made her the better hope of their departure, came forth of the Hay-stack; wher∣of the good old man was not a little ioyfull, and because she had so well escaped from them: so seeing it was now broad day-light, he sayde vnto her. Now that the morning is so fairely begun, if you can be so well con∣tented, we will bring you to a Castle, which stands about two miles and an halfe hence, where you will be sure to remaine in safety. But you must needs trauaile thither on foote, because the night-walkers that happened hither, haue taken away your horse with them.

Angelina making little or no account of such a losse, entreated them for charities sake, to conduct her to that Castle, which accordingly they did, ••nd arriued there betweene seuen and eight of the clocke. The Castle be∣longed

to one of the Orsini, being called, Liello di Campo di Fiore, and by great good fortune, his wife was then there, she being a very vertuous and religious Lady. No sooner did shee looke vpon Angelina, but shee knew her immediately, and entertaining her very willingly, requested, to know the reason of her thus arriuing there: which shee at large related, and mo∣ued the Lady (who likewise knew Pedro perfectly well) to much compas∣sion, because he was a kinsman and deare friend to her Husband; and vn∣derstanding how the Theeues had surprized him, shee feared, that he was slaine among them, whereupon shee spake thus to Angelina. Seeing you know not what is become of my kinsman Pedro, you shall remaine here with me, vntill such time, as (if we heare no other tidings of him) you may with safety be sent backe to Rome.

Pedro all this while sitting in the Tree, so ful of griefe, as no man could be more; about the houre of midnight (by the bright splendour of the Moone) espied about some twenty Wolues, who, so soone as they got a sight of the Horse, ran and engirt him round about. The Horse when he perceiued them so neere him, drew his head so strongly back-ward, that breaking the reines of his bridle, he laboured to escape away from them. But being beset on euery side, and vtterly vnable to helpe himselfe, he con∣tended with his teeth & feete in his owne defence, till they haled him vio∣lently to the ground, and tearing his body in peeces, left not a ••ot of him but the bare bones, and afterward ran ranging thorow the Forrest. At this sight poore Pedro was mightily dismayed, fearing to speed no better then his Horse had done, and therefore could not deuise what was best to be done; for he saw no likelihood now, of getting out of the Forrest with life. But day-light drawing on apace, and he almost dead with cold, hauing stood quaking so long in the Tree; at length by continuall looking euery where about him, to discerne the least glimpse of any comfort; he espied a great fire, which seemed to be about halfe a mile off from him.

By this time it was broade day, when he descended downe out of the Tree, (yet not without much feare) and tooke his way towards the fire, where being arriued, he found a company of Shepheards banquetting a∣bout it, whom he curteously saluting, they tooke pity on his distresse, and welcommed him kindly. After he had tasted of such cheare as they had, and was indifferently refreshed by the good fire; hee discoursed his hard disasters to them, as also how he happened thither, desiring to know, if any Village or Castle were neere thereabout, where he might in better manner releeue himselfe. The Shepheards told him, that about a mile and an halfe from thence, was the Castle of Signior Liello di Campo di Fiore, and that his Lady was now residing there; which was no meane comfort to poore Pedro, requesting that one of them would accompany him thither, as two of them did in louing manner, to ridde him of all further feares.

When he was arriued at the Castle, and found there diuers of his fa∣miliar acquaintance; he laboured to procure some meanes, that the Da∣mosell might be sought for in the Forrest. Then the Lady calling for her, and bringing her to him; he ran and caught her in his armes, being ready

to swoune with conceit of ioy, for neuer could any man be more comfor∣ted, then he was at the sight of his Angelina, and questionlesse, her ioy was not a iot inferior to his, such a simpathy of firme loue was sealed between them. The Lady of the Castle, after shee had giuen them very gracious entertainement, and vnderstood the scope of their bold aduenture; shee reproued them both somewhat sharpely, for presuming so farre without the consent of their Parents. But perceiuing (notwithstanding all her re∣monstrances) that they continued still constant in their resolution, with∣out any inequality on either side; shee saide to her selfe. Why should this matter be any way offensiue to me? They loue each other loyally; they are not inferiour to one another in birth, but in fortune; they are equally loued and allied to my Husband, and their desire is both honest and honourable. Moreouer, what know I, if it be the will of Heauen to haue it so? Theeues intended to hang him, in malice to his name and kin∣red, from which hard fate he hath happily escaped. Her life was endan∣gered by a sharpe pointed Iaueline, and yet her fairer starres would not suffer her so to perish: beside, they both haue escaped the fury of rauenous wild beasts, and all these are apparant signes, that future comforts should recompence former passed misfortunes; farre be it therefore from me, to hinder the appointment of the Heauens.

Then turning her selfe to them, thus shee proceeded. If your desire be to ioyne in honourable marriage, I am well contented therewith, and your nuptials shall here be sollemnized at my Husbands charges. After∣ward both he and I will endeauour, to make peace between you and your discontented Parents. Pedro was not a little ioyfull at her kind offer, and Angelina much m••re then he; so they were maried together in the Castle, and worthily feasted by the Lady, as Forrest entertainment could permit, and there they enioyed the first fruits of their loue. Within a short while after, the Lady and they (well mounted on Horse-backe▪ and attended with an honourable traine) returned to Rome; where her Lord Liello and shee preuailed so wel with Pedroes angry Parents: that all variance ended in loue and peace, and afterward they liued louingly together, till old age made them as honourable, as their true and mutuall affection formerly had done.

Ricciardo Manardy, was found by Messer Lizio da Valbonna, as he sate fast asleepe at his Daughters Chamber window, hauing his hand fast in hers, and shee sleeping in the same manner. Whereupon, they were ioyned together in marriage, and their long loyall loue mutually recompenced.

The fourth Nouell.

Declaring the discreete prouidence of Parents, in care of their Childrens loue and their owne credit, to cut off inconueniences, before they doe proceede too farre.

MAdam Eliza hauing ended her Tale, and heard what commendati∣ons the whole company gaue thereof; the Queene commanded Phi∣lostratus,

to tell a Nouell agreeing with his owne minde, who smiling thereat, thus replyed. Faire Ladies, I haue beene so often checkt & snapt, for my yester dayes matter and argument of discoursing, which was both tedious and offensiue to you; that if I intended to make you any amends, I should now vndertake to tell such a Tale, as might put you into a mirth∣full humour. Which I am determined to doe, in relating a briefe and pleasant Nouell, not any way offensiue (as I trust) but exemplary for some good notes of obseruation.

[illustration]

Not long since, there liued in Romania, a Knight, a very honest Gen∣tleman, and well qualified, whose name was Messer Lizio da Valbonna, to whom it fortuned, that (at his entrance into age) by his Lady and wife, called Iaquemina, he had a Daughter, the very choycest and goodliest gen∣tlewoman in all those places. Now because such a happy blessing (in their olde yeeres) was not a little comfortable to them; they thought them∣selues the more bound in duty, to be circumspect of her education, by keeping her out of ouer-frequent companies, but onely such as agreed best with their grauity, & might giue the least ill example to their Daugh∣ter, who was named Catharina; as making no doubt, but by this their pro∣uident and wary respect, to match her in mariage answerable to their li∣king. There was also a young Gentleman, in the very flourishing estate of his youthfull time, descended from the Family of the Manardy da Bret∣tinoro, named Messer Ricciardo, who oftentimes frequented the House of Messer Lizio, and was a continuall welcome guest to his Table, Messer Lizio and his wife making the like account of him, euen as if he had beene their owne Sonne.

This young Gallant, perceiuing the Maiden to be very beautifull, of

singular behauiour, and of such yeeres as was fit for mariage, became exceedingly enamoured of her, yet concealed his affection so closely as he could; which was not so couertly caried, but that she perceiued it, and grew in as good liking of him. Many times he had an earnest desire to haue conference with her, which yet still he deferred, as fearing to dis∣please her; till at the length he lighted on an apt opportunity, and boldly spake to her in this manner. Faire Catharina, I hope thou wilt not let me die for thy loue? Signior Ricciardo (replyed shee suddenly againe) I hope you will extend the like mercy to me, as you desire that I should shew to you. This answere was so pleasing to Messer Ricciardo, that presently he saide. Alas deare Loue, I haue dedicated all my fairest fortunes onely to thy seruice, so that it remaineth soly in thy power, to dispose of me as best shall please thee, and to appoint such times of priuate conuersation, as may yeeld more comfort to my poore afflicted soule.

Catharina standing musing a while, at last returned him this answere. Signior Ricciardo, quoth shee, you see what a restraint is set on my liberty, how short I am kept from cōuersing with any one, that I hold this our en∣terparlance now almost miraculous. But if you could deuise any conue∣nient meanes, to admit vs more familiar freedome, without any preiudice to mine honour, or the least distaste of my Parents; doe but enstruct it, and I will aduenture it. Ricciardo hauing considered on many wayes and meanes, thought one to be the fittest of all; and therefore thus replyed. Catharina (quoth he) the onely place for our more priuate talking toge∣ther, I conceiue to be the Gallery ouer your Fathers Garden. If you can winne your Mother to let you lodge there, I will make meanes to climbe ouer the wall, and at the goodly gazing window, we may discourse so long as we please. Now trust me deare Loue (answered Catharina) no place can be more conuenient for our purpose, there shall we heare the sweete Birds sing, especially the Nightingale, which I haue heard singing there all the night long; I will breake the matter to my Mother, and how I speede, you shall heare further from me. So, with diuers parting kisses, they brake off conference, till their next meeting.

On the day following, which was towards the ending of the moneth of May, Catharina began to complaine to her Mother, that the season was ouer-hot and tedious, to be still lodged in her Mothers Chamber, because it was an hinderance to her sleeping; and wanting rest, it would be an empairing of her health. Why Daughter (quoth the Mother) the weather (as yet) is not so hot, but (in my minde) you may very well endure it. Alas Mother, said shee, aged people, as you and my Father are, doe not feele the heates of youthfull bloud, by reason of your farre colder complexion, which is not to be measured by younger yeeres. I know that well Daugh∣ter, replyed the Mother; but is it in my power, to make the weather warme or coole, as thou perhaps wouldst haue it? Seasons are to be suffe∣red, according to their seuerall qualities; and though the last night might seeme hot, this next ensuing may be cooler, and then thy rest will be the better. No Mother, quoth Catharina, that cannot be; for as Summer pro∣ceedeth

on, so the heate encreaseth, and no expectation can be of tem∣perate weather, vntill it groweth to Winter againe. Why Daughter, saide the Mother, what wouldest thou haue me to doe? Mother (quoth shee) if it might stand with my Fathers good liking and yours, I would be spared from in the Garden Gallery, which is a great deale more coole, and temperate. There shall I heare the sweete Nightingale sing, as euery night shee vseth to doe, and many other pretty Birds beside, which I can∣not doe, lodging in your Chamber.

The Mother louing her Daughter dearely, as being some-what ouer∣fond of her, and very willing to giue her contentment; promised to im∣part her minde to her Father, not doubting but to compasse what shee re∣quested. When shee had moued the matter to Messer Lizio, whose age made him somewhat froward and teasty; angerly he said to his wife. Why how now woman? Cannot our Daughter sleepe, except shee heare the Nightingale sing? Let there be a bed made for her in the Ouen, and there let the Crickets make her melody. When Catharina heard this answere from her Father, and saw her desire to be disappointed; not onely could shee take any rest the night following, but also complained more of the heate then before, not suffering her Mother to take any rest, which made her goe angerly to her Husband in the morning, saying. Why Husband, haue we but one onely Daughter, whom you pretend to loue right deare∣ly, and yet can you be so carelesse of her, as to denie her a request, which is no more then reason? What matter is it to you or me, to let her lodge in the Garden Gallery? Is her young bloud to be compared with ours? Can our weake and crazie bodies, feele the frolicke temper of hers? Alas, shee is hardy (as yet) out of her childish yeeres, and Children haue many desires farre differing from ours: the singing of Birds is rare musicke to them, and chiefly the Nightingale; whose sweete notes will prouoke them to rest, when neither art or physicke can doe it.

Is it euen so Wife? answered Messer Lizio. Must your will and mine be gouerned by our Daughter? Well be it so then, let her bed be made in the Garden Gallerie, but I will haue the keeping of the key, both to locke her in at night, and set her at libertie euery morning. Woman, woman, young wenches are wily, many wanton crochets are busie in their braines, and to vs that are aged, they sing like Lapwings, telling vs one thing, and intending another; talking of Nightingales, when their mindes run on Cocke-Sparrowes. Seeing Wife, shee must needes haue her minde, let yet your care and mine extend so farre, to keepe her chastity vncorrup∣ted, and our credulity from being abused. Catharina hauing thus preuai∣led with her Mother, her bed made in the Garden Gallery, and sectet in∣telligence giuen to Ricciardo, for preparing his meanes of accesse to her window; old prouident Lizio lockes the doore to bed-ward, and giues her liberty to come forth in the morning, for his owne lodging was neere to the same Gallery.

In the dead and silent time of night, when all (but Louers) take their rest; Ricciardo hauing prouided a Ladder of Ropes, with grapling hookes

to take hold aboue and below, according as he had occasion to vse it. By helpe thereof, first he mounted ouer the Garden wall, and then climbde vp to the Gallery window, before which (as is euery whe••e in Italie) was a little round eng••••ting Tarras, onely for a man to stand vpon, for making cleane the window, or otherwise repairing it. Many nights (in this man∣ner) enioyed they their meetings, entermixing their amorous conference with infinite kisses and kinde embraces, as the window gaue leaue, he sit∣ting in the Tarras, and departing alwayes before breake of day, for feare of being discouered by any.

