A pleasaunt disport of diuers noble personages: written in Italian by M. Iohn Bocace Florentine and poet laureat: in his boke vvhich is entituled Philocopo. And nowe Englished by H. G.

The Prologue to the .xiii. Questions, composed in Ita∣lian, by M. Iohn Bocace, Flo∣rentine, and Poet Laureat: And nowe turned into English by H. G.

FLORIO sur∣named Philocopo, ac∣cōpanied wyth y^e Duke Montorio, Ascalion, Menedō & Massalino, in sayling to séeke hys Friende Biancofiore, was thorow a very ob∣scure and darke night, by the fierce winds, dri∣uen into gret dangers, but the perilles béeing once passed, they were cast into the Porte of the auncient PARTHENOPE. whereas, of the Mariners (espying themselues in Ha∣uen) he receiued comfort, not knowing into what coast Fortune had forced him, yealded thankes to his Gods. And so tarried the newe day, the which after it once ap∣peared, the place was of the Mariners discried, so that they all glad of suretie & of so acceptable arriuall, came a shoare. Philocopo with hys companions, who ra∣ther séemed to come forth new risen againe out of their

Sepultures, than dysbarked from ship, loked backe to∣wardes the waywarde waters, and repeating in them∣selues the passed perilles of the spente night, coulde yet scarcely thinke themselues in suretie. They all then with one voice praysed their Goddes, that had guided them safe out of so crooked a course, offred their pitifull Sacrifices, and beganne to receyue comforte, and were by a friende of Ascalions honorably receyued into the Citie, whereas they caused their Shippe to be all newe repaired and decked, of Mast, Saile, and better Sterne than were the others which they had lost: and so tar∣rying time for their furder voyage, y^• which was much lōger lengthened than they loked for: by occasion wher∣of Philocopo would many times haue taken his iour∣ney by land, but dyscouraged therin by Ascalion, stayed in tarrying a more prosperous houre in the aforesayde place, where he and his companions sawe Phebea fiue times rounde & as many times ho••ned, before that No∣tus did abanden his violent forces. And in so long a while, they neuer almost sawe time to be merrie, wher∣vppon Philocopo, who was very desirous to performe his deferred iourney, one day called his companiōs vn∣to him, and sayd: Let vs go take the pleasant aire, and passe the time vpon the salt sea shoare in reasoning and prouiding for our future voyage. Thus he, with the Duke Parmenion, and the rest of his companions, di∣re••ted their walke with a milde pace (discoursing diuers matters) towardes that place where rest the reuerende Asshes of the most renoumed Peet Maro. They al thus talking a good space, were not gone far frō the City, but that they came to the side of a Garden, wherein they heard gracious & ioyous feasting of yong Gentlemen,

Dames, & Damsels: There the aire dyd al resounde with the noise of sundrie instruments, and as it were of angelicall voices, entring with swéete delight into the hearts of them, to whose eares it came: the which noise it pleased Philocopo to staie a while to heare, to the ende his former melancolie thorow the swéete∣nesse thereof, might by little and little departe away. Then Ascalion restrained their talke. And whilest Fortune helde thus Philocopo and his companions without the garden intentiuely listening, a yong gē∣tleman comming forth thereof, espied them, & forth∣with by sight, porte and visage, knew them to be no∣ble Gentlemen, & worthie to be reuerenced. Where∣fore he without tariaunce retourned to his companie and sayde: Come, lette vs goe welcome certayne yong men séeming to be Gentlemen of great calling, the which perhaps bashfull to enter herein not being biddē, staie without, giuing eare to our dysport. The companiōs then of this Gentleman left their Ladies at their pastime, & went forth of the Garden, & came to Philocopo, whom by sight they knew to be chiefe of all the reste, to whome they spake with that reue∣rence their reason could deuise and that was most cō∣uenient for the welcomming of such a guest, praying him that in honour and increase of this their Feast, it would please him and his companiōs to enter with them the Garden, constrayning him thorowe many requestes, that he shoulde in no wise denie them this curtesie. These swéete prayers so pierced the gentle heart of Philocopo, and no lesse the heartes of his companions, that he answered the intreators in this sorte: Friends, of truth such a Feast, was of vs nei∣ther

sought for nor fled from, but like weather beatē mates cast into your Port, we to the ende to flie drou∣sie thoughtes which spring of ydlenesse, dyd in recy∣ting our aduersities, passe by these sea banks: But howe Fortune hath allured vs to giue eare vnto you I know not, vnlesse as we think, desirous to remoue from vs all pensiuenesse, she hath of you, in whome I knowe to be infinite curtesy, made vs this offer: and therefore we will satisfie your desire, though peraduē∣ture in parte we become somewhat lauesse of the cur∣tesie which otherwise towardes others oughte to pro∣céede from vs. And thus talking, they entred toge∣ther into the Garden, whereas they founde manie faire Gentlewomen, of whome they were very graci∣ously receyued, & by thē welcomed to their feast. After Philocopo had a good while behelde this their Fea∣sting and likewise had feasted with them, he thought it good to departe, and willing to take his leaue of the yong Gentlemen, and to gyue them th••nkes for the honor he had receyued, one Lady more honorable thā the rest, indued with maruellous beautie and vertue, came forth where he stode, and thus sayde vnto him: Most noble Sir▪ ye haue this morning thorowe this your great curtesie, shewed no small pleasure to these yong Gentlemen, for the which they shal be alwayes beholding vnto you, that is to wit, in that you haue vouchsafed to come to honor this our Feast. May it please you then not to refuse to shewe vnto me & to these other Dames, that fauor that I am secondarily to entreate you for: To whome Philocopo wyth a swéete voice aunswered: Most gentle Lady, nothing may iustly be deuied you, commaunde therefore, for

both I and these my companions are all prest at your will: To whome the Lady sayde in this wise: For∣asmuch as this your cōming hath increased this our Feasting, with a most noble and goodly companie, I shall desire you that you wyll not wyth departure les∣sen the same, but rather helpe vs here to spende thys day euen to the last houre, to that end we haue alrea∣dy begonne the same. Philocopo behelde hir in the face as she thus spake, and seing hir eies replete with burning rayes to twinckle like vnto y^e morning star, and hir face exceding pleasant and faire, thoughte ne∣uer to had séene (his Biancofiore excepted) so faire a creature: to whose demaund he thus made answere: Madame I shall dispose my self to satisfie rather your desire than mine owne, wherefore, so long as it shall please you, so long will I abide with you, & these my companions also: The Lady gaue him greate than∣kes, and retourning to the others, begāne togethers with them all to be very merry. Philocopo abiding with them in this sorte, entred gret familiaritie with a yong Gentleman named Galione, adorned w^t good qualities, and of a singuler eloquence, to whome in talking he sayd thus: Oh, howe much are you more than any others beholding to the immortal Goddes, the which preserue you quiet in one will in this your mirth making. We acknowledge vs to be greatly bounden vnto them, answered Galeone. But what occasion moueth you to say this? Philocopo answe∣red: Truely none other occasion, but that I sée you all here assembled in one will. Oh, sayd Galeone, maruell not at all thereat, for this Lady in whom al excellencie doth reste, both moueth vs herevnto, and

holdeth vs herein. Then demaunded Philocopo. And this Lady, who is she? Galeone answered: It is she that made request vnto you that ye would tary here, when as a while since ye would haue departed. By syght she séemeth vnto me (sayde Philocopo) ex∣ceding faire, and of a surmounting worthinesse: but yet if my demaund be not vnléeful, manifest hir name vnto me, of whence she is, and of what parentes dis∣cended. To whome Galeone answered: No wayes may your request be vniust, bysides ther is none pub∣liquely talking of hir, which doeth not vouchsafe to publish the renoume of so worthy a Lady, and there∣fore I shall fully satisfie your demaund. Hir name is of vs here called Fiametta, howbeit the greatest part of the people call hir by the name of hir, thorowe whome that wounde is shut vp, that the preuaricati∣on of the first mother opened. She is the daughter of a most high Prince, vnder whose Scepter these Countreyes are quietly gouerned, she is also Lady to vs all, and briefly, there is no vertue that ought to be in a noble heart, that is not in hirs. And as I thinke, in tarying this day with vs, you shall haue good expe∣rience therof. That which you say (sayd Philocopo) can not be hidden in hir semblance. The Gods guide hir, to that end that hir singuler gyftes do merite, for assuredly I beleue both that and much more than you haue affirmed. But these other dames, who are they? These Gentlewomen (sayde Galeone) some of them are of Parthenope, and other some of places else∣where, comen as are you your selues, hither into hir companie. And after they had thus helde talke a good space, Galeone sayd: Ah my swete friend, if it might

not dysplease you, it shoulde be very acceptable vnto me to knowe further of your state and condition, thā your outwarde appearance representeth, to the ende that by knowing you, we may do you that honor you worthily merite, bycause sometimes want of knowe∣ledge bringeth lacke of duetie to them that honoure others in not doing their due reuerence. To whome Philocopo aunswered: No lacke in doing me reue∣rence coulde any wayes happen on your behalfe, but rather ye haue therin so farre exceded, as with excesse ye haue passed the boundes and limits thereof. But since you desire to knowe further of my condition, it shoulde be vniuste not to satisfie your desire therein. And therefore (in how much it is léefull for me to dys∣couer) I shal tel you: I am a poore Pilgrim of Loue, and goe séeking as ye sée, a Lady of mine, taken away from me by subtile cautele by my Parents: and these Gentlemen whome ye sée with me, of their curtesie kepe me companie in this my Pilgrimage: and my name is Philocopo of Nation a Spaniarde, driuen through tempestuous weather (séeking for the Iland of Cicilia) into your Portes. But he knew not so co∣uertly to talke, as that the yong Gentleman vnder∣stode not more of his condition, than he willingly de∣sired he shoulde: and hauing compassion of th••se his hard happes▪ somewhat comforted him wyth wordes whych promysed hym hereafter a more luckie lyfe, and from that tyme forwardes, to increase hys ho∣nour, willed that he should be honoured of them all, not as a Pilgrime or as a bydden gueste, but rather as the chiefe and principall Patrone of the Feaste. The Lady, who vnderstode hys state and condition,

through the reporte of Galeone, esteming dearly of such an hap, commaunded specially that so it shuld be. Apollo was nowe with his Chariot of light moun∣ted to the Meridian circle, and dyd scarcely beholde with leueled eye, the newe apparelled earth, when as as these Dames, Damsels, and yong Gentlemen being thus assembled together in that place, (setting their feasting apart) seking forth by sundry quarters of the Garden the delightfull shade, and flying the noysome heate that might offēd their delicate bodies, toke by diuers companies, diuers delightes. And the Lady accompanied with foure others, toke Philo∣copo by the hande, saying: Sir, the heate doth con∣straine vs to séeke out the freshe aire, let vs therefore go to yonder medow you sée here before vs, and there with sundry discourses passe ouer the heate of y^• day. Philocopo then greatly praysed the Ladies deuise, & followed hir motion, and with him his companions. Galeone also with two others, went with them to y^• appointed medow, which was exceding faire of grasse and floures, and filled with a swete suauitie of smels, about the which grew store of yong trées very faire & thicke of gréene leaues, wherewith the place was de∣fended from the parching beames of the great Plan∣net. There was in the middest of that meddow a pro∣per Fountaine, very faire and cleare like Christall, a∣bout the which they all sate them downe, where some gazing in the water, & other some gathering floures, they began to talke of sundrie matters. But bicause sometimes at vnwares the one did interrupt y^• others tale, the faire Lady sayde vnto them thus: To the rude that this our discourse may procéede in a more

better order, and so continue vntill the freshe coole houres, the which we attend for our furder feasting. Lette vs ordaine one of vs in place of our King, to whome eche one shal propound a Question of Loue, and shall receyue from him an apte resolution there∣of: and truely (as I thinke) we shall no sooner haue made an ende of oure Questions, but that the heate (we not knowing howe) shall be paste, and the tyme spent to our profite and delight. This deuise pleased them all, and among them it was sayd: Let there be a King: and with one voice they al chose Ascalion to their King, for that he was some what more growen in yeares than was any of the rest: To whome hée made aunswere, to bée altogether insufficiente for so great an office, bycause he had spent moeyeres in the seruice of Mars, than of Venus. But yet he prayed thē al to leaue vnto him she Election of such a King. They that thought him to be such a ••ne (knowing so well before hand the qualities of them all) as would constitute one such, as should yelde true aunswere to al their demaundes, did then wholly consent that the Election should fréely be remitted vnto him, since he would not take such a dignitie vpon himselfe. Asca∣lion then rose hym vp, & gathered certayne twygges of a gréene Laurell, the shade whereof dyd ouer∣spread the freshe Fountaine, and thereof made a rich Coronet, y^• which he brought in presence of them all, and sayde in this wyse: From the time that I in my most youth full yeares began to haue vnderstanding, I swere by those Gods whome I worship, that I do not remember to haue séene or heard named, a womā of like worthinesse to Fiametta, of whome Loue

holdeth vs all here in hir presence inflamed, and by whome we haue this day bene honoured in such sort, as we ought neuer to forgette the same. And bycause she (as wythout doubt I know) is plentifully endued with euery good grace, adorned both w^t beautie & good qualities, & endued with a flowing eloquence, I ther∣fore make choise of hir to be our Quéene. For assu∣redly it is conuenient that the Imperiall Crowne be bestowed vpon hir magnificēce, being discended from a stirpe royall, to whome the secret wayes of Loue, being (as they are al) open, it shall be an easie matter for hir to content vs in these our Questions. And this sayde, he humbly knéeled before this noble Lady saying: Most curteous Lady vouchsafe to deck your heade with this Crowne, the which is no lesse dearly to be estéemed of them, that are worthy thorow their vertues to couer their heades with the like, than if it were of Golde. The Lady with a newe r•••• be pain∣ted hir white visage, and sayd: Truly ye haue not in due sorte prouided a Quene for this amorous people, (that haue more néede of a most able King) for y^• of al you that are present, I am the most simple & of least vertue, neyther is there any one of you y^• is not more mete to be inuested of such a crowne than am I. But since it thus pleaseth you, I can not withstande thys your Election: and to the ende I be not founde con∣trary to our made promisse, I will receyue it, and as I hope shal eke receiue from the Gods with it, y^• sto∣macke due to such an office: and thorow the help of him to whom these leaues were alwayes acceptable, I shall answere you all, according to my small know∣ledge: Neuerthelesse, I deuoutely pray him that he

wil enter into my breast, and renewe my voice wyth that sounde wherewith be caused the valiante van∣quished man Marsia, to deserue to be drawen forth of the sheath of his members. I by way of mirth shal giue you lyght aunsweres without syfting to the depth of your propoūded Questions, the going about to search forth the which, ••••uld rather bring tedious∣nesse than delight to your mindes. And hauing thus sayde, she toke with hir delicate hand the offred Gar∣lande, and therewithall crowned hir heade, and com∣maūded that ech one vpon payne to be depriued of the amorous ioyes, should prepare to put forth some que∣stion the which might be apte and conuenient to the purpose whereof they did intende to entreate, & such a one as should rather be an increaser of their mirth than thorough too greate subtiltie, or otherwise, a de∣stroyer of the same.

¶ The first Question, proposed by PHILOCOPO.

ON the right hande of she Quéene sat Philocopo, to whome shée sayde: No∣ble Sir, you shall begin to propounde your Question, to the ende that the rest or∣derly, as we are here placed, maye after you, with more suertie propounde theirs al∣so. To whom Philocopo thus made answere: Most

noble Lady, without my forslowing, I shall obey your commaundement, and thus sayd: I remember that in the Citie, wherin I was borne, there was one day made a bountifull great Feast, whera••, to honor the same, were many Gentlemen •• Gentlewomen: And I that was likewise there roming about, and be∣holding them that were in the place, espied among y^• rest. ••. yong men very gracious to behold, y^• earnestly eyed an excéeding faire yong woman. Neither was I any ways able to discerne whether of them hir beau∣tie had most inflamed. And as she in like sorte had a good space beheld them, not making greater semblāce to the one than to the other, they betwene themselues began to reason of hir: and among the other wordes that I vnderstoode of their talke, was that eche one sayde, that hée was hir best beloued: and for proofe thereof, either of them alleaged in the furtherance of himself, diuers gestures then before done by the yong woman. And they thus remaining in this conten∣tion a long time, being now thorowe many words at daggers drawing, they acknowledged, y^• herein they did very euill, bicause in thus doing, they wrought hurt and shame to them selues, and displeasure to the woman. Wherfore (moued of an equall agréement) both two went to the mother of the maide, who was also at the same Feast, and thus sayd vnto hir: That forsomuch as aboue all other women of the worlde, either of them best liked hir daughter, and that they were at contention whether of them was best liked of hir, it would therefore please hir to graunt them this fauour▪ to the end no greater inconueniēce might spring therof, as to will hir daughter, that she either

by worde or déede, would shewe whether of them shes best loued. The intreated Gentlewomā s••••ling, thus aunswered: Willingly. And so calling hir daughter to hir, sayd▪ My 〈…〉〈…〉 daughter, eche one of these pre∣ferreth the loue of thée aboue the loue of himselfe, & in this contention they are: whether of them is best beloued of thée: and they séeke of me this fauour, that thou either by signes or words, resolue them herein. And therefore to the end that Loue, from whome all peace and goodnesse ought alwayes to spring, bréede not now the contrary, content them in this, and with semblable curtesie, shew towardes which of them thy mynde is most bent. The yong damsell sayd: It li∣keth mée right well. And so beholding them both a while, she saw the one of them to haue vpon his head a faire garlande of fresh floures, and y^• other to stand without any garlande at all. Then she that had like∣wise vpon hir head a garlande of gréene leaues, first tooke the same from hir head, and set it vpon his, that stode before hir without a garland. And after she toke that which y^• other yong man had vpon his head, and set the same vpon hirs: and so leauing them, shée re∣turned to the Feast, saying that she had both perfor∣med the commaundement of hir mother, as eke their d••sire. The yong men being thus left, returned al∣so to their former contention, ech one affirming that she loued him best. And he whose garlande shée tooke and set vpon hir head, sayde: Assuredly she loueth me best, bicause she hath taken my garland to none other ende, but for that what myne is, pleaseth hir, and to giue occasion to bée beholding vnto me. But to thée, she hath giuen hirs, as it were in place of hir last fare

well▪ vnwilling that (like a countrey girle) the loue which thou bea〈…〉〈…〉 hir, be without requital, and ther∣fore lastly she giueth thee that garlande thou haddest ••••eri••••d The •••• her replying with the contrary, thus answered: Truly sheloweth that ••hine is, better than thée, and that may be sene in taking therof. And me she loueth better than what myne is, in as muche as she hath gyuen me of hirs▪ And therefore it is no to∣〈…〉〈…〉 of hir last deserued gift, as thou affirmest▪ but ra∣ther a beginning of amitie ••••d loue▪ A gifte maketh the receiuer a subiecte to the giuer: and bicause shée p••••aduenture vncertaine of me, to the ende she might be more certaine to haue me hir subiect, wil binde me (i•• perhap•• •• were not bounde vnto hir before) to bée hirs by gift. But how mayst thou thinke, if ••he at the first ••ake away from th•••• that ••uer she may vouche∣safe to giue thée and thus they abode a long time cō∣tending, and in the end departed without any defini∣tion at all. Now say I most puissant Quéene, if you shoulde bée demaunded of the laste sentence of such a contention, what woulde ye iudge. The faire La∣dy somewhat smiling, turned towardes Philocopo, (hir eyes spark••ing with an amorous light) and after a soft sigh, thus made answere: Most noble youth; proper is your question: And truely, as very wisely the yong woman behaued hir selfe, so eche one of the yong men right well defended his cause▪ But bicause ye require what we lastly will iudge therof, thus we make you answere: It séemeth vnto vs, & so it ought to séeme to eche one that taketh good héede, that the woman had in hate neither y^• one nor the other: but to kéepe hir intent couert dyd two contrary actes, as

