The Palace of Pleasure Volume Ii Part 1

The Palace of Pleasure.

by William Painter.

THE FORTY-SEUENTH NOUELL.

_A gentleman called Galgano, long time made sute to Madonna Minoccia: her husband sir Stricca (not knowing the same) diuers times praised and commended Galgano, by reason whereof, in the absence of her husband, she sent for him, and yelded herself vnto him, tellinge him what wordes her husbande had spoken of him, and for recompence he refused to dishonest her._

In the Citie of Siena in Italie there was a rich yong Gentleman called Galgano, borne of n.o.ble birth, actiue, and wel trained in al kinde of exercise, valiaunt, braue, stoute and curteous, in the maners and orders of all countries verye skilfull. This Galgano loued a Gentlewoman of Siena named Madonna Minoccia, the wyfe of sir Stricca a comely knight, and wore in his apparell the colour and deuises of his Lady, bearing the same vppon his helmet and armour, in all Iustes, Tourneyes and triumphes, obseruing n.o.ble feastes and banquettes for her sake. But for all those costly, sumptuous and n.o.ble practises, this Lady Minoccia in no wyse would giue eare vnto his sutes. Wherfore Galgano at his wittes ende, was voyde of aduise what to do or saye, seing the great crueltie and rigor raigning in her breste, vnto whom hee dayle prayed for better successe and fortune than to himselfe. There was no feast, banquet, triumph, or mariage, but Galgano was there, to do her humble seruice, and that daye his minde was not pleased and contented, wherein he had not seene her that had his louing harte in full possession. Very many times (like a Prince that coueted peace) he sente Amba.s.sadours vnto her, wyth presentes and messages, but she (a proude and scornefull Princesse) dayned neither to heare them or receiue them. And in this state stode this pa.s.sionate Louer a longe time, tormented with the exceeding hote Loue and fealtie that he bare her. And many times making his reuerent complaints to loue, did say: "Ah Loue, my deare and soueraigne Lorde, how cruell and hard harted art thou, how vnmercifully dealest thou with me, rather how deaf be thine eares, that canst not recline the same to my nightly complaintes, and dailye afflictions; How chaunceth it that I do in this maner consume my ioyfull dayes with pining plaintes? Why doest thou suffer me to Loue, and not to be beloued?" And thus oftentimes remembringe the crueltie of loue, and his ladies tyrrany, hee began to dye in maner like a wight replete with despaire. But in fine, he determined paciently to abide the good time and pleasure of Loue, still hoping to finde mercie: and daily gaue himselfe to practise and frequent those thinges that might be acceptable and pleasant to his Lady, but shee still persisted inexorable. It chaunced that sir Stricca and his fayre wyfe, for their solace and recreation, repaired to one of their houses hard by Siena: and upon a time, Galgano pa.s.sing by with a Sparhauke on his fiste, made as though he went on Hauking, but of purpose onely to see his lady. And as he was going by the house, sir Stricca espied him, and went forth to meete him, and familiarly taking him by the hand, prayed him to take parte of his supper with his wyfe and him: for which curtesie Galgano gaue him thanckes, and said: "Sir, I do thancke you for your curteous requeste, but for this time I pray you to hold me excused, because I am going about certaine affayres very requisite and necessary to be done." Then sayde sir Stricca: "At least wise drincke with mee before you depart." But giuing him thankes he bad him farewell. Maister Stricca seing that hee could not cause him to tary, toke his leaue, and retourned into his house. Galgano gone from maistre Stricca, sayd to himselfe: "Ah, beast that I am, why did I not accept his offer? Why should shamefastness let me from the sight of her, whom I loue better than all the world besides." And as he was thus pensife in complaintes his spaniells sp.r.o.ng a Partrich, wherat he let flee his Hauke, and the Partrich flying into sir Stricca his garden, his Hauke pursued and sea.s.sed vppon the same. Maister Stricca and his Ladye hearinge that pastime, ranne to the garden window, to see the killing of the Partrich: and beholding the valiante skirmishe betweene the foule and the hauke, the lady asked whose hauke it was: her husband made aunswere that he knew well inoughe the owner, by the goodnesse and hardines of the same.

"For the owner of this hauke (quoth hee) is the trimmest and most valiaunt gentleman in all Siena, and one indued with beste qualities." The lady demaunded what he was? "Maister Galgano (said her husband,) who euen now pa.s.sed by the gate, and I prayed him very earnestly to supper, but hee woulde not be intreated. And truly wyfe, he is the comliest gentleman, and moste vertuous personage, that euer I knewe in my life." With those wordes they wente from the windowe to supper: and Galgano, when he had lured his Hauke, departed awaye. The Lady marked those words and fixed them in minde. It fortuned within a while after, that sir Stricca was by the state of Siena sent in amba.s.sage to Perugia, by reason wherof, his Lady at home alone, so sone as her husband had taken his iourney, sent her most secrete and trustie maide, to intreat maister Galgano, to come and speake with her. When the message was done to Galgano, (if his heart were on a merie pinne, or whether his spirits dulled with continuall sorrowe were againe reuiued, they knowe that most haue felte the painefull pangues of Loue, and they also whose flesh haue beene pearced wyth the amorous arrowes of the little boy Cupide:) he made aunswere that hee would willingly come, rendringe thanckes both to the maistresse and maide, the one for her paine, and the other for her good remembraunce. Galgano vnderstanding that sir Stricca was gone to Perugia, in the eueninge at conuenient time, repaired to the house of her whose sight he loued better than his owne eyes. And being come before his Lady, with great submission and reuerence hee saluted her, (like those whose hartes do throbe, as foretellinge the possession of good tournes and benefites, after which with longe sute and trauaile they haue aspired) wherewith the Lady delighted, very pleasantly took him by the hande, and imbracing him, said: "Welcome mine owne sweet Galgano, a hundred times I say welcome." And for the time with kisses, makinge truce with their affections, the lady called for comfictes and wyne. And when they had dronke and refreshed themselues, the lady toke him by the hande and said: "My sweete Galgano, night beginneth to pa.s.se awaye, and the time of sleepe is come, therefore let vs yeld our selues to the seruice and commaundment of our very good Ladye, madame Cytherea, for whose sake I intreated you to come hither." Galgano aunswered, that he was very wel contented. Being within the chamber, after much pleasaunte talke and louing discourse betweene them, the Lady did put of her clothes, and went to bed. Galgano being somewhat bashfull, was perceyued of the Lady, vnto whom she said: "Me thincke, Galgano, that you be fearful and shamefast. What do you lacke? Do I not please you? Doth not my personage content you?