But, as excesse of delight is the Nurse to negligence, and begetteth such an ouer-presuming boldnesse, as afterward proueth to be sauced with re∣pentance: so came it to passe with our ouer-fond Louers, in being taken ••ardy through their owne folly. After they had many times met in this manner, the nights (according to the season) growing shorter and shorter, which their stolne delight made them lesse respectiue of, then was requi∣site in an aduenture so dangerous: it fortuned, that their amorous plea∣sure had so farre transported them, and dulled their sences in such sort, by these then continued nightly watchings; that they both fell fast asleepe, he hauing his hand closed in hers, and shee one arme folded about his bo∣dy, and thus they slept till broade day light. Old Messer Lizio, who con∣tinually was the morning Cocke to the whole House, going foorth into his Garden, saw how his Daughter and Ricciardo were seated at the win∣dow. In he went againe, and going to his wiues Chamber, saide to her. Rise quickly wise, and you shall see, what made our Daughter so desirous to lodge in the Garden Gallery. I perceiue that shee loued to heare the Nightingale, for shee hath caught one, and holds him fast in her hand. Is it possible, saide the Mother, that our Daughter should catch a liue Nigh∣tingale in the darke? You shall see that your selfe, answered Messer Lizio, if you will make haste, and goe with me.

Shee, putting on her garments in great haste, followed her Husband, and being come to the Gallery doore, he opened it very softly, and going to the window, shewed her how they both sate fast asleepe, and in such manner as hath been before declared: whereupon, shee perceiuing how Ricciardo and Catharina had both deceiued her, would haue made an out∣cry, but that Messer Lizio spake thus to her. Wife, as you loue me, speake not a word, neither make any noyse: for, seeing shee hath loued Ricciardo without our knowledge, and they haue had their priuate meetings in this manner, yet free from any blamefull imputation; he shall enioy her, and shee him. Ricciardo is a Gentleman, well deriued, and of rich possessions, it can be no disparagement to vs, that Catharina match with him in ma∣riage, which he neither shall, or dare denie to doe, in regard of our Lawes seuerity; for climbing vp to my window with his Ladder of Ropes, wher∣by his life is forfeited to the Law, except our Daughter please to spare it, as it remaineth in her power to doe, by accepting him as her husband, or yeelding his life vp to the Law, which surely shee will not suffer, their loue agreeing together in such mutuall manner, and he aduenturing so dange∣rously for her.

Madam Iaquemina, perceiuing that her husband spake very reasona∣bly, and was no more offended at the matter; stept aside with him be∣hinde the drawne Curtaines, vntill they should awake of themselues. At the last, Ricciardo awaked, and seeing it was so farre in the day, thought himselfe halfe dead, and calling to Catharina, saide. Alas deare Loue! what shall we doe? we haue slept too long, and shall be taken here. At which words, Messer Lizio stept forth from behind the Curtaines, saying-Nay, Signior Ricciardo, seeing you haue found such an vnbefitting way hi∣ther, we will prouide you a better for your backe returning. When Ric∣ciardo saw the Father and Mother both there present, he could not deuise what to doe or say, his sences became so strangely confounded; yet know∣ing how hainously hee had offended, if the strictnesse of Law should be challenged against him, falling on his knees, he saide. Alas Messer Lizio, I humbly craue your mercy, confessing my selfe well worthy of death, that knowing the sharpe rigour of the Law, I would presume so audaciously to breake it. But pardon me worthy Sir, my loyall and vnfeined loue to your Daughter Catharina, hath beene the onely cause of my transgres∣sing.

Ricciardo (replyed Messer Lizio) the loue I beare thee, and the honest confidence I doe repose in thee, step vp (in some measure) to pleade thine excuse, especially in the regard of my Daughter, whom I blame thee not for louing, but for this vnlawfull way of presuming to her. Neuerthelesse, perceiuing how the case now standeth, and considering withall, that youth and affection were the ground of thine offence: to free thee from death, and my selfe from dishonour, before thou departest hence, thou shalt espouse my Daughter Catharina, to make her thy lawfull wife in mariage, and wipe off all scandall to my House and me. All this while was poore Catharina on her knees likewise to her Mother, who (notwithstanding this her bold aduenture) made earnest suite to her Husband to remit all, be∣cause Ricciardo right gladly condiscended, as it being the maine issue of his hope and desire; to accept his Catharina in mariage, whereto shee was as willing as he. Messer Lizio presently called for the Confessour of his House, and borrowing one of his Wiues Rings, before they went out of the Gallery; Ricciardo and Catharina were espoused together, to their no little ioy and contentment.

Now had they more leasure for further conference, with the Parents and kindred to Ricciardo, who being no way discontented with this sudden match, but applauding it in the highest degree; they were publikely ma∣ried againe in the Cathedrall Church, and very honourable triumphes performed at the nuptials, liuing long after in happy prosperity.

Guidotto of Cremona, departing out of this mortall life, left a Daughter of his, with Iacomino of Pauia. Giouanni di Seuerino, and Menghino da Minghole, fell both in loue with the young Maiden, and fought for h••••; who being afterward knowne, to be the Sister to Giouanni, shee was giuen in ma∣riage to Menghino.

The fifth Nouell.

Wherein may be obserued, what quarrels and contentions are occasioned by Loue; with some particular discription, concerning the sincerity of a loyall friend.

[illustration]

ALl the Ladies laughing heartily, at the Nouell of the Nightingale, so pleasingly deliuered by Philostratus, when they saw the same to be fully ended, the Queene thus spake. Now trust me Philostratus, though yester-day you did much oppresse mee with melancholy, yet you haue made me such an amends to day, as wee haue little reason to complaine any more of you. So conuerting her speech to Madam Neiphila, shee commanded her to succeede with her discourse, which willingly she yeel∣ded to, beginning in this manner. Seeing it pleased Philostratus, to pro∣duce his Nouell out of Romania: I meane to walke with him in the same iurisdiction, concerning what I am to say.

There dwelt sometime in the City of Fano, two Lombards, the one being named Guidotto of Cremona, and the other Iacomino of Pauia, men of sufficient entrance into yeeres, hauing followed the warres (as Soul∣diers) all their youthful time. Guidotto feeling sicknesse to ouer-master him, and hauing no sonne, kinsman, or friend, in whom he might repose more trust, then hee did in Iacomino: hauing long conference with him about his worldly affaires, and setled his whole estate in good order; he left a Daughter to his charge, about ten yeeres of age, with all such goods as he enioyed, and then departed out of this life. It came to passe, that the City of Forenza, long time being molested with tedious warres, and sub∣iected to very seruile condition; beganne now to recouer her former

strength, with free permission (for all such as pleased) to returne and pos∣sesse their former dwellings. Whereupon, Iacomino (hauing sometime beene an inhabitant there) was desirous to liue in Faenza againe, conuay∣ing thither all his goods, and taking with him also the young girle, which Guidotto had left him, whom hee loued, and respected as his owne childe.

As shee grew in stature, so shee did in beauty and vertuous qualities, as none was more commended throughout the whole City, for faire, ci∣uill, and honest demeanour, which incited many amorously to affect her. But (aboue all the rest) two very honest young men, of good fame and re∣pute, who were so equally in loue addicted to her, that being iealous of each others fortune, in preuenting of their seuerall hopefull expectation; a deadly hatred grew suddenly betweene them, the one being named, Giouanni de Seuerino, and the other Menghino da Minghole. Either of these two young men, before the Maide was fifteene yeeres old, laboured to be possessed of her in marriage, but her Guardian would giue no consent thereto: wherefore, perceiuing their honest intended meaning to be fru∣strated, they now began to busie their braines, how to forestall one ano∣ther by craft and circumuention.

Iacomino had a Maide-seruant belonging to his House, somewhat aged, and a Man-seruant beside, named Griuello, of mirthfull disposition, and very friendly, with whom Giouanni grew in great familiarity; and when he found time fit for the purpose, he discouered his loue to him, requesting his furtherance and assistance, in compassing the height of his desire, with bountifull promises of rich rewarding; whereto Griuello returned this an∣swere. I know not how to sted you in this case, but when my Master shall sup foorth at some Neighbours House, to admit your entrance where she is: because, if I offer to speake to her, shee neuer will stay to heare me. Wherefore, if my seruice this way may doe you any good, I promise to performe it; doe you beside, as you shall find it most conuenient for you. So the bargaine was agreed on betweene them, and nothing else now re∣mained, but to what issue it should sort in the end.

Menghino, on the other side, hauing entred into the Chamber-maides acquaintance, sped so well with her, that shee deliuered so many mes∣sages from him, as had (already) halfe won the liking of the Virgin; passing further promises to him beside, of bringing him to haue conference with her, whensoeuer her Master should be absent from home. Thus Menghino being fauoured (on the one side) by the olde Chamber-maide, and Gio∣uanni (on the other) by trusty Griuello; their amorous warre was now on foote, and diligently followed by both their sollicitors. Within a short while after, by the procurement of Griuello, Iacomino was inuited by a neighbour to supper, in company of diuers his very familiar friends, wher∣of intelligence being giuen to Giouanni; a conclusion passed betweene them, that (vpon a certaine signale giuen) he should come, and finde the doore standing ready open, to giue him all accesse vnto the affected Mayden.

The appointed night being come, and neither of these hot Louers knowing the others intent, but their suspition being alike, and encreasing still more and more; they made choyce of certaine friends and associates, well armed and prouided, for eithers safer entrance when neede should re∣quire. Menghino stayed with his troope, in a neere neighbouring house to the Mayden, attending when the signall would be giuen: but Giouanni and his con••orts, were ambushed somewhat further off from the House, and both saw when Iacomino went foorth to supper. Now Grinello and the Chamber-maide began to vary, which should send the other out of the way, till they had effected their seuerall intention; whereupon Grinello said to her. What maketh thee to walke thus about the House, and why doest thou not get thee to bed? And thou (quoth the Maide) why doest thou not goe to attend on our Master, and tarry for his returning home? I am sure thou hast supt long agoe, and I know no businesse here in the House for thee to doe. Thus (by no meanes) the one could send away the other, but either remained as the others hinderance.

But Grinello remembring himselfe, that the houre of his appointment with Giouanni was come, he saide to himselfe. What care I whether our olde Maide be present, or no? If shee disclose any thing that I doe, I can be reuenged on her when I list. So, hauing made the signall, he went to open the doore, euen when Giouanni (and two of his confederates) rushed into the House, and finding the faire young Maiden sitting in the Hall, laide hands on her, to beare her away. The Damosell began to resist them, crying out for helpe so loude as shee could, as the olde Chamber-maide did the like: which Menghino hearing, he ranne thither presently with his friends, and seeing the young Damosell brought well-neere out of the House; they drew their Swords, crying out: Traytors, you are but dead men, here is no violence to be offered, neither is this a booty for such base groomes. So they layed about them lustily, and would not permit them to passe any further. On the other side, vpon this mutinous noyse and out-cry, the Neighbours came foorth of their Houses, with lights, staues, and clubbes, greatly reprouing them for this out-rage, yet assisting Men∣ghino: by meanes whereof, after a long time of contention, Menghino re∣couered the Mayden from Giouanni, and placed her peaceably in Iacomi∣noes House.

No sooner was this hurly-burly somewhat calmed, but the Serieants to the Captaine of the City, came thither, and apprehended diuers of the mutiners: among whom were Menghino, Giouanni, and Grinello, commit∣ting them immediately to prison. But after euery thing was pacified, and Iacomino returned home to his House from supper; he was not a little of∣fended at so grosse an iniury. When he was fully informed, how the mat∣ter happened, and apparantly perceiued, that no blame at all could be im∣posed on the Mayden: he grew the better contented, resoluing with him∣selfe (because no more such inconueniences should happen) to haue her married so soone as possibly he could.

When morning was come, the kindred and friends on either side, vn∣derstanding

the truth of the errour committed, and knowing beside, what punishment would be inflicted on the prisoners, if Iacomino pressed the matter no further, then as with reason and equity well he might; they re∣paired to him, and (in gentle speeches) entreated him, not to regard a wrong offered by vnruly and youthfull people, meerely drawne into the action by perswasion of friends; submitting both themselues, and the of∣fendors, to such satisfaction as he pleased to appoint them. Iacomino, who had seene and obserued many things in his time, and was a man of sound vnderstanding, returned them this answere.

Gentlemen, if I were in mine owne Countrey, as now I am in yours; I would as forwardly confesse my selfe your friend, as here I must needes fall short of any such seruice, but euen as you shall please to command me. But plainely, and without all further ceremonious complement, I must agree to whatsoeuer you can request; as thinking you to be more in∣iured by me, then any great wrong that I haue sustained. Concerning the young Damosell remaining in my House, shee is not (as many haue ima∣gined) either of Cremona, or Pauia, but borne a Faentine, here in this Ci∣rie: albeit neither my selfe, shee, or he of whom I had her, did euer know it, or yet could learne whose Daughter shee was. Wherefore, the suite you make to me, should rather (in duty) be mine to you: for shee is a na∣tiue of your owne, doe right to her, and then you can doe no wrong vnto mee.

When the Gentlemen vnderstood, that the Mayden was borne in Fa∣enza, they maruelled thereat, and after they had thanked Iacomino for his curteous answer; they desired him to let them know, by what meanes the Damosell came into his custody, and how he knew her to be borne in Fa∣enza: when he, perceiuing them attentiue to heare him, began in this manner.

Vnderstand worthy Gentlemen, that Guidotto of Cremona, was my companion and deare friend, who growing neere to his death, tolde me, that when this City was surprized by the Emperour Frederigo, and all things committed to sacke and spoile; he and certaine of his confederates entred into a House, which they found to be well furnished with goods, but vtterly forsaken of the dwellers, onely this poore Mayden excepted, being then aged but two yeeres, or thereabout. As hee mounted vp the steps, with intent to depart from the House; she called him Father, which word moued him so compassionately: that he went backe againe, brought her away with him, and all things of worth which were in the House, go∣ing thence afterward to Fano, and there deceasing, he left her and all his goods to my charge; conditionally, that I should see her maried when due time required, and bestow on her the wealth which he had left her. Now, very true it is, although her yeeres are conuenient for mariage, yet I could neuer find any one to bestow her on, at least that I thought fitting for her: howbeit, I will listen thereto much more respectiuely, before any other such accident shall happen.