apeareth, and not without occasion. And to y^• end she might get more assured the loue of him whom she lo∣ued, as not to lose the loue of the other, whom she ha∣ted not, it was but wisely done. But to come to our Question, which is, to whether of the two greatest loue was shewed. We saye: that she loued him best and he chiefest in hir fauour, to whome shée gaue hir garlande: and this séemeth to be the reason: What so euer man or woman that loueth any person▪ eche one thorowe force of the loue they heare, is so strongly bound to the person loued, that aboue al other things they desire to please the same, neither to bynde him or hir more strōgly that thus loueth, néedeth either gifts or seruices, and this is manifest. And yet we sée, that who so loueth, though he endeuour him selfe sundry wayes, is not able to make the person loued, in any sorte benigne and subiect vnto hym, whereby he may bryng it to his pleasure, and so with a more hold face demaunde his desire. And that this is in suche sorte as we say, the inflamed Dido with hir doings, doth very well manifest the same vnto vs, who burning in the loue of Aeneas so long as it séemed hir neither with honours nor with gifts able to winne him, had not the courage to attempt the doubtfull waye of as∣king the question: So that then the yong woman sought to make him most beholding vnto hir, whom she best loued. And thus we say, that he that re••••y∣ned the gift of the Garlande, was hir best beloued. As the Quéene become silent, Philocopo answered: Discrete Lady, greatly is your answere to be cōmen∣ded: but for all that, you doe bring me into a greate admiration of that ye haue defined, touching the pro∣pounded

question, bycause I woulde haue iudged ra∣ther the contrary. For so much as generally among louers, this was the wont••d custome, that is, to de∣sire to 〈…〉〈…〉 vppon them 〈…〉〈…〉 Iewell, or some other thing of the persons loued, to thende that most times they might glorie themselues more therein, than in all the remnant they had, and perceiuing the same aboute them, therewith to glad their mindes, as ye haue hear••. Parys seldome times or neuer entred into the bloud••e battailes against the Gréekes, with∣out bearing some token vpon him, that had ben gy∣uen h•••• by his Helene, beleuing better to preuaile therwith, than if he had gone without the same. And truely in my opinion, his thoughte was not vaine: therfore I shoulde thus say, that (as you sayde) the yong woman did very wysely, not defining it for all that as you haue done, but in this maner: She kno∣wing ••ha•• she was very wel loued of two yongmen, and that she coulde not loue moe than one, for that Loue is an indeu〈…〉〈…〉e thing, she would rewarde the one for ••he loue he bare hir, to the end that such good will should not be vnrewarded, and so gaue him hir Garland in requitall therof. To the other whom she loued, she thought she would giue courage and assu∣red hope of hir loue, taking his Garlande, and dec∣king hir selfe therwith, in token wherof, she plainly shewed to be beholding vnto him for the same▪ And therfore in my Iudgement she loued better him from whom she toke, than him to whom she gaue▪ to whom the 〈…〉〈…〉us made aunswere: Youre argument should haue pleased vs right wel, if your self in your tale had no•• condemned the same. Sée howe pillage

and perfect loue can agrée together? How can ye shew me, that we loue him whome we spoile, better than him, to whome we giue? According to the Question propoūded, to the one she gaue a Garland, and from the other she tooke a Garland: neyther had she from whom she gaue, ought giuen hir: and that which we sée euery day for example may here suffise, as is com∣monly sayde. They are of Gentlemen farre bet∣ter loued, on whome they bestowe fauor and giftes, than those that are by them depriued of them. And for that cause we lastely holde opinion, concluding that he is better loued, to whome is giuen, than hée from whome is taken. We know very well, that in these our reasonings much might be obiected against this oure definition, and much also aunswered to the contrary reasons: But lastly such determination shall remaine true. And bicause time now ser∣ueth not, to stay with this our talke vpon one matter only without moe, we will giue eare to the rest if it please you. To whome Philocopo sayde: That it pleased him right wel, & that very well suffised such a re∣solution to his de∣maunded question: & so helde his peace.

¶ The second Question, proposed by LONGANO.

NExt to Philocopo was placed a curte∣ous yong man, and gracious to behold, whose Name was Longano, who no sooner than Philo∣copo had left, thus began: Most excel∣lent Quéene, so trim hath bene the firste question, that in my conceipt, myne shall bring no delight at all. Yet to the ende not to be se∣uered from so noble a company, forth it shal: & thus he folowed, saying: It is not many dayes past, that I abyding all solitarie in my chaumber, wrapte in a heape of troublesome thoughtes, sprong from an a∣morous desire, the which with a fierce battaile had assaulted my heart, by happe heard a pitious plaint, wherevnto (bycause I iudged it by estimation néere vnto me) intentiuely I layde myne eare, and therby knew that they were women: by occasion wherof, I sodainly rose to sée who, and where they were: and loking forth at my chaumber window, I heard o••er∣against the same, in one other chaumber, two yong women, the same being sisters, adorned with an in∣estimable beautie, there abiding without any other companie, whome as I sawe making this sorowfull plaint, I withdrew my selfe into a secret place, with∣out

being of them espied, and so beheld them a long while, neither was I able for all that, to vnderstand all the wordes that they thorowe griefe vttered in teares, but that the effect of such plaint (according to that I coulde comprehende) séemed to mée to be for Loue: wherefore I thorowe pitie, and so swéete an occasion offred (beyng thus close as I was) began to ••heade my trickeling teares. And after that I had in their griefe perseuered in the same a good space (for somuch as I was their very familiar and also their néere kinsman) I purposed to vnderstande more cer∣taine the occasion of their sorrowe, and so went vnto thē, who had no sooner espied me, but al basheful they withheld them from teares, endeuoring thēselues to do me reuerence. To whom I sayd: Gentlewomen, trouble not your selues, neyther let this my cōming moue you to restraine your inward griefe, for your teares haue ben now a good space apparant vnto me. It shall bée therfore néedelesse to hide you, either yet thorowe bashefulnesse to hide from me the cause of this your plaint. For I am come hither to vnderstād the same. And be you assured, that ye shal not receiue by me either in word or déede any euil requital. But rather helpe and comfort in what I maye. The wo∣men greately excused them selues, saying, that they sorrowed for nothing: but yet after I had coniured them, and they seyng me desirous to vnderstande the same, the elder thus began to say: It is the pleasure of the Gods, that to thée our secretes be discouered: thou therfore shalt vnderstande, that wée, aboue all other women haue alwayes resisted the sharp dartes of Cupide, who of a long season in casting y^• same,

was neuer yet able to fastē any one of thē in ••nrher∣tes. But now lastly being further inflamed, & hauing determined to ouercome that his childish enterprise, tooke of new with his yong arme, of his best & dearest shafts, & with so great force woūded y^• hearts so sore inféebled through the sundry blowes before receiued, as the heades therof pierced déepe, so as they made a farre greatter wounde, than if resistance had not ben made (to the other former) had lyke to haue bene. And thus for the pleasure of two most noble yong Gentlemē, we are become subiects to his deitie, folo∣wing his pleasure with more perfect faith, and feruēt will, than euer any other women haue done. Now hath Fortune, & the loue of them (as I shall declare vnto you) lefte vs both comfortlesse. First I, before my sister here, was in loue, and through myne ende∣uor beleuing wisely to end my desire, so wrought as I got the loued yong Gentlemā at my pleasure, whō I found as greatly enamoured of me as I of hym. But truly now hath not the amorous flame through such effect cessed, neither hath the desire lessned, but eache one more vehemētly increaseth: and more thā euer, I do now burne in his fire. And what tyme, se∣ing how I might best mitigate the flame therof, hol∣ding it inwardly secrete, it after happened, that the horned Moone was no sooner come to hir perfect roūd nesse, but that he at vnwares cōmitted a fault, for the which was adiudged him perpetuall exile from this Citie, whervpon he dreading death, is departed hēre without hope euer to returne. I sorowfull woman aboue all others, more now inflamed than euer, am without him, left both dolefull and desperate. By oc∣casion

wherof I sorrow me, and that thing that most increaseth my sorrow is, that on euery side I sée the way hard from being able to folow him. Think ther∣fore now, whether I haue cause to plaine me or no. Then sayde I: and this other, why sorroweth she? and she answered: This my sister likewise (as I) is enamoured of an other, and of him againe loued a∣boue measure. And to the ende her desires should not passe the amorous pathes, without tasting some part of delight, many times she hath endeuoured hir selfe to bring them to effecte, and contrary to hir deuise, Iealousy hath alwais occupied and broken the way, and bicause she could neuer attain thervnto, neither sawe howe to be able so to do, shée thus distressed, is thorow feruent loue consumed, as ye may wel think if euer ye were in loue. Seing we were then here all alone, we began to reason of oure misfortunes, and knowing the same farre greater than these of other womē, we could not withhold from teares, but with wéeping sorowed our lucklesse lots, as ye might wel perceiue. To heare this of them it grieued me great∣ly, so that I encountred them with such wordes, as séemed me most profitable for their comforte, & so de∣parted frō thē. Many times after, reuoluing in mynd their griefs, and somtimes bethinkyng me whether of the same shuld be the greater, at one time I agréed to y^• of the one, & at another time I yelded to y^• of the other: & the sundry reasons, wherewith as it séemeth me, eche one hath to lamente hir, will not suffer me to stay vpon any one, wherevpon I remaine here in doubt. May it therefore please you, that by you may be opened this errour, in telling me whether of these

two infortunate louers séemed to sustaine the grea∣test griefe. Great was the sorrow of either of them, aunswered the Quéene: But considering aduersitie to be most grieuous to hir that hath tasted prosperi∣tie, we esteeme that she that hath lost hir loue, féeleth the greatest griefe, and is of Fortune greatliest of∣fended. Fabritius neuer bewept the chaūces of For∣tune: But that Pompey did is a thing very mani∣fest. If swéete things were not tasted, the sowre shuld be yet vnknowen. Medea neuer knewe (according to hir own saying) what maner a thing prosperity was, whilest she was in loue, but beyng forsaken of Iason bewailed hir aduersitie. Who will euer lament for that he hath not had? not one but will rather desire it. It is déemed therefore, that of the two women, the one wept for griefe, the other for desire. It is ve∣ry hard for me (gracious Lady) to thinke that which you affirme (sayde the yong Gentleman) forsomuch as who y^• hath his desire of any desired thing, ought much more to content his mynde, than who that de∣sireth, and can not fulfill his desire. Further, nothing is more light to lose, than what hope promiseth not hereafter to yelde. There ought to be vnmeasurable grief, where as y^• not being able to bring egal willes to effect doth hinder. From thence lamentatiōs take place, from thence thoughts and troubles do spring, bicause if the willes were not egall, of force the desire should want. But when as louers sée them selues in presence of that they desire, and can not attaine ther∣vnto, then do they kindle & sorrow them much more, than if that they would haue, were farre from them. And who I pray you torments Tantalus in Hel? but

onely the Apples, and the Water, for that how much more néere they bende & swell to his mouth, so much the more (afterwardes in flying the same) they in∣crease his hunger. Truly I beleue, that who hopeth for a thing possible to bée had, & can not attaine ther∣vnto, thorowe contrary resisting impedimentes, fée∣leth more griefe, than who that bewaileth a thing loste and irrecuperable. Then sayde the Quéene, your answere woulde haue folowed very well, where youre demaunde should haue bene of an olde griefe, although to that also might be said: thus to be possi∣ble thorowe forgetting the griefe, to shorten the de∣sire in the desired things, where as continuall impe∣diment is séene not to be able to attaine them, as in those lost, wherin Hope doth not shewe vs, that wée shoulde euer haue them againe. But wée doe reason whether of them sorrowed most, when you saw them sorrowing: wherfore folowing the propoūded case, we wil giue iudgemēt, that she felt greater grief that had lost hir louer, without hope to haue hym againe, (putting the case that it be an easye matter to lose a thing impossible to haue agayne: neuerthelesse it was to be sayde: who loueth well, forgetteth neuer) than the other, who if we loke well, might hope to fulfill that hereafter, that heretofore she was vnable to performe. For a greate lessner of griefe is hope. It had force to kepe chast and to di∣minish the sorrowes of the lin∣gryng long lyfe of Penelope.

¶ The thirde Question, pro∣posed by a yong Gentlewoman.

ON the right syde of Longano sate an excellent faire Gen∣tlewoman and verie pleasant, who as she perceiued that Que∣stion by the Quéene determined, thus be∣ganne with a swéete talke to say: Most renoumed Quéene, your eares graunte hearing to my wor∣des: And first by those Goddes whome you worship, and next by the power of our pastime, I pray you that ye will giue to my demaund profitable counsell. I as you know, being descended of noble Parentes, was borne in this City, and was named with a very gra∣cious name, although my surname (being Cara) pre∣senteth me grateful to the hearers, and as by my face it may appeare, I haue receyued from the Gods and Nature a singuler gift of beautie, the which (in folo∣wing my propre name more thā my surname) I haue adorned with an infinite pleasauntnesse, shewing my selfe benigne to whom that is delighted to behold the same: by occasion whereof many haue endeuoured themselues for their pleasure to occupie my eyes, a∣gainst al whom I haue withstode w^t strong resistance holding a stable heart agaynst their assaultes: but bi∣cause it séemeth to me vnléefull that I onely shoulde

pretermit the lawes kept and obserued of all others, that is, not to loue being loued of many, I haue de∣termined to become enamored, and setting apart ma∣ny séekers of such loue, whereof some do excell Midas in riches, some other passe Absalō in beauty, & other some in curtesie (according to the common reporte of all) are more splendent than any other. I haue of al these chosen thrée: Of whom eche one pleaseth me a∣like. Of the which thrée, the one of bodily force (as I beleue) would excell the good Hector, hée is at euery proofe so vigorous and strong. The curtesie and libe∣ralitie of the seconde is such, that (as I thinke) his fame doth sounde thorowe eche pole. The third is al full of wisedome, so y^• he surmounteth all other wise men aboue measure. But for that (as ye haue heard) their qualities are diuers▪ I doubt whether of them to take, finding in the antique age ech one of these to haue diuersly the courages of women, and of yelding men: as of Dianira, Hercules, of our Clitemnestra, Aegistus, and of Lucretia, Sextus▪ Counsel me ther∣fore, to whether of them sonest with least blame, and greatest suretie I ought to giue my selfe. The plea∣sant Quéene hauing heard the purpose of this Gētle∣woman, thus made answere. There is neuer a one of the thrée, that doth not worthily merite the loue of a faire and gracious Lady: but bicause in this case I am not to fight against Castels, or to giue away the kingdomes of greate Alexander, or the treasures of Ptholome, but that only that Leue and Honour are with discretion a long time to be kept, the which are maintained neither by force nor curtesy, but onely by wisedome: We say, that both you, and euery other

woman ought rather to giue hir loue to a wise man, than to any of the rest. Oh how diuers is my iudge∣ment from yours, answered the propoūding Gentle∣woman. To me it séemeth, that eche one of the others were sooner to be taken than the wise, & this séemeth to be the reason: Loue (as we sée) is of that nature, as multiplying his force in one hearte, euery other thing he banisheth out thence, retaining that for hys seate, and mouing it after according to his pleasure, wherevnto no foresight is able to resist, but that it is cōuenient for them to folow him, by whome it is (as I haue said) gouerned. And who doubteth that Biblis knew it not to be euil to loue hir brother? Who wil gaine say that it was not manifest to Leander, that he mighte drowne in Helespont, in his fortunate time, if he cast him selfe therein? And none wyll deny that Pasiphe knew not a man to be more faire thā a Bul? and yet they & ech one ouercome with an amo∣rous pleasure, r••••••••ting all knowledge, folowed the same. Then if it haue power to take knowledge from she learned, takyng away the witt•• from the wyse, they shall haue nothing lest: but if from the strong and curteous, it shall take away the little witte they haue, it shall yet increase them in their vertues, and so they shall become more than the wise enamoured. Further, Loue hath this propretie, it is a thing that can not long be hidde: and in reueling himself, he is wont oftentimes to bring greuous perils, wherunto what remedy shall the wise giue that hath nowe lost his witte? He shall giue none at all, but the strong that vseth his force can helpe in a perill both himselfe and others. The curteous thorowe his curtesie shall

with grateful beneuolence winne the myndes of ma∣ny, whereby he may be both holpen and considered, and others also for his sake. Sée now what it is to be of your iudgement. She was by the Quéene answe∣red vnto, thus: If ther were such a one as you speake of, who shoulde then be wise? not one. But if hée, whome you propounde wise, and enamoured of you, shuld be made a foole, he is not to be takē. The Gods forbid, that that wherof you speake, shoulde come to passe. And yet wée will not denie but that the wy••e know the euill, and do it: but for al that we wil say, that they thereby lose not their witte, forasmuch as what time it pleaseth them with the reason thei haue to bridle their willes, they will reduce them selues to their accustomed witte, guiding their motions in a due and straight ordre. And in this maner their loue shal be altogether, or at the least, a long time kepte se∣crete, and that without any doubtfull diligence, the which shall not happen to one of little witte, be he ne∣uer so strong or curteous. And yet if perhappes it do happe, that such loue be discouered, a wise man will with a hundred foresightes, shut vp the eyes and vn∣derstanding of the tattlers therof, and shal prouide a safetie both for his owne honour, as for the honour ••f his loued Lady▪ And if néede of safetie be, the helpe of the wi••e can not faile. That of the strong becom∣meth lesse. And the friendes that are gotten by Libe∣ralitie, are accustomed in aduersitie to sh••••ke a∣way. What is she of so lyttle discretion, that is brought to such a iumpe as hath néede of manifeste helpe? o•• that if hir loue be disclosed, séeketh fame in hauyng loued a Strong or Liberall man? I beléeue

there is none Rich. Let the wise then be soonest loued, ••oping that he must be in eche cause more profitable than any of the rest.

¶ The fourth Question, proposed by MENEDON.