Haue you not the thing which you desire?" "Yes madame," said Galgano: "G.o.d himself could not do me a greater pleasure, than to suffer me to be cleped within your armes." And reasoning in this sort, he put of his clothes also, and laide himselfe by her, whom he had coueted and desired of long time. Being in the bed, he said: "Madame, I beseech you graunt me one resquest."

"What is that, Galgano?" (quoth she.) "It is this, madame," said Galgano: "I do much maruell, why this night aboue all other, you haue sent for mee: considering how long I haue bin a suter vnto you, and although I haue prosecuted my sute, by great expence and trauaile, yet you would never yelde before now: what hath moued you now thus to do?" The Lady answered: "I wil tell you sir: true it is, that not many dayes agoe, pa.s.sing by this house, with your Hauke on your fiste, my husband told me that so sone as he sawe you, he wente oute to meete you, of purpose to intreate you to supper, but you would not tarrie: then your Hauke pursued a Partrich, euen into my garden, and I seing the Hauke so egerly seasing vpon the same, demaunded of my husband whose Hauke it was. He told me that the Hauke did belong to the most excellent yong man of all Siena: and that he neuer in all his life knewe a gentleman better accomplished with all vertues and good qualities, and therewithal gaue vnto you singuler prayse and commendacion. Whereuppon hearing him in such wise to prayse you, and knowing righte well your affectionate minde and disposition towards mee, my hart attached with loue, forced me to sende for you that I mighte hereafter auoyde disdaine and other scornefull demeaner, to impeache or hinder your loue: and this briefely is the cause." "Is this true?" said Galgano. "Most certaine and true," aunsweared the Lady." "Was there no other occasion?" "No, verely:" said the lady. "G.o.d defend," (quoth Galgano,) "that I should recompence the curtesie and good will of so n.o.ble a gentleman (as your husband is) with reproch and villany. Is it meete that good turnes should be requited with vnkindnes? If euer man had cause to defende the honor of his vnknowen frend, cause haue I right good and apte. For now knowinge such a frende, that would by vertuous reportes haue aduaunced me to higher matters, than wherof I am in possession, should I reward with pollucion of his stocke and wife? No, no, lady! my raginge sute by loue, is by vertue quenched. Vertue onely hath staunched the flames of vile affections. Seeke another frende, to glut your lecherous minde. Finde out some other companion, to coole thy disordinate loue. Shal I be disloyal to him, that hath been faithfull vnto me? Shall I be traytor to him, that frendly hath commended me? What can be more required of humane hearte, or more desired of manlike mind, but wilfull bente, and fixed to do him good, that neuer erst by iuste desert deserued the same." With which wordes sodenly hee lept out of the bed, and when he had furnished himselfe againe with his apparell, hee also put vppon him vertuous friendship, and takinge his leaue of the Lady, neuer after that time he gaue himself to matters of Loue. And maister Stricca he continually obserued both with singuler loue and dutifull friendship: whereby it is vncertaine whether was most singuler in him, his continency at the very instante by refrayning that vehement heate of loue, which so long time with great trauaile and coste he had pursued, or his regard of frendship to sir Stricca vppon wordes of commendacion spoken behinde his backe. Both no doubte be singuler vertues meete for all men to be obserued: but the subduing of his affections surmounted and pa.s.sed.

THE FORTY-EIGHTH NOUELL.

_Bindo a notable Architect, and his sonne Ricciardo, with all his familie, from Florence went to dwell at Venice where being made Citizens for diuers monuments by them done there, throughe inordinate expences were forced to robbe the treasure house. Bindo beinge slaine by a pollicie deuised by the Duke and state, Ricciardo by fine subtelties deliuereth himselfe from foure daungers.

Afterwards the Duke (by his owne confession) vnderstandinge the sleightes, giueth him his pardon and his doughter in marriage._

In the goodly citie of Venice there was once a duke, that was a n.o.ble gentleman and of greate experience and wisedome, called Valeriano di messer Vannozzo Accettani. In the chiefest Churche of which Citie called San Marco, there was a steple, very faire and sumptuous, and of greatest fame of any thinge at that time that was in Venice, which steeple was like to fall downe by reason of certaine faultes and decayes in the foundacion.

Wherfore the Duke caused to be searched thorow out all Italie, some cunning workeman that would take in hand the reparacion and amendmente of the same: with promise of so much money as he would demaund for doing thereof. Whereuppon an excellent Architect of Florence, named Bindo, hearing tel of this offer, determined to go to Venice for the accomplishmente of that worke, and for that purpose with his onelye sonne and wyfe, hee departed Florence. And when he had seene and surueyed the steeple, he went straight to the Duke, and told him that he was come thither to offer his seruice for repayringe of the same, whom the Duke curteously intertayned and prayed him, that he would so sone as he coulde begin that worke. Whereunto Bindo accorded, and wyth great diligence and small time he finished the same, in better forme and surety than it was at the first: which greatly pleased the Duke, and gaue Bindo so much money as he demaunded, making him besides a Citizen of Venice, for the maintenaunce of whose state, hee allotted him a sufficient stipend: afterwards the Duke called him vnto him, and declared that he would haue a Treasure house made, wherein should be disposed and layde vp all the Treasure and common ornamentes for the furniture of the whole Citie, which Bindo by and by toke vppon him to do, and made it of such singuler beautie, as it excelled all the monuments of the Citie, wherein all the said Treasure was bestowed. In which worke hee had framed a stone by cunninge, that mighte be remoued at pleasure, and no man perceiue it: meaning thereby to goe into the Chamber when he liste: whereunto none in all the world was priuie but himselfe.