It came to passe, that in the reporting of this discourse, there was then

a Gentleman in the company, named Guillemino da Medicina, who at the surprizal of the City, was present with Guidotto of Cremona, and knew well the House which he had ransacked, the owner whereof was also present with him, wherefore taking him aside, he saide to him. Bernardino, hearest thou what Iacomino hath related? yes very wel, replyed Bernardino, and re∣member withall, that in that dismall bloody combustion, I lost a little Daughter, about the age as Iacomino spake he. Questionlesse then, replied Guillemino, shee must needes be the same young Mayden, for I was there at the same time, and in the House, whence Guidotto did bring both the girle and goods, and I doe perfectly remember, that it was thy House. I pray thee call to minde, if euer thou sawest any scarre or marke about her, which may reuiue thy former knowledge of her, for my minde per∣swades me, that the Maide is thy Daughter.

Bernardino musing a while with himselfe, remembred, that vnder her left care, shee had a scarre, in the forme of a little crosse, which happened by the byting of a Wolfe, and but a small while before the spoyle was made. Wherefore, without deferring it to any further time, he stept to Ia∣comino (who as yet staied there) and entreated him to fetch the Mayden from his house, because shee might be knowne to some in the company: whereto right willingly he condiscended, and there presented the Maide before them. So soone as Bernardino beheld her, he began to be much in∣wardly moued, for the perfect character of her Mothers countenance, was really figured in her sweete face; onely that her beauty was somewhat more excelling. Yet not herewith satisfied, he desired Iacomino to be so pleased, as to lift vp a little the lockes of haire, depending ouer her left eare▪ Iacomino did it presently, albeit with a modest blushing in the maide, and Bernardino looking aduisedly on it, knew it to be the selfe same crosse; which confirmed her constantly to be his Daughter.

Ouercome with excesse of ioy, which made the teares to trickle downe his cheekes, he proffered to embrace and kisse the Maide: but she refusing his kindnesse, because (as yet) shee knew no reason for it, he turned him∣selfe to Iacomino, saying. My deare brother and friend, this Maide is my Daughter, and my House was the same which Guidotto spoyled, in the ge∣nerall hauocke of our City, and thence he carried this child of mine, for∣gotten (in the fury) by my Wife her Mother. But happy was the houre of his becomming her Father, and carrying her away with him; for else she had perished in the fire, because the House was instantly burnt downe to the ground. The Mayden hearing his words, obseruing him also to be a man of yeeres and grauity: shee beleeued what he saide, and humbly submitted her selfe to his kisses & embraces, euen as instructed thereto by instinct of nature. Bernardino instantly sent for his wife, her owne mother, his daughters, sonnes, and kindred, who being acquainted with this admi∣rable accident, gaue her most gracious and kind welcome, he receiuing her from Iacomino as his childe, and the legacies which Guidotto had left her.

When the Captaine of the City (being a very wise and worthy Gen∣tleman) heard these tydings, and knowing that Giouanni, then his prisoner,

was the Son to Bernardino, and naturall Brother to the newly recouered Maide: he bethought himselfe, how best he might qualifie the fault com∣mitted by him. And entring into the Hall among them, handled the mat∣ter so discreetly, that a louing league of peace was confirmed betweene Giouanni and Menghino, to whom (with free and full consent on all sides) the faire Maide, named Agatha, was giuen in marriage, with a more ho∣nourable enlargement of her dowry, and Grinello, with the rest, deliuered out of prison, which for their tumultuous riot they had iustly deserued. Menghino and Agatha had their wedding worthily sollemnized, with all due honours belonging thereto; and long time after they liued in Faenza, highly beloued, and graciously esteemed.

Guion di Procida, being found familiarly conuersing with a young Damosell, which he loued; and had beene giuen (formerly) to Frederigo, King of Sicilie: was bound to a stake, to be consumed with fire. From which danger (neuer∣thelesse) he escaped, being knowne by Don Rogiero de Oria, Lord Admirall of Sicilie, and afterward married the Damosell.

The sixth Nouell.

Wherein is manifested, that loue can leade a man into numberlesse perils: out of which he escapeth with no meane difficulty.

[illustration]

THe Nouell of Madam Neiphila being ended, which proued very pleasing to the Ladies: the Queene commanded Madam Pampinea, that shee should prepare to take her turne next, whereto willingly obey∣ing, thus shee began. Many and mighty (Gracious Ladies) are the pre∣uailing powers of loue, conducting amorous soules into infinite trauels, with inconueniences no way auoidable, and not easily to be foreseene, or preuented. As partly already hath beene obserued, by diuers of our for∣mer

Nouels related, and some (no doubt) to ensue hereafter; for one of them (comming now to my memory) I shall acquaint you withall, in so good tearmes as I can.

Ischia is an Iland very neere to Naples, wherein (not long since) liued a faire and louely Gentlewoman, named Restituta, Daughter to a Gentle∣man of the same Isle, whose name was Marino Bolgaro. A proper youth called Guion, dwelling also in a neere neighbouring Isle, called Procida, did loue her as dearely as his owne life, and she was as intimately affected towards him. Now because the sight of her was his onely comfort, as oc∣casion gaue him leaue; he resorted to Ischia very often in the day time, and as often also in the night season, when any Barque passed from Procida to Ischia; if to see nothing else, yet to behold the walles that enclosed his Mi∣stresse thus.

While this loue continued in equall feruency, it chanced vpon a faire Summers day, that Restituta walked alone vpon the Sea-shoare, going from Rocke to Rocke, hauing a naked knife in her hand, wherewith shee opened such Oysters as shee found among the stones, seeking for small pearles enclosed in their shelles. Her walke was very solitary and shady, with a faire Spring or well adioyning to it, and thither (at that very instant time) certaine Sicilian young Gentlemen, which came from Naples, had made their retreate. They perceiuing the Gentlewoman to be very beau∣tifull (shee as yet not hauing any sight of them) and in such a silent place alone by her selfe: concluded together, to make a purchase of her, and carry her thence away with them; as indeed they did, notwithstanding all her out-cryes and exclaimes, bearing her perforce aboard their Barque.

Setting sayle thence, they arriued in Calabria, and then there grew a great contention betweene them, to which of them this booty of beauty should belong; because each of them pleaded a title to her. But when they could not grow to any agreement, but doubted greater disaster would en∣sue thereon, by breaking their former league of friendship: by an equall conformity in consent, they resolued, to bestow her as a rich present, on Frederigo King of Sicilie, who was then young & iouiall, and could not be pleased with a better gift; wherefore, they were no sooner landed at Paler∣mo, but they did according as they had determined. The King did com∣mend her beauty extraordinarily, and liked her farre beyond all his other Loues: but, being at that time empaired in his health, and his body much distempered by ill dyet; he gaue command, that vntill he should be in more able disposition, shee must be kept in a goodly house of his owne, erected in a beautifull Garden, called the Cube, where shee was attended in most pompeous manner.

Now grew the noyse and rumor great in Ischia, about this rape or stea∣ling away of Restituta; but the chiefest greeuance of all, was, that it could not be knowne how, by whom, or by what meanes. But Guion di Procida, whom this iniury concerned much more then any other; stood not in ex∣pectation of better tydings from Ischia, but hearing what course the Barke had taken, made ready another, to follow after with all possible speede.

Flying thus on the winged minds through the Seas, euen from Minerua, vnto the Scalea in Calabria, searching for his lost Loue in euery angle: at length it was tolde him at the Scale•• that shee was carried away by cer∣taine Sicillian Marriners, to Palermo, whither Guion set sayle immedi∣ately.

After some diligent search made there, he vnderstood, that she was de∣liuered to the King, and he had giuen strict command, for keeping her in his place of pleasure; called the Cube: which newes were not a little gree∣uous to him, for now he was almost quite out of hope, not onely of euer enioying her, but also of seeing her. Neuerthelesse, Loue would not let him vtterly despaire, whereupon he sent away his Barque, and perceiuing himselfe to be vnk owne of any; he continued for some time in Palermo, walking many times by that goodly place of pleasure. It chanced on a day, that keeping his walke as he vsed to doe, Fortune was so fauourable to him, as to let him haue a sight of her at her window; from whence also she had a full view of him, to their exceeding comfort and contentment. And Guion obseruing, that the Cube was seated in a place of small resort; approached so neere as possibly he durst, to haue some conference with Restituta.

As Loue sets a keene edge on the dullest spirit, and (by a small aduan∣tage) makes a man the more aduenturous: so this little time of vnseene talke, inspired him with courage, and her with witty aduice, by what meanes his accesse might be much neerer to her, and their communicati∣on concealed from any discouery, the scituation of the place, and benefit of time duly considered. Night must be the cloud to their amorous con∣clusion, and therefore, so much thereof being spent, as was thought con∣uenient, he returned thither againe, prouided of such grappling-yrons, as is required when men will clamber, made fast vnto his hands and knees; by their helpe he attained to the top of the wall, whence discending downe into the Garden, there he found the maine yard of a ship, whereof before shee had giuen him instruction, and rearing it vp against her cham∣ber window, made that his meanes for ascending thereto, shee hauing left it open for his easier entrance.

You cannot denie (faire Ladies) but here was a very hopefull begin∣ning, and likely to haue as happy an ending, were it not true Loues fatall misery, euen in the very height of promised assurance, to be thwarted by vnkind preuention, and in such manner as I will tell you. This night, in∣tended for our Louers meeting, proued disastrous and dreadfull to them both: for the King, who at the first sight of Restituta, was highly pleased with her excelling beauty; gaue order to his Eunuches and other women, that a costly bathe should be prepared for her, and therein to let her weare away that night, because the next day he intended to visit her. Restituta being royally conducted from her Chamber to the Bathe, attended on with Torch-light, as if shee had been a Queene: none remained there be∣hind, but such women as waited on her, and the Guards without, which watched the Chamber.

No sooner was poore Guian aloft at the window, calling softly to his Mistresse, as if she had beene there; but he was ouer-heard by the women in the darke, and immediately apprehended by the Guard, who forthwith brought him before the Lord Marshall, where being examined, and he a∣uouching, that Restituta was his elected wife, and for her he had presumed in that manner; closely was he kept in prison till the next morning. When he came into the Kings presence, and there boldly iustified the goodnesse of his cause: Restituta likewise was sent for, who no sooner saw her deare Loue Guian, but shee ran and caught him fast about the necke, kissing him in teares, and greeuing not a little at his hard fortune. Hereat the King grew exceedingly enraged, loathing and hating her now, much more then formerly he did affect her, and hauing himselfe seene, by what strange meanes he did climbe ouer the wall, and then mounted to her Chamber window; he was extreamely impatient, and could not otherwise be per∣swaded, but that their meetings thus had beene very many.

Forthwith he sentenced them both with death, commanding, that they should be conueyed thence to Palermo, and there (being stript starke naked) be bound to a stake backe to backe, and so to stand the full space of nine houres, to see if any could take knowledge, of whence, or what they were; then afterward, to be consumed with fire. The sentence of death, did not so much daunt or dismay the poore Louers, as the vnciuill and vnsightly manner, which (in feare of the Kings wrathfull displeasure) no man durst presume to contradict. Wherefore, as he had commanded, so were they carried thence to Palermo, and bound naked to a stake in the open Market place, and (before their eyes) the fire and wood brought, which was to consume them, according to the houre as the King had appointed. You need not make any question, what an huge concourse of people were soone assembled together, to behold such a sad and wofull spectacle, euen the whole City of Palermo, both men and women. The men were stricken with admiration, beholding the vnequalled beauty of faire Restituta, & the selfe same passion possessed the women, seeing Guian to be such a goodly and compleat young man: but the poore infortunate Louers themselues, they stood with their lookes deiected to the ground, being much pittied of all, but no way to be holpen or rescued by any, a∣waiting when the happy houre would come, to finish both their shame and liues together.

During the time of this tragicall expectation, the fame of this publike execution being noysed abroade, calling all people farre and neere to be∣hold it; it came to the eare of Don Rogiero de Oria, a man of much admired valour, and then the Lord high Admirall of Sicily, who came himselfe in person, to the place appointed for their death. First he obserued the May∣den, confessing her (in his soule) to be a beauty beyond all compare. Then looking on the young man, thus he saide within himselfe: If the inward endowments of the mind, doe paralell the outward perfections of body; the World cannot yeeld a more compleate man. Now, as good natures are quickly incited to compassion (especially in cases almost commanding

it) and compassion knocking at the doore of the soule, doth quicken the memory with many passed recordations: so this noble Admirall, aduised∣ly beholding poore condemned Guion, conceiued, that he had somewhat seene him before this instant, and vpon this perswasion (euen as if diuine vertue had tutured his tongue) he saide: Is not thy name Guion di Pro∣cida?

Marke now, how quickly misery can receiue comfort, vpon so poore and silly a question; for Guion began to eleuate his deiected countenance, and looking on the Admirall, returned him this answere. Sir, heretofore I haue been the man which you spake of; but now, both that name and man must die with me. What misfortune (quoth the Admirall) hath thus vn∣kindly crost thee? Loue (answered Guion) and the Kings displeasure. Then the Admirall would needs know the whole history at large, which briefly was related to him, and hauing heard how all had happened; as he was turning his Horse to ride away thence, Guion called to him, saying. Good my Lord, entreate one fauour for me, if possible it may be. What is that? replyed the Admirall. You see Sir (quoth Guion) that I am very shortly to breathe my last; all the grace which I doe most humbly entreate, is, that as I am here with this chaste Virgin, (whom I honour and loue beyond my life) and miserably bound backe to backe: our faces may be turned each to other, to the end, that when the fire shall finish my life, by looking on her, my soule may take her flight in full felicity. The Admirall smy∣ling, saide; I will doe for thee what I can, and (perhaps) thou mayest so long looke on her, as thou wilt be weary, and desire to looke off her.