The Gentlewomā by hir countenaunce seemed cōtent, when Menedon, syttyng next vnto hir, sayde▪ Most high and noble Quéene, nowe is it come to my tourne to propound my questi∣on here in your pre∣sence▪ Wherfore by your licence, if in my talke I shal wade ve∣ry long, yet during the same, I shal first of all of you, and next of the standers about, pray pardon: Bicause ye can not be made fully to vnderstand that, which I intende is propounde, vnlesse a tale, that peraduen∣ture shall not be short, doe precede the same: and af∣ter those wordes thus she began to say: In the coun∣trey where I was borne, I remember there was a noble knight, s••nnou••ting riche, the whiche loued in most loyall louè, a noble Gentlewoman, borne like∣wise there, whome hée tooke to wise: Of whome, be∣ing

as she was, exceding faire: an other knight cal∣led Tarolfo was after enamored, and with so great good will loued hir, as he sawe nothing he more desi∣red than hir: And in sundry sortes, now with passing by before hir house, now iusting, now at the barri∣ers, now with the often sending hir messangers, per∣aduenture promising hir greate giftes, whereby she might know his intent, and now with other like fea∣tes he indeuoured him selfe to purchase hir loue. All which things the Lady closely supported, without gi∣uing signe or good aunswere to the knight, saying to hir self: When as this knight shall espie, that he can haue neither answere ne yet good coūtenance of me, perhappes he wil forbeare any further, either to loue me, or to giue me these allurementes. Nowe for all this, Tarolfo surcessed not, following the precepts of Ouid, who sayth, that a man must not thorowe the hardnesse of a woman leaue to perseuer, bicause with continuance the soft water pierceth the harde stone. The Lady doubting least these things shoulde come to the eares of hir husbande, and that he should con∣ceiue that the same happened thorowe hir good will, purposed to let him vnderstand the same. But yet af∣ter being persuaded thorow better aduisemēt she said, I might (if I tell him) moue such a broile betwirte them, as I should neuer after liue a merry life, and therfore he would be shakē of by some other means, and so she imagined a tri••••e guile. She sent to Ta∣rolfo, saying, that if he loued hir so wel as he made shewe of, she would require one thing at his hands, the which if she receiued, she sware by hir Gods, and by that loyaltie that ought to be in a Gentlewomā,

that she woulde accomplishe all his desire. And if he would not giue hir that she required, he should then content him selfe no further to allure hir hereafter, but in what he would be willing she shuld reueale to hir husbād. The gift she required was this. She said she woulde haue in that countrey in the moneth of Ianuarie, a verie faire Garden, and large, repleni∣shed wyth hearbes, floures, and blossomed trées and fruites, as if it were in the moneth of May: saying to hir selfe: This is an impossible thing, so that in this sort I shall ridde him from me. Tarolfo hearing this demaunde, & although it séemed vnto him impos∣sible to be done, and that he knew very wel to what ende she required the same, answered, that he would neuer rest, neyther yet returne into hir presence, vn∣till such time he might giue hir the demaunded gift: And so forthwith departed his countrey with such a conueniente companie as pleased hym to take wyth him. He sought al the west partes for counsell howe to attaine to his desire, but not finding there that hée looked for, sought the most hote regions, and so came into Thessalia, as he had bene sent by a discrete man for that purpose. And hauing made his aboue there many dayes, not yet finding that he sought for: it hap∣pened, that being now almost desperate of his desire, and rising one morning before the sunne prepared to enter the dawning day, he al alone began to wander y^• miserable plaines, that were now: al imbrued with Romaine bloud: and hauing trauailed a long while vpon the same, he sodainly espied before him at the foote of a mountaine, a man not yong, nor of to many yores, bearded, small & very spare of person, whose at∣tire

shewed him to be but poore, who romed hither & thither gathering herbs, & with a little knife digged vp sūdry rootes, wherof he had filled one of the skirts of his cote: whō as Tarolfo saw, he meruelled not a little, and doubted greatly least it had ben some other thing, but after that his ayme did certenly assure him to be a man, he drew nere vnto him, saluted him, & af∣ter asked him who he was, of whēce, & what he made there at so timely an houre. To whome the old man answered: I am of Thebes, & Thebane is my name, and I go vp & downe this plaine, gathering of these herbes, to the ende y^• with the iuyce thereof, I make diuers necessarie and profitable things for diuers in∣••••mities, wherby I may haue wher withall to liue: And to come at this houre, it is néede and not delight that constraineth me. But who are you, that in coū∣tenance resembleth noble, and walk here al alone so∣litarie. To whom Tarolfo answered: I am of the extremes of the west, very riche, and vanquished of my conceipts, pricked forwards to an enterprise, not being able hytherto to atchieue the same, and there∣fore to be the better able without impediment to sor∣row my happe, I goe thus all alone wandring. To whome Thebane sayde: Do you not know the qua∣litie of the place, and what it is? Wherfore haue you rather taken your way on the other side? You might easily here be rebuked with furious spirites. Tarol∣fo answered: God can doe here, as else where, it is he that hath my life and honour in his handes: lette him doe with me according to his pleasure: for assu∣redly death shoulde be to me a riche treasure. Then sayde Thebane: What is that your enterprise, for

the which not beyng able to perfourme it) you abide thus sorowfull? To whom Tarolfo aunswered: It is such as séemes vnto me impossible to be able euer to attaine, since hitherto I haue here found no coun∣sell. Then said Thebane: Dare ye vtter it? Tarol∣fo aunswered: Yea. But what profiteth it? Perad∣uenture nothing sayde Thebane, but what doth it hurt? Then sayde Tarolfo. I séeke counsell howe may be had in the coldest moneth, a garden full of floures, fruites, and hearbes, as farre as if it were in the moneth of May, neither do I finde who can ther∣in either helpe me, or giue me encouragement that it is possible to be had. Thebane stayde a while in a muse without aunswere, and after sayde: You and many others do iudge the skill and vertue of men ac∣cording to their garments. If my goods were such as are yours, you woulde not haue lingred so long in discouoring your lacke: or if peraduenture you had founde me néere to some rich Prince as you haue in gathering of hearbes. But many times vnder the vi∣lest vesture are hidden▪ the greatest treasures of sci∣ence: and therefore no one concealeth his lacke, to whome is proffered counsel or helpe: And if therfore he open the same, it can not preiudice him at al. But what would ye giue to him that should bring to effect that which you goe about thus séeking for? Taralfo beheld him in the face, as he vttred these words, and doubted lest he went about to deride him, for y^• it sée∣med to him incredible, that he shuld be able to bring y^• same to passe vnlesse he were a God: notw^tstanding he answered hym thus: I haue vnder my rule in my countrey many ca••tles, and there withall great trea∣sures,

all the which I would participate in the midst with him that wold do me so great a pleasure. Tru∣ly said Thebane, if ye would do so muche for me, I should no more néede to go thus about, in gathering of herbes. Assuredly said Tarolfo, if thou be able to giue true effect to that thou promisest, and giuest me it in déede, thou shalte neuer néede to carke ne yet to trouble thy selfe to become riche: but how and when canst thou bring me this to passe? Then sayde The∣bane, the tyme when, shal be at your choise, but for the maner howe, trouble not your selfe. And I will go with you, trusting to the wordes and promises ye haue made me, and when we shal be there, where it pleaseth you to be, commande what you would haue done, and I shall without faile performe the sanie.

Of this fortunate happe Tarolfo was so wel conten∣ted in him selfe, as litle more gladnesse could he haue receyued, if he had then helde his Lady embraced in hys armes, and sayde: Friende, to me it séemeth long, vntill thou haue performed, that thou hast pro∣mised, wherefore let vs depart without further tari∣ance, and go thither where this is to be done. The∣bane cast away his herbes, and tooke his bookes and other thinges necessary to his science, and with Ta∣rolfo tooke his iourney: and in short time they both came vnto the desired Citie, very néere vnto the mo∣neth in the which the Garden had bene required to be made. Where as all secrete and close they reposed them selues vntil the wished time. And now the mo∣neth being entred, Tarolfo commaunded the Gar∣den to be made, to the ende he might giue the same to his loued lady. So soone as Thebane had receiued

this commaundemente, he taried the night ensuyng, the which being once come, he saw the hornes of the Moone gathered into a perfect roundnesse, & to shine vpon the frequented earth. Then he went him all a∣lone forth of the citie, leauing his apparel apart, bare legged, and his dissheueled lockes hanging vpon his naked shoulders. The restlesse degrées of the night did passe: birdes, wilde beastes, and men, wythout any noise did take their rest: the vnfallen leaues w^t∣out mouing did hang vpon the trées, and the moist aire abode in mylde peace: Onely the starres dyd shine, when as he oftentimes went about the groū∣des, & came to a place on a riuers side, which it plea∣sed him to chose for his Garden. There he stretched forth his arme thrée times towardes the starres, and turning him selfe vnto them, he as often bathed his white locks in the running streame, crauing as ma∣ny times with a most high voice their helpe: and af∣ter setting his knées to the hard earth, began thus to saye: Oh night, most, faithfull secreser of high things, and you, oh ye starres, the which together with the Moone, do succede the splendant day: & thou oh singular Hecates, become an helper to this my begon enterprise, and thou oh holie Ceres, the re∣nuer of the ample face of the earth: And you what soeuer verses, either artes, or herbes, and thou what soeuer earth bringing forth vertuous plants, & thou oh aire, windes, mountaines, riuers and lakes, and eche God of the woddes, and of the secrete night, by whose helpe I haue heretofore made the runnyng streames to recule, inforcing thē to returne to their springs, and things running, to become firme, and

things firme to become running, and that hast al∣so giuen power to my verses to drye vp the Seas, that I at my pleasure might search the bottom ther∣of, & to make the cloudie times cleare, & (at my wil) to fill the cleare heauens with obscure cloudes, to make the windes to ceasse, and to turne as it séemed me best: breaking therwith the harde iawes of the fearefull dragons, making also the standing woddes to moue, and the hault mountaines to tremble, and to returne to their dead bodies out of the Lake Stix those their shadowes, and aliue to come forth of their sepultures: and sometimes thée O▪ Moone to drawe to thy perfect roundnesse: the attaining wherevnto a ring of Basons was wont to be an helpe, makyng also the cleare face of the sūne many times to become pale, be ye all present, and aide me with your helpe. I haue at this instant néede of the sappe and iuyce of hearbes, thorowe the which I may make in part, the dry earth fastned thorowe Autumne, and after thorowe the withering colde Winter, spoiled of his floures, fruites, and hearbes, to become flouring, and to spring before the due terme. And hauing thus said he sayde after, many other thinges softely, which hée added to his prayers. And those being ended, and he a while silent, the starres gaue not their light in vain. For more swifter than y^• flight of the wightest bird, there appeared before him a Chariot drawē by two dragons, whervpon he mounted, & taking the raines of the bridles of the two bridled dragons in his hand, was caried into the aire. He then leauing Spayne, & all Affrica, toke his iorney by other Regions, & first sought for the Ile of Crete, & from thence after with

a short course he sought Pelion, Othrys, and Ossa, the mount Neriū, Pachyn{us}, Pelorus & Appaennine. Vpon them all plucking vp, & with a sharp sickle cut∣ting downe such rootes and herbes as best liked him, neyther forgat he those whych he had before gathe∣red when as he was found by Tarolfo in Thessalia. Hée tooke stones also vppon the mounte Causacus, and of the sandes of Ganges: and out of Libia, he brought tongs of venemous serpēts. He serched the watrie bankes of Rodanus, of Senna at Parys, of the great Po, of Arnus, of the imperiall Tyber, of Nifeus, of Tana, and of Danuby: vppon those eke gathering such herbes as séemed to him most necessa∣ry for his purpose, putting these together with the others, gathered on the toppes of the sauage moun∣taines. He also sought the Ilandes of Lesbos and Pathmos, and euery other, wherin he perceiued any profitable thing to be had for his attempt: With all the which things he came (the thirde day beyng not yet past) to that place from whence he departed, and the dragōs, that only had felt the odour of the gathe∣red herbes, did cast of their olde hides of many yea∣res, and were with new renued and become yong. There he dismounted from his chariot, and of the gréene earth he made two altares▪ on his right hād that of Hecates: and on the left that of the renuing goddesse: that being done, and deuout fires kindled thervpon, with lockes disperpled vpon the old shul∣ders, he began with a murmuring noise to go about the same, & with gathered bloud oftentimes he be∣sprent the blasing brandes. After he placed the same bloud vpon the altars, somtimes softning therwith∣all

the grounde, appoynted for hys Garden: and af∣ter that, he softned agayne the selfe same thrée times, with fire, water, and Sulpher, setting after a great vessell full of bloud, milke, and water, vpon the bur∣ning brandes, which he caused to boile a good space, and put thereto the herbes and rootes, gathered in straunge places, minglyng therwith also diuers sée∣des and floures of vnknowen hearbes, he added ther∣vnto stones, soughte in the extreame partes of the east, and deawe gathered the nightes paste, together with the flesh of infamous Witches, the stones of a Wolfe, the hinder part of a fat Cinyphis, & the skin of a Chilinder. And lastly a Lyuer, with the whole lunges of an exceding olde Harte: and herewithal a thousande other things, both without name, and so straunge, as my memorie can not againe tell them. After he toke a drie bough of an Oliue trée, and ther∣with began to mingle all these thinges together. In doing whereof, the dry bough began to waxe gréene, and within a while after to beare leaues, & not long after the new apparelling therof, it was laden with blacke Oliues. As Thebane sawe this, he tooke the boyling licours, and began therewithal to sprinkle & water in euery place the chosen soyle, wherin he had sette slippes of so many woddes, as he woulde haue trées, and of as many sortes as could be founde. The which licour the earth had no sooner tasted, but that it began to spring: yelding floures and new herbes, and the dry settes began to become all gréene & fruit∣full plants. All this being done, Theban entring the Citie, returned to Tarolfo, whome he found all in a muse, fearing to be scorned thorowe hys long abode,

to whom he said. Tarolfo, the thing (thou requiredst) is done to thy liking. These newes pleased Tarolfo not a little, and happening the day folowing to be a great solemnitie in the Citie, he wente into the pre∣sence of his loued Lady, that had not now séene him of a long time past: and thus he sayde vnto hir: Ma∣dame, after a long and tedious trauaile, I haue per∣formed that which you haue commaunded, and when as it shal please you to sée it, or to take it, it is redy at your pleasure. She in séeing him, maruelled much, and the more, hearing what he said, & not beleuing the same to be true, made him this answere: It plea∣seth me right well, ye shall let me sée it to morrowe. The second day was come, and Tarolfo went again▪ to his lady, and sayde: Madame, maye it please you to walke to the Garden, the which you required to haue this colde moneth. She then being accompa∣nied with many others, was moued to sée the same. And they al being come to the garden, entred therin by a faire portall: wheras they felt not the like cold as abrode, but y^• same to haue a swéete tēperats aire. The lady wēt about y^• same, & into euery corner ther∣of, gathering both hearbes and floures, whereof shée sawe it very plentifull. And thus muche more also had the vertue of the spersed licours wroughte, that the fruites which August was accustomed to bring forth, the trées there in this sauage tyme, did yelde them very faire, wherof sundry did eate, that accom∣panied the lady thither. This Garden séemed to the Lady exceding faire and admirable, neither did she thinke to haue euer séene the like: and since she sun∣dry ways knew it to be a true Garden, & the knight

to haue perfourmed hir request, she turned towards him, and sayde: Without doubt sir Knight, ye haue deserued my loue, and I am ready to stand to my pro∣mise. But I woulde pray you of this fauour, that it would please you to tary the tune or euer ye require me to your desire, that my Knight be gone a hunting or into some other place out of the Citie, to the ende ye may the more safely, and without any suspition, take your delight. This contented Tarolfo, who left hir the Garden, and so departed. This Garden was manifest to the whole countrey, although neuer a one knew of a long time, how it came to passe. And the Lady that had now receiued it, al sorowful depar∣ted from the same, returning to hir chamber, full of noysome care and griefe, bethinking hir in what sort she might returne backe according to hir promise: & as not finding any léeful excuse, so much the more in∣creased hir care. The which thing hir husband espy∣ing, he began many times & often to maruell there∣at, & to aske the cause of y^• hir grief, to whome she an∣swered, y^• she ailed nothing, being bashful to discouer to him hir giuē promisse for hir craued gifte, doubting lest in so doing, he shuld accompt hir for leude. Last∣ly, she being vnable to withstand the continual insti∣gatiōs of hir husbād, y^• now stil importunatly desired to know y^• cause of hir annoy, discoursed the same vn∣to him, frō the beginning to the ende, & that therfore she abode thus pensiue. The husband hearing this, of long time suspected no lesse, & therby knowing in his conceipt, y^• puritie of the lady, thus said vnto hir: Goe & couertly kéepe thine othe, & liberally performe to Tarolfo what thou hast promised. For he hath

with his great toile of right deserued the same. And hauing thus sayde, the lady began to wéepe, and to say vnto him: The Gods seuer me farre from such a ••ault. In no wise will I so doe: I will rather ridde my selfe of life than do any thing displeasant to you, or dishonour to your person. To whome the knight replied, saying: Wife, for this matter I will that ye do no iniurie to your selfe, neither yet conceiue any griefe therfore, for in no wise shall it displease me, go therfore, and performe what ye haue promised: for ye shall be neuer a whit the lesse deare to me: But as ye haue performed this your promise, so take ye bet∣ter hede hereafter of such like, although y^• demanded gift may seme vnto you impossible to be had. As the lady perceiued the will of hir husbande, she decked & trimmed hir & made hir self very faire, toke company with hir, and so went to Tarolfos lodging, and all bepainted with bashefulnesse presented hir selfe vnto him. Tarolfo as soone as he saw hir, all merua••ling, rose from Thebane, and encountred hir with great gladnesse, and very honourably receiued hir, deman∣dyng the cause of hir comming. To whome she aun∣swered, I am come to be wholly at your will, do with me as it pleaseth you. Then sayde Tarolfo, ye make me to muse aboue measure, considering the time and the company wherwith ye are come: This can not be without some great alteration betwéene you and your husbande, tell me therfore I pray you, how the matter goth. The lady then shewed Tarolfo fully in order the whole matter and how it went: the which Tarolfo hearing, he began then to enter into a farre greater admiration than he had euer done before, and

greatly to bethinke him hereof, and so in the ende to conceiue the great liberalitie of the husband, that had sent his wife vnto him; wherupon he said to himself: Whatsoeuer he be▪ that should so much as but thinke villanie towardes such a knight, were surely worthy of great blame: and so taking and talking with the Lady, he thus sayde vnto hir: Madame, like a wor∣thy Lady, ye haue performed that to me due is: for the which cause I accompt that receiued of your han∣des, that I haue of you desired, and therfore when it shall please you, ye may returne to your husbande, and thanke him (I pray you) on my behalfe, for this his so great a pleasure done vnto me, and excuse me of the solie I haue heretofore cōmitted towards him, assuring him, that hereafter I shal neuer put the like in practise. The lady giuing great thanks to Tarol∣fo for that his so great curtesie, merily departed thē••e and returned to hir husbande, to whom she recited in ordre all that had ben happened. But Theban, nowe comming to Tarolfo demaunded how the case stode. Tarolfo declared vnto him the whole discourse. To whom Theban then sayd: and I, shal I thē lose that which y^u hast promised me? Tarolfo answered: no, but when it pleaseth thée, take thou halfe of al the ca∣stels & treasures I haue in sort heretofore promised thée. For I acknowledge, that thou hast fully serued my turne. To whome Theban aunswered: It may neuer please y^e Gods, since the knight was so liberal to thée of his wife, & thou againe wast not a villaine to him in that his offer, that I become lesse than cur∣teous. For aboue all things in the worlde it conten∣teth me, in that I haue serued thy turne: and there∣fore

I will, that all that I ought to receyue in guer∣don of my trauaile remaine all thine, in such sort as it hath euer bene heretofore: neither would he take of that was Tarolfos any thing at all. It is now doub∣ted, in whether of these was the greatest liberalitie, either in the knight y^• had giuen libertie to his wife to go to Tarolfo, either in Tarolfo, who sent the la∣dy (whom he had always desired, and for whose sake he had done so much, to come to that iumpe, whervn∣to he was cōmen, when as she came vnto him) backe to hir husband frée: or in Thebane, who hauing a∣bandoned his countrey (being now olde) for to gaine the promised rewardes, and being come thether, toi∣led him selfe to bring that to an ende, which he had promised, wherby he iustly deserued y^• same, did now remit the whole to Tarolfo, and remained poore as he was of the first. Very excellent is both the tale & the demaunde, sayd the Quéene. Of trouth eache one was very liberall, considering the first of his honour, the second of his lasciuious desire, and the third that of his rewarded riches; was very curteous. Nowe if we will knowe which of them vsed the greatest libe∣ralitie or curtesie: It is méete we consider whether of the thrée déedes is moste acceptable, the which be∣ing well wayed, we shall manifestly knowe the most liberall, b••ause who most giueth, is to be helde most liberall: of the which thrée, the one is deare, that is Honour, the which Paulus Aemilius vanquishyng Perses, king of Macedonia, rather desired than the gained treasures. The second is to be fled, that is, the wanton delights of Venus, according to the sentence of Sophocles, and of Xenocrates, saying: That lust

is to be fled as a furious gouernement. The third is not to be desired, that is Riches: forsomuch as the most times they are noisome to a vertuous life, and to such a one as can vertuously liue with moderate pouertie, as liued Marcus Curtius, Attilius Regu∣lus, and Valerius Publicola, as by their workes is manifest. If then of these thrée, only Honour is to be helde deare, and the others not, he vsed the greatest liberalitie that gaue his wife to another, although he did lesse than wisely therin. He was also the chiefest in liberalitie, wherin the others folowed him: ther∣fore according to our iudgemēt he that gaue his wife in whome consisted his honour, was aboue the rest, the most liberall. I (sayde Menedon) agrée, that in as much as ye haue thus sayde, it be as you say: but yet eche one of y^• other séemeth to me, to be more li∣berall, and ye shall heare howe. It is very true, that the first graunted his wife, but he vsed therin not so gret a liberalitie as ye speake of, bicause if he would haue denied hir, he might not iustly haue done it, by reason of the othe she made, the which was conueni∣ent for hir to kéepe: and therfore who giueth that he may not denie, doth but well in making himselfe li∣berall thereof▪ and it was but a trifle he gaue: and therfore (as I haue sayde) eche one of the other was more curteous. And for that (as it is already sayde) Tarolfo had now a long time desired this lady, and loued hir farre aboue all others, he for to attaine hir, had of long time abode great troubles, offering him∣selfe for to satisfie hir request, to séeke forth things al∣most impossible to be had, the which nowe obtained, he deserued (through hir promised faith) to obtain hir