When this Palace and Treasure house was done, he caused all the furnitures of Silkes, hanginges, wrought with Golde, Canapees, clothes of state, riche Chayres, Plate, and other Ornaments of Golde and Siluer to be caried thither, whiche he called La Turpea del Doge, and was kept vnder fiue keyes: whereof foure were deliuered to foure of the chiefe Citizens, deputed to that office, which were called Chamberlaynes of the Treasure house, and the fift keye the Duke himselfe did keepe, so that the Chamber coulde not bee opened excepte they were all fiue presente. Nowe Bindo and his famelie dwelling at Venice, and beinge a citizen there, beganne to spende liberallye and to liue a riche and wealthye life, and hys sonne Ricciardo consumed disordinatelye, whereby in s.p.a.ce of time, they wanted Garmentes to furnishe their bodies, whiche they were not able to maintaine for their inordinate expences: wherefore the father vpon a night calling his sonne vnto him, got a ladder, and a certaine yron instrumente made for the purpose, and taking also with him a litle lime, went to the hole, which Bindo artificially had made, who taking out the stone, crept in, and toke out a faire cup of gold, which was in a closet, and afterward he wente out, cowching the stone againe in due place. And when they were come home, they brake the cup and caused it to be solde by peece meale, in certaine Cities of Lombardie. And in this sorte, they maintayned their disordinate life begonne. It chaunced not long after, that a Cardinall arriued at Venice, about affayres with the Duke, and the state, who the more honorablie to receiue him, opened the Treasure house to take oute certaine furnitures within, as plate, clothes of state, and other thinges. When the dore was opened, and had taken out the saide necessaries, they founde a cuppe lesse than oughte to be, wherewith the Chamberlaines contended amonge themselues, and wente to the Duke, telling him that there wanted a cuppe: whereat the Duke marueiled, and said that amonges them it must needes be gone.

And after many denialls, and much talke, he willed them to saye nothing, till the Cardinall was departed. When the Cardinall was come, he was receyued with honorable interteignemente, and beinge departed, the Duke sente for the foure Chamberlaines, to consult about the losse of the cup, commaunding them not to departe the Palace before the same was found, saying that amongs them it muste needes be stolen. These four persons being together, and debating how and by what meanes the cup should be taken away, were at their wittes ende. At length one of them saide: "Let vs consider whether ther bee anye comminge into the Chamber besides the doore." And viewinge it they coulde not perceiue anye entrie at all. And to proue the same more effectuallye, they strawed the chamber aboute with fyne fifted chaffe, setting the same on fier, which done, they shutte fast the windowes and doores, that the smoke and smoulder might not goe out. The force of which smoke was sutche as it issued through the hole that Bindo made, whereby they perceiued the way howe the robbery was committed, and went to the Duke to tell him what they had done. The duke vnderstanding the fact, wylled them to saye nothing, for that he woulde deuise a pollicie how to take the theefe: who caused to be brought into the chamber a caldron of pitche, and placed it directly vnder the hole, commaunding that a fyre should be kept daye and night vnder the caldron, that the same might continually boyle. It come to pa.s.se that when the money was spent which the father and sonne had receiued for the cup, one night they went agayne to the hole, and remouing the stone, the father went in as he did before, and fell into the caldron of pitche (which continually was boyling there) vp to the waste, and not able to liue any longer, he called his sonne vnto him, and fayde: "Ricciardo myne owne sweete sonne, death hath taken me prysoner, for halfe my body is dead, and my breath also is ready to departe. Take my head with thee, and burie it in some place that it be not knowen, which done, commend me to thy mother, whome I pray thee to cherishe and comforte, and in any wyse take hede that warely and circ.u.mspectlye thou doe departe from hence: and if any man do aske for me, say that I am gone to Florence about certaine businesse." The sonne lamentably began to lament his father's fortune, saying: "Oh deare father, what wicked furie hath thus cruelly deuised sodaine death." "Content thy selfe, my sonne,"

sayd the father, "and be quiet, better it is that one should dye, than twoo, therefore doe what I haue tolde thee, and fare well." The sonne tooke vp his father's head, and went his waye, the reste of his bodye remayned in the caldron, like a block without forme. When Ricciardo was come home, he buried his father's head so well as he could, and afterwardes tolde his mother what was become of his father, who vnderstanding the maner of his death, began piteously to cry out, to whom her sonne holding up his hands, sayd: "Good mother holde your peace, and geue ouer your weeping: for our life is in great perill and daunger, if your outcrie be heard. Therefore good mother, quiet yourselfe, for better it were for vs to liue in poore estate, than to die with infamie, to the vtter reproche and shame of all our familie." With whiche woordes he appeased her. In the morning the bodye was founde and caried to the Duke, who maruelled at it, and could not deuise what he should be, but sayd: "Surely there be two that committed this robberie, one of them we haue, let vs imagine how we may take the other." Then one of the foure Chamberlaines sayd: "I haue found out a trap to catche the other, if it will please you to heare mine aduise, which is this: Impossible it is, but this theefe that is dead, hath either wife, children, or some kinsman in the citie, and therfore let vs cause the bodie to be drawen throughout the streates, and geue diligent hede whether anye persone doe complaine or lament his death: and if any such be found, let him be taken and examined: which is the next way as I suppose, to finde out his companion." Which being concluded, they departed.