At his departure, he commanded them that had the charge of this exe∣cution, to proceede no further, vntill they heard more from the King, to whom hee gallopped immediately, and although hee beheld him to be very angerly moued; yet he spared not to speake in this manner. Sir, wher∣in haue those poore young couple offended you, that are so shamefully to be burnt at Palermo? The King told him: whereto the Admirall (pursu∣ing still his purpose) thus replyed. Beleeue me Sir, if true loue be an of∣fence, then theirs may be termed to be one; and albeit it did deserue death, yet farre be it from thee to inflict it on them: for as faults doe iustly re∣quire punishment, so doe good turnes as equally merit grace and requi∣tall. Knowest thou what and who they are, whom thou hast so dishonou∣rably condemned to the fire? Not I, quoth the King. Why then I will tell thee, answered the Admirall, that thou mayest take the better knowledge of them, and forbeare hereafter, to be so ouer-violently transported with anger.

The young Gentleman, is the Sonne to Landolfo di Procida, the onely Brother to Lord Iohn di Procida, by whose meanes thou becamest Lord and King of this Countrey. The faire young Damosell, is the Daughter to Marino Bolgaro, whose power extendeth so farre, as to preserue thy pre∣rogatiue in Ischia, which (but for him) had long since beene out-rooted there. Beside, these two maine motiues, to challenge iustly grace and fa∣uour from thee; they are in the floure and pride of their youth, hauing

long continued in loyall loue together, and compelled by feruency of en∣deared affection, not any wil to displease thy Maiesty: they haue offended (if it may be termed an offence to loue, and in such louely young people as they are.) Canst thou then find in thine heart to let them die, whom thou rather oughtest to honour, and recompence with no meane re∣wards?

When the King had heard this, and beleeued for a certainty, that the Admirall told him nothing but truth: he appointed not onely, that they should proceede no further, but also was exceeding sorrowfull for what he had done, sending presently to haue them released from the Stake, and honourably to be brought before him. Being thus enstructed in their se∣uerall qualities, and standing in duty obliged, to recompence the wrong which he had done, with respectiue honours: he caused them to be cloa∣thed in royall garments, and knowing them to be knit in vnity of soule; the like he did by marrying them sollemnly together, and bestowing ma∣ny rich gifts and presents on them, sent them honourably attented home to Ischia; where they were with much ioy and comfort receiued, and li∣ued long after in great felicity.

Theodoro falling in loue with Violenta, the Daughter to his Master, named Amarigo, and shee conceiuing with childe by him; was condemned to be han∣ged. As they were leading him to the Gallowes, beating and misusing him all the way: he happened to be knowne by his owne Father, whereupon hee was released, and afterward enioyed Violenta in marriage.

The seuenth Nouell.

Wherein is declared, the sundry trauels and perillous accidents, occasioned by those two powerfull Commanders, Loue and Fortune, the insulting Tyrants ouer humaine life.

GReatly were the Ladies minds perplexed, when they heard, that the two poore Louers were in danger to be burned: but hearing after∣ward of their happy deliuerance, for which they were as ioyfull againe; vpon the concluding of the Nouell, the Queene looked on Madam Lau∣retta, enioyning her to tell the next Tale, which willingly she vndertooke to doe, and thus began.

Faire Ladies, at such time as the good King William reigned in Sicily, there liued within the same Dominions a young Gentleman, named Sig∣nior Amarigo, Abbot of Trapani, who (among his other worldly blessings, commonly termed the goods of Fortune) was not vnfurnished of chil∣dren; and therefore hauing neede of seruants, he made his prouision of them as best he might. At that time, certaine Gallies of Geneway Pyrates comming from the Easterne parts, which coasting along Armenia, had taken diuers children; he bought some of them, thinking that they were Turkes. They all resembling clownish Peazants, yet there was one a∣mong them, who seemed to be of more tractable and gentle nature, yea, and of a more affable countenance then any of the rest, being named,

Theodoro: who growing on in yeeres, (albeit he liued in the condition of a seruant) was educated among Amarigoes Children, and as enstructed ra∣ther by nature, then accident, his conditions were very much commen∣ded, as also the feature of his body, which proued so highly pleasing to his Master Amarigo, that he made him a free man, and imagining him to be a Turke, caused him to be baptized, and named Pedro, creating him su∣perintendent of all his affaires, and reposing his chiefest trust in him.

[illustration]

As the other Children of Signior Amarigo grew in yeeres and stature, so did a Daughter of his, named Violenta, a very goodly and beautifull Damosell, somewhat ouer-long kept from marriage by her Fathers coue∣tousnesse, and casting an eye of good liking on poore Pedro. Now, albeit shee loued him very dearely, and all his behauiour was most pleasing to her, yet maiden modesty forbad her to reueale it, till Loue (too long con∣cealed) must needes disclose it selfe. Which Pedro at the length tooke notice of, and grew so forward towards her in equality of affection, as the very sight of her was his onely happinesse. Yet very fearefull he was, least it should be noted, either by any of the House, or the Maiden her selfe: who yet well obserued it, and to her no meane contentment, as it appea∣red no lesse (on the other side) to honest Pedro.

While thus they loued together meerely in dumbe shewes, not daring to speake to each other, (though nothing more desired) to find some ease in this their oppressing passions: Fortune, euen as if shee pittied their so long languishing, enstructed them how to find out a way, whereby they might both better releeue themselues. Signior Amarigo, about some two or three miles distance from Trapani, had a Countrey-House or Farme, whereto his Wife, with her Daughter and some other women, vsed often∣times

to make their resort, as it were in sportfull recreation; Pedro al∣wayes being diligent to man them thither. One time among the rest, it came to passe, as often it falleth out in the Summer season, that the faire Skie became suddenly ouer-clouded, euen as they were returning home towards Trapani, threatning a storme of raine to ouertake them, except they made the speedier haste.

Pedro, who was young, and likewise Violenta, went farre more lightly then her Mother and her company, as much perhaps prouoked by loue, as feare of the sudden raine falling, and paced on so fast before them, that they were wholly out of sight. After many flashes of lightning, and a few dreadfull clappes of thunder, there fell such a tempestuous shower of hayle, as compelled the Mother and her traine to shelter themselues in a poore Countrey-mans Cottage. Pedro and Violenta hauing no other re∣fuge, ranne likewise into a poore Sheepe-coate, so ouer ruined, as it was in danger to fall on their heads; for no body dwelt in it, neither stood any other house neere it, and it was scarcely any shelter for them, howbeit, necessity enforceth to make shift with the meanest. The storme encreasing more & more, and they coueting to auoide it so well as they could, sighes and drie hemmes were often inter-uented, as dumbly (before) they were wont to doe, when willingly they could affoord another kind of spea∣king.

At last Pedro tooke heart, and saide: I would this shower would neuer cease, that I might be alwayes where I am. The like could I wish, answe∣red Violenta, so we were in a better place of safety. These wishes drew on other gentle language, with modest kisses and embraces, the onely ease to poore Louers soules; so that the raine ceased not, till they had taken order for their oftner conuersing, and absolute plighting of their faithes toge∣ther. By this time the storme was fairely ouer blowne, and they atten∣ding on the way, till the Mother and the rest were come, with whom they returned to Trapani, where by wise and prouident meanes, they often con∣ferred in priuate together, and enioyed the benefit of their amorous de∣sires, yet free from any ill surmise or suspition.

But, as Louers felicities are sildome permanent, without one encoun∣tring crosse or other: so these stolne pleasures of Pedro and Violenta, met with as sowre a sauce in the farewell. For, shee proued to be conceiued with childe, then which could befall them no heauier affliction, and Pedro fearing to loose his life therefore, determined immediate flight, and re∣uealed his purpose to Violenta. Which when she heard, she told him plain∣ly, that if he fled, forth-with shee would kill her selfe. Alas deare Loue (quoth Pedro) with what reason can you wish my tarrying here? This conception of yours, doth discouer our offence, which a Fathers pity may easily pardon in you: but I being his seruant and vassall, shall be punished both for your sinne and mine, because he will haue no mercy on me. Con∣tent thy selfe Pedro, replyed Violenta, I will take such order for mine owne offence, by the discreete counsell of my louing Mother, that no blame shall any way be laide on thee, or so much as a surmise, except thou wilt

fondly betray thy selfe. If you can doe so, answered Pedro, and constantly maintaine your promise; I will not depart, but see that you proue to be so good as your word.

Violenta, who had concealed her amisse so long as shee could, and saw no other remedy, but now at last it must needes be discouered; went pri∣uately to her Mother, and (in teares) reuealed her infirmity, humbly cra∣uing her pardon, and furtherance in hiding it from her Father. The Mo∣ther being extraordinarily displeased, chiding her with many sharpe and angry speeches, would needes know with whom shee had thus offended. The Daughter (to keepe Pedro from any detection) forged a Tale of her owne braine, farre from any truth indeede, which her Mother verily be∣leeuing, and willing to preserue her Daughter from shame, as also the fierce anger of her Husband, he being a man of very implacable nature: conueyed her to the Countrey-Farme, whither Signior Amarigo sildome or neuer resorted, intending (vnder the shadow of sicknesse) to let her lie in there, without the least suspition of any in Trapani.

Sinne and shame can neuer be so closely carried, or clouded with the greatest cunning; but truth hath a loop-light whereby to discouer it, euen when it supposeth it selfe in the surest safety. For, on the very day of her deliuerance, at such time as the Mother, and some few friends (sworne to secrecy) were about the businesse: Signior Amarigo, hauing beene in com∣pany of other Gentlemen, to flye his Hawke at the Riuer, vpon a sudden, (but very vnfortunately, albeit he was alone by himselfe) stept into his Farme house, euen to the next roome where the women were, and heard the new-borne Babe to cry, whereat maruelling not a little, he called for his Wife, to know what young childe cryed in his House. The Mother, amazed at his so strange comming thither, which neuer before he had vsed to doe, and pittying the wofull distresse of her Daughter, which now could be no longer couered, reuealed what happened to Violenta. But he, being nothing so rash in beliefe, as his Wife was, made answere, that it was impossible for his Daughter to be conceiued with childe, because he neuer obserued the least signe of loue in her to any man whatsoeuer, and therefore he would be satisfied in the truth, as shee expected any fauour from him, for else there was no other way but death.

The Mother laboured by all meanes shee could deuise, to pacifie her Husbands fury, which proued all in vaine; for being thus impatiently in∣censed, he drew foorth his Sword, and stepping with it drawne into the Chamber (where she had been deliuered of a goodly Sonne) he said vnto her. Either tell me who is the Father of this Bastard, or thou and it shall perish both together. Poore Violenta, lesse respecting her owne life, then she did the childes; forgot her sollemne promise made to Pedro, and disco∣uered all. Which when Amarigo had heard, he grew so desperately en∣raged, that hardly he could forbeare from killing her. But after he had spoken what his fury enstructed him, hee mounted on Horse-backe a∣gaine, ryding backe to Trapani, where he disclosed the iniury which Pe∣dro had done him, to a noble Gentleman, named Signior Conrado, who

was Captaine for the King ouer the City.

Before poore Pedro could haue any intelligence, or so much as suspe∣cted any treachery against him; he was suddenly apprehended, and being called in question, stood not on any deniall, but confessed truly what he had done: whereupon, within some few dayes after, he was condemned by the Captaine, to be whipt to the place of execution, and afterward to be hanged by the necke. Signior Amarigo, because he would cut off (at one and the same time) not onely the liues of the two poore Louers, but their childes also; as a franticke man, violently carried from all sense of compas∣sion, euen when Pedro was led and whipt to his death: he mingled strong poyson in a Cup of wine, deliuering it to a trusty seruant of his owne, and a naked Rapier withall, speaking to him in this manner. Goe carry these two presents to my late Daughter Violenta, and tell her from me, that in this instant houre, two seuerall kinds of death are offered vnto her, and one of them she must make choyce of, either to drinke the poyson, and so die, or to run her body on this Rapiers point, which if she denie to doe, she shall be haled to the publike market place, and presently be burned in the sight of her lewd companion, according as shee hath worthily deser∣ued. When thou hast deliuered her this message, take her bastard brat, so lately since borne, and dash his braines out against the walles, and af∣terward throw him to my Dogges to feede on.

When the Father had giuen this cruell sentence, both against his own Daughter, and her young Sonne, the seruant, readier to doe euill, then any good, went to the place where his Daughter was kept. Poore condemned Pedro, (as you haue heard) was ledde whipt to the lybbet, and passing (as it pleased the Captaines Officers to guide him) by a faire Inne: at the same time were lodged there three chiefe persons of Armenia, whom the King of the Countrey had sent to Rome, as Ambassadours to the Popes Holi∣nesse, to negociate about an important businesse neerely concerning the King and State. Reposing there for some few dayes, as being much wea∣ried with their iourney, and highly honoured by the Gentlemen of Tra∣pani, especially Signior Amarigo; these Ambassadours standing in their Chamber window, heard the wofull lamentations of Pedro in his passage by.

Pedro was naked from the middle vpward, and his hands bound fast be∣hind him, but being well obserued by one of the Ambassadours, a man a∣ged, and of great authority, named Phineo: he espied a great red spot vp∣pon his breast, not painted, or procured by his punishment, but naturally imprinted in the flesh, which women (in these parts) terme the Rose. Vp∣pon the sight hereof, he suddenly remembred a Sonne of his owne, which was stolne from him about fifteene yeeres before, by Pyrates on the Sea∣coast of Laiazzo, neuer hearing any tydings of him afterward. Vpon fur∣ther consideration, and compairing his Sonnes age with the likelyhood of this poore wretched mans; thus he conferred with his owne thoughts. If my Sonne (quoth he) be liuing, his age is equall to this mans time, and by the redde blemish on his brest, it plainely speakes him for to be my Sonne.