also, whome (as we say) being obteined, there is no doubt but that the honor of the the husband, and the release of that she had promised (the which he relea∣sed) was in his hande. Then was he, to conclude, libe∣rall both of the honor of the husbande, of the othe of his lady, and of his owne long desire. It is a greate matter to haue endured long thirst, and to come to a pleasant fountaine, and not to drinke, but to suffer o∣thers to drinke. The thirde was also very liberall, considering that pouertie is one of the most lothsome things of the worlde to beare, for so much as it is the chaser away both of mirth and rest, a flier of honors, a frequenter of vertue, and the inducer of crabbed care, so that euery one naturally endeuoure them selues wyth a fiery desire to flie the same, the which desire is so kyndled in many, to the ende to lyue very splendantly in reste, as they giue them selues no lesse to dishonest gaine, than to disordinate spen∣ces, peraduenture not knowing, or not otherwayes being able to féede that their desire: which is cause many times either of death or exile. How much then ought the riches to please & to be acceptable to them that in due sorte doe both gaine and possesse them? And who wil doubt that Theban was not most poore if he beholde howe he abandoning his nightes rest, wente gathering of hearbes, and digging vp of roo∣tes, in doubtfull places for the better sustentation of hys poore life. And that this pouertie did occupie hys vertue, may be also beleued, in hearing how Tarolfo did déeme to be by him disceiued, when he beheld him apparelled in vile vesture, and seing him desirous to shake of that miserie to become riche, knowing howe

he came as farre as from Thessalia, into Spayne, ha∣sarding him self to perillous chaunces thorow doubt∣full iourneys and vncertaine aire, to the ende to per∣fourme the promisse he had▪ made, and to receyue the like from an other. Also it may be euidētly séene, that without doubt who giues him self to such and so ma∣ny miseries to the ende to flie pouertie, knoweth the same to be full of all grief & troubles. And how much the more he hath shaken of the greatest pouertie, and is entred a rich life, so much the more is the same life acceptable vnto hym. Then who that is become of poore, riche, if therwith his life doth delight him, how great, and what maner of liberalitie doth he vse, if he giue the same away, and cōsenteth to returne to that state, the which he hath with so many troubles fled? Assuredly he doth a thing exceding great and liberal. And this séemeth farre greater than the rest, conside∣ring also of the age of the giuer, that was now olde: forasmuch as Auarice was wont to be continually of greater force in olde men than in yong, whervpon I gather, that eche one of the two folowing, hath vsed a greater liberalitie than hath the first, so much com∣mended by you, and the third farre more than either of the others. In howe much your reason might bée well by any one defended, so well is the same defen∣ded by you (sayd the Quéene) but we minde to shew vnto you briefly how our iudgemēt rather thā yours ought to take place. Ye will say, that he shewed no Liberalitie at all, graunting the vse of his wife to an other, bicause of reason it was conueniēt thorow the othe made by the Lady, that he should so do, y^• which ought to be in déede if the othe might holde. But the

wife forsomuch as she is a membre of hir husband, or rather one body with him, could not iustly make such an othe without the will of hir husbande: and yet if she did make such an othe, it was nothing, bicause y^• first othe lawfully made, could not with reason be de∣rogate by any following, chiefly not by those that are not duly made for a necessary cause. And the maner is in matrimoniall vnitings the man to sweare to be contente with the woman, and the woman with the man, and neuer to chaunge the one the other for an other. Now then, the woman can not sweare, and if she do sweare (as we haue sayde) she sweareth for a thing vnlawful, and so contrary to the former othe it ought not to preuaile, and not preuailing otherwise than for his pleasure, he ought not to cōmit his wife to Tarolfo, and if he doe commit hir to hym, then is he Liberall of his honour, and not Tarolfo, as you holde opinion. Neither coulde he bée liberall of his othe in releasing it, for as much as the othe was no∣thing. Then onely remained Tarolfo liberall of his wanton desire: the which thing of propre duetie is conuenient for euery man to doe, bicause we all tho∣rowe reason are bounde to banish vice, and to folow vertue. And who that doth that, wherevnto he is of reason bounde is (as ye haue sayd) nothing at all li∣beral, but that which is done more than dutie requi∣reth, may well and iustly be termed Liberalitie. But bicause you peraduenture with silence argue in your minde, what honour may that be of a chaste woman to hir husbande, which ought to be so deare: we wil prolong somewhat oure talke in shewing you, to the ende that ye may the more clearely sée, that Tarolfo

and Thebane, of whome we intende next to speake, vsed no liberalitie at all in respect of the Knight. Ye shal know that chastitie together with the other ver∣tues, yeld none other reward to the possessours ther∣of, than honour, the which honour among vertuous men, makes the least vertuous, the most excellent. This honour if men with humilitie séeke to support it, it maketh them friendes to God, and so by conse∣quent to liue, and after death, to possesse the goodes eternal: the which if the woman conserueth for hir husbande, he may liue merily, and certaine of his of∣spring, and frequent in open sight among the people content to sée hir for such hir vertues honored amōg the most high and chiefest dames, and in his minde it is a manifest token that she is good, feareth God, and loueth him, which is no small pleasure, seing shée is giuen him for an euerlasting companion indiuisible, sauing by death: He thorow this obtained fauour is séene continually to increase, both in spirituall and wordly wealth. And so on the cōtrary, he whose wife hath defaulte of suche vertues, can neuer passe one houre with true cōsolation, nothing is acceptable vn∣to him, and continually the one desireth the death of the other, he perceiueth him selfe thorowe this disor∣dred vice to bée caried in the mouthes of the veriest misers, neither séemeth it vnto him, that such a fault should not be beleued, of whome so euer it is hearde: And if she were largely endowed with all other ver∣tues, yet this vice séemeth to haue such a force as to bring hir in contempt, & to vtter ruine. Then is this honour that maketh the woman both chast and good to hir husbande, a most great gift, and so is to be held

most dearely. Blessed may he be called to whom tho∣rowe grace is graunted such a gifte, although we be∣leue they are but few, towards whome is borne enuy for so gret a benefite. But to returne to our purpose, it is to be séene how much the Knight did giue. It is not fled our memorie when as ye sayd, that Theban was of the rest most liberall, who being with trouble enriched, hath not doubted to returne into the mise∣rie of poore estate, in gyuing away that which he had gotten. It apparantly appeareth, that ye are euill ac∣quainted with pouertie, who if she come vnto vs me∣ry, surmounteth all riches. Thebane now peraduen∣ture thorow the attained wealth, felt him self replete of sundry sowre cares. He did nowe imagine that it séemed Tarolfo to haue done very euill, and therfore woulde practise by murdring hym, to recouer againe his Castels. He abode in feare to be peraduenture be∣trayed of his tenantes. He was entred into care tou∣ching the gouernement of his landes. He now knew all the prepared guiles to bée done vnto his coparte∣ners. He saw him selfe greatly enuied for his riches, and doubted least théeues should secretely spoile hym therof. He was stuffed with so many such and sundry thoughtes and cares, as all quietnesse was fled from him. Thorowe the which occasions, calling to minde his former life, and that without so many cares hée passed the same merrily, sayd to him selfe: I desired to grow riche, to the ende to attaine quiet rest▪ but I sée it is the increaser of troubles and cogitations: so is it the flier of quietnesse: And therefore desirous to be in his former estate, he rendred them all to him by wh••me they were gyuen. Pouertie is the refused

rich, sa goodnesse vnknowen, a flier of prouocations, the whiche was of Diogenes fully vnderstoode. As much suffiseth pouertie, as Nature requireth. He li∣ueth safe from euery disceite that paciētly approcheth therewith, neither is he disabled to attaine to greate honours, that (as wée haue sayde) vertuously liueth therewith: and therefore as Thebane reiected this al∣lurement he was not liberall, but wise. So gracious he was to Tarolfo, in that it pleased him to giue the same rather to hym than to an other, where as hée might haue bestowed the same vppon many others. Then to conclude, the Knight was more liberal that graunted his honour, than any of the others: And thinke this one thing, that the honour he gaue was not to be againe recouered, the which happeneth not in many other things, as of battailes, prowesse, and others like: For if they are at one tyme lost, they are recoue∣red at an other, and the same is possible▪ Therefore this maye suf∣fise for an∣swere vnto youre de∣maunde.

¶ The fift Question, pro∣posed by CLONICO.

AFter the Queene became silent, & Me∣nedon satisfyed, a worthy yong gentle∣man called Clonico, that fat next to Me∣nedon, thus began to saye: Most migh∣ty Quéene, this gen∣tlewomans tale hath bene so excellent, and therwithall so long, as I in what I may, shall briefly shewe vnto you this my ••onceipt, to the ende the rest may the better at their more leasure say theirs. Then for as much as I, although very yong, knew the life of the subiects of our Lorde Loue, to be replete with many cares and sundry pyning prouo∣cations, yet with small delight I haue long tyme as I was able, fled the like, rather eschewing than com∣mending them which follow him: And although I was sundry times tempted, yet with a valiant minde (leauing the pitched snares) I alwayes resisted: But bicause I being not strong enough, coulde no wayes resist that force, wherevnto Phoebus was vnable to gainstand, Cupide hauing taken heart to bring mée into the number of his thralles, was taken before I knewe howe. For one day being allured abrode tho∣row the fresh renued time,, walking all merry, & for my delight gathering of shell fysh vpon the salte Sea

bankes, it happened as I tourned mine eyes towar∣des the glittering waues, I soddaynely sawe a little Barke comming towardes me; wherin, with one on∣ly marined, were foure yong Gentlewomen so faire, as i•• was a maruellous thing to behold y^• beauty thei séemed to haue. They nowe being approched some∣what néere vnto me, and I not hauing as yet turned mine eye from them, sawe in the middest of them an excéeding great light, wherin, as my estimation gaue me, me thought I sawe the fygure of an Angell, very yong, and so faire, as I neuer behelde thing more fai∣rer: whome as I thus eyed, me thought he said vnto me with a voice farre discrepant from ours: O yong foole, persecuter of our power (and being therwith ar∣riued) I am come hither with foure yong damsels, let thy eye make▪ choise of hir for thy maistresse, that best liketh thée. I when I heard this voice, abode all ap∣palled, and deuised both with eye and heart to auoyde that which heretofore I had many times fled: but all was bootelesse, for the strength of my legs sayled me, & byside, he had bowe & wyngs to ouertake me quick∣ly: wherevpon I in gazing among them, espied one so faire, so benigne of cheare, and so piteous of sem∣blaunce, as I imagined to make choise of hir, as of a singuler maystresse, saying to my selfe: This damsel presenteth hirselfe so humble to my eyes, as assuredly she will neuer become enimie to my desires, as many others haue bene to thē, whome I haue in beholding full of troubles alwayes scorned, but she shall rather bée a chaser awaye of my annoyes: and hauing thus thought, I forthwith answered: The gracious beau∣tie of that yong damsell, that (O my Lord) sitteth on

your right hand, makes me desire to be both to you, and hir, a most faithfull seruant. I am therefore ready to obey your will, do with me as shall best like you. I had not ended my tale, but y^• I felt my left side woun∣ded with a shining shaft shot from the bow which he bare, as me thought y^• same was of gold. And assured∣ly, I saw him as he turned towardes hir, to strike hir with an other of leade. And thus I being in this sort taken, abode in y^• snares I had of long time fled. This yong damsel hath and doth so much content mine eye as all other pleasure is very scarce in comparison of this. The which she espying, of long time shewed hir selfe content: but after that she knew me to be so ta∣ken with this delight, as no•• to loue hir was a thing impossible, incontinent shée discouered hir guile to∣wards me▪ with an vndeserued disdaine, showing hir selfe in apparance a most cruell enimie, alwayes tur∣ning hi•• eye the contrary way, as she happened to es∣pie me▪ and with wordes, on my part vndeserued, al∣wayes dispraising me, by oc••asion wherof, I haue in sin••••ry sortes endeuoured my selfe both with prayers and humilitie to appease hir crueltie▪ but beyng vn∣able, I oftentimes bewéepe and lament this my hard fortune, neither can I any wayes withdraw me from louing hir, but rather how much the more I finde hir cruell, so much the more me thinketh the flame of hir pleasure doth set my sorowful heart on fire▪ As I tho∣rowe th••se occasions, one day being all solitarie in a garden, bewailed my happe with infinite sighes, ac∣companied with many teares, there came vpon me a singuler friend of myne, to wh••m part of my griefs were discouered, who with pitifull wordes began to

comfort me y^• best he could, but I giuing thervnto no eare at all, answered him, that my miserie exceded all others. Whervnto he made me this answer: A mā is so much y^• more miserable (sayde he) as he either ma∣lieth or reputeth himself a miser: but assuredly I haue greater cause to lament than hast thou. I then al an∣gry turned towards him with a disdainfull loke, say∣ing: And how? Who can haue greter cause thā I? Do not I for good seruice receiue euil recompence? Is not my faithful loue rewarded with hatred? So that any may be as sorrowfull as I, but more he can not bée. Truly (sayd my friend) I haue greater cause of grief than hast thou, and heare how. It is not vnknowē to thée, but y^• I haue of long time, & yet doe loue a Gen∣tlewoman as thou knowest: neither was there euer any thyng that I thought might pleasure hir, which I ga••e not my selfe with all my witte and power to bring to effecte. And truely when she vnderstode the same, of that I desired, she made me a gracious gift, the which as I had receiued, and receiuing it at what time it pleased me, me thought none by a greate way to haue a life comparable to myne in gladnesse: only one thing pricked me, that I coulde not make hir be∣leue how perfectly I loued hir. Further than this, she perceiuing me to loue hir (as I sayd) passed lightly for me. But the Gods that will graunt no worldly good turne without some bitternesse, to the ende that the heauenly may be the better knowen, & by consequent the more desired, to this they gaue me an other cor∣sey without comparison noisome, that is, that it hap∣ned one day, as I abode with hir all alone, in a secret place, séeing (without being againe séene) who passed

by, espied a propre yong man, and of a pleasant coun∣tenance to come along by vs, whom she behelde as I perceiued, with a fixed eie, and being past, she fette a pitifull sigh, the which I espying, sayde: Alas, do you so soone repent, as that ye now sigh for the loue of an other? She, whose face was thorowe this occasion painted with a new rudde, swearing by the power of the high Gods, began with many excuses to endeuor hir self to make me beleue the contrary of that which I had conceiued thorowe the sigh, but all was to no purpose, bicause she kindled my heart with an anger so exceding fierce, as she made me then almost ready to chide with hir, but yet I withhelde me therfrom: And certainely it wil neuer out of my minde but that she loueth him or some other better than me: and all those persuasiōs, the which at other times heretofore she vsed for my helpe, that was, that she loued me bet∣ter than she did any other, I nowe esteme them all in contrary, imagining that she hath fainedly sayde, and done all that she hath heretofore wrought, wherby I endure intollerable griefe, neither doth any comfort at all preuaile therin: but bicause shame often times doth bridle the wil I haue rather to sorrowe me than glad me, I doe not continue my bitter griefe, so as I make any apparaunce therof: but briefly I am ne∣uer without cares and cogitations, the which bring me far greater annoy than I willingly would. Lerne then to beare the lesse griefs, since thou séest the grea∣test with a valiant minde borne of me. To whome I answered, that as it semed to me, his grief although it wer great, was no wayes to be compared to myne. He answered me the contrary, and thus we abode in

a long contention, and in the ende parted without a∣ny diffinition. Wherefore, I pray you that ye wyll say your iudgement hereof. Yong Gentleman, sayd the Quèene, great is that paine of yours, and greate wrong doth the damsell committe in not louing you. But yet at al times your grief may by hope be eased, the which happeneth not to your companion, bicause that since he is once entred in suspect, nothing is able to draw it away. Therfore continually whilest Loue lasteth he sorroweth without cōfort: So that in our iudgement greater séemeth the griefe of the iealous, than that of the vnloued Louer. Then said Clonico, Oh noble Quéene, since you saye so, it playnely ap∣peareth that you haue alwayes bene loued againe, of him whome you haue loued, by occasion whereof, ye hardely knowe what my payne is. Howe may it ap∣peare, that iealousie bryngeth greater griefe than is that I féele, forsomuch as the iealous possesseth that he desireth, & may in holding the same, take more de∣light therof in one houre, than in a long time after to féele any paine thorowe want thereof: and neuerthe∣thelesse he may (thorow experience) abandon such ie∣lousie, if it happen that this iudgemēt be found false: But I being kindled with a fiery desire, how much y^• more I sée my selfe farre off from the attaining the∣same, so much the more I burne and consume my self assaulted of a thousande instigations, neyther is any ••••perience able to helpe me therein, bycause thorowe the often reprouing hir, and finding hir euery houre more sharpe, I liue desperate. Wherefore your an∣swere séemeth contrary to the truth, bycause I doubt not but that it is much better to hold wyth suspition,

than to desire with teares. That amorous flame that doth shine in our eyes, and that euery houre doth ad∣orne our sight with the greater beautie, doeth neuer consent (replied the Quéene) that we loue in vaine, as you affirme: but for al that it is not vnknowen to vs, how great and what maner of payne that is, both of the one and the other: and therefore as our answere hath bene confirmable to the truth▪ one thing we wil shewe to you. It is manifest that those things which most do hynder the quiet of the minde, are cares, the whiche are some of them come to a merrie ende, so some we sée to ende with great sorrowe, wherof, how much more the minde is repleate, so muche the more hath it of griefe, and chiefliest, when as the same are noisome: and that the iealous haue more store therof than haue you, is manifest, bicause you héede nothing else but only to get the good will of the damsel whome ye loue, the which not being able to attaine, is to you a griefe most grieuous: but yet it is certayne that it may easly come to passe to attaine the same at one in∣stant, not thinking thereof (forsomuch as womens heartes are inconstant) bysides peraduenture she lo∣ueth you not withstanding (to proue if you also loue hir) she sheweth the contrary, and so perhappes wyll shewe vntill suche time as she shall be well assured of your loue, so that with these thoughtes, hope can mi∣tigate vnfained griefe: but y^• iealous hath hys mind full fraught of infinite cares, agaynst the which ney∣ther hope nor other delyght can bring comfort, or ease the paine. For he standeth intentiue to giue a Lawe to the wandring eyes, the which his possessor can not giue. He will and doth endeuour himselfe to giue a

Law to the féete, to the hands, and to euery other act of his Mistresse. He will be a circūspect knower both of hir thoughts, and of hir myrth, interpreting euery thing in euill parte towardes him selfe, beleuing that eache one desireth and loueth hir whome hée loueth. Likewise he imagineth euery word that she speaketh to be twaine, & full of disceite. And if he euer commit∣ted any detractiō towards hir, it is death to him to re∣mēbre it, imagining to be by y^• like meanes deceiued. He wil with coniectures shut vp the ways of the aire, & of the earth. And briefly the heauens, y^• earth, birds, beastes, & euery other creature that he thinketh doth hinder his deuises. And to remoue him frō this, hope hath no place, bicause in this doing, if he find the wo∣man faithfull, he thinketh that she espieth that which he doth, and is therfore hedefull therin. If he findeth that he séeketh for, and that he would not finde, who is more dolorous than he? If peraduenture ye thinke that the imbracing hir in his armes be so great a de∣light vnto him as should mitigate these pangs, your iudgemēt is then false, bicause such maner of colling bringeth him in choller, in thinking y^• others as well as he, hath imbraced hir in y^• like sort: & if the womā peraduenture do louingly entertaine him, he demeth that she doeth it to the ende to remoue him from such his imaginations, and not for the true loue she bea∣reth him. If he finde hir maliciously disposed, he thin∣keth that she then loueth an other, and is not content with him. And thus we can shew you an infinite nū∣bre of other suspitions and cares that are harbored in a iealous person. What shal we then say of his lyfe, but y^• it is farre more greuous than that of any other

liuing creature. He liueth beleuing, & not beleuing, and still alluring the woman: and most times it hap∣neth, that these iealous persons doe ende their liues thorowe the selfe same malice, wherof they liue fear∣full, and not without cause, for that with their repre∣hensions, they shewe the way to their owne harmes. Considering then the aforesayde reasons, more cause hath your friende that is iealous to sorrow, thā haue you, bicause you may hope to get, & he liueth in feare to lose that which he scarsly holdeth for his owne. And therfore if he haue more cause of griefe than you, and yet comfortes him selfe the best he can, muche more ought you to comfort your selfe, and to set aside be∣wailings that are more méete for faint heartes: and hope, that the assured loue which you beare towards your Lady, shal not lose his due desert: For though she shew hir selfe sharpe towards you at this present, it can not be but that shée loueth you, bicause that loue neuer pardoned any loued to loue: and ye shal know, that with the fierce vehement windes are sooner broken the stubbourne okes, than the consenting réedes.