The body was drawen throughout the citie with a guard of men attending vpon the same: as the executioners pa.s.sed by the house of Bindo, whose carca.s.se laye vppon the hurdle, his wyfe stode at the wyndowe, and seing the body of her husband so vsed, made a great outcrie. At whiche noyse the sonne spake to his mother and sayde: "Alas, mother, what do you?" And beholding his father's corps vpon the hurdle, he toke a knife and made a great gashe into his hande, that the bloud aboundantly issued out. The guarde hearing the noyse that the woman made, ran into the house, and asked her what she lacked. The sonne answered: "I was caruing a peece of stone with this knife, and by chaunce I hurt my hande, which my mother seeyng cryed out, thynking that I had hurt myselfe more than I haue." The guarde seeing his hande all bloudy and cut, did belieue it to be true, and from thence went round about the liberties of the Citie, finding none that seemed to lament or bewayle that chaunce. And returning to the Duke, they tolde him howe all that labour was imployed in vayne, whereupon he appointed them to hang vp the dead body in the market-place, with secret watche in like maner, to espie if any person by day or night, would come to complaine or be sorrowefull for him. Which body was by the feete hanged vp there, and a continuall watche appointed to kepe the same. The rumor hereof was bruted throughout the Citie, and euery man resorted thither to see it. The woman hearing tell that her husbandes carca.s.se should be hanged vp in the market-place, saide diuerse times to her sonne, that it was a very great shame for him to suffer his father's body in that shamefull sort to be vsed. To whom her sonne made answere, saying: "Good mother, for G.o.d's sake be contented, for that whiche they do is for none other purpose, but to proue me: wherefore be pacient a while, till this chaunce be past." The mother not able to abide it any longer, brake out many times into these words: "If I were a man as I am a woman, it should not be vndone now: and if thou wilt not aduenture thy selfe, I will one night giue the attempt." The yong man seing the froward nature of his mother, determined to take away the body by this policie. He borrowed twelve friers frockes or cowles, and in the euening went downe to the hauen, and hired twelue mariners, and placed them in a backe house, geuing them so much meate and drinke as they woulde eate. And when they had well whitled and tippled themselues, he put vpon them those friers cowles, with visards vppon their faces, and gaue euery of them in their hands a burning torch, making them to seme as though they had ben Diuels of hel: and he himself rode vpon a horse al couered with blacke, beset rounde about with monstrous and vglie faces, euerye of them hauinge a burnyng candle in his mouthe, and riding before with a visarde of horrible shape vpon his head, sayde vnto them: "Doe as I doe:"

and then marched forward to the market-place. When they came thether they ran vp and downe with roring voyces crying out like Deuils being then past midnight and very darke. When the watche sawe that straunge sight they were affrayde, thinking that they had bene Deuils indeede, and that he on horsebacke in that forme had ben the great Deuill Lucifer himselfe. And seing him runne towardes the gibet, the watche toke their legges and ran away.

The yong man in the shape of the great Deuill toke downe the body and layd it before him on horsebacke, who calling his companie away, roode before in poste. When they were come home, he gaue them their money, and vncasing them of their cowles sent them away, and afterwardes buried the body so secretly as he could. In the morning newes came to the Duke that the bodye was taken awaye, who sent for the guarde to knowe what was become thereof. To whome they sayde these wordes: "Pleaseth your grace, about midnight last past there came into the market-place a companie of Deuils, among whom we sawe the great deuil Lucifer himselfe, who as wee suppose did eate vp the bodye, which terrible sight and vision made vs to take our legges." The Duke by those wordes perceiued euidently that the same was but a practise to deceiue them of their purpose, notwithstanding he determined once again to deuise some meanes in the ende to knowe the truthe, and decreed a const.i.tucion that for the s.p.a.ce of xx dayes no fresh meate shoulde be solde in Venice: at which decree all the citie marueiled. Afterwardes he caused a verie faire fatte calfe to be solde, sessing the price of euery pounde at a fiorino, which amounteth to a French crowne or thereaboutes, and willed hym that solde it to note and marke them that bought it: thinking with himselfe, that he which is a theefe is licorous of mouth delicate in fare and would not stick to geue a good price, although it cost him a French crown for euery pound: making proclamation, that he which would buye any fresh meate should resort to the market-place where was to bee solde. All the Marchaunts and Gentlemen repaired to buye some of the veale, and vnderstanding that euery pound would not be solde under a Frenche crowne, they bought none at all. This calfe and the price was bruted in all places, and came to the knowledge of the mother of this yong man, who said vnto her sonne: "I haue a minde to eate some of the veale, now solde in the market."

Ricciardo aunswered. "Mother make no haste to buye it, first let it be cheapened by other, and at length I will deuise a meane that you shall have it: for it is not wysedome for vs to be the firste that shall desire it." The mother like an ignoraunt and vnskilfull woman, was importunate to haue it. The sonne fearing that his mother would sende for some of the veale, by other, caused a Pie to be made, and prepared a flagon full of wyne, both which were intermixed with thinges to cause sleepe, and taking bread, the sayd Pie, and the flagon of wyne, when it was night, putting on a counterfait beard, and cloke, went to the stall where that veale was to bee solde, which as yet was whole and vnbought. And when he had knocked at the shop dore, one of the guard asked who was there. To whom Ricciardo said: "Can you tel me wher one Ventura doth kepe his shop?" Of whom one of them demaunded what Ventura? "I know not his surname," sayde Ricciardo, "that I would he had bene hanged, when I came first to dwell with him." "Why who sent thee?" said one of the guarde.

"His wyfe (quod Ricciardo) who bade me cary him this meate and wyne for his supper: but I pray you (sayde Ricciardo,) let me leaue the same with you, till I goe home to know better where he kepeth his stall. And maruell not, my maisters, though I know not where his shop is, for it is not long sithens I came to dwell in this Citie." And so leauing behind him the Pie, and the bread with the flagon of wyne, he made haste to departe, and tolde them that he wold come againe by and by. When he was gone, one of them toke the flagon and drancke, and afterwardes gaue it to his companion, and said: "Drinke, for thou neuer diddest tast of better wyne in all thy life." His companion dranke, and merily communing of this matter, they fel a sleepe. Ricciardo loking in at a hole of the dore, seing them a slepe, went in, and toke the calfe, and caried it home whole as it was, and saide to his mother: "Hold, mother, there is your l.u.s.te, cut it out:" and by and by she cut out a great pece. The duke so sone as he heard that the calfe was stolen, and the maner howe, did wonder very muche, purposing yet to knowe what hee was: and caused a hundred poore people to come before him, whose names being written, he said vnto them: {"}Get ye to all the houses in Venice, vnder colour to begge almes. And marke if you see in any house fleshe dressed, or any pece in making ready to be eaten at the fier, which if you doe, ye must be importunate in begging, till they giue you either flesh or broth. And he among all you that shal bring me the first newes, I wil giue him xx crownes."