Moreouer, thus he conceiued, that if it were he, he could not but re∣member his owne name, his Fathers, and the Armenian Language; where∣fore, when hee was iust opposite before the window, hee called aloud to him, saying: Theodoro. Pedro hearing the voyce, presently lifted vp his head, and Phineo speaking Armenian, saide: Of whence art thou, and what is thy Fathers name? The Sergeants (in reuerence to the Lord Ambassa∣dour) stayed a while, till Pedro had returned his answer, who saide. I am an Armenian borne, Sonne to one Phineo, and was brought hither I can∣not tell by whom. Phineo hearing this, knew then assuredly, that this was the same Sonne which he had lost; wherefore, the teares standing in his eyes with conceite of ioy: downe he descended from the window, and the other Ambassadours with him, running in among the Sergeants to em∣brace his Sonne, and casting his owne rich Cloake about his whipt body, entreating them to forbeare and proceed no further, till they heard what command he should returne withall vnto them; which very willingly they promised to doe.

Already, by the generall rumour dispersed abroade, Phineo had vnder∣stood the occasion, why Pedro was thus punished, and sentenced to be hanged; wherefore, accompanied with his fellow Ambassadours, and all their attending traine, he went to Signior Conrado, and spake thus to him. My Lord, he whom you haue sent to death as a slaue, is a free Gentleman borne, and my Sonne, able to make her amends whom he hath dishono∣red, by taking her in mariage as his lawfull Wife. Let me therefore en∣treate you, to make stay of the execution, vntill it may be knowne, whether she will accept him as her Husband, or no; least (if she be so pleased) you offend directly against your owne Law. When Signior Conrado heard, that Pedro was Sonne to the Lord Ambassadour, he wondered thereat not a little, and being somewhat ashamed of his fortunes errour, confes∣sed, that the claime of Phineo was conformable to Law, and ought not to be denied him; going presently to the Councell Chamber, sending for Signior Amarigo immediately thither, and acquainting him fully with the case.

Amarigo, who beleeued that his Daughter and her Child were already dead, was the wofullest man in the World, for his so rash proceeding, knowing very well, that if shee were not dead, the scandall would easily be wipt away with credit. Wherefore he sent in all poast haste, to the place where his Daughter lay, that if his command were not already exe∣cuted, by no meanes to haue it done at all. He who went on this speedy errand, found there Signior Amarigoes seruant standing before Violenta, with the Cup of poyson in his one hand, and the drawne Rapier in the other, reproaching herewith very foule and iniurious speeches, because shee had delayed the time so long, and would not accept the one or other, striuing (by violence) to make her take the one. But hearing his Masters command to the contrary, he left her, and returned backe to him, certify∣ing him how the case stood.

Most highly pleased was Amarigo with these glad newes, and going to

the Ambassadour Phineo, in teares excused himselfe (so well as he could) for his seuerity, and crauing pardon; assured him, that if Theodoro would accept his Daughter in mariage, willingly he would bestow her on him. Phineo allowed his excuses to be tollerable, and saide beside; If my Sonne will not mary your Daughter, then let the sentence of death be executed on him. Amarigo and Phineo being thus accorded, they went to poore Theodoro, fearefully looking euery minute when he should die, yet ioyfull that he had found his Father, who presently moued the question to him. Theodoro hearing that Violenta should be his Wife, if he would so accept her: was ouercome with such exceeding ioy, as if he had leapt out of hell into Paradise; confessing, that no greater felicity could befall him, if Violen∣ta her selfe were so well pleased as he.

The like motion was made to her, to vnderstand her disposition in this case, who hearing what good hap had befalne Theodoro, and now in like manner must happen to her: whereas not long before, when two such vio∣lent deathes were prepared for her, and one of them she must needes em∣brace, shee accounted her misery beyond all other womens, but shee now thought her selfe aboue all in happinesse, if she might be wife to her belo∣ued Theodoro, submitting her selfe wholy to her Fathers disposing. The mariage being agreed on betweene them, it was celebrated with great pompe and sollemnity, a generall Feast being made for all the Citizens, and the young maried couple nourished vp their sweete Son, which grew to be a very comely childe.

After that the Embassie was dispatched at Rome, and Phineo (with the rest) was returned thither againe; Violenta did reuerence him as her owne naturall Father, and he was not a little proud of so louely a Daughter, be∣ginning a fresh feasting againe, and continuing the same a whole moneth together. Within some short while after, a Galley being fairely furnished for the purpose, Phineo, his Sonne, Daughter, and their young Son went aboard, sayling away thence to Laiazzo, where afterward they liued long in much tranquility.

Anastasio, a Gentleman of the Family of the Honesti, by louing the Daughter to Signior Paulo Trauersario, lauishly wasted a great part of his substance, without receiuing any loue from her againe. By perswasion of some of his kindred and friends, he went to a Countrey dwelling of his, called Chiasso, where he saw a Knight desperately pursue a young Damosell, whom he slew, and afterward gaue her to be deuoured by his Hounds. Anastasio inuited his friends, and hers also whom he so dearely loued, to take part of a dinner with him, who likewise saw the same Damosell so torne in peeces: which his vnkind Loue perceiuing, and fearing least the like ill fortune should happen to her; shee accepted Anastasio to be her Husband.

The eighth Nouell.

Declaring, that Loue not onely makes a man prodigall, but also an enemy to him∣selfe. Moreouer, aduenture oftentimes bringeth such matters to passe, as wit and cunning in man can neuer comprehend.

SO soone as Madam Lauretta held her peace, Madam Philomena (by the Queenes command) began, and saide. Louely Ladies, as pitty is most highly commended in our Sexe, euen so is cruelty in vs as seuerely reuen∣ged (oftentimes) by diuine ordination. Which that you may the better know, and learne likewise to shun, as a deadly euill; I purpose to make ap∣parant by a Nouell, no lesse full of compassion, then delectable.

[illustration]

Rauenna being a very ancient City in Romania, there dwelt sometime a great number of worthy Gentlemen, among whom I am to speake of one more especially, named Anastasio, descended from the Family of the Ho∣nesti, who by the death of his Father, and an Vnkle of his, was left extraor∣dinarily abounding in riches; and growing to yeeres fitting for mariage, (as young Gallants are easily apt enough to doe) he became enamoured of a very beautifull Gentlewoman, who was Daughter to Signior Paulo Trauersario, one of the most ancient and noble Families in all the Coun∣trey. Nor made he any doubt, but by his meanes and industrious ende∣uour, to deriue affection from her againe; for hee carried himselfe like a braue minded Gentleman, liberall in his expences, honest and affable in all his actions, which commonly are the true notes of a good nature, and highly to be commended in any man. But, howsoeuer Fortune became his enemy, these laudable parts of manhood did not any way friend him, but rather appeared hurtfull to him: so cruell, vnkind, and almost meerely sauage did she shew her selfe to him; perhaps in pride of her singular beau∣ty, or presuming on her nobility by birth, both which are on her blemi∣shes, then ornaments in a woman, especially when they be abused.

The harsh and vnciuill vsage in her, grew very distastefull to Anastasio, and so vnsufferable, that after a long time of fruitlesse seruice, requited still

with nothing but coy disdain; desperate resolutions entred into his brain, and often he was minded to kill himselfe. But better thoughts supplan∣ting those furious passions, he abstained from any such violent act; & go∣uerned by more manly consideration, determined, that as she hated him, he would require her with the like, if he could: wherein he became alto∣gether deceiued, because as his hopes grew to a dayly decaying, yet his loue enlarged it selfe more and more.

Thus Anastasio perseuering still in his bootelesse affection, and his ex∣pences not limited within any compasse; it appeared in the iudgement of his Kindred and Friends, that he was falne into a mighty consumption, both of his body and meanes. In which respect, many times they adui∣sed him to leaue the City of Rauenna, and liue in some other place for such a while; as might set a more moderate stint vpon his spendings, and bri∣dle the indiscreete course of his loue, the onely fuell which fed this furi∣ous fire.

Anastasio held out thus a long time, without lending an eare to such friendly counsell: but in the end, he was so neerely followed by them, as being no longer able to deny them, he promised to accomplish their re∣quest. Whereupon, making such extraordinary preparation, as if he wer to set thence for France or Spaine, or else into some further distant coun∣trey: he mounted on horsebacke, and accompanied with some few of his familiar friends, departed from Rauenna, and rode to a country dwelling house of his owne, about three or foure miles distant from the Cittie, which was called Chiasso, and there (vpon a very goodly greene) erecting diuers Tents and Pauillions, such as great persons make vse of in the time of a Progresse: he said to his friends, which came with him thither, that there hee determined to make his abiding, they all returning backe vnto Rauenna, and might come to visite him againe so often as they pleased.

Now, it came to passe, that about the beginning of May, it being then a very milde and serrene season, and he leading there a much more mag∣nificent life, then euer he had done before, inuiting diuers to dine with him this day, and as many to morrow, and not to leaue him till after sup∣per: vpon the sodaine, falling into remembrance of his cruell Mistris, hee commanded all his seruants to forbeare his company, and suffer him to walke alone by himselfe awhile, because he had occasion of priuate medi∣tations, wherein he would not (by any meanes) be troubled. It was then about the ninth houre of the day, and he walking on solitary all alone, ha∣uing gone some halfe miles distance from his Tents, entred into a Groue of Pine-trees, neuer minding dinner time, or any thing else, but only the vnkind requitall of his loue.

Sodainly he heard the voice of a woman, seeming to make most mourn∣full complaints, which breaking of his silent considerations, made him to lift vp his head, to know the reason of this noise. When he saw himselfe so farre entred into the Groue, before he could imagine where he was; hee looked amazedly round about him, and out of a little thicket of bushes & briars, round engirt with spreading trees, hee espyed a young Damosell

come running towards him, naked from the middle vpward, her haire di∣sheuelled on her shoulders, and her faire skinne rent and torne with the briars and brambles, so that the blood ran trickling downe mainly; shee weeping, wringing her hands, and crying out for mercy so lowde as shee could. Two fierce Blood-hounds also followed swiftly after, and where their teeth tooke hold, did most cruelly bite her. Last of all (mounted on a lusty blacke Courser) came gallopping a Knight, with a very sterne and angry countenance, holding a drawne short Sword in his hand, giuing her very vile and dreadfull speeches, and threatning euerie minute to kill her.

This strange and vncouth sight, bred in him no meane admiration, as also kinde compassion to the vnfortunate woman; out of which compas∣sion, sprung an earnest desire, to deliuer her (if he could) from a death so full of anguish and horror: but seeing himselfe to be without Armes, hee ran and pluckt vp the plant of a Tree, which handling as if it had beene a staffe, he opposed himselfe against the Dogges and the Knight, who see∣ing him comming, cryed out in this manner to him. Anastasio, put not thy selfe in any opposition, but referre to my Hounds and me, to punish this wicked woman as she hath iustly deserued. And in speaking these words, the Hounds tooke fast hold on her body, so staying her, vntill the Knight was come neerer to her, and alighted from his horse: when Ana∣stasio (after some other angry speeches) spake thus vnto him. I cannot tell what or who thou art, albeit thou takest such knowledge of me: yet I must say, that it is meere cowardize in a Knight, being armed as thou art, to of∣fer to kill a naked woman, and make thy dogges thus to seize on her, as if she were a sauage beast; therefore beleeue me, I will defend her so farre as I am able.

Anastasio, answered the Knight, I am of the same City as thou art, and do well remember, that thou wast a little Ladde, when I (who was then named Guido Anastasio, and thine Vnckle) became as intirely in loue with this woman, as now thou art of Paulo Trauersarioes daughter. But through her coy disdaine and cruelty, such was my heauy fate, that desperately I slew my selfe with this short sword which thou beholdest in mine hand: for which rash sinfull deede, I was and am condemned to eternall punish∣ment. This wicked woman, reioycing immeasurably in mine vnhappie death, remained no long time aliue after me, and for her mercilesse sinne of cruelty, and taking pleasure in my oppressing torments; dying vnre∣pentant, and in pride of her scorne, she had the like sentence of condem∣nation pronounced on her, and sent to the same place where I was tor∣mented.

There the three impartiall Iudges, imposed this further infliction on vs both; namely, that shee should flye in this manner before mee, and I (who loued her so deerely while I liued) must pursue her as my deadly e∣nemy, not like a woman that had any taste of loue in her. And so often as I can ouertake her, I am to kill her with this sword, the same Weapon wherewith I slew my selfe. Then am I enioyned, therewith to open her

accursed body, and teare out her hard and frozen heart, with her other in∣wards, as now thou seest me doe, which I giue vnto my hounds to feede on. Afterward, such is the appointment of the supreame powers, that she re-assumeth life againe, euen as if she had not bene dead at all, and fal∣ling to the same kinde of flight, I with my houndes am still to follow her, without any respite or intermission. Euery Friday, and iust at this houre, our course is this way, where shee suffereth the iust punishment inflicted on her. Nor do we rest any of the other dayes, but are appointed vnto o∣ther places, where she cruelly executed her malice against me, being now (of her dear affectionate frend) ordained to be her endlesse enemy, and to pursue her in this manner) for so many yeeres, as she exercised monthes of cruelty towards me. Hinder me not then, in being the executioner of diuine iustice; for all thy interposition is but in vaine, in seeking to crosse the appointment of supreame powers.

Anastasio hauing attentiuely heard all this discourse, his haire stoode vpright like Porcupines quils, and his soule was so shaken with the terror, that he stept back to suffer the Knight ro doe what he was enioyned, loo∣king yet with milde commisseration on the poore woman. Who knee∣ling most humbly before the Knight, & sternly seised on by the two blood hounds, he opened her brest with his weapon, drawing foorth her heart and bowels, which instantly he threw to the dogges, and they deuoured them very greedily. Soone after, the Damosell (as if none of this punish∣ment had bene inflicted on her) started vp sodainly, running amaine to∣wards the Sea shore, and the Hounds swiftly following her, as the Knight did the like, after he had taken his sword, and was mounted on horseback; so that Anastasio had soon lost all sight of them, and could not gesse what was become of them.