¶ The sixt Question, pro∣posed by a yong Gentlewoman.

NExt vnto Clonico sate a faire Gentle∣womā apparelled in blacke vesture vnder an honest veile, who as she perceyued the Quene to haue made an end of hir words, thus began to saye: Most gracious quene I remembre, that be∣ing a litle girle, how one day I w^t my bro∣ther, who was a propre yong man and of ripe yeares, abode all alone in a garden, without other company: and in tarying there together, it happened that two yong damsels of noble bloud, abounding in riches, & borne in this our Citie, who loued this my brother very well, and perceiuing him to be in the sayde gar∣den, came thyther, and began a farre off to beholde him that was altogether ignoraunt of their purpose. And after a while, seyng him all alone, sauing for me of whom they reckned not, bicause I was but a little one, thus the one began to say to the other. We loue this yong Gentleman aboue all others, neyther doe knowe whether he loueth vs or no, yet is it méete that he loue vs both: so that now it is léeful for vs to satisfie our desire: and to knowe whether he loue ey∣ther of vs, or whether of vs he best loueth, to the ende

that she, whome he shall best like of, may after remain his, without being hindred of y^• other: wherfore since he is all alone, & that we haue a méete time offred, let vs runne vnto him, & eche one imbrace and kisse him, that done, he shall take whether of vs beste pleaseth him. These two yong Gentlewomen being thus de∣termined vpon this resolution, began to runne their race towardes my sayde brother. Wherat he maruel∣led greatly, espying them, and seeing in what sort they came: but the one of them or euer she came at vs, by a good waye, stayed all bashfull, and almost wéeping ripe: the other runne thorowe, and came vnto hym, whom she imbraced and kissed, and so sate hir downe by him, recommending hir selfe vnto him. And he, af∣ter the admiration conceyued of hir boldenesse, was somewhat ceassed, prayed hir as euer she loued hym, to tell him truly what moued them thus to doe? She concealed nothing from him, the which hée hearyng, and examining well in his mynde that which the one and other had done, knewe not how to persuade hym selfe, whether of them best loued him, neyther yet whether of them he might best loue. And so hapnyng at that time to depart from them, he after prayed coū∣sel of many of his friendes touching this matter: nei∣ther hath any one euer satisfied his desire touching y^• demaunde. For the which cause (I praye you) from whome I assuredly beleue to haue a true definition of this my question, that ye will tel me whether of these two damsels ought soonest to be loued of the yong mā. To this Gentlewoman the Quéene thus made aun∣swer: Truly of the two yong women, she as it semeth loued your brother best, and soonest ought to be loued

of him againe, y^• (doubting) bashfully abode without imbracing him, and why I thus thynke, this •••• the reason: Loue (as we knowe) maketh those alwayes fearfull in whome he d••eth abide: and where he is of greatest force, there is likewise the greatest feare: and this hapneth, bicause the intent or consent of the per∣son loued can not be fully knowen. And if it could be knowen, many things should be done, that in fearing to offende, are lefte vndone, bicause the one knoweth that in displeasing, is taken awaye euery occasion to be loued: And with this feare and loue shamfastnesse is always accompanied, and not without reason. Re∣returning then to our question. Wée say, that it was an act of one vnfainedly enamoured, that of the Gen∣tlewomans, whereby she shewed hir selfe both feare∣full and bashfull: And that of the other, was rather the part of one both leude and licencious. And there∣fore he being of hir best beloued, ought the rather (ac∣cording to our iudgement) to loue hir best. Then an∣swered the Gentlewoman: Most curteous Quéene, it is true, that where loue abideth with moderation there fear and bashfulnesse doth altogether frequent, but where he doeth abounde in such quantitie as he taketh away the sight from the most wise (as is alre∣dy said) I say, that feare hath there no place, but that the motiōs of him that féeleth the same, are according to him that vrgeth them forwards, and therfore that Gentlewomā seing hir desire before hir eyes, was so hotly kindled, as al shamfastnesse abādoned, she rāne straight to him, by whom she was so vehemētly pric∣ked forwardes, as till then vnable to abyde. The o∣ther not so muche inflamed, obserued the amorous

termes, being bashefull and remayning behinde, as you ••••••. So that then she that ran, loued most, & most ought••o be loued againe. Discrete Gentlewoman, (sayd the Quéene) true it is, that excessiue loue taketh away the sight, and euery other due perseuerance in things that are ought of his nature, but not in those that belong vnto him, the which as he increaseth, so grow they. Then howe greater quantitie of loue is found in any one, so much the more feare (as wée said at the first) is there also founde. And that this is true the cruell heart of Biblis doth manifest the same vn∣to vs, who howe much she loued, was séene by the se∣quele therof. For she seing hir self abandoned and re∣fused, had not the audacitie to discouer hir selfe with hir propre wordes, but writing she disclosed hir vnsit∣ting desire. Likewise Phedra many times gaue y^e at∣tempt to go to Hippolito, to whom she thought bold∣ly to speake, and to tel how much she loued him: but the wordes she had to vtter, no sooner came into hir mouth, but they stayed vpon hir tong and there died. Oh howe fearefull is the persone that loueth? Who hath ben more mightie than Alcides, to whom satis∣fied not y^• victorie of humaine things, but also he gaue him selfe to beare vp the heauens, and not withstan∣ding was lastly so enamoured, not of a woman, but of a yong wenche, a slaue, which he had gained, as fea∣ring hir commaundemēts, did lyke an humble subiect or seruant, euen the very basest things. Also Paris in what he durst not attempt neyther with eye nor tong, with his finger in the presence of his loue, wryting first hir name with wine that had ben spilt, wrote af∣ter, I loue thée. How farre passing all these doth Pa∣siphe

bring vs a due exaumple of feare, the which without any reasonable intendement, yea & without vnderstāding, durst not so much as expresse hir desire to a beast, but with hir propre handes, gathering the soft grasse, endeuoured hir self to make him benigne vnto hir, oftentimes decking hir selfe at the glasse for to please him, and to kindle him in the like desire that she was in, to the ende he might attempt to seke that which she durst not demaunde. It is not méete for a woman enamoured, neither for any other, to be prōpt and ready, forasmuch as the great shamfastnesse one∣ly which ought to be in vs, doth remaine as the guar∣der of our honour. We haue the voyce among men, (and the trouth is so) to know better how to hide the amorous flame than they do, and nothing else engen∣dreth this in vs, but the gret feare, the which doth ra∣ther occupie our forces than those of men. Howe ma∣ny hath there ben of them (and peraduenture we haue knowen some) which many times haue caused them∣selues, to haue bene bidden, to the ende thereby they might haue atchieued to the amorous effects, y^e which willingly woulde rather haue bidden the bidder, be∣fore he them, if due bashefulnesse and feare had not detained them: and not only that, but euery time that No, is scaped their mouthe, they haue had in their mindes a thousande repentyngs, saying from their hearts a thousand times Yea. There remaineth then the like scelerate fire on the behalfe of Semiramis, & Cleopatra, the which loued not, but sought to quiet the rage of their wanton willes, and the same beyng quieted, they after remēbred not them selues the one of the other. Wise marchauntes vnwillingly doe ad∣uenture

at one time all their treasures to the hasard of Fortune, and yet notwithstanding, they care not to graunt hir som smal portion, the which if they hap∣pen to lose, yet doe they féele no griefe of minde at all for the same. The yong woman therfore that embra∣ced your brother, loued him but a little, and that little she committed to Fortune, saying: This Gentlemā if I may hereby get him, it is wel: but if he refuse me there shall be no more but let him take an other. The other that abode all bashefull, forasmuch as she loued him aboue all others, she doubted to put so great loue in aduenture, imagining lest this peraduenture shuld displease him, & he so refuse hir, that hir griefe should be then such and so much, as she should die therof. Let therfore the second be loued before the first.

¶ The seuenth Question, proposed by GALEONE.

A Cleare Sunne beame piercing thorowe amongst the gréene leaues, did strike vpon the aforesayde Foun∣taine, and did rebound the light therof vpon the faire face of the adorned Quéene who was thereby apparel∣led with that colour, wher∣of the heauēs maketh shew when as both the children of Latona (from vs hiddē) with their starres onely giueth vs light: and besides

the splendour it brought to hir face, it did so lighten the place, as among the fresh shade it yelded a maruel∣lous luster to the whole company. Further what time the reflected raye did extende euen to that place where the Laurell crowne on hir head on the one side, & the golden tresses on the other, dyd determine: It so en∣termingled there among with twinings, not artificial as at the first sight one woulde haue sayde, that there had issued forth amōg the gréene leaues a cleare flame of a burning fire, which did spread in such sort, as the aburne haires wer easily séene to the standers about. Galeone that was peraduenture sooner or better a∣wares of this maruellous sight thā any of the rest (be∣ing set in circle ouer against the Quéene deuided only with the water) did very intentiuely behold the same almost as though he cared for nothing else: so that he moued not his mouth to the question that was nowe come to his turne: To whome the Quéene therfore (hauing now both kept silence a good space, as eke cō∣tented the witty Gentlewoman) thus sayd: The on∣ly desire peraduenture of the thing which thou behol∣dest, stayeth thée: Tell what is the occasion that hol∣deth thée thus appalled, as in following the order of the rest thou speakest not? It is onely (as we beleue) y^• gazing at our head, as if ye had neuer séene y^e same before: Tell vs first, and after as the other haue pro∣pounded, euen so propound you. At this sodain voice Galeone lift vp his mind replete with swéete though∣tes, somwhat comming to him selfe, as what time he is wont to do, that thorow a sodain feare doth breake his golden sléepe, and thus sayde: Most noble and re∣noumed Quéene, whose worthinesse it shoulde be im∣possible

for me to declare, my minde was so wrapped in gracious thoughtes (when as I did so firmely loke at your heade, as in beholding the bright raye, strea∣ming into the freshe fountaine, and rebounding vpon your face, me thought there issued forth of the water, a little sprite so gentle and gracious to sée vnto, as he plucked my minde backe, to behold that which he did, and perceiuing peraduenture, my eyes altogither in∣sufficient to beholde so great a ioy, he mounted by the cleare raye into your eyes, and there for a good space made maruellous myrthe, adorning the same with a newe clearenesse: And after mounting more high, I sawe how he ascended by this light (leauing his foote∣steppes in your eyes) vpon your crowne, where as he together with the raye, kindled (as it séemed vnto me) a newe flame, such a one as was of yore séene by Ta∣naquil to appeare to Seruius Tullus a little boye, whilest he slept, and so went about your crowne, lea∣ping from sprigge to sprig, like a litle amorous birde, that singing doth visite many leaues, mouing youre hartes with sundry iestures, sometimes wrappyng & hiding him selfe therein, beyng more merrier euery time he came forth therof, & therwith (as it séemed vn∣to me) so iocund in him selfe, as nothyng more, & that singing, or with a swéet voice he vttred these words:

Of the third rolling Skie, the benigne babe deuine I am: enamoured so, to neast in these two eyen, That doubtlesse die I should, were I of mortall route: From twig to twig I twine to feede this my delight, These golden Tresses whirling in and out: My selfe, inflaming my selfe, right

So as with flame I shew, theffect, the potent might▪ Of my dartes deuine, piercing where I goe, Eche one wounding, that with sweete sight, Doth gaze hir in the eyes: whereas eche houre loe, If such hir pleasure be, I there descend adowne, For of my kingdomes she, Quene is of great renowne.

And herewith he sayd much more, goyng about as at what tyme ye called me, and ye had no sooner spo∣ken, but that he sodenly retired into youre eyes, the which sparklyng like to the mornyng starre gaue a newe light that made all the place to shine: ye haue now heard with what ioy new thoughts haue stayed me for a time. Philocopo and the reste maruelled not a little hereat, and turnyng their eyes towardes their Quéene, saw that, which to heare semed to them impossible. And she that was attired with humilitie, listned to the wordes that were truly reported of hir, and abode with a stable countenance makyng no an∣swere at all. And therfore Galeone speaking in this wyse, followed with hys Question: Moste gracious Quéene, I desire to know whether a man ought to be enamoured for his delight or no? And to demaunde this, many things moue me, both séene, heard, & held, thorowe the sundry opinions of many. The Quéene behelde Galeone a good while in the face, and after∣wardes, after a certaine sigh, thus made answere. It is conuenient we speake against that which with de∣sire we séeke to follow. And truely that which you in askyng, do propound in doubt, ought to be very ma∣nifest vnto you. In answering you therfore there shal be kept y^• begon order. And he whose subiects we are,

pardon vs the words, that we, as constrained thorow force of Iudgement, shall (more sooner than willing) saye against his diuine maiestie, least thereby his in∣dignation do fall vpon vs. And you that lykewise as well as we are his subiecte, with a bolde minde giue eare vnto them, neither do you for all that chaunge your purpose at all. And to the ende that so much the better, & with a more apparant intendinēt our words may be receiued, we will somewhat digresse from our matter, returning again thervnto as briefly as possi∣ble we may, & thus we say: Loue is of thre sortes, tho∣row y^• which thrée all other things ar loued, some tho∣row y^• vertue of one, & some thorow the power of an other, according as is y^• thing loued, & likewise the lo∣uer: The first of the which thrée is called honest loue: This is the good, vpright, and loyall Loue, the which of all persons ought to be receiued: This, the high & first creator holdeth, linked to his creatures, and them he tieth therewith vnto him. Thorowe this, the hea∣uens, the worlde, Realmes, Prouinces, and Cities do remain in their state: Thorow this we do merite to be eternal possessors of the celestiall kingdom: And without this is lost all that we haue, in power of wel doing. The seconde is called Loue for delight: And this is he, whose subiectes we are: This is our God, him we do worship, him we do pray vnto, in him doe we trust, that he may be our contētation, and that he fully may bring our desire to passe: Of this is put the question, whervnto we shall duely answer. The third is Loue for vtilitie, of this loue the worlde is ••eple∣nished more than of any of the other things. This is coupled with Fortune, whilest she tarieth, he likewise

abideth: but if they parte, he is then the waster of many goodes. And to speake reasonably, he ought to be déemed rather hate than loue. Nowe as touching the propounded question, we nede to speake neither of the first, nor of the last: we will speake of the seconde, that is, of Loue for delight, to whome truely, no per∣sone that desireth to leade a vertuous life, ought to submit him selfe, bicause he is the depriuer of honors, the bringer of troubles, the reueler of vices, the copi∣ous giuer of vaine cares, and the vnworthy occupier of the libertie of others, a thing aboue all things to be held most deare. What is he then regarding his own wealth (being wise) that will not flie such a gouern∣ment? Let him that may lyue frée, following those things that do euery way increase his libertie, and let vicious gouernours gouerne vicious vassals. I did not thinke, sayd Galeone then, to giue occasion tho∣rowe these my wordes to the lessning of this our dis∣port, nor to disquiet the regiment of our Lord Loue, neither yet to trouble the myndes of any others, but did rather imagine (you defining it according to the intent of me and many others) that ye might thereby confirme those that are his subiectes with a valiaunt mynde, and inuite those which are not, with as gréedy appetite: but I sée that youre intent is all contrary to myne, bicause you with your wordes do shew to be iij. sortes of Loue, of the which thrée, the first and the last I consent they vs (as you say) but the second, the which answereth to my demaund, ye say it is as much ••o be fled: As I holde opinion, it is as the increaser of vertue to be followed of him that desireth a glorious ende, as I beleue to make apparaunt vnto you by this

that followeth. This Loue, of whom we reason (as i▪ maye bée manifest to all the worlde, bicause wée proue it) doth work this propretie in humaine hearts, that after it hath disposed the mynde to a thing which pleaseth, it spoileth the same of all pride & of all fierce∣nesse, makyng them humble in eche doyng, as it is ma∣nifest vnto vs by Mars, whome we finde, that in lo∣uing Venus, became of a fierce and sharpe Duke in battaile, a most humble and pleasant Louer. It makes the gréedie and couetous, liberall and curteous. Me∣dea the most carefull hider of hir arte, after she felt his flames, liberally yelded hir selfe, hir honour and hir artes to Iason. Who makes men more diligent to high attemptes than he? And what he can do, beholde by Paris and Menelaus. Who furthereth forwardes the angry fiers more thā doth he? He sheweth vs how oftentymes the anger of Achilles, was quieted tho∣rowe the swéete prayer of Polixena, He aboue all o∣thers maketh men couragious and strong. Neither know I what greater example may be giuen vs, than that of Parseus, who for Andromaca made a marue∣lous proufe of his vertuous force. He dec••eth al them that are by him apparelled, with excellent qualities, with ornate talke, with magnificence, and with plea∣sauntnesse. He I say bestoweth vpon all his subiectes finenesse, and gentlenesse. Oh how many are the good thinges which procede frō him? Who moued Virgill? Who O••••de? Who the other Poets to leaue of thē∣selues eternall fame in those their holy verses, the which (if he had not bene) should neuer haue comen to our eares, but he? What shal we say further of his vertues? but that he was able to giue such a swéete∣nesse

to Orpheus harpe, as after that he had called to that sound all the woodes, standers about, and made the running streames to stay, & to come into his pre∣sence in milde peace the fierce Lions togethers, with the faint hearted Hartes, & all other beastes: he made likewise the infernall furies quiet, and gaue rest and swéetenesse to the troubled soules, and after al this the sounde was of such vertue, as he attained to haue a∣gaine his lost wife. Then is he not the chaser away of honour as you say, neyther the giuer of vnsitting troubles, nor the prouoker of vices, nor the disposer of vaine cares, nor the vnworthy vser of the libertie of others. So y^• euery one of whom he maketh none ac∣compt, and is not as yet his seruaunt, ought with all their wit and diligence, to endeuour and to occupy thē¦selues in the attaining the fauour of such a Lord, and to become his subiect, since through him he becommeth vertuous. That which pleaseth the Gods, and men of greatest strēgth, ought likewise to please vs. Let such a Lord therfore be loued, serued, and liue alwayes in our myndes. Greatly deceiueth thée thine opinion said the Quéene, and it is no maruell, bicause as farre as we vnderstand, thou art so far enamoured, as none the like, and without doubt the iudgement of the ena∣moured is méerely false, bicause as they haue lost the sight of the eyes of their minde, so haue they banished reason as their vtter enimy. And for this cause it shall be conueniēt that we against our wil speake of Loue, the which greueth vs, since we be his subiects. But yet to plucke thée frō thine error we shall turne our silēce to a true report, and wil therfore that thou know, that this Loue is nothing else, than an vnreasonable will

sprong of a passion thorowe wanton pleasure, that is opened to the eyes, nourished with idlenesse, by the memorie and thoughts of foolish myndes: and many times in how much it multiplieth, it taketh away the in••ēt of him in whom it abideth, frō things necessary, & disposeth y^• same to things vnprofitable. But bicause y^• thou thorow exāple giuing dost endeuor thy selfe to shew y^• all goodnesse & all vertue doth procede frō him, we will procede to y^• disproufes of thy proufe. It is no part of humilitie vniustly to bring to a mans self, that which belongeth to an other, but rather an arrogan∣••ie and an vnsitting presumption: The which thing Mars (whome thou makest thorowe loue to become humble) assuredly vsed in taking away from Vulcan, Venus his most lauful wife. And without doubt this humilitie that appeareth in the face of louers doth not procede of a benigne heart, but taketh roote from guile and deceipt, neither makes this loue the couetous li∣berall, but when as such abundance as thou layest to haue bene in Medea, doth abounde in the heart, and doth depriue the same of the sight of minde, and most foolishly is become prodigall of things heretofore du∣l•• est••••ed deare, and not giuing the same with mea∣sure, but vnprofitably casting them away, beleueth to please▪ & displeaseth. Medea nothyng wise of hir pro∣digalitie, in short time repented very much without vtilitie, and knew that if she had modestly▪ vsed those ••ir dere gifts, she should not haue comen to so vile an ende. And that soliciting that purchaseth or worketh hurt to the soliciters, as it seemeth to vs, ought not a∣ny ways to be sought for▪ for much better it is to stand idle, than worke harme, although that neither the one