These beggers dispersed themselues into euery corner of the Citie, crauing their almes, amongs whom one of them asked his almes at the house of Ricciardo, and approching nere, espied openly fleshe at the spit, and besought a morsell thereof for G.o.d's sake: to whom the vndiscrete woman seeing that she had plentye, gaue a litle pece. The poore man thanked the good wife, and prayed G.o.d to saue her life. And as hee was going down the steps of the dore, Ricciardo met him with the flesh in his hand.

Wherewithal astonned, he willed him to retourne, and sayde he would giue him more. The begger glad of that, went in againe, whome Ricciardo caried into his chamber, and when he was within, he strake suche a full blowe vpon his head with an axe, as he killed hym, and threwe him into a iakes, shutting the doore after him. In the euening, these poore men retourned to the duke, according to their promise, and sayde they coulde finde nothing. The Duke called them by their names, and compting the number founde one lesse than he had sent, whereat he maruelled.

And after he had well aduised with himselfe, what should become of him that lacked, he sayde: "Certainely the poore man is Slayne." Then causing the councell to be a.s.sembled, he declared what he had done: and yet sayde that it were meete the party were knowen. Whereunto one of the Senatours sayde: {"}Your grace hath duely made search by the belly and mouth, to finde out this verlet: I thinke it nowe necessarie that triall be made by lechery, whiche commonly accompanieth licorous mouthes." Then it was concluded that the moste riotous and lecherous yong men, suche as the Duke had in greatest suspicion, to the number of XXV. should be warned to appeare before him: whiche accordingly was done, amonges whome was this Ricciardo. These yonge roisters a.s.sembled in the palace, euery of them maruelled wherefore the Duke had caused them to come thether. Afterwarde the Duke commaunded XXV. beddes to be made in one of his great chambers, to lodge euery of the sayd XXV. persons by hymself, and in the middes of the chamber he commaunded a riche bed of estate to be set vp and furnished, wher was appointed to ly his own daughter, which was an exceading faire creature. And in the night when these yong men were layde in their beddes, manye gentlewomen attendant vpon the Lady, came in to bryng her to her lodging: and her father deliuered to her a sawcer full of black die, or stayning, and saide vnto her: "If any of these yong men that doe lie here by thee, doe offer to come to thy bedde, looke that thou marke him in the face with this staining colour, that he may be knowen." At which wordes all the yong men maruelled and therefore durste not attempt to goe vnto her, but said one to another: "Surely this commaundement of the Duke hath some secrete misterie in it." Notwithstanding Ricciardo determined about midnight to go to her bedde: and when the candle was out being a wake of purpose, he rose vp and went to the gentlewoman's bedde and began to imbrace and kisse her. The maiden when she felt him, sodainly dipped her finger in the colour and stained his face, not perceiued of him. When he had accomplished the thing he came for, hee retourned to his place: and then began to imagin vpon the Duke's wordes, and for what policie he spake them. And lying a litle while still musing vpon the same, he went againe to the gentlewoman's bedde, hauing throughly disposed himself to the pleasures of this paradise lambe: and perceiuing her to dippe her finger in the sawcer and rubbe his face, Ricciardo toke away the sawcer from the bedde's side, and round about bestowed the colour vpon the faces of his felowes, who were so faste a sleepe that they did not fele him.

Some he marked with two spottes, some with six and some with X.

himselfe he painted but with foure besides those wherewith already he was berayed by the gentlewoman: whiche done he set the saucer agayne by the bedde's side, and when he had bidden her farewell, faire and softly he returned againe to his bedde.

In the morning betimes, the damosels of the chamber came in to helpe the ladye to make her readye, which done they wayted vpon her to the duke, who asked her how the matter stode. She aunswered well, for she had done his commaundement: and tolde him howe one came vnto her three times, and euery time she gaue him a tainte in his face. The duke by and by sent for them that were of his counsell. To whome he said: "Sirs, I haue founde out this good fellow, and therfore I haue sent for you, that we altogether may goe to see him." They went all into the chamber, and viewing them round about, they perceiued all their faces coloured, whereat they fell into a great laughter: then one of them sayde to another: "Suerly this fellowe hath the subtilest head that euer was knowen:" and concluded that one of the company had set that colour in their faces. The yong men beholding one another paynted in that sorte, brake into great sporte and pastime. Afterwardes the duke examined euery of them, and seeing that he was not able by any meanes to vnderstande by whome it was done, he determined to knowe the man before he departed, and promised to him that should confesse the truthe, to giue his daughter to him in mariage, and with her a very great dowrie, and a generall pardon. Wherefore Ricciardo vnderstanding the duke's minde, toke him asyde, and tolde hym the whole matter particularly from the beginning to the ende.

The duke imbraced hym, and gaue him his pardon, and with great ioye and triumphe he solemnized the mariage betwene hym and his daughter. Wherewithal Ricciardo encouraged, proued a very stoute and valiaunt man in suche wyse almoste as the affaires of the whole state pa.s.sed through his handes. And liued a long time after, with the loue and good wyll of the whole cominaltie of Venice.

THE FORTY-NINTH NOUELL.