After he had heard and obserued all these things, he stoode awhile as confounded with feare and pitty, like a simple silly man, hoodwinkt with his owne passions, not knowing the subtle enemies cunning illusions, in offering false suggestions to the sight, to worke his owne ends thereby, & encrease the number of his deceiued seruants. Forthwith hee perswaded himself, that he might make good vse of this womans tormenting, so iust∣ly imposed on the Knight to prosecute, if thus it should continue still eue∣ry Friday. Wherefore, setting a good note or marke vpon the place, hee returned backe to his owne people, and at such time as hee thought con∣uenient, sent for diuers of his kindred and friends from Rauenna, who be∣ing present with him, thus hee spake to them.

Deare Kinsmen and Friends, ye haue a long while importuned mee, to discontinue my ouer-doating loue to her, whom you all think, and I find to be my mortall enemy: as also, to giue ouer my lauish expences, where∣in I confesse my selfe too prodigall; both which requests of yours, I will condiscend to, prouided, that you wil performe one gracious fauour for mee; Namely, that on Friday next, Signior Paulo Trauersario, his wife, daughter, with all other women linked in linage to them, and such beside onely as you shall please to appoynt, will vouchsafe to accept a dinner

heere with mee; as for the reason thereto moouing mee, you shall then more at large be acquainted withall. This appeared no difficult matter for them to accomplish: wherefore, being returned to Rauenna, and as they found the time answerable to their purpose, they inuited such as A∣nastasio had appointed thē. And although they found it somwhat ••n hard matter, to gain her company whom he so deerely affected; yet notwith∣standing, the other women won her along with them.

A most magnificent dinner had Anastasio prouided, and the tables wer couered vnder the Pine-trees, where hee saw the cruell Lady so pursued and slaine: directing the guests so in their seating, that the yong Gentle∣woman his vnkinde Mistresse, sate with her face opposite vnto the place, where the dismall spectacle was to be seene. About the closing vp of din∣ner, they beganne to heare the noise of the poore prosecuted Woman, which droue them all to much admiration; desiring to know what it was, and no one resoluing them, they arose from the tables, and looking di∣rectly as the noise came to them, they espied the wofull Woman, the Dogges eagerly pursuing her; and the armed Knight on horse back ••••••∣lopping fiercely after them with his drawn weapon, and came very nere vnto the company, who cryed out with lowd exclaimes against the dogs and the Knight, stepping forth in assistance of the iniuried woman.

The Knight spake vnto them, as formerly hee had done to Anastasio, (which made them draw backe, possessed with feare and admiration) a∣cting the same cruelty as hee did the Friday before, not differing in the least degree. Most of the Gentlewomen there present, being neere ally∣ed to the vnfortunate Woman, and likewise to the Knight, remembring well both his loue and death, did shed teares as plentifully, as if it had b••n to the very persons themselues, in visiall performance of the action in∣deede. Which tragicall Scene being passed ouer, and the Woman and Knight gone out of their sight: all that had seene this straunge accident, fell into diuersity of confused opinions, yet not daring to disclose them, as doubting some further danger to ensue thereon.

But beyond al the rest, none could compare in feare and astonishment with the cruell yong Maide affected by Anastasio, who both saw and ob∣serued all with a more inward apprehension, knowing very well, that the morall of this dismall spectacle, carried a much neerer application to her then any other in all the company. For now she could call to mind, how vnkinde and cruell she had shewn her selfe to Anastasio, euen as the other Gentlewoman formerly did to her Louer, still flying from him in great contempt and scorne: for which, shee thought the Blood-hounds also pursued her at the heeles already, and a sword of due vengeance to man∣gle her body. This feare grew so powerfull in her, that, to preuent the like heauy doome from falling on her; she studied (by all her best & com∣mendable meanes, and therein bestowed all the night season) how to change her hatred into kinde loue, which at the length shee fully obtay∣ned, and then purposed to prosecute in this manner.

Secretly she sent a faithfull Chamber-maide of her owne, to greete

Anastasio on her behalfe; humbly entreating him to come see her: be∣cause now she was absolutely determined, to giue him satisfaction in all which (with honour) he could request of her. Whereto Anastasio answe∣red, that he accepted her message thankfully, and desired no other fauor at her hand, but that which stood with her owne offer, namely, to be his Wife in honourable marriage. The Maide knowing sufficiently, that hee could not be more desirous of the match, then her Mistresse shewed her selfe to be, made answere in her name, that this motion would bee most welcome to her.

Heereupon, the Gentlewoman her selfe, became the solicitour to her Father and Mother, telling them plainly, that she was willing to bee the Wife of Anastasio: which newes did so highly content them, that vppon the Sunday next following, the mariage was very worthily sollemnized, and they liued and loued together very kindly. Thus the diuine bounty, out of the malignant enemies secret machinations, can cause good effects to arise and succeede. For, from this conceite of fearfull imagination in her, not onely happened this long desired conuersion, of a Maide so ob∣stinately scornfull and proud: but likewise al the women of Rauenna (be∣ing admonished by her example) grew afterward more kinde and tracta∣ble to mens honest motions, then euer they shewed themselues before. And let me make some vse hereof (faire Ladies) to you, not to stand o∣uer-nicely conceited of your beauty and good parts, when men (grow∣ing enamored of you by them) solicite you with their best and humblest seruices. Remember then this disdainfull Gentlewoman, but more espe∣cially her, who being the death of so kinde a Louer, was therefore con∣demned to perpetuall punishment, and hee made the minister thereof, whom she had cast off with coy disdaine, from which I wish your minds to be as free, as mine is ready to do you any acceptable seruice.

Frederigo, of the Alberighi Family, loued a Gentlewoman, and was not re∣quited with like loue againe. By bountifull expences, and ouer liberall inui∣tations, he wasted and consumed all his lands and goods, hauing nothing left him, but a Hawke or Faulcon. His vnkinde Mistresse happeneth to come vi∣site him, and he not hauing any other foode for her dinner; made a daintie dish of his Faulcone for her to feede on. Being conquered by this his exceed∣ing kinde courtesie; she changed her former hatred towardes him, accepting him as her Husband in marriage, and made him a man of wealthy possessi∣ons.

The ninth Nouell.

Wherein is figured to the life, the notable kindnesse and courtesie, of a true and constant Louer: As also the magnanimous minde of a famous Lady.

MAdame Philomena hauing finished her discourse, the Queene percei∣uing, that her turne was the next, in regard of the priuiledge gran∣ted to Dioneus; with a smiling countenance thus she spake. Now or neuer am I to maintaine the order which was instituted when we begann•• this

commendable exercise, whereto I yeeld with all humble obedience. And (worthy Ladies) I am to acquaint you with a Nouell, in some sort an∣swerable to the precedent, not onely to let you know, how powerfully your kindnesses do preuaile, in such as haue a free and gentle soule: but also to aduise you, in being bountifull, where vertue doth ••••stly chal••nge it. And euermore, let your fauours shine on worthy deseruers, without the direction of chaunce or Fortune, who neuer bestoweth any gift by discretion; but rashly without consideration, euen to the first she blind∣ly meets withall.

[illustration]

You are to vnderstand then, that Coppo di Borghese Domenichi, who was of our owne City, and perhaps (as yet) his name remaineth in great and reuerend authority, now in these dayes of ours, as well deseruing eternal memory; yet more for his vertues and commendable qualities, then any boast of Nobility from his predecessors. This man, being well entred in∣to yeares, and drawing towards the finishing of his dayes; it was his on∣ly delight and felicity, in conuersation among his neighbours, to talke of matters concerning antiquity, and some other things within compasse of his owne knowledge: which he would deliuer in such singular order, (hauing an absolute memory) and with the best Language, as verie few or none could do the like. Among the multiplicity of his queint discour∣ses, I remember he told vs, that sometime there liued in Florence a yong Gentleman, named Frederigo, Sonne to Signior Philippo Alberigho, who was held and reputed, both for Armes, and all other actions beseeming a Gentleman, hardly to haue his equall through all Tuscany.

This Frederigo (as it is no rare matter in yong Gentlemen) became en∣amored of a Gentlewoman, named Madam Giana, who was esteemed (in

her time) to be the fairest and most gracious Lady in all Florence. In which respect, and to reach the height of his desire, he made many sumptuous Feasts and Banquets, Ioustes, Tiltes, Tournaments, and all other noble actions of Armes, beside, sending her infinite rich and costly presents, making spare of nothing, but las••ing all out in lauish expence. Notwith∣standing, shee being no lesse honest then faire, made no reckoning of whatsoeuer he did for her sake, or the least respect of his owne person. So that Frederigo, spending thus daily more, then his meanes and ability could maintaine, and no supplies any way redounding to him, or his facul∣ties (as very easily they might) diminished in such sort, that he became so poore; as he had nothing left him, but a small poore Farme to liue vpon, the silly reuenewes whereof were so meane, as scarcely allowed him meat and drinke; yet had he a Faire Hawke or Faulcon, hardly any where to be fellowed, so expeditious and sure she was of flight. His low ebbe and po∣uerty, no way quailing his loue to the Lady, but rather setting a keener edge thereon; he saw the City life could no longer containe him, where most he coueted to abide: and therefore, betooke himselfe to his poore Countrey Farme, to let his Faulcon get him his dinner and supper, pati∣ently supporting his penurious estate, without suite or meanes making to one, for helpe or reliefe in any such necessity.

While thus he continued in this extremity, it came to passe, that the Husband to Madam Giana fell sicke, and his debility of body being such, as little, or no hope of life remained: he made his last will and testament, ordaining thereby, that his Sonne (already growne to indifferent stature) should be heire to all his Lands and riches, wherein hee abounded very greatly. Next vnto him, if he chanced to die without a lawfull heire, hee subsistuted his Wife, whom most dearely he affected, and so departed out of this life. Madam Giana being thus left a widow; as commonly it is the custome of our City Dames, during the Summer season, shee went to a House of her owne in the Countrey, which was somewhat neere to poore Frederigoes Farme, and where he liued in such an honest kind of contented pouerty.

Hereupon, the young Gentleman her Sonne, taking great delight in Hounds and Hawkes; grew into familiarity with poore Frederigo, and ha∣uing seene many faire flights of his Faulcon, they pleased him so extraor∣dinarily, that he earnestly desired to enioy her as his owne; yet durst not moue the motion for her, because he saw how choycely Frederigo estee∣med her. Within a short while after, the young Gentleman, became very sicke, whereat his Mother greeued exceedingly, (as hauing no more but he, and therefore loued him the more entirely) neuer parting from him either night or day, comforting him so kindly as shee could, and deman∣ding, if he had a desire to any thing, willing him to reueale it, and assuring him withall, that (if it were within the compasse of possibility) he should haue it. The youth hearing how many times shee had made him these offers, and with such vehement protestations of performance, at last thus spake.

Mother (quoth he) if you can doe so much for me, as that I may haue Frederigoes Faulcon, I am perswaded, that my sicknesse soone will cease. The Lady hearing this, sate some short while musing to her selfe, and be∣gan to consider, what shee might best doe to compasse her Sonnes desire: for well shee knew, how long a time Frederigo had most louingly kept it, not suffering it euer to be out of his sight. Moreouer, shee remembred, how earnest in affection he had beene to her, neuer thinking himselfe hap∣py, but onely when he was in her company; wherefore, shee entred into this priuate consultation with her owne thoughts. Shall I send, or goe my selfe in person, to request the Faulcon of him, it being the best that euer flew? It is his onely Iewell of delight, and that taken from him, no longer can he wish to liue in this World. How farre then voide of vn∣derstanding shall I shew my selfe, to rob a Gentleman of his sole felicity, hauing no other ioy or comfort left him? These and the like considerati∣ons, wheeled about her troubled braine, onely in tender care and loue to her Sonne, perswading her selfe assuredly, that the Faulcon were her own, if shee would but request it: yet not knowing whereon it were best to re∣solue, shee returned no answer to her Sonne, but sate still in her silent me∣ditations. At the length, loue to the youth, so preuailed with her, that she concluded on his contentation, and (come of it what could) shee would not send for it; but goe her selfe in person to request it, and then re∣turne home againe with it, whereupon thus she spake. Sonne, comfort thy selfe, and let languishing thoughts no longer offend thee: for here I promise thee, that the first thing I doe to morrow morning, shall be my iourney for the Faulcon, and assure thy selfe, that I will bring it with me. Whereat the youth was so ioyed, that he imagined, his sicknesse began in∣stantly a little to leaue him, and promised him a speedy recouery.

Somewhat early the next morning, the Lady, in care of her sicke Sons health, was vp and ready betimes, and taking another Gentlewoman with her; onely as a mornings recreation, shee walked to Frederigoes poore Countrey Farme, knowing that it would not a little glad him to see her. At the time of her arriuall there, he was (by chance) in a silly Garden, on the backe-side of his House, because (as yet) it was no conuenient time for flight: but when he heard, that Madam Giana was come thither, and desired to haue some conference with him; as one almost confounded with admiration, in all haste he ran to her, and saluted her with most hum∣ble reuerence. Shee in all modest and gracious manner, requited him with the like salutations, thus speaking to him. Signior Frederigo, your owne best wishes befriend you, I am now come hither, to recompence some part of your passed trauailes, which heretofore you pretended to suffer for my sake, when your loue was more to me, then did well become you to offer, or my selfe to accept. And such is the nature of my recom∣pence, that I make my selfe your guest, and meane this day to dine with you, as also this Gentlewoman, making no doubt of our welcome: where∣to, with lowly reuerence, thus he replyed.