nor the other is to be praysed. Paris was a solicitour to his owne distruction, if he behelde the ende of his soliciting. Menelaus as reason was, became diligent, not for loue, but to recouer his honor lost, as eche dis∣crete person ought to doe. Neither yet is this loue a meane to mitigate anger, but the benignitie of mind, the br••nt being past that induceth it, makes it to be∣come nothing, & remitteth the offence against whome it is angry. And yet louers and discrete persons were wont at the prayers of the persone loued, or of some friende, to forgiue offences, to shew them selues cur∣teous of that which coste them nothyng, and to make the crauers therof beholdyng vnto them. And in this sort Achilles, many times shewed him selfe to expell from him this cōgeled anger. Likewise it séemes that this makes men couragious and worthy: But therof I can shew you the contrary. Who was a man of gre∣ter valour than Hercules, and yet being enamoured became vile and forgetfull of his force, so that hée did spin thréede with the womē of Iole? Assuredly in thin∣ges, wherin occurreth no daunger, a most hardy peo∣ple are the enamoured, and wherin daunger hapneth they shew them selues in apparaunce hardy, and put them selues forward, neither doth loue, but little wit allure them so to do, to the ende they may after haue glory in the sight of their loues, although it hapneth very seldome, bicause they doubt so much the losyng of the person loued, that they are rather content to be helde ••••le & of little courage, than to giue them selues to perill. And yet we doubte not, but this Loue repo∣seth all swéetnesse in Orpheus harpe. We agrée that it is true that thou haste shewed, that truely in gene∣rall

loue ladeth the tongs of his subiects with such a swéetenesse, & with so many enti••ements▪ as they ma∣ny times would therby make the stones turne vp side downe, so y^• to entice is not only the propretie of wa∣uering and inconstant men, but of vile men. Howe shall we say, that such a lorde ought to be followed, thorowe the good propretie of the follower? Assured∣ly he (in whom he abideth) maketh wise and profita∣ble counsels to be despised. For it was euill with the Troians that those of Cassandra▪ were not heard of Paris. He maketh likewise his subiects to forget and despise their good fame, the which ought to remayne to vs all on earth after our deathes, as an eternall heire of our memorie. And how much these aforsaid did contemne, the same Aegistus maye suffise for an example: Although Scylla wrought no lesse hurt thā Pasiphe. Is not he the occasion that breaketh sacred bondes of the promised pure faith? Yes truely what had Ariadna done to Duke Theseus, wherby conta∣minating the matrimoniall bandes, and giuing him∣selfe and his promised faith to the windes, he shoulde abandon hir poore miser among the desert rockes? A little pleasure in gasing in y^• eyes of Phedra, was oc∣casion to celerate so much euill, and of such requitall for the receiued honor. In him also is found no law: and that it is true, may be sene by the doings of Te∣reus, who hauing receiued Philomena▪ from hir pi∣tifull father, and carnally knowen hir, made no stay to contaminate the most holy lawes matrimonially cōtracted betwene him and Progne, the sister of Phi∣lomena. This also calling and causing himself to be called a God, occupieth the reasons of the gods. Who

could euer fully w^t words shew the iniquitie of him? He to speake briefly, leadeth them that follow him to all euils: and if by happe his followers do any ver∣tuous act (which happeneth very feldome) with a vi∣cious beginnyng they beginne it, desiring thereby to come very quickly to the desired end of their loths••m willes, the which may be rather sayd vices, than ver∣tues, forsomuch as that is not to be héeded only which man doth, but with what minde it is doone, and so ac∣cording to the will of the worker, to repute the same vicious or vertuous, bicause that neuer of an euill roote sprang a good trée, nor from an euill trée good fruite. This Loue then is leude and naught: and if he be naught, he is to be fled. And who y^• flieth things euill, of consequent foloweth ••he good, and so is both good & vertuous. The beginning of this loue is none other thing than feare, the sequele is sinne, and the ende is griefe and noy, it ought then to be fled, and to be reproued, & to feare you to haue him in you, bi∣cause he is violent, neither knoweth he in any of his doings to vse measure, and is altogether void of rea∣son. He is without al doubt y^• destroyer of the minds, y^• shame, anguish, passion, griefe, & plaint of y^• same, neuer cōsenteth that the heart of whom that lodgeth him be without bitternesse, who will then praise that he is to be followed, but fooles. Truly if it were lau∣ful we would willingly liue without him, but of such an harme we are to late awares, and therefore it is conuenient for vs, since we are caught in his nettes; to follow his life vntil what time as that light which guided Aeneas out of y^• dark waies flying y^• perillous fiers, may appeare to vs, & guide vs to his pleasures.

¶ The eight Question pro∣posed by a faire Gentlewoman named POLA.

ON the right hād of Galeone, was set a fayre Gentlewo∣man, whose name was Pola, pleasant, and yet vnder an ho¦nest couerture, who after y^e Quéene blēt, thus began to saye: O noble Quéene, ye haue domed at this present, that no per∣son ought to folowe this our Lord Loue, & I for my part consent there∣vnto: but yet since it séemes to mée impossible, that the youthfull race both of men and women should be runne ouer without this benigne Loue: I gather, at this present, setting apart (by your leaue) your sen∣tence, that to be enamoured is léefull, taking the euill doing for due working: And in following the same, I desire to know of you, whether of these two womē ought rather to be loued of a yong mā, both two plea∣sing him alike, either she that is of noble bloude, and of able kinsefolke, and copious of hauing much more than the yong man, or the other that is neither noble nor riche, nor of kin••folkes so abounding as is the yong man? To whom the Quene thus made an∣swere: Faire Gentlewomā, admitting the case that both man and woman ought to follow Loue as you

haue before affirmed, we giue iudgemēt; that in how much the woman is richer, greater, and more noble than the yong man, of whatsoeuer degrée or dignitie he be of, euen so she ought to be rather preferred to the loue of a yong man, than ought she that hath any thing lesse than he: bicause mans mynde was crea∣ted to follow high things. And therfore he must séeke rather to aduance than any ways to imbace him self. Further there is a common prouerbe, which sayth:

The good to couet better tis, Than to possesse that bad is.

Wherfore in our iudgemēt thou art better to loue y^• most noble, & with good reason to refuse the lesse no∣ble. Thē said pleasant Pola▪ Noble Quéene, I would haue giuen an other iudgement (if it had ben to mée) of this question, as ye shall heare. We all naturally doe rather desire short and briefe, than long and tedi∣ous troubles, and that it is a lesse and more briefe trouble to get the loue of the lesse noble, than of the more noble, is manifest. Then the lesse ought to be followed: for as much as the loue of the lesse may be said to be alredy wonne, the which of the more is yet to get. Further, many perills may folow to a man lo∣uing a woman of a greater cōdition, than him self is of, neither hath he lastly therby any greater delight, than of the lesser. For we sée a great woman to haue many kinsfolkes, and a great family, and them all as diligent héeders of hir honour, to haue an eie vnto hir, so that if any one of them happen to espie this loue, therof may folow (as we haue already sayde) great perill to the louer, the which of the lesse noble can not so lightly come to passe: and these perils eche

one (as he is able) ought to flie, for as much as who that receiueth harme is sure therof, & who that hath done it, la••gheth him after to scorne, saying he sp••e∣deth well, where he liketh, there let him loue: yet di∣eth he more than once. But how▪ that once hapneth, where, and for what occasion, besides eche one ought to take good héede: it is very credible that a Gentle∣woman will lightly estéeme of him, for that she will desire to ••••••e one more noble or greater than hir self and not one inferiour to hir selfe: wherby seldom or neuer, he shal attaine his desire. But of the lesser shal happen the contrary, bicause that she will glory to be loued of such a louer, and will endeuour hir selfe to please him, to the ende to nourishe Loue, and yet if this were not▪ the power of the louer onely myght be able without feare to being to passe to fulfill his desire. Wherfore I gather, that the lesse noble ought to be preferred in loue before the more noble. Youre iudgement deceiueth you (sayde the Quéene) to the faire Gentlewoman, bicause Loue is of this nature that how much y^• more one loueth, so much the more he desireth to loue: And this maye be séene by them, that thorowe Lo••e féele the greater griefe, the which although it trouble them not a little, yet loue they cō∣tinually the more: Neither doeth any one from his heart, although he make great apparance in wordes, desire therof a spéedie ende. Then as small troubles are sought for of the slouthefull, of the wise, things that are attained with moste trouble, are helde most deare and delightful. And therfore in louing the lesse woman, to get hir, shuld be (as you say) little trouble, and the loue both little and short, & should be folowed

as though one in louing would desire to loue lesse & lesse, which is contrary to the nature of Loue, as we haue sayd. But in louing the greater, that is gotten with trouble, happeneth the contrary: bicause▪ that as in a thing dearely gotten, with trauaile is reposed all diligence to the well héeding of the gained Loue, euen so is she euery houre the more loued, & the lon∣ger doth continue the delight and pleasure thereof. And yet if ye will say that all the doubte is of their kinsmen, we wil not deny it, for this is one of the oc∣casions. Wherfore, it is a trouble to haue the loue of one of these great women: But notwithstandyng y^e discrete in such cases procéede by a secrete way. And we doubt not but that the honor both of the greatest and meanest woman is by some of their kinsfolkes according to their power loked vnto, in such sort, as a fole may come to an euill aduenture, louing aswel in a base, as in a noble stock: But what shall he be y^e will passe Pisistrato in crueltie, hauing offended thē which loued his without forethinking that which he should afterwardes haue done to those that had had the same in harte▪ In saying also, that louing a gre∣ter woman then himselfe, he shall neuer bée able to come to the ende of his desire, bicause the woman coueteth to loue one greater than hir selfe, and ther∣fore will make of him no estimation at all, ye shewe your selfe to be ignorant that the meanest man (in what belōgeth to natural vertues) is of greater and better condition, than the noblest woman of y^e world. Whatsoeuer mā she then desireth, she desireth him y^• is of greater and better cōdition than hir self, bicause the vertuous or vicious life maketh many tymes the

meane great, and the great meane. In as much ther∣fore as any woman shall bée solicited by any man in ••ue sorte, euen so without doubt she shall yeld to his desire, though the great with more trouble, than the meane. For we sée the softe water with a continuall fall to breake and pierce the hard stone: and therfore let none despaire to loue. For so much goodnesse shall follow him that loueth a greater woman than hym∣selfe, as he shall endeuour him selfe to please hir, to haue decent qualities, the companie of no∣ble personages, to be ornate of swete talk, bolde in enterprises, and splendant in apparell, and if he shall attain to greater glorie, the greater delight shall he haue of minde, likewise he shall be exalted with the good report of the people, and reputed of a noble mynde. Let him therefore followe the most noble, as we haue already sayd.

¶ The ninth Question proposed by FERAMONTE, Duke of Montorio.

NExte vnto plea∣sant Pola sat Fera∣mōte duke of Mon∣torio, who after the Quéene had sayde, thus began: I con∣sente that it be con∣uenient to loue, y^e ye haue alredy fully an¦swered this Gentle∣womā to hir questi∣on. And that a man ought to loue rather a more noble womā than a lesse noble than hymself, may very wel be yelded vnto thorow y^• sundry resons by you shewed touching the same. But forasmuch as there are sundry Gentlewomē of sundry sorts attired with diuersities of habites, that (as it is thought) do diuersly loue, some more, some lesse, some more hot∣ly, and some others more luke warme. I desire to vn∣derstande of you, whether of these thrée, a yong man to bring his desire to a most happy ende, ought soonest to be enamoured of, either of hir that is maried, or of the maide or of the widow? To whome the Quéene made this aunswer: Of the thrée, the one, that is the maried woman, oughte in no wise to bée desired, bi∣cause she is not hir own, neither hath libertie to giue hir selfe to any: and therfore either to desire hir, or to

take hir; is both to commit an offence against the di∣uine lawes, as also against the lawes naturall and positiue, the offending wherof, is to heape vpon our selues, the diuine anger, and by consequent, heauie Iudgement. Howbeit, who that gropeth not his con∣science so farre inwardly, doth oftentimes spéede bet∣ter in louing hir, than of any of the other two, either maide or widowe, in as muche as he (although such loue sometimes be with greate perill) is to haue the effect of his desire. And why this loue may diuers ti∣mes bring the louer to his desire, sooner than the loue of the others, this is the reason: It is manifest, that in how much more the fyer is blowen, so muche the more it flameth, and without blowing, it becommeth dead. And as all other things thorowe much vse doe decay, so contrarywise lust the more it is vsed, y^• more it increaseth. The widow in that she hath ben a long time without the like effect, doth féele the same almost as though it had neuer ben, and so is rather kindled with the memorie therof, than with any concupiscēce at all: The mayde that yet hath no skill thereof, ney∣ther knoweth the same but by imagination, desireth as it were one luke warme: and therfore the maried woman kindled in such passions doth more than any of the others desire such effectes. What time the ma∣ried are wont to receiue from their husbands oultra∣gious wordes or dedes, wherof willingly they would take reuēge if they might, there is no way left more redier vnto them, than in despite of their husbandes to giue their loue to him, by whome they are allured to receiue the like. And although it be expedient that such maner of reuenge be very secrete, that no shame

grow thereby, neuerthelesse are they yet content in their myndes. Further the always vsing of one kind of meate is tedious: and wée haue oftentimes séene the delicate meates left for the grosse, turning after∣wardes vnto the same againe, what time the appetite hath ben satisfied of the others. But bicause (as wée haue sayd) it is not lawfull thorowe any vniust occa∣sion to desire that which is an other mans, we w••ll leaue the married to their husbandes, and take of the others, wherof a copious numbre our Citie doeth set before our eyes. And we wold in bestowing our loue rather séeke the widows than the rude maides, grosse for such a misterie, and that are not without greate trouble (the whiche in widowes néedeth not) made able to a mans desire. Further if maydes loue, they knowe not what they desire, and therefore they doe not follow with an intentiue mynde, the steps of the louer as do the widowes, in whom now the antique fier taketh force, & maketh them to desire that which thorowe long abuse they had forgotten: so that to come to such effect, they (to late) bewéepe the loft ti∣mes, and the solitarie long nightes, the which they haue passed in their widowish beds. These are ther∣fore (as it séemeth vnto vs) rather to be loued of them in whome is the libertie to submit them selues to o∣thers, than any of the reste. Then aunswered Fa∣ramonte: Moste Excellent Quéene, what ye haue sayde of the maried, I had determined in my minde that so it ought to be: and now hearing the same frō you, I am the rather assured thereof. But touchyng the maides and widowes, I am of the contrarie opi∣nion, bicause (setting the maried aparte, for the rea∣sons

by you alleaged) it séemeth vnto me, that the maide rather than the widow ought to be desired: for as much as the loue of the maide séemeth more firme and assured than that of the widow. For the widow without doubt hath already loued one other time be∣fore, and hath séene and felt many things of Loue, & knoweth what shame may follow therof: and there∣fore knowing these things better than the maide, lo∣ueth faire and softly: and doubting and not louyng firmely, desireth now this & now that, and knoweth not to whether for hir most delight and greatest ho∣nour to linke hir selfe, for sometimes she wil neither the one, nor the other: so that deliberation doth wa∣uer in hir mynde, neither is the amorous passion able to take there stabilitie: but to the maide these things are altogether vnknowen. And therefore as ••he per∣suadeth hir selfe with good aduisement, that of many yong men she greatly pleaseth one, so without fur∣ther examination she maketh choise of him as of hir louer, and to him onely disposeth hir loue, not kno∣wing how for his pleasure to shew any contrary act, neither is there for the more sure tying of the louer, any newe deliberation by hir sought forth, touching hir loue, so that she is then pure at the will and plea∣sure of him that simply pleaseth hir, and quickly dis∣poseth hir wounded heart him onely to serue as lord. The which thing (as I haue already sayde) hapneth not of the widowe, & therfore is the other, the rather to be followed. Further, with more efficacie y^• maide tarieth those things that neuer any one of hir sorte hath séene, heard, or proued. And yet she desireth more to sée, heare and proue them, than who that hath ma∣ny

tymes both séene, heard and proued them, and this is manifest. Emong the other occasions for the which our life doeth greatly delight vs, and is desired to be long, is for to sée newe things, such as we haue yet neuer séene before. And also for to sée thyngs moste new we haue a great delight to runne with a diligēt pace to that, which we aboue all other things do en∣deuour our selues to flie, that is death, the last ende of our bodies. The maide knoweth not that delight∣full coniunction, thorow the which we come into the worlde, and yet is it naturall to euery creature tho∣rowe a desire to be drawen thervnto. Further she ma∣ny times hath heard from them, that know what ma∣ner a thing it is, howe much swéetenesse doth consist therin, the which with wordes haue giuen fier to the desire, and therfore drawen of nature, and of a desire to proue the thing, of hir not as yet proued, doth tho∣rowe the wordes which she hath hearde, desire boldly with a kindled heart this concourse. And with whom is it presumed to be had but onely with him, whome shée hath already made lorde of hir mynde? This heate shall not be in the widowe, bycause hauing once proued and felte what maner a thing it was, she is thereby prouoked thereunto: So that the maide then shall loue more, and be more diligent (thorowe the reasons aforesaid) to the pleasure of hir Louer, than the widowe. To what ende shall we then wade any further in séeking that the maide ought not ra∣ther to be loued than the widow? You, said y^• Quene reason well, and very well you defende your iudge∣ment: But yet we wil shew you with apparant rea∣son, howe you likewise ought to holde the same opi∣nion,

that we hold of this cōtention, if with a straight eye ye loke to the nature of Loue. Thus in the Maide as in the widow, & so in the widowe as in the Maide we sée him to be firme, strong, and constant, and that this is true. Dido and Adriana with their doings haue left vs an e••aumple. And where as this loue is neither in the one nor the other, none of the aforsaid operations will therof folow. Then is it conuenient that eche one of them doe loue, if we will haue that to follow, wherof both you and I haue alredy talked. And therfore in louing either maide or widow, with∣out going about to séeke whether of them doth most discretely enamour (as we are certain of the widow) we shall shew you how the widowe is more diligent to the pleasure of the louer, than is the maide. For doubtlesse among those things, that a woman estée∣meth deare aboue the rest, is hir virginitie: and this is the reason, bycause therin consisteth all the honor of hir following life. And without doubt she shall ne∣uer be so much vrged forwardes to loue, as she shall not willingly be courteous therof, but yet to him on∣ly, to whome she beleueth to be coupled▪ as wife, tho∣rowe the matrimoniall lawe. And therfore we go not about séeking for this: for there is no doubt but that who will loue to marry, ought rather to loue the maide than the widowe, bicause she shall be slow and negligent in giuing hir selfe to him that loueth hir not (if she knowe it) to that effecte. Further, maides are generally fearful, neither are they subtile enough to finde the wayes and meanes, whereby they may take the stollen delightes: But the widowe of these thinges maketh no doubt at all, bicause that she al∣ready

hath honorably giuen that which the other ta∣rieth to giue, and being without the same, doubteth not in giuing hir selfe to an other, that token which may accuse: Whereby afterwardes, she becommeth the more aduenturous, bicause (as is said) the chie∣fest occasion that bringeth doubt is not in hir: besides she knoweth better the secrete wayes, and so putteth them in effect. In that which you say, that the maide as desirous of a thing which she neuer proued, maye be made more diligent to this than the widowe, that knoweth what maner a thing it is, therof the contra∣ry. Maides do not at the first time for their delight, runne to such effect (although the thing that deligh∣teth, the oftener it is séene, heard, or felte, the more it pleaseth, & the more carefull is euery one to follow the same (bicause it is then more noysom than plesant to thē. This thing wherof we reason, doth not folow the order of many other things, y^• once or twice being séene, are afterwards no more desired, but rather the oftener it is put in effecte, with so much the more af∣fection it coueteth to returne, and more desireth he y^• thing whom it pleaseth, than doth he whom it ought to please, and hath not as yet tasted therof. Wherfore the widowe forasmuch as she giueth least, and is best able to giue, she shall be the most liberall, and y^• more sooner thā the maide, that must giue the dearest thing she hath. Also the widow shal be sooner drawn (as we haue shewed) than the maide to suche effects. For the which occasion, let the widowe be rather loued than the Maide.

¶ The tenth Question, proposed by ASCALIONE.