_Philenio Sisterno, a Scholler of Bologna, being mocked of three faire Gentlewomen, at a banket made of set purpose he was reuenged on them all._

At Bologna, whiche is the n.o.blest citie of Lombardie, the mother of studies, and accomplished with al things nedefull and requisite for sutch a florishing state, there was a yong scholler, a Gentleman of the countrie of Crete named Philenio Sisterno, of very good grace and behauiour. It chanced that in his time, there was a great feast made in the citie, wherunto were bidden the fayrest dames, and beste of reputation there: there was likewyse many Gentlemen and Schollers of Bologna, amonges whom was this Philenio Sisterno: who followyng the manner of young men, dallying sometime with one, sometime with another, and perceiuing them for his purpose determined to daunce with one of them: and comming to one whiche was called Emerentiana, the wyfe of sir Lamberto Bentiuoglia, hee prayed her to daunce: who, beyng verie gentle and of no less audacitie than beautiful, refused not. Then Philenio leading forth the daunce very softly, sometymes wrynging her by the hand, spake somewhat secretly vnto her these wordes: "Madame, your beautie is so great, that without doubt it surmounteth all that ever I sawe, and there is no woman in the world to whome I beare so great affection, as to your persone, whiche if it were correspondent to me in Loue, I would thinke myself the beste contented man in the world, otherwyse I shall in shorte tyme bee depriued of life, and then you shall be the cause of my death: and louing you (Madame) as I doe, and as my dutie requireth, you ought to take me for your seruaunt, vsing me and those litle goodes whiche I haue as your owne: and I doe a.s.sure you, that it is impossible for me to receiue greater fauour from heauen, then to see myselfe subiecte to sutch a gentlewoman, as you be, whiche hath taken me in a nette lyke a byrde." Nowe Emerentiana, whiche earnestly had marked those sweet and pleasaunt woordes, like a wyse gentlewoman, semed to geue no eare thereunto, and made him no aunswere at all. The daunce ended, and Emerentiana being set down in her place, this young scholler went to take another gentlewoman by the hand, and began to daunce with her: whiche was not so sone begonne, but thus he said vnto her: "It nedeth not Madame, that by woordes I doe expresse the feruant Loue which I beare you, and will so doe, so long as my poore spirite shall gouerne and rule my members: and if I could obtaine you for my Maistresse and singuler Ladye, I would thinke myself the happiest man aliue. Then louing you as I do, and being wholly yours, as you may easely vnderstand, refuse me not I besech you for your humble seruaunt, sithe that my life and all that I haue dependeth vpon you alone." The yong gentlewoman, whose name was Panthemia, perceiuing his meaning, did not aunswere him any thing at that time: but honestly proceded in her daunce: and the daunce ended, smyling a litle, she sat downe with the other dames. This done, amorous Philenio rested not vntil he had taken the thirde by the hand, (who was the gentlest, fairest, and trimmest dame in all Bologna,) and began to daunce with her, romyng abrode, to shewe his cunning before them that came to behold him. And before the daunce was finished, he saide thus vnto her: "Madame, it may so be, as I shall seme vnto you very malapert to manifest the secret Loue that I haue and doe beare you at this instant, for which you ought not to blame me but your beautie, which rendreth you excellent aboue al the rest, and maketh me your slaue and prysoner. I speake not of your commendable behauiour, of your excellent and maruellous vertues, which be such and of so great effect, as they would make the G.o.ds descend to contemplate the same. If then your excellent beautie and shape, so well fauoured by nature, and not by art, may seeme to content the immortall G.o.ds, you ought not to be offended, if the same do constraine me to loue you, and to inclose you in the priuie cabane of my harte: I beseeche you then, gentle Madame (the onely comfort of my life) to haue pitie vpon him that dieth a thousand times a daye for you. In so doing, my life shall be prolonged by you, commending me humbly vnto your good grace." This faire gentlewoman called Simphorosia, vnderstanding the sweete and pleasaunt woordes vttered from the very harte of Philenio, could not dissemble her sighes, but waying her honor, because she was maried, gaue him no answere at all. And the daunce ended, she retourned to her place. Nowe it chaunced, as these three ladies did sit together iocundly disposed to debate of sundrie mery talke, behold Emerentiana, the wife of Seignior Lamberto, not for any euill, but in sporting wise said vnto her companions: "Gentlewomen, I haue to tell you a pleasaunt matter which happened to this day." "What is that?" said her companions.

"I haue gotten this night, (said she) in dauncing, a curteous louer, a very faire Gentleman, and of so good behauiour as any in the worlde: who said that he was so inflamed with my beauty that he tooke no rest day nor night:" and from point to point, rehea.r.s.ed vnto them, all that he had said. Which Panthemia and Simphorosia vnderstanding, answered that the like had chaunced vnto them, and they departed not from the feaste before eche of theim knewe him that was their louer: whereby they perceiued that his woordes proceded not of faithfull Loue, but rather of follie and dissimulation, in suche wise as they gaue so lyghte credite thereunto, as of custome is geuen to the woordes of those that bee sicke. And they departed not from thence vntill all three with one accorde, had conspired euery one to giue him mocke. Philenio continuing thus in Loue, sometime with one, sometime with another, and perceiuing that euery of them seemed to Loue him, hee determined with himselfe, if it were possible to gather of them the last frute of his Loue. But he was greatly deceyued in his desire, for that all his enterprise was broken: and that done, Emerentiana whiche could not any longer dissemble the loue of the foolishe scholer called one of her maydes, which was of a fayre complexion and a ioly wenche, charging her that she should deuise meanes to speake with Philenio, to geue him to vnderstande the loue which her maistresse bare vnto him: and when it were his pleasure she willingly would one night haue him at home at her house. Which newes when Philenio heard, he greatly reioyced, and said to the maid: "Returne to your Maistresse, faire maide, and commend me vnto her, telling her in my behalf, that I doe praye her to loke for me this euening, if her husband be not at home." During which time, Emerentiana caused a certaine number of f.a.gots of sharpe thornes to be made, and to be layd vnder her bedde still wayting for her minion.