Madam, I doe not remember, that euer I sustained any losse or hinde∣rance

by you, but rather so much good, as if I was woorth any thing, it proceeded from your great deseruings, and by the seruice in which I did stand engaged to you. But my present happinesse can no way bee equal∣led, deriued from your super-abounding gracious fauour, and more then common course of kindnesse, vouchsafing (of your owne liberal nature) to come and visit so poore a seruant. Oh that I had as much to spend a∣gaine, as heeretofore riotously I haue run thorow: what a welcom wold your poore Host bestow vpon you, for gracing this homely house with your diuine presence? With these wordes, hee conducted her into his house, and then into his simple Garden, where hauing no conuenient company for her, he saide. Madam, the pouerty of this place is such, that it affoordeth none fit for your conuersation: this poore woman, wife to an honest Husbandman will attend on you, while I (with some speede) shall make ready dinner.

Poore Frederigo, although his necessity was extreame, and his greefe great, remembring his former inordinate expences, a moity whereof would now haue stood him in some sted; yet hee had a heart as free and forward as euer, not a iotte deiected in his minde, though vtterly ouer∣throwne by Fortune. Alas! how was his good soule afflicted, that he had nothing wherewith to honor his Lady? Vp and downe he runnes, one while this way, then againe another, exclaiming on his disastrous Fate, like a man enraged, or bereft of senses: for he had not one peny of mony neither pawne or pledge, wherewith to procure any. The time hasted on, and he would gladly (though in meane measure) expresse his honou∣rable respect of the Lady. To begge of any, his nature denied it, and to borrow he could not, because his neighbours were all as needie as him∣selfe.

At last, looking round about, and seeing his Faulcon standing on her pearch, which he felt to be very plumpe and fat, being voide of all other helpes in his neede, and thinking her to be a Fowle meete for so Noble a Lady to feede on: without any further demurring or delay, he pluckt off her necke, and caused the poore woman presently to pull her Feathers: which being done, he put her on the spit, and in short time she was dain∣tily roasted. Himselfe couered the table, set bread and salt on, and laid the Napkins, whereof he had but a few left him. Going then with chearfull lookes into the Garden, telling the Lady that dinner was ready, and no∣thing now wanted, but her presence. Shee, and the Gentlewoman went in, and being seated at the table, not knowing what they fed on, the Fal∣con was all their foode; and Frederigo not a little ioyfull, that his credite was so well saued. When they were risen from the table, and had spent some small time in familiar conference: the Lady thought it fitte, to ac∣quaint him with the reason of her comming thither, and therefore (in ve∣ry kinde manner) thus began.

Frederigo, if you do yet remember your former carriage towards me, as also my many modest and chaste denials, which (perhaps) you thoght to sauour of a harsh, cruell, and vn-womanly nature: I make no doubt,

but you will wonder at my present presumption, when you vnderstande the occasion, which expressely mooued me to come hither. But if you were possessed of children, or euer had any, wherby you might compre∣hend what loue (in nature) is due vnto them: then I durst assure my self, that you would partly hold mee excused.

Now, in regard that you neuer had any, and I myselfe (for my patt) haue bnt onely one, I stand not exempted from those Lawes, which are in common to other mothers. And being compelled to obey the po∣wer of those Lawes; contrary to mine owne will, and those duties which reason ought to maintaine: I am to request such a gift of you, which I am certaine, that you do make most precious account of, as in manly equity you can do no lesse. For, Fortune hath bin so extreamly aduerse to you, that she hath robbed you of all other pleasures, allowing you no comfort or delight, but onely that poore one, which is your faire Faulcone. Of which Bird, my Sonne is become so straungeiy desirous, as, if I doe not bring it to him at my comming home; I feare so much the extreamity of his sicknesse, as nothing can ensue thereon, but his losse of life. Where∣fore I beseech you, not in regard of the loue you haue born me, for ther∣by you stand no way obliged: but in your owne true gentle nature (the which hath alwayes declared it selfe ready in you, to do more kinde offi∣ces generally, then any other Gentleman that I know) you will be plea∣sed to giue her me, or at the least, let me buy her of you. Which if you do, I shall freely then confesse, that onely by your meanes, my Sonnes life is saued, and wee both shall for euer remaine engaged to you.

When Frederigo had heard the Ladies request, which was now quite out of his power to graunt, because it had bene her seruice at dinner: he stoodlike a man meerely dulled in his sences, the teares trickling amaine downe his checkes: and he not able to vtter one word. Which shee per∣ceiuing, began to coniecture immediately, that these teares and passions proceeded rather from greefe of minde, as being loather to part with his Faulcon, then any other kinde of matter: which made her readie to say, that she would not haue it. Neuerthelesse shee did not speake, but rather tarried to attend his answer. Which, after some small respite and pawse, he returned in this manner.

Madame, since the houre, when first mine affection became soly de∣uoted to your seruice; Fortune hath bene crosse and contrary to mee, in many occasions, as iustly, and in good reason I may complain of her. Yet all seemed light and easie to be indured, in comparison of her present ma∣licious contradiction, to my vtter ouerthrow, and perpetuall mollestati∣on. Considering, that you are come hither to my poore house, which (while I was rich and able) you would not so much as vouchsafe to look on. And now you haue requested a small matter of mee, wherein shee hath also most crookedly thwarted me, because she hath disabled mee, in bestowing so meane a gift, as your selfe will confesse, when it shall be re∣lated to you in very few words.

So soone as I heard, that it was your gracious pleasure to dine with

me, hauing regard to your excellency, and what (by merit) is iustly due vnto you: I thought it a part of my bounden dutie, to entertaine you with such exquisite viands, as my poore power could any way compas, and farre beyond respect or welcome, to other common and ordinarie persons. Whereupon, remembring my Faulcon, which nowe you aske for; and her goodnesse, excelling all other of her kinde; I supposed, that she would make a dainty dish for your dyet, and hauing drest hir, so well as I could deuise to do: you haue fed hartily on her, and I am proud that I haue so well bestowne her. But perceiuing now, that you would haue her for your sicke Sonne; it is no meane affliction to mee, that I am disa∣bled of yeelding you contentment, which all my life time I haue desired to doe.

To approue his words, the feathers, feete, and beake were brought in, which when she saw, she greatly blamed him for killing so rare a Falcon, to content the appetite of any woman whatsoeuer. Yet she commended his height of spirit, which pouerty had no power to abase. Lastly, her hopes being fr••strate for enioying the Faulcon, and fearing besides the health of her Sonne: shethanked Frederigo for his honorable kindnesse, returning home againe sad and melancholly. Shortly after, her sonne ei∣ther greeuing that he could not haue the Faulcone, or by extreamity of his disease, chanced to dye, leauing his mother a most wofull Lady.

After so much time was expired, as conueniently might agree with so∣row and mourning; her Brethren made many motions to her, to ioyne her selfe in marriage againe, because she was extraordinarily rich, and as yet but yong in yeares. Now, although she was well contented neuer to be married any more; yet being continually importuned by them, and remembring the honorable honesty of Frederigo, his last poore, yet mag∣nificent dinner, in killing his Faulcone for her sake, shee saide to her Bre∣thren. This kinde of widdowed estate doth like me so well, as willingly I would neuer leaue it: but seeing you are so earnest for my second marri∣age, let me plainly tell you, that I will neuer accept of any other husbād, but onely Frederigo di Alberino.

Her brethren in scornfull manner reprooued her, telling her, that hee was a begger, and had nothing left to keepe him in the world. I knowe it well (quoth she) and am heartily sory for it. But giue me a man that hath neede of wealth, rather then wealth that hath neede of a man. The Bre∣thren hearing how shee stoode addicted, and knowing Frederigo to bee a worthy Gentleman, though pouerty had disgraced him in the Worlde: consented thereto, so she bestowed her selfe and her riches on him. He on the other side, hauing so noble a Lady to his Wife, and the same whome he had so long and deerely loued: submitted all his fairest Fortunes vnto her, became a better husband (for the world) then before, and they liued and loued together in equall ioy and happinesse.

Pedro di Vinciolo went to sup at a friends House in the City. His Wife (in the meane while) had a young man (whom shee loued) at supper with her. Pedro returning whom vpon a sudden, the young man was hidden vnder a Coope for Hennes. Pedro, in excuse of his so soone comming home, declareth, how in the House of Herculano (with whom he should haue supt) a friend of his Wiues was found, which was the reason of the Suppers breaking off. Pe∣droes Wife reprouing the errour of Hetculanoes Wife; an Asse (by chance) treads on the young mans fingers, that lay hidden vnder the Hen Coope. Vp∣pon his crying out, Pedro steppeth thither, sees him, knowes him, and findeth the fallacy of his Wife: with whom (neuerthelesse) he groweth to agreement, in regard of some imperfections in himselfe.

The tenth Nouell.

Reprehending the cunning shifts, of light headed and immodest Women, who, by abusing themselues, doe throw euill aspersions on all the Sexe.

[illustration]

THe Queenes Nouell being ended, and all the company applauding the happy fortune of Frederigo, as also the noble nature of Madam Giana: Dioneus, who neuer expected any command, prepairing to deliuer his discourse, began in this manner. I know not, whether I should terme it a vice accidental, and ensuing through the badnesse of complexions vp∣pon vs mortals; or else an errour in Nature, to ioy and smile rather at lewd accidents, then at deeds that iustly deserue commendation, especially, when they doe not any way concerne our selues. Now, in regard that all the paines I haue hitherto taken, and am also to vndergoe at this present, aymeth at no other end, but onely to purge your mindes of melancholly, and entertaine the time with mirthful matter: pardon me I pray you (faire Ladies) if my Tale trip in some part, and sauour a little of immodesty; yet

in hearing it, you may obserue the same course, as you doe in pleasing and delightfull Gardens, plucke a sweete Rose, and yet preserue your fin∣gers from pricking. Which very easily you may doe, wincking at the im∣perfections of a foolish man, and smiling at the amorous subtilties of his Wife, compassionating the misfortune of others, where vrgent necessity doth require it.

There dwelt (not long since) in Perugia, a wealthy man, named Pedro di Vinciolo, who perhaps) more to deceiue some other, and restraine an euill opinion, which the Perugians had conceiued of him, in matter no way be∣seeming a man, then any beauty or good feature remaining in the woman entred into the estate of marriage. And Fortune was so conforme to him in his election, that the woman whom he had made his wife, had a young, lusty, and well enabled body, a red hairde wench, hot and fiery spirited, standing more in neede of three Husbands, then he, who could not any way well content one Wife, because his minde ran more on his money, then those offices and duties belonging to wed-lock, which time acquain∣ting his Wife withall, contrary to her owne expectation, and those de∣lights which the estate of marriage afforded, knowing her selfe also to be of a sprightly disposition, and not to be easily tamed by houshold cares and attendances: shee waxed weary of her Husbands vnkind courses, vp∣braided him daily with harsh speeches, making his owne home meerely as a hell to him.

When shee saw that this domesticke disquietnesse returned her no be∣nefit, but rather tended to her owne consumption, then any amendment in her miserable Husband; shee began thus to conferre with her priuate thoughts. This Husband of mine liueth with me, as if he were no Hus∣band, or This Wife; the marriage bed, which should be a comfort to vs both, seemeth hatefull to him, and as little pleasing to me, because his minde is on his money, his head busied with worldly cogitations, and early and late in his counting-house, admitting no familiar conuersation with me. Why should not I be as respectlesse of him, as he declares him∣selfe to be of me? I tooke him for an Husband, brought him a good and sufficient dowry, thinking him to be a man, and affected a woman as a man ought to doe, else he had neuer beene any Husband of mine. If he be a Woman hater, why did he make choyce of me to be his Wife? If I had not intended to be of the World, I could haue coopt my selfe vp in a Cloyster, and shorne my selfe a Nunne, but that I was not borne to such seuerity of life. My youth shall be blasted with age, before I can truly vn∣derstand what youth is, and I shall be branded with the disgracefull word barrennesse, knowing my selfe meete and able to be a Mother, were my Husband but worthy the name of a Father, or expected issue and poste∣rity, to leaue our memoriall to after times in our race, as all our predeces∣sours formerly haue done, and for which mariage was chiefly instituted. Castles long besieged, doe yeeld at the last, and women wronged by their owne Husbands, can hardly warrant their owne frailty, especially liuing among so many temptations, which flesh and bloud are not alwayes able

to resist. Well, I meane to be aduised in this case, before I will hazard my honest reputation, either to suspition or scandall, then which, no wo∣man can haue two heauier enemies, and very few there are that can escape them.

Hauing thus a long while consulted with her selfe, and (perhaps) oftner then twice or thrice; shee became secretly acquainted with an aged wo∣man, generally reputed to be more then halfe a Saint, walking alwayes ve∣ry demurely in the streetes, counting (ouer and ouer) her Pater nosters, and all the Cities holy pardons hanging at her girdle, neuer talking of any thing, but the liues of the holy Fathers, or the wounds of Saint Frances, all the World admiring her sanctity of life, euen as if shee were diuinely inspired: this she Saint must be our distressed womans Councellour, and hauing found out a conuenient season, at large she imparted all her mind to her, in some such manner as formerly you haue heard, whereto shee returned this answere.

Now trust me Daughter, thy case is to be pittied, and so much the ra∣ther, because thou art in the floure and spring time of thy youth, when not a minute of time is to be left: for there is no greater an errour in this life, then the losse of time, because it cannot be recouered againe; and when the fiends themselues affright vs, yet if we keepe our embers still co∣uered with warme ashes on the hearth, they haue not any power to hurt vs. If any one can truly speake thereof, then I am able to deliuer true ••e∣stimony; for I know, but not without much perturbation of minde, and piercing afflictions in the spirit; how much time I lost without any profit. And yet I lost not all, for I would not haue thee thinke me to be so foolish, that I did altogether neglect such an especiall benefit; which when I call to minde, and consider now in what condition I am, thou must imagine, it is no smal hearts griefe to me, that age should make me vtterly despised, and no fire afforded to light my tinder.