IT was conueni∣ent that Ascalione, who in circle sat next vnto the Duke Fe∣ramonte, shuld now propound: and ther∣fore thus hée sayde: Most excellēt Quene I remēbre that there was heretofore in this our citie a faire and noble Gētlewo∣man left the widow of a worthie husband, the which for that hir maruel∣lous beautie, was of many a noble yong Gentleman beloued. And of those many, there were two Gentle∣men couragious knightes, eche one in what he could did endeuour him selfe to attain hir loue. And whilst this continued, by chaunce it hapned, that an vniust accusation was brought against hir, by certain of hir kinsfolkes, before the Magistrate, and after by false euidence proued, thorowe the which vntrue processe she was condemned to the fier. But bicause the con∣science of the Iudge was perplexed, for that it séemed him, as it were, to knowe the vniust proufe, he was willing to commit hir life to the Gods, and to For∣tunes happe, and so tied such a condition to his giuen sentence, as after the Gentlewoman should be ledde to the fier, if any knight coulde be founde the which

woulde combate in the defence of hir honor, agaynst him that would maintaine the contrary, and shoulde happe to ouercome, she should then be frée, and if the cōtrary, to be burned according to the domed sentēce. As the condition was vnderstoode of hir two Louers, and by chaunce sooner knowen to the one than to the other: He which knewe the same soonest, forthwith toke him to his armour, mounted on horsbacke, and came into the fielde, gainsaying him that would come & maintaine the death of the Gentlewoman. The o∣ther, that somewhat later than the first vnderstode of this sentence, and hearing how that the knight was already in fielde in hir defence, neither that there was th••n place for any other to goe thither in that enter∣prise, and therfore not knowing herein what to do, became very sorowfull, imaginyng that thorowe his slacknesse he had lost the loue of the loued Gentlewo∣mā, and that the other iustly had deserued the same: & whilest he thus sorowed his missehap, he bethought him, that if he before any other should go armed in∣to the fielde, saying that the Gentlewoman ought to dye▪ and so suffer him selfe to be ouercome, he might thereby cause hir to escape, and so according to his de∣uice, he put the same in effecte. The Gentlewoman hereby escaped, and was deliuered from peril. So that then after certaine dayes, the first knight went vnto hir, and recommended him selfe vnto hir, putting hir in remembrance, howe that hée, to preserue hir from death, had a fewe dayes past, offred him self to the pe∣rill of death, and thankes be to the Gods, and to his forces, he had deliuered both hir and him selfe from so hard an happe: Whervpon it would please hir, accor∣ding

to his desert to giue hir loue, the which aboue all things he had alwayes desired. Afterwardes with the like prayers came the seconde Knight, saying that for your sake I haue hasarded my life, and bycause you should not die, suffred my selfe to be ouercome, wher∣vpon I haue purchased to my selfe eternall infamie: wheras I contrarywise with incountring your sure∣tie, and willing to vse my force, might haue ben able to haue gotten the honor of the victory. The Gentle∣woman thāked eche one of them very benignely, pro∣mising them both due recompence for the receyued seruice. And now they beyng departed, she abode in great doubt to whether of them she should the rather giue hir loue, to the first, or to the seconde, and therof prayeth counsell of you, on whether of them ye wold say, that she ought soonest to bestowe the same. We déeme (sayde the Quéene) that the first is to be loued, and the last to be left: bicause the first vsed force, and shewed his assured loue in diligent sorte, gyuing him selfe to euery perill, that might happen thorow the fu∣ture battaile, euen vnto the death, whereby it myght very well haue folowed, forasmuch as if such a battail to be done against him, had ben as lefull to any of the enimies of the Gentlewoman as it was to the louer, he had ben in perill of death for hir defence: neyther was it manifest to him, that one should come against him, that would suffer him selfe to be ouercomen, as it happened. The last truely went well aduised not to die, neither to suffer the Gentlewoman to die. Then, forasmuch as he put least in aduenture, he meriteth to gaine the lesse. Let the first then haue the loue of the faire Gentlewoman, as the iuste deseruer thereof.

Ascalione sayd: O moste prudent Quéene, what is that you say? Doth not one time suffise to be rewar∣ded for well doing, without crauing further deserte? Truely yes. The first is well requi••ed, with being of euery one honoured for the receyued victorie: and what greater rewarde nedeth he than honour the re∣warde of vertue? the receyued honour did suffise for a greater matter than he did. And he that with all his witte came well aduised, ought he to be vnrecompen∣ced? and further he to be of euery one euil spoken of, hauing nothing lesse than the first holpen the gentle∣woman to escape? Is not the witte to foresée euery bodily force? Howe so? If this man with all his wit came for the safetie of the Gentlewoman, ought hée for his desert to be reiected? God forbid it shoulde so be. If he knewe not the same so soone as the other, this was not thorow negligence: for if perhappes he had knowen it before the other, he would haue rūne to that, which he toke discretely for the last remedy: wherof, rewarde iustly ought to folow, the which re¦warde ought to be the loue of the Gentlewoman, if rightly she sée vnto him: and yet you say the contra∣rye. God defende from your mynde (aunswered the Quéene) that vice come to a good ende, merite the same rewarde that vertue done to the like ende meri∣teth: but rather in as much as vice deserueth correc∣tion, so no worldly deserte can iustly satisfie vertue. Who shall denie vs to beleue (although we can not manifest the same with apparant reason) but that the last Knight as enuious of the good turne he saw pre∣pared for the other, was moued to such an enterprise, to the ende to disturbe the same, and not for the loue

he bare to the Gentlewoman, and yet his deuice fai∣led him. He is a foole that vnder the colour of an eni∣mie doeth endeuour him selfe (to the ende to receiue recompēce) to helpe an other. Infinite are the wayes wherby it is possible enough for vs to shewe at the first with open frendship, the loue, that one of vs bea∣reth towardes the other, without shewing our selues as enimies, and after with coloured wordes to make shew to haue profited. That which we haue sayd may now suffise you for aunswere, whome olde age more than any thing else, ought to make discrete. And we beleue, y^• when your minde shall haue duely disgested these things, ye shall not find our iudgemēt guileful, but true, & to be folowed. And so she held hir peace.

¶ The eleuenth Question, pro∣posed by a Gentlewoman, named GRACE.

THere folowed af∣ter hym a Gētlewo∣man of cheare very mylde, whose name was Grace, & assu∣redly the name was consonant to hir na∣ture, wh••e wyth an humble and mo∣dest voyce beganne these wordes: It is come to my tourne, Oh moste vertuous

Quéene, to propounde this my Question, the which to the ende the time (that now approcheth to our las•• feasting, may be swetened with the newe beginning thereof) bée onely spente in talke, I shall briefly pro∣poūd y^• which willingly (if it wer leful for me) I wold passe ouer▪ but yet not to pretermit the limits of your obedience, neither the order of the rest, I shall pro∣pounde this: Whether is it great delight to the lo∣uer to sée his loue present, or not seeing hir, to thinke amorously on hir? My gracious Grace said y^• Quene, we beleue that muche more delight is taken in thin∣king, than in beholding: bicause in thinking on the thing loued, all y^• sensitiue spirites do then graciously féele a maruelous ioy, and as it were do content their inflamed desires, with the delight only of y^• thought. But this happeneth not in the beholdyng, bicause y^• onely the visible spirite féeleth ioy, and the others are kindled with suche a desire that they are not able to endure, and so remaine vanquished: and that visible spirite somtime taketh so great pleasure, that of force he is constrained to withdraw him selfe back, remai∣ning vile and altogether vanquished. Then doe wée gather hereof, that greater delight is to thynke than to beholde. That thing which is loued, answered the Gentlewoman, how much y^• more it is séene, so much the more it delighteth: and therefore I beleue, that greater delight bringeth the beholding, than doth the thynking, bicause euery beautie at the first, pleaseth thorowe the sight thereof: and so after thorowe the continuall sight, suche pleasure is confirmed in the mynde, as therof is ingendred Loue, and those plea∣sures that spring from him. No beautie is so much lo∣ued,

neither for any other occasion than to please the ••yes, & to content the same. Then in séeing they are cōtented, & in thinking to sée, the desire increaseth: so that more delight foeleth he that is contented, than doeth hée that desireth to contente hym selfe. Wée may see and knowe by Laodomia how muche more the present sight thā the absent thought doth delight, bicause wée are to thinke that hir Prothesilaus ne∣uer departed frō hir thought, neither yet was she euer séene disposed to other than to melancolie, refusyng to decke and apparell hir selfe with hir costlye gar∣ments: The which thing in séeing him neuer happe∣ned: For what time she abode in his presence, she was mery, gracious, and alwayes ioyfull, and trimly attired. What more manifest testimony wil we haue than this, that the gladnesse is not greater of y^e sight than of the thought? Bicause that thorow the exteri∣our doings, that may be comprehended, which in the heart is hiddē? The Quéene then, thus made answer, Those thinges, both delightful and noysome, that ap∣proche most nere to the mynde, bring more annoye, and more ioy, than do those farre off from the same. And who doubteth but that the thought abideth in y^• minde, and that the minde is not from the eye? al∣though thorow the particuler vertue of the mynde, they haue their sight, & that it is conuenient for them by sundry meanes to render their proportions to the animate vnderstanding. Hauing then in the minde a swéete thought of the loued, in that acte which the thought bringeth, in that together with the thing lo∣ued, it séemes the louer to be. Then he séeth the same with those eyes, to whome nothing, no not of a long

distāce may be hiddē. Then he speaketh with hir whō he loueth, and peraduēture with piteous stile telleth the annoyes sustained for hir sake. Then it is law∣full for him without feare to embrace hir. Then doth he according to his desire maruelously glad himselfe with hir. Then doth he holde her wholly at his plea∣sure, the which in beholding happeneth not, bicause y^• sight onely at first taketh pleasure w^tout passing fur∣ther. And as we say, Loue is timorous & feareful, and in beholding, doeth make the hearte tremble in such sorte, as it leaueth neither thought nor spirite in his place. For many with y^e lōg beholding of their ladies, lose those their natural forces, & remain vanquished: and many not being able to moue, stande like posts, other some, in tangling and trauersing their legges, fall to the grounde▪ Others therby lose their speache: & by sight we knowe many other like things to haue happened, the which all should haue ben very accep∣table to them, to whome (as we haue sayde) they haue happened, if they had not happened at all, howe then bringeth that thing delight, that shall willingly be fled? We confesse, that if it were possible to beholde without feare, it should be a greate delight. But yet litle or nothing without the thought, the which with∣out the bodily sighte, pleaseth very muche. And that that whereof we haue spoken may come to passe tho∣row the thought, it is manifest, that, yea, and muche more. For we finde that men with thought haue pas∣sed the heauens, & tasted of the eternall peace. Than more delighteth the thought than the syght. And if ye say that Laodomia was melancolie with thin∣king, we doe not denie it, but yet it was rather a do∣lorous

than an amorous thoughte, that dyd trouble hir: She as it were a diuiner to hir owne harme, al∣wayes doubted the death of Prothesilaus, & stil was thinking theron, contrary to those thoughts wherof we reason, which thorow that doubt coulde not enter into hir, but rather sorowing thorow this occasion as reason was, she sh••wed a troublesome & heauy loke.

¶ The twelfth Question proposed by PARMENIO.

PArmenio sat next to thys Gentlewo∣man, and withoute attendyng further, as the Quéene had lefte, thus began▪ Most mighty quene I was of long time companyon with a young Gentleman, to whome that hap∣ned which I intend to shew. He as much as any man could loue a woman, loued a fayre yong Gentlewoman of our citie, gracious, gentle, and ve∣ry rich, both of wealth & parents, & she eke loued him for ought that I (to whom his loue was discouered) could vnderstande. This Gentleman th••n louing hir in most secrete sorte, fearing that if it should bée be∣wrayed, that he shoulde no wayes be able to speake

vnto hir: to the ende therfore that he might discouer his intent, and be certified likewise of hirs, he tru∣sted no one that should attempt to speake of this mat∣ter: yet his desire inforcing hym, hée purposed since that he could not bewray him selfe vnto hir, to make hir vnderstande by some other, that which he suffred for hir sake. And bethynkyng hym many dayes by whom he might most closely signifie vnto hir that his intent, he sawe one day a poore olde woman, wrin∣kled, and of an orenge tawnie colour, so despiteful to beholde as none the like, the which being entred the house of the yong woman to aske hir almesse, follo∣wed hir forth of the doore, and many tymes after in like sorte, and for like occasion, he sawe hir returne thither. In this woman his heart gaue him to repose his whole trust, imagining that she should neuer be had in suspicion, and that she might fully bring his de∣sire to effect: therfore calling hir to him, he promised hir most great giftes, if she woulde helpe him in that which he should demaunde of hir: She sware to doe hir endeuour, to whome this Gentleman then disco∣uered his mynde. The olde woman departed, and af∣ter a whyle hauyng certified the yong woman of the loue that my cōpanion bare hir, & him likewise, howe that she aboue all other things of the worlde did loue him, she deuised how this yong mā should be secretly one euening w^t y^• desired woman: & so he going before hir, as she had appointed, she guided him to this yong gentlewomās house, wherin he was no sooner entred than thorow his misfortune, y^• yong woman, y^• olde, and he, were all thrée found, & taken togithers, by the brethren of the yong woman, & compelled to tell the

trouthe of that they made there, who confessed the whole matter as it was. These brethrē, for that they were the frendes of this yong Gentleman, and kno∣wing that he as yet had attained nothing that might redoūde to their shame, wold not do him any harm as they might haue done, but laughing sayd vnto him in this sort: Thou art now in our hands, & hast sought to dishonour vs, and for that we may punishe thée, if we will, of these two wayes sée that thou take the one, either that thou wilt we take thy life from thée, or else that thou lie with this olde woman, and this our sister, either of them one yere, swearing faithful∣ly, that if thou shalt take vpon thée to lye with either of them a yeare, and the first yere with the yong wo∣man, that as many times as thou shalt kisse, or haue to do with hir, as many times shalt thou kisse & haue to doe with the olde woman the second yeare. And if thou shalt take the first yere y^• olde woman, looke how many times thou shalte kisse and touche hir, so many times likewise, and neither more nor lesse shalt thou do the like to the yong woman the second yeare. The yong man listening to the sentence, and desirous to liue, sayde, that he woulde lie with these two, two yeares. It was graunted him. But he remained in doubt, with whiche of them he shoulde first beginne, either with the yong, or with the olde. Whether of them would you giue counsell he shoulde first, for his moste consolation begyn withall? The Quéene, and likewise the whole company somewhat smiled at this tale, and after, she thus made answere: According to our iudgement the yong Gentleman ought rather to take the faire yong woman, than the fowle olde, by∣cause

no present good tourne ought to be left for the future, neither y^• euill to be taken for the future good, bycause we knowe that we are vncertaine of things to come: and in doing the contrary hereof, many haue alredy sorowed to late: and if any haue praised him∣selfe herein, not Dutie but Fortune hath therin hol∣pen him. Let the faire therefore be firste taken. Ye make me greatly to maruell (sayde Parmenio,) sée∣ing that the present good ought not to be lefte for the future, to what end then is it conuenient for vs with a valiant mynde to followe and beare worldly trou∣bles, where as we maye flie them, if it were not tho∣rowe the future eternall kingdomes promised to vs thorowe hope? It is a maruellous thing that such a shocke of people as are in the worlde, all moyling to the ende at one time to taste of rest, and being able to rest before trouble, should remaine so long while in such an errour, as trouble after rest were better than before. It is a thing very iuste (as it séemeth to me) after troubles to seke rest, but to desire to rest with∣out trouble in my iudgement ought not to be, neither can it bring delight. Who then will giue counsell to any, that he lie first with a faire Gentlewoman one yeare, the which is the onely rest and ioy of him that must lie with hir, in shewyng him after that there must folowe so great anoy and vnpleasant life, as he must in euery act wherin he abode with the yong wo∣man, haue to do as long with a lothsome old womā? Nothing is so noysome to a delightfull life, as to re∣membre, that after death we shall be founde spotted. This death returning to our memorie as enimie con∣trary to our being doth disturbe vs of all goodnesse &

pleasure, and whilest this is remembred, ther can ne∣uer be ioy tasted in worldly things. Likewise no de∣light can bée had with the yong woman, that is not troubled or destroyed in thinking and remembryng that it behoueth him to do as much with a most vile olde woman, who shall alwayes be remaining before the eyes of his mynde. The time that flieth with an inestimable wing, shal séeme vnto him to ouerflie, les∣ning eche day a great quantitie of the due houres: and this mirthe is not tasted, where as infallible fu∣ture sorrowe is taried for. Wherfore I would iudge, that the contrary were better counsell, that is, that all trouble, wherof gracious rest is hoped for, is more de∣lightfull, than the delight, wherof anoy is taried for. The colde waters séemed warme, and the dreadfull time of the darke night séemed cleare and sound day, and turmoiles rest to Leander, at what time he went to Hero, swimming with the force of his armes, tho∣row the salt sourges betwene Sesto and Abido, for y^• delight that he conceiued to haue of hir tarrying his comming. God forbid then, that a man shoulde co••et rest before trauaile, or rewarde before the doyng his seruice, or delight, before he hath tasted tribulation: forasmuch as if that way (as we haue already sayde) should be taken, the future annoy should so much hin∣der the present ioye, that not ioy, but rather annoy, it might be sayde. What delighte coulde the delicate meates, and the instrumentes founded with cunning hande, and the other maruellous ioyes made to Dio∣nysius the tyraunt bring, when as he sawe a sharpe pointed sword hang by a fine thréede ouer his head? Let then sorowfull occasions be first fled, that after∣wardes

with pleasure, and that without suspicion, gracious delightes may bée followed. The Quéene made him answere, saying: You answere in part as though we did reason of eternal ioyes, for the purcha∣sing whereof, there is no doubt but that all troubles ought to bée taken in hande, and all worldly wealth and delight to be left aparte: but at this instant wée doe not speake of them, but doe moue a Question of worldly delights, and of worldly annoyes. Whervn∣to we answer as we sayde before, that euery world∣ly delight, that is followed with worldly anoy, ought rather to be taken, than the worldly annoy that tari∣eth worldly delight: bicause who that hath time, and tarieth tyme, loseth tyme. Fortune graunteth hir goodnesse with sundry mutations, the whiche is ra∣ther to be taken▪ when as she giueth, than to moyle to the ende after turmoiles to get the same. If hir whéele stoode firme and stable, vntill that a man had toiled so much as he should nede to toile no more, we would then say, that it were to be graunted to take paines first: but who is certaine that after the euill may not follow the worsse, as well as the better that is taried for? The tymes together w^t worldly things are all transitory, and therfore in taking the olde wo∣man, before the yeare be complete, the which shall ne∣uer séeme to waxe lesse, the yong woman may die, and hir brethrē repent them of this they haue done, either else she may be giuen to some other, or peraduenture stolne away, so that after one euill, there shall follow a worse to the taker. But contrariwise, if y^• yong wo∣man shall be taken, the taker shall therby haue his de∣sire so long tyme of him desired, neither shall there af∣ter

follow that annoy of thoughte, that you say must follow therby, bycause that we must dye is infallible, but to lie with an old woman is a hap able enough w^t many remedies to be of a wise man auoyded, & world∣ly things are to be taken of the discrete with this cō∣dition, that eche one whilest he holdeth, and enioyeth them, he dispose himselfe with a liberall mynde, when he shall bée required to restore or leaue them. Who that busieth himself to the ende to rest, bringeth a ma∣nifest example that without that he cannot haue rest: and since he therefore taketh troubles to the ende to haue rest, how much more is it to be presumed, that if rest were as ready as is trouble, but that he woulde sooner take that than thys? Neyther is it to bée thought that Leander if he had bene able to haue had Hero without passing the tempestious arme of y^• sea, wherin after he perished, would not rather haue taken hir, than haue swo••••e the same. It is conuenient to take Fortunes happes what tyme she gyueth them. For no gift is so small, that is not better than a pro∣mised greater. And as for Future thinges, let reme∣dies be taken, and the present gouerned accordyng to their qualities. It is a natural thing to desire rather the good than the euil, when as equally they concurre, and who that doth the contrarie followeth not natu∣rall reason, but his owne folly. We confesse, that after troubles quietnesse is more gracious & better knowē than before, but yet not that it is rather to bée taken than the other. It is possible for wise mē and fooles to vse the Counsels both of fooles and wisemen accor∣ding to their liking: but for all that the infallible ve∣ritie is not altred, the which doth gyue vs leaue to sée

that rather the faire yong woman than the lothsome olde is to be taken of him, to whome was made suche a choise.