When night was come, Philenio toke his sworde, and went to the house of his enemy, and calling at the dore with the watchworde the same incontinently was opened: and after that they had talked a litle while together, and banketted after the best maner, they withdrew themselues into the chamber to take their reste. Philenio had no soner put of his clothes to goe to bedde, but Seignior Lamberto her husband came home: which the Maistresse of the house perceiuing, made as though she had bene at her wittes ende, and could not tell whether to conuey her minion, but prayed him to hide himself vnder the bedde. Philenio seeing the daunger, wherein both he and the wife were, not taking with him any other garmentes, but only his shirte, crept vnder the bed where he was so cruelly p.r.i.c.kt and scratched with the thornes, as there was no parte of his body (from the toppe of his head to the sole of his foote) free from bloud, and the more he sought to defende himselfe in that darke place, the more sharpely and piteously he was tormented, and durst not crie for feare least Seignior Lamberto would kill him. I will leaue to your consideration in what plight this poore wretche was in, who by reason of his miserable being, as he was brechelesse in that terrible purgatorie, even so was he speachlesse and durst not speake for his life. In the morning when Segnior Lamberto was gone forth, the poore scholler put on his clothes so well as he could, and all bloudy as he was, returning to his lodging, was like to die: but being deligently cured by phisicians, in short time he recouered his former health. Shortly after, Philenio began to pursue again his loue towardes the other two, that is to say, Panthemia and Simphorosia, and found conuenient time one euening to speake to Panthemia, to whom he rehea.r.s.ed his griefes and continuall tormentes, praying her to haue pitie vpon him.

The subtile and wise wenche Panthemia, fayning to haue compa.s.sion vppon him, excused her selfe by lacke of meanes to content his desire, but in thend vanquished with faire supplications and maruellous sighes, shee made him to come home to her house, and being vnready, dispoyled of al his apparell to go to bed with his Lady she required hym to go with her into a litle closet, wher all her swete smels and perfumes were, to the intent he might be well perfumed before he went to bedde. The yong dolt not doubting the subtiltie of this wicked woman, entred the closet and setting his foote vpon a borde vnnnayled from the ioyst, fell so depe into a store house where marchauntes vse to lay there cottons and wolles, as he thought he had broken his necke and his legges, notwithstanding as fortune would he had no hurt. This poore scholler being in that darke place, began to seke for some dore or ladder to go out, and finding nothing for his purpose he cursed the houre and time that euer he knew Panthemia. When the dauning of the day began to appeare, the simple sot discried in one place of the storehouse certain ventes in the wall, which gaue some light, because they wer old and couered ouer with mosse, in such wise, as he began with maruelous force, to pluck out the stones in the moste decaied place of the wall, and made so great a hole, as he went out. And being in a lane hard by the great streate, barefoote and bare legged, and in his shirt, he went home to his lodging vnknowen of any. A litle whyle after Simphorosia vnderstanding of the deceits whiche the other twoo had done to Philenio, attempted to geue hym the thirde, whiche was not inferior to the other twayne. And for that purpose, she began a farre of to caste her amorous lokes vpon him, letting hym to knowe that shee was in great distresse for his Loue. This poore soule hauing already forgotten his fortune paste, began to walke vp and downe before her house, like a man altogether tormented and pained with Loue. Then Simphorosia, seing him to be farre in loue with her, sent hym a letter by an old woman, whereby she aduertised hym, that his beautie and good behauior, so puissantly did gouerne her affections as she could take no rest night nor day, for the earnest loue that she bare him: wherefore she praied him if it were his pleasure to come and speake with her. Philenio receiuing that letter, and perusing the contentes, not considering the deceite prepared for him, ne yet any longer remembring the iniuries past, was more ioyfull and glad then euer he was before: who taking pen and paper, aunswered her againe, that he for his parte suffered no lesse tormentes for her sake, yea and in respect of vnfayned Loue, that he loued her farre better than she did hym, and at al tymes when shee pleased, hee woulde be at her commaundement to doe her seruice: the aunswere read, and oportunitie found, Simphorosia caused him to come home to her house, and after many false sighes, she saide vnto him: "My deare frend Philenio, I knowe none other in all the world, that hath brought me into this state and plighte wherein presently I am, but you, because your beautie, good grace and pleasaunt talke, haue so sette my harte on fyre as I feele it to kindle and burne like drye woode." Which talke Maister scholler hearing, thought a.s.suredly that she consumed for loue of him: this poore Nodgec.o.c.k, contriuing the time in sweete and pleasaunt woordes, with his dareling Simphorosia, the time approched that he should go to bed with his faire lady, who said vnto him: "My swete frend Philenio, abide a whyle, and let vs make some banket and collation:" who taking him by the hande, caried him into her closet adioyning, wher was a table ready furnished with exquisit conficts and wynes of the best. This gentlewoman had made a composition in the wyne, to cause this yong gallant to sleepe for a certain time. Philenio thinking no hurte, toke the cup and filled it with the wyne, and dranke it vp at one draught. His spirits reuiued with this refreshing, after he had bene very well perfumed and washed in swete waters, he went to bedde and within a while after this drinke began to woorke, and hee slepte so soundly, as canon shot, or the greatest gonnes of the worlde were not able to wake hym: then Simphorosia perceiuing the drinke beginne to woorke, called one of her st.u.r.dy maides that wel was instructed in the game of this pageant: both whiche carying this poore sleepy scholler by the feete and armes, and opening the dore very softlye, they fayre and well bestowed hym in the middeste of the streete, a good stone's caste of from the house, where he lay all the nighte.