With men it is not so, they are borne apt for a thousand occasions, as well for the present purpose we talke of, as infinite other beside; yea, and many of them are more esteemed being aged, then when they were yong. But women serue onely for mens contentation, and to bring children, and therefore are they generally beloued, which if they faile of, either it is by vnfortunate marriage, or some imperfection depending on nature, not through want of good will in themselues. We haue nothing in this world but what is giuen vs, in which regard, we are to make vse of our time, and employ it the better while we haue it. For, when we grow to be old, our Husbands, yea, our very dearest and nearest friends, will scarcely looke on vs. We are then fit for nothing, but to sit by the fire in the Kitchin, telling tales to the Cat, or counting the pots and pannes on the shelues. Nay, which is worse, rimes and songs is made of vs, euen in meere con∣tempt of our age, and commendation of such as are young, the daintiest morsels are fittest for them, and we referred to feed on the scrappes from their trenchers, or such reuersion as they can spare vs. I tell thee Daugh∣ter, thou couldst not make choyce of a meerer woman in all the City, to

whom thou mightest safely open thy minde, and knowes better to aduise thee then I doe. But remember withall, that I am poore, and it is your part not to suffer pouerty to be vnsupplyed. I will make thee partaker of all these blessed pardons, at euery Altar I will say a Pater noster, and an Aue Maria, that thou maist prosper in thy hearts desires, and be defended from foule sinne and shame, and so shee ended her Motherly counsell.

Within a while after, it came to passe, that her Husband was iniuited foorth to Supper, with one named Herculano, a kind friend of his, but his Wife refused to goe, because shee had appointed a friend to supper with her, to whom the old woman was employed as her messenger, and was well recompenced for her labour. This friend was a gallant proper youth, as any all Perugia yeelded, and scarcely was he seated at the Table, but her Husband was returned backe, and called to be let in at the doore. Which when shee perceiued, shee was almost halfe dead with feare, and coueting to hide the young man, that her Husband should not haue any sight of him, shee had no other meanes, but in an enrry, hard by the Parlour where they purposed to haue supt, stood a Coope or Hen pen, wherein she vsed to keepe her Pullen, vnder which he crept, and then shee couered it with an old empty sacke, and after ran to let her Husband come in. When he was entred into the House; as halfe offended at his so sudden returne, an∣gerly he saide: It seemes Sir you are a shauer at your meate, that you haue made so short a supper. In troth Wife (quoth he) I haue not supt at all, no, not so much as eaten one bit. How hapned that? said the woman. Ma∣ry wife (quoth he) I will tell you, and then thus he began.

As Herculano, his wife, and I were sitting downe at the Table, very neere vnto vs we heard one sneeze, whereof at the first we made no reckoning, vntill we heard it againe the second time, yea, a third, fourth, and fifth, and many more after, whereat we were not a little amazed. Now Wife I must tell you, before we entred the roome where we were to sup, Herculanoes wife kept the doore fast shut against vs, and would not let vs enter in an indifferent while; which made him then somewhat offended, but now much more, when he had heard one to sneeze so often. Demanding of her a reason for it, and who it was that thus sneezed in his House: he started from the Table, and stepping to a little doore neere the staires head, neces∣sarily there made, to set such things in, as otherwise would be troublesome to the roome, (as in all Houses we commonly see the like) he perceiued, that the party was hidden there, which wee had heard so often to sneeze before.

No sooner had he opened the doore, but such a smell of brimston came foorth (whereof we felt not the least sauour before) as made vs likewise to cough and sneeze, being no way able to refraine it. She seeing her Hus∣band to be much moued, excused the matter thus, that (but a little while before) shee had whited certaine linnen with the smoake of brimstone, as it is an vsuall thing to doe, and then set the pan into that spare place, be∣cause it should not be offensiue to vs. By this time, Herculano had espied him that sneezed, who being almost stifled with the smell, and closenesse

of the small roome wherein he lay, had not any power to helpe himselfe, but still continued coughing and sneezing, euen as if his heart would haue split in twaine. Foorth he pluckt him by the heeles, and perceiuing how matters had past, he saide to her. I thanke you Wife, now I see the rea∣son, why you kept vs so long from comming into this roome, let me die, if I beare this wrong at your hands. When his Wife heard these words, and saw the discouery of her shame; without returning either excuse or answere, foorth of doores she ran, but whither, we know not. Herculano drew his Dagger, and would haue slaine him that still lay sneezing: but I disswaded him from it, as well in respect of his, as also mine owne danger, when the Law should censure on the deede. And after the young man was indifferently recouered; by the perswasion of some Neighbours com∣ming in: he was closely conueyed out of the house, and all the noyse quietly pacified. Onely (by this meanes, and the flight of Herculanoes wife) we were disappointed of our Supper; and now you know the reason of my so soone returning.

When she had heard this whole discourse, then she perceiued, that o∣ther Women were subiect to the like infirmity, and as wise for themselues, as shee could be, though these and the like sinister accidents might some∣times crosse them, and gladly she wished, that Herculanoes Wifes excuse, might now serue to acquite her: but because in blaming others errors, our owne may sometime chance to escape discouery, and cleare vs, albeit we are as guilty; in a sharpe reprehending manner, thus she began. See Hus∣band, here is hansome behauiour, of an holy faire seeming, and Saint like woman, to whom I durst haue confest my sinnes, I conceiued such a reli∣gious perswasion of her liues integrity, free from the least scruple of taxa∣tion. A woman, so farre stept into yeeres, as shee is, to giue such an euill example to other younger women, is it not a sinne beyond all sufferance? Accursed be the houre, when she was borne into this World, and her selfe likewise, to be so lewdly and incontinently giuen; an vniuersall shame and slaunder, to all the good women of our City.

Shall I terme her a woman, or rather some sauage monster in a wo∣mans shape? Hath shee not made an open prostitution of her honesty broken her plighted faith to her Husband, and all the womanly reputati∣on shee had in this World? Her Husband, being an honourable Citizen, entreating her alwayes, as few men else in the City doe their wiues; what an heart-breake must this needes be to him, good man? Neither I, nor a∣ny honest man else, ought to haue any pity on her; but (with our owne hands) teare her in peeces, or dragge her along to a good fire in the mar∣ket place, wherein she and her minion should be consumed together, and their base ashes dispersed abroade in the winde, least the pure Aire should be infected with them.

Then, remembring her owne case, and her poore affrighted friend, who lay in such distresse vnder the Hen-coope; shee began to aduise her Hus∣band, that he would be pleased to goe to bed, because the night passed on apace. But Pedro, hauing a better will to eate, then to sleepe, desired her

to let him haue some meate, else hee must goe to bed with an empty bel∣lie; whereto shee answered. Why Husband (quoth shee) doe I make a∣ny large prouision, when I am debard of your company? I would I were the wife of Herculano, seeing you cannot content your selfe from one nights feeding, considering, it is now ouer-late to make any thing ready.

It fortuned, that certaine Husbandmen, which had the charge of Pe∣droes Farme house in the Countrey, and there followed his affaires of Husbandry, were returned home this instant night, hauing their Asses la∣den with such prouision, as was to be vsed in his City-house. When the Asses were vnladen, and set vp in a small Stable, without watering; one of them being (belike) more thirsty then the rest, brake loose, and wande∣ring all about smelling to seeke water, happened into the entry, where the young man lay hidden vnder the Hen-pen. Now, he being constrai∣ned (like a Carpe) to lie flat on his belly, because the Coope was ouer∣weighty for him to carry, and one of his hands more extended forth, then was requisite for him in so vrgent a shift: it was his hap (or ill fortune ra∣ther) that the Asse set his foote on the young mans fingers, treading so hard, and the paine being very irkesome to him, as he was enforced to cry out aloude, which Pedro hearing, he wondered thereat not a little.

Knowing that this cry was in his house, he tooke the candle in his hand, and going foorth of the Parlour, heard the cry to be louder and louder; because the Asse remoued not his foote, but rather trod the more firmely on his hand. Comming to the Coope, driuing thence the Asse, and ta∣king off the old sacke, he e••pyed the young man, who, beside the painfull anguish he felt of his fingers, arose vp trembling, as fearing some out∣rage beside to be offered him by Pedro, who knew the youth perfectly, and demanded of him, how he came thither. No answer did he make to that question, but humbly entreated (for charities sake) that he would not do•• him any harme. Feare not (quoth Pedro) I will not offer thee any vio∣lence: onely tel me how thou camest hither, and for what occasion; wher∣in the youth fully resolued him.

Pedro being no lesse ioyfull for thus finding him, then his wife was sor∣rowfull, tooke him by the hand, and brought him into the Parlour, where shee sate trembling and quaking, as not knowing what to say in this di∣stresse. Seating himselfe directly before her, and holding the youth still fast by the hand, thus he began. Oh Wife! what bitter speeches did you vse (euen now) against the wife of Herculano, maintaining that shee had shamed all other women, and iustly deserued to be burned? Why did you not say as much of your selfe? Or, if you had not the heart to speake it, how could you be so cruell against her, knowing your offence as great as hers? Questionlesse, nothing else vrged you thereto, but that all wo∣men are of one and the same condition, couering their owne grosse faults by farre inferiour infirmities in others. You are a peruerse generation, meerely false in your fairest shewes.

When she saw that he offered her no other violence, but gaue her such

vaunting and reproachfull speeches, holding still the young man before her face, meerely to vexe and despight her: shee began to take heart, and thus replied. Doest thou compare me with the wife of Herculano, who is an olde, discembling hypocrite? yet she can haue of him whatsoeuer she de∣sireth, and he vseth her as a woman ought to be, which fauour I could ne∣uer yet find at thy hands. Put the case, that thou keepest me in good gar∣ments, allowing me to goe neatly hosed and shod; yet well thou knowest, there are other meete matters belonging to a woman, and euery way as necessarily required, both for the preseruation of Houshold quietnesse, and those other rites betweene a Husband and Wife. Let me be worser garmented, courser dieted, yea, debarred of all pleasure and delights; so I might once be worthy the name of a Mother, and leaue some remem∣brance of woman-hood behind me. I tell thee plainly Pedro, I am a wo∣man as others are, and subiect to the same desires, as (by nature) attendeth on flesh and bloud: look how thou failest in kindnesse towards me, thinke it not amisse, if I doe the like to thee, and endeauour thou to win the wor∣thy tile of a Father, because I was made to be a Mother.

When Pedro perceiued, that his Wife had spoken nothing but reason, in regard of his ouer-much neglect towards her, and not vsing such hou∣shold kindnesse, as ought to be between Man and Wife, he returned her this answer. Well Wife (quoth he) I confesse my fault, and hereafter will labour to amend it; conditionally, that this youth, nor any other, may no more visite my House in mine absence. Get me therefore something to eate, for doubtlesse, this young man and thy selfe fell short of your sup∣per, by reason of my so soone returning home. In troth Husband, saide shee, we did not eate one bit of any thing, and I will be a true and loyall Wife to thee, so thou wilt be the like to me. No more words then wife, replyed Pedro, all is forgotten and forgiuen, let vs to supper, and we are all friends. She seeing his anger was so well appeased, louingly kissed him, and laying the cloth, set on the supper, which shee had prouided for her selfe & the youth, and so they supt together merily, not one vnkind word passing betweene them. After supper, the youth was sent away in friendly manner, and Pedro was alwayes afterward more louing to his Wife, then formerly he had been, and no complaint passed on either side, but mutuall ioy and houshold contentment, such as ought to be betweene man and wife.

Dioneus hauing ended his Tale, for which the Ladies returned him no thankes, but rather angerly frowned on him: the Queene, knowing that her gouernment was now concluded, arose, and taking off her Crowne of Lawrell, placed it graciously on the head of Madam Eliza, saying. Now Madam, it is your turne to command. Eliza hauing receiued the honour, did (in all respects) as others formerly had done, and after she had enstru∣cted the Master of the Houshold, concerning his charge during the time of her regiment, for contentation of all the company; thus she spake.

We haue long since heard, that with witty words, ready answers, and sudden iests or taunts, many haue checkt & reproued great folly in others,

and to their owne no meane commendation. Now, because it is a plea∣sing kind of argument, ministring occasion of mirth and wit: my desire is, that all our discourse to morrow shall tend thereto. I meane of such per∣sons, either Men or Women, who with some sudden witty answer, haue encountred a scorner in his owne intention, and layed the blame where it iustly belonged. Euery one commended the Queenes appointment, be∣cause it sauoured of good wit and iudgement; and the Queene being ri∣sen, they were all discharged till supper time, falling to such seuerall exerci∣ses as themselues best fancyed.

When supper was ended, and the instruments layed before them; by the Queenes consent, Madam Aemillia vndertooke the daunce, and the Song was appointed to Dioneus, who began many, but none that proued to any liking, they were so palpably obscene and idle, sauouring altoge∣ther of his owne wanton disposition. At the length, the Queene looking stearnely on him, and commanding him to sing a good one, or none at all; thus he began.

The Song.

EYes, can ye not refraine your hourely weeping? Eares, how are you depriude of sweete attention? Thoughts, haue you lost your quiet silent sleeping? Wit, who hath robde thee of thy rare inuention? The lacke of these, being life and motion giuing: Are sencelesse shapes, and no true signes of liuing.

Eyes, when you gazde vpon her Angell beauty; Eares, while you heard her sweete delicious straines, Thoughts (sleeping then) did yet performe their duty, Wit, then tooke springtly pleasure in his paines. While shee did liue, then none of these were scanting, But now (being dead) they all are gone and wanting.

After that Dioneus (by proceeding no further) declared the finishing of his Song; many more were sung beside, and that of Dioneus highly com∣mended. Some part of the night being spent in other delightfull exer∣cises, and a fitting houre for rest drawing on: they betooke themselues to their Chambers, where we will leaue them till to morrow morning.

The end of the Fifth Day.