¶ The thirtenth Question, proposed by MASSALINE.

MAssaline the whiche sate on the right hand of the Quéene, & nexte to Parmenio, perfor∣ming the circle, sayde in thys wyse: It is mete that I lastly pro∣pounde my question: And therefore to the ende that I may make the pleasaunt told ta∣les, and the before pro∣pouned Questions to seme more swete, I shal tel you a short tale worth the hearing, wherin there falleth a question very propre to make an ende withall. I haue heretofore heard say that there was in this oure Citie a gentleman, who was very riche, that had to wife an excéedyng faire yong Gentlewoman, whom he loued aboue al world∣ly thinges. This gentlewoman was intierly beloued of a Knight of the same Citie, but she loued him not at all, neither cared for him, by occasion wherof, the Knight was neuer able to get from hir, either good wordes or curteous countenance: and while he thus

liued comfortlesse of such loue▪ It happened that h•• was called to the regiment of a citie not farre distant from this of ours. And accordingly he went thither, hauing honorably gouerned the same all the time of his abode there: during the which it happened, that there came a messanger vnto hym, who after other newes thus said: Sir ye shall vnderstande, that the Gentlewoman of our Citie, whome you so entierly loued aboue all others, this morning labouring with great griefe to be deliuered of childe dyed, not being deliuered, and was in my presence, of hir parents ho∣nourably buried. The Knight not without great sor∣rowe, gaue eare to this tale, & with a strong heart en∣dured y^• telling thereof, without shewing any altera∣tion of countenāce at all, & to him selfe thus sayd: Ha wretched death, cursed be thy power, thou hast depri∣ued me of hir, whome I loued aboue all others, and whome I desired more to serue, although I knew hir cruell vnto me, than any other worldly wight. But since it is ••hus come to passe, that which Loue in hir life time woulde not vouchsafe to graunt me, now•• that she is dead, he can not denie me: That assured∣ly if I should die therefore, I will now kisse the face of hir being dead, that liuing I loued so well. And so staying vppon this determination he taried vntill it was night, and then toke one of his seruants, whom he best trusted with him, and trauailed the dreadfull darke wayes till at the last he came to the Citie: And being entred the same, he went straight to the sepul∣ture, wherin the Gentlewoman was buried: And af∣ter he had comforted his seruāt, that he without any feare shoulde attende him there, he opened the same,

and went therinto, where as lamenting with a pite∣ous plaint he kissed the Gentlewoman, and tooke hir in his armes, and not satisfied therwith, he began to féele her here and there, and to put his hand▪ into hir frosen breast among the colde dugs. But afterwards (being become more bolde than was méete) to séeke out vnder the riche attire whiche shée had on, the se∣crete parts of the body, going and féeling with a fear∣full hande hither and thither till at the last he spread the same vppon hir stomacke, where as with a féeble motion he felt the weake pulses somewhat to moue. He then became very feareful, but yet loue made him bolde, and therfore trying further with a more assu∣red hede, he knew that she was not dead: and first of all with a swete mutation he drewe hir oute of that place, and after wrapping hir in a great mantel (lea∣uing the sepulture open) he and his seruaunt caried hir secretly to his mothers house, where as he coniu∣red his said mother, thorowe the power of the gods, that she, neither this, nor any thing else should mani∣fest to any persone liuing. He caused great fires to be made, to the end to comfort the colde membres▪ wher∣vnto y^• lost forces did not therby returne in due sort: by occasion wherof, as one peraduenture discrete in such a case, willed a solemne hote house to be prepa∣red, wherin he caused first to be strowed many vertu∣ous herbes, and after placed the Gentlewoman ther∣in, causing hir as it was mete for one in that plight, to be tenderly looked vnto. In the which hotehouse, after she had for a time made hir abode there, y^• bloud coagulate about the heart, began thorow the recey∣ued heate to disperse by the colde vaines, and the spi∣rites

half dead began to return•• to their places: wher¦vpon the Gentlewoman (no sooner féeling the same) began to call to hir mother, and after to aske where she was: to whome the Knight in stede of hir mother made answere, that she was in a very good place, and that she should comfort hir selfe: She abiding in this sort, calling vpon the woman Lucina for helpe, was as it pleased the Gods (aboue all expectation) deliue∣red of a fayre sonne, and therewith of great trouble and peril: wherof remaining disburdened, and being ioyfull of hir newe borne childe, there were oute of hande prouided nourses, both for the charge of hir, as also of hir sonne. The Gentlewoman nowe after all these heauie troubles, returned to hir perfect vnder∣standing, and the newe sonne was also borne to the worlde, before she sawe either the Knight that thus loued hir, or his mother who was prest to do hir ser∣uice, neither did she sée any one of hir parents or kins∣folkes about hir, for to looke vnto hir: whervpon be∣ing come into a cogitable admiration as it were all amased, sayd: Where am I? what a wonder is this? Who hath brought me hither, whereas I was neuer before? To whom the Knight aunswered: Gentle∣woman, maruell not, cōfort your self, for that which you sée, hath ben the pleasure of the gods, and I shal tell you howe, and so declaryng from the beginning to the ende all that whiche was happened hir, con∣cluded that thorowe him, shée and hir sonne were a∣liue: By occasion wherof they were alwayes boun∣den to be at his pleasure. The Gentlewoman percei∣uing this to be true, knowing assuredly that she could not by any other meanes but only by this whiche he

shewed hir, be come to the hands of the knight: first of al with a deuout voice, rendred thanks to the immor∣tal Gods, & after to him, offring hir self to be always at his pleasure & seruice. Then sayd the knight: Gen∣tlewoman, since ye know your selfe to be beholdyng vnto me, I will that in guerdon of my well doyng, ye comfort your selfe here in this place, vntill I re∣turne from my office, wherevnto it is nowe so long since that I was chosen, as the date therof is almoste at an ende. Besides ye shal promisse me faithfully ne∣uer to bewraye your selfe without my licence, eyther to your husbande, or to any other person. To whome the Gentlewoman answered, that she was vnable to denie him eyther this, or any other requeste, and that assuredly she woulde comfort hir selfe: and so by othe made vnto him, she affirmed neuer to cause hir selfe be knowen without his pleasure. The Knight séeyng the Gentlewoman out of all perill to receyue com∣fort, after he had abode .ij. dayes in hir seruice, recom∣mended hir and hir childe to his mothers charge, and so departed, returning to the gouernement of his said office, the which after a little while he honorably en∣ded, and returned home to his owne house and posses∣sions: where as of the Gentlewoman he was graci∣ously receiued. Certaine dayes after his returne, he caused to be prepared a great banquet, wherevnto he inuited the husbande of this Gentlewoman, whome he loued, hir brethren, and many others of hir frends and his: and the bidden guestes beyng set downe at the table, the Gentlewoman according to the plea∣sure of the Knight, came apparelled in those garmen∣tes, and decked with that crowne, ring, and other pre∣cious

orna••••nts (as the vse was then) wherwith she was buried. And by the cōmandement of the knight placed hir selfe on the one side by hir husband, and on the other side by him selfe, where as she fed that mor∣ning, without speaking any word at all. This Gen∣tlewoman was oftentymes behelde of hir husbande, and hir attire and ornamentes also: and as it semed vnto him, he knew hir to be his wife, and those to be the garmentes wherein she was buried: but yet for that he thought he had buried hir dead into hir sepul∣ture▪ and not beleuyng that she was rysen againe, durs••e not once giue hir a worde, doubting least she had ben some other that did resemble his wife, ima∣gining that it were more easy to finde one woman, in attire & ornaments like to an other, than to raise vp a dead body. But yet for all this▪ he turned many times towardes the knight, and asked him who she was. To whome the knight answered: Aske of hir▪ whome she is, sor I can not tell, out of so vnpleasant a place I haue brought hir. Then the husband asked the wife who she was, to whome she aunswered: I was brought by this Knight by vnknowen wayes in to this place, to that gracious life, that is of euery one desired. At these wordes there wanted no admiration in the husbande, but rather the same increased, and so they remained vntill the banket was ended. Then the Knight l••dde the husbande of this Gentlewomā into a chamber, and with him the Gentlewoman, & the others lykewise that banketted with them, where as they found the Gentlewomān faire and gracious sonne in the nourses armes▪ whome the knight deli∣vered into the fathers handes, saying: This is thy

sonne, and giuing him the right hande of his wife, sayde: This is thy wife, and mother of this childe: shewing to him and to the rest, how it happened that she was brought thither. They all after greate won∣der, made great ioye, and chiefly the husbande of his wife, and the wife with hir husband, of their sonne. And so both two thanking the Knight, returned me∣rily home to their house, many dayes after makyng maruellous ioy. This Knight entreated this Gentle∣woman with that tendernesse and that pure faith, as if she had bene his sister, and therefore it is doubted which of these two was the greater: either the loyal∣tie of the Knight, or the ioye of the husband, that had nowe gotten againe his lost wife, whome he reputed as dead. I pray you to say your opinion, and what you would iudge hereof? Most great (as we beleue) (answered the Quéene) was the ioy of the again got∣ten wife, and of hir childe: and likewise noble & very great was the loyaltie of the Knight. But for that it is a naturall thing to be glad of the getting agayne of things lost (neither coulde it otherwise be bycause it would an other) and specially in the gettyng againe of a thing before so greatly loued, with a childe, wher∣of there coulde not bée made so greate ioye, as was conuenient. We doe not repute it to be so greate a matter as ••o doe that wherevnto a man is of hys propre vertue constrained to doe, the which in being loyall cometh to passe, bycause the being and not be∣ing loyal, is a thing possible. We say then, that from whom procedeth the being loyal in a thing so greatly loued, that he doeth a most great and noble thing in keping loyaltie, and that in a farre greater quantitie

loyaltie doth increase in him, than doth ioy in the o∣ther, and thus we iudge. Truly sayd Massaline▪ most renoun••ed Quéene, I beleue it be as you say: but yet it semes vnto me a greate matter to thinke, that with so great ioy as was in him that had gotten again his wife, there coulde be made comparison of greatnesse in an other thing: forasmuch as greater griefe is not supported, than when as thorow death a thing loued is lost. Further, if the knight were faithful, as is al∣ready sayde, he dyd therin but his dutie, bycause we all are boundē to the working of vertue: and he that doth that, whervnto he is of dutie bounden, doth but wel, but yet it is not to be reputed for so great a mat∣ter. Therfore I imagine, y^• there may be iudged grea∣ter ioye than loyaltie. You with your words do con∣trary your selfe (sayde the Quéene) bicause mā ought as well to reioyce in the goodnesse of God in takyng him away, as thorowe the working of vertue: but if the one coulde be in the one case, as sorrowfull as the other could be in the other case disloyall, it might be consented to your iudgement. To followe the lawes of nature, which can not be fled▪ is no greate matter, but to obey the positiue lawes, is a vertue of y^• minde, and the vertues of the minde, both for greatnesse as for euery other respect are to be preferred before bodi∣ly workes. And if vertuous workes (making due re∣cōpence) do surmount in greatnesse euery other wor∣king, it may be sayde, y^• the hauing ben loyall, dureth alwayes in beyng. Ioye may be turned into sodaine sorow, either else in a shorte space of time become lit∣tle or nothing, losing the thing thorowe ••he which it is become mery. And therfore let it be sayde of him,

that vprightly will iudge, the Knight to haue bene more loyal, than the other mery. Not one there was that followed Massaline, that had any thing more to say, for that they all had now propouned their Que∣stions. The Sunne now in setting, lefte the place re∣plete with a temperate aire. By reason whereof, Fia∣metta, moste reuerent Quéene of this amorous peo∣ple, raised hir on foote, and thus sayd: Gentlemen & Gentlewomen, your Questions are finished: wher∣vnto (the Gods be thanked) we haue accordyng to our small knowledge, made answere, following ra∣ther pleasant reasoning, than matter of contention. And we know, that much more might haue ben aun∣swered vnto the same, yea and in farre better sorte than we haue done: But yet that which we haue said may suffise to our pastime: and for the reste, let it re∣maine to the Philosophers of Athens. We sée Phoe∣bus nowe not to behold vs with a straight aspect, we féele the aire refreshed, and know this Feast, which we at our comming hither left thorowe the excessiu•• heate, to be againe begonne by our companions. And therfore it semeth vs good, that we returne to y^• same: and this beyng sayd, she toke with hir delicate hand, the Laurell crowne from hir heade, and in the place where she sate, she laide it downe, saying: I leaue here the crowne of my honour and yours, vntil that we shall returne hither to the like reasoning. And ha∣uing thus sayd: she toke Philocopo by the hand, that nowe with the rest was risen, and so returned with them all to their Feast. Thence was heard of al sides the pleasant instruments, and the aire resounding of amorous songs, no part of the Garden was without

banketting: wherein they all abode merily all that day, euen to the last houre: but night being come vp∣on them, and the starres shewing forth their light▪ it semed good to the Lady, & to them al, to depart & to re∣turne to the citie, wherein being entred, Philocopo takyng his leaue, thus sayde vnto hir: Most noble Fiametta, if the Gods shoulde euer graunt me, that I were myne own, as I am an others, without doubt I shoulde bée presently youres, but bicause myne owne I am not, I can not gyue my selfe to an other: Howe be it forsomuch as the mise∣rable heart coulde receyue strange fier, so muche the more it féeleth thorow your inestimable worthinesse to bée kindled, and shall féele al∣wayes and incessauntly, with more effect shal desire neuer to be forgetfull of your wor∣thinesse. She thāked Philocopo gret∣ly of this curtesy at his departure, adding that it would please the Gods quickely to bryng a gracious peace to his desires.

FINIS.

Notes

• Fiametta chosen quene to define the questions propounded▪
• The Quene cōmaundeth Philocopo to propound.
• Two Gentle∣men enamo∣red of one Gentlewomā
• Wher as loue is, ther peace ought to be.
• The Loued giueth cause of argument to hir louers.
• The Quee∣nes iudge∣ment vpon the question.
• Dido.
• Aeneas.
• Philocopo replieth to the Quene••.
• Paris.
• Helen.
• The Que∣nes solution of this first question.
• Two sisters complaine them of be∣ing in loue.
• The first la∣menteth the losse of hir enioied louer
• The seconde hindred by ielousie, soro∣weth hir hap
• The Quene decideth the question.
• Fabritius. Pompey. Medea. Iason.
• Longano of contrary opi∣nion to the Quene.
• Tantalus.
• The Quenes solutiō of the i••. question.
• The Gentle∣woman prai¦eth to be re∣solued whe∣ther ought sonest to be loued, eyther the Strong▪ the Liberal, or the Wise.
• The queenes aunswere.
• The reply of the Gentle∣woman.
• Biblys.
• Leander.
• Pasiphe.
• The quenes last sentence▪ to the thirde question.
• First Me∣nedon telleth a tale.
• Tarolfo a Knight was enamored of a Ladie.
• The gift re∣quired by the Lady of Tarolfo, to withdrawe him from lo∣uing hir▪
• Tarolfo to performe his {pro}mis sought strange coū∣treyes.
• Tarolfo found an old man called Thebane.
• Tarolpho re∣citeth to Thebane his promis made to his Lady of a garden ful of floures in the month of Ianuarie.
• Theban pro∣miseth Ta∣rolpho to make him the garden.
• The inuoca∣tion Magi∣call of The∣bane.
• Theban was caried in the aire in a cha∣riot led by. ij Dragons.
• The ceremo∣nies vsed in making the garden. Ceres.
• Tarolfo offe∣reth his La∣dy the gardē which she demaunded.
• The Lady goeth to see the garden.
• The Lady graunteth the amorous demaund of Tarolfo.
• The Lady presenteth ••ir selfe to Tarolfo.
• The libera∣litie of Ta∣rolfo towar∣des the La∣dy in relea∣sing hir of hir promis▪
• Liberalitie of Thebane towardes Tarolfo.
• The conclu∣sion of the proposer.
• The iudge∣ment of the Queene vp∣on the fourth question.
• Diuers Ro∣maines in ti∣mes past pore, and yet vertuous.
• The reply of Men••d••••
• Euery one f••ieth pouer∣tie.
• Olde folkes commonly couetous.
• The quenes solution to the fourth question.
• Flie vice and followe vertue.
• Chastitie a vertue most excellent.
• The ioy of a man is to haue a good wife.
• The grief of a mā hauing an euil life.
• The care which ri∣ches bring.
• Pouertie highly este∣med in ti∣mes past.
• Foure yong damsels in a Barke vpon the Sea.
• Clonico at∣tanited of Loue.
• The. ij. shaf∣tes of Loue are different
• Clonico an vnbeloued Louer.
• A Louer in∣fected with ielousie reci∣teth to Clo∣nico the good enter∣tainement of his Lady.
• A goodly sentence.
• The quenes iudgement vpon this fift question.
• The contra∣ry opinion of Clonico.
• The Quene replieth.
• The effectes of Iealousie.
• The miserie of a iealous life.
• The conclu∣sion of the Queene vp∣on the fift question.
• Two dāsels amorous of a Gentlemā he not know∣ing thereof: and that which hap∣pened.
• The aun∣swer of the Queene.
• Loue is ac∣companied with feare.
• The Gentle∣woman re∣plieth to the Queene.
• The Quene to the Gētle∣woman ma∣keth answer.
• Biblis.
• Phedra and Hippolito.
• Alcides.
• Paris.
• Pasiphe.
• Shame pre∣scribeth the honour of Ladies.
• Semiramis and Cleopa∣tra.
• The conclu∣sion of the Queene v∣pon the sixt question.
• Of what degree one should chose his louer.
• The Quee∣nes aunswer.
• The contra∣ry opinion of Pola with hir reasons.
• The Quenes olution vp∣on the eight question.
• The cruelty of Pisistra∣tus.
• The mea∣nest man of better con∣dition than the noblest woman.
• The Quene concludeth that we should ra∣ther loue the more noble woman than the lesse no∣ble.
• Whether is to be chosen in louing ei∣ther the wife, the wi∣dowe, or the maide.
• The Quee∣nes answere.
• The widow is to be loued before the maide.
• The contra∣ry opinion of Faramonte:
• The constan¦cie of maides in loue.
• The Quenes solution vpon the nynth question.
• Maides ought not to loue, but in respect of mariage.
• Two Knigh¦tes amorous of one Gen∣tlewoman, did in sundry wise sh••w their loue.
• The Quee∣nes iudge∣ment vpon the contrary doings of the •••• Knightes.
• Ascalion contrarieth the Quene▪
• The 〈…〉〈…〉 solution •••• the x. que∣stion.
• Whether is greater plea∣sure to a Lo∣uer to see the present, or to thinke on the absent.
• The iudge∣ment of the Queene.
• Laodomia and Prothe∣silaus.
• The quenes solution of the .xi. que∣stion, defi∣ning that the thought is to be pre∣ferred before the looke.
• The effecies of fond amo∣rous lookes.
• A gentlemā a gentlewo∣man and an olde woman were taken by the bre∣thren of the gentlewomā.
• The Gentle¦man codem∣ned to lye with the yōg and olde wo∣man eyther of them a yeare.
• The Quene decideth the xij. question
• The contra∣ry opinion of Parmenio.
• Dionysius.
• The Quee∣nes solution of the .xij. question, de∣fining that the yong is to be lyen with before the olde.
• A smalle gift in hand is better thā a promised greater.
• A Gentle∣woman was loued of a Knight.
• The Knight aduertised of the death of hir whom he loued.
• The Knight seketh his lo∣ued Gentle∣woman in hir graue.
• The knight carieth hi•• lady to hi•• mothers house.
• Lucina, the goddesse of childe bea∣ring.
• The Gentle∣woman abi∣ding with the Knight, was deliue∣red of child.
• The knight declareth to the Gentle∣woman how she was brought into his house.
• The knight biddeth the husbande of the Gentle∣woman to •• banquet,
• The knight restoreth the gentlewomā to hir hus∣bande.
• The Que∣stion is whe∣ther ••he loy∣altie of the Knight, or the ioy of the husband was the greater. The Que∣nes iudge∣ment.
• The contra∣ry opinion of Massaline.
• The Que∣nes solution vpon the last Que∣stion.