But when the dawning of the daye dyd appeare, or an houre before, the drynke lost his vertue, and the poore soule began to awake, and thinking that he had bene a bedde with the gentlewoman he perceiued hymself brechelesse and in his shirt more dead then aliue, through the colde that he had endured, by lying starke naked vppon the earth. The poore wretche was not able to help himselfe so much as with his armes and legges, ne yet to stande vppon his feete without great paine: notwithstanding, through creping and sprawling, hee got home to his house, vnseene of anye, and prouided so well as hee could for recouery of his health: and had it not been for his youth, which did helpe him at that instant, his sinewes had been benommed for euer. In the ende, hauing atteined his former state of health he still remembred the iniuries past, and without shewing any signe of anger or displeasure, made as though he loued them all three better then euer he did before, and sometime seemed to be in loue with the one, and sometime with an other: they againe for their part nothing mistrusting the malice of Philenio, set a good face on the matter, vsinge amorous cheere and countenance towards him, but when his backe was tourned, with mockes and floutes they toke their pleasure. He bearing in his brest secrete despite, was still desirous with his hand to marke them in the face, but like a wise man, waying the natures of women, he thought it woulde redounde to his greate shame and reproche, if hee did them any hurt: and therefore restrayning the heate of his choler vsed pacience. And yet by deuising and practising, how he might be euen with them and reuenged, hee was in great perplexitie. Very shortly after it chaunced that the scholler had inuented a meane, easely to satisfie his desire, and so sone as hee had fully resolued what to do, fortune therunto was fauorable: who hyred in the citie of Bologna a very faire house which had a large hall, and comodious chambers: and purposed to make a greate and sumptuous feast, and to inuite many Ladies and Gentlewomen to the same: amongs whom these three were the first that should be bidden: which accordingly was done: and when the feast day was come the three gentlewomen that were not very wise at that instante, repaired thither nothing suspecting the scholler's malice. In the end a litle to recreate the Gentlewomen and to get them a stomacke, attendinge for supper time, the Scholler toke these his three louers by the hand, and led them friendly into a chamber, somewhat to refresh them. When these three innocent women were come into the Scholler's Chamber, hee shut fast the doore, and going towards them, he sayde: "Beholde faire ladies, now the time is come for me to be reuenged vpon you and to make you suffer the penaunce of the torment wherwith ye punished me for my great Loue." The Gentlewomen hearing those cruell woordes, rather dead then aliue, began to repent that euer they had offended him, and besides that, they cursed themselues, for giuinge credit vnto him whom they ought to haue abhorred. The Scholler with fierce and angry countenaunce commaunded them vpon paine of their liues to strippe themselues naked: which sentence when these three G.o.ddesses heard, they began to loke one vppon another, weeping and praying him, that although he woulde not for their sakes, yet in respect of his owne curtesie and naturrall humanitie, that hee woulde saue their honor aboue all thinges. This gallant reioysing at their humble and pitifull requestes was thus curteous vnto them, that he would not once suffer them to stand with their garmentes on in his presence: the women casting themselues downe at his feete wept bitterly, beseeching him that he woulde haue pitie vpon them, and not to be the occasion of a slaunder so great and infamous. But he whose hart was hardened as the Diamonde, said vnto them, that this facte was not worthy of blame but rather of reuenge. The women dispoyled of their apparel (and standing before him, so free from couering as euer was Eue before Adam) appeared as beautifull in this their innocent state of nakednes, as they did in their brauerie: in so much that the yong scholler viewing from toppe to toe, those fayre and tender creatures, whose whitenesse surpa.s.sed the snow, began to haue pitie vppon them: but calling to his remembraunce the iniuries past and the daunger of death wherein he was, he reiected all pitie and continued his harde and obstinate determination. Then he toke all their apparell, and other furnitures that they did weare, and bestowed it in a little chamber, and with threatning words commaunded all three to lie in one bed. The women altogether astonned, began to say to themselues: "Alas, what fooles be we?

what wil our husbands and our frendes say, when they shal vnderstand that we be found naked and miserablie slaine in this bed? It had been better for vs to haue died in our cradels, than apprehended and found dead in this state and plight." The Scholler seeing them bestowed one by another in the bed, like husband and wyfe, couered them with a very white and large sheete, that no part of their bodies might be seene and knowen, and shutting the Chamber doore after him Philenio went to seeke their husbands, which were dauncing in the hall: and the daunce ended, he intreated them to take the paines to goe with him: who was their guide into the Chamber where the three Muses lay in their bedde, saying vnto them: "Sirs, I haue broughte you into this place to shewe you some pastime and to let you see the fayrest thinges that euer you saw in your liues.{"} Then approching neere the bed, and holding a torch in his hand, he began fayre and softly to lift vp the shete at the bed's feete, discouering these fayre ladies euen to the knees. Ye should haue seen then, how the hushands did behold their white legges and their wel proporcioned feete, which don he disclosed them euen to the stomack, and shewed their legges and thighes farre whiter than alablaster, which seemed like two pillers of fine marble, with a rounde body so wel formed as nothing could be better: consequently he tourned vp the sheete a litle further, and their stomackes appeared somewhat round and plumme, hauing two rounde b.r.e.a.s.t.s so firme and feate, as they would haue constrayned the great G.o.d Iupiter to imbrace and kisse them. Whereat the husbandes toke so great pleasure and contentmente, as coulde be deuised: I omitte for you to thincke in what plighte these poore naked women weare, hearinge theyr husbandes to mocke them: all this while they laye very quiet, and durst not so much as to hem or coughe, for feare to be knowen: the husbands were earnest with the Scholler to discouer their faces, but hee wiser in other mennes hurtes than in his owne, would by no meanes consent vnto it. Not contented with this, the yong scholler shewed their apparel to their husbands, who seing the same were astonned, and in viewing it with great admiration, they said one to another: "Is not this the gowne that I once made for my wife? Is not this the coyfe that I bought her? Is not this the pendant that she weareth about her necke? be not these the rings that set out and garnisht her fingers?" Being gone out of the chamber for feare to trouble the feast, he would not suffer them to depart, but caused them to tarie supper. The Scholler vnderstandinge that supper was ready, and that the maister of the house had disposed all thinges in order, he caused the geastes to sit downe. And whiles they were remouing and placing the stooles and chayres, he returned into the chamber, wher the three dames lay, and vncouering them, he sayd vnto them: "Bongiorno, faire Ladies: did you heare your hushandes? They be here by, and do earnestly tarie for you at supper. What do ye meane to do? Vp and rise ye dormouses, rubbe your eyes and gape no more, dispatche and make you ready, it is time for you now to repayre into the hall, where the other gentlewomen do tarie for you." Behold now how this Scholer was reuenged by interteigning them after this maner: then the poore desolate women, fearing least their case would sorte to som pitiful successe, dispayring of their health, troubled and discomforted, rose vp expecting rather death than any other thing: and tourning them toward the scholler they said vnto him: "Maister Philenio, you haue had sufficient reueng vpon vs: the best for you to do now, is to take your sword, and to bereue us of oure life, which is more lothsome vnto vs than pleasaunt: and if you will not do vs that good tourne, suffer vs to go home to our houses vnknowen, that our honours may be saued." Then Philenio thinking that he had at pleasure vsed their persons, deliuered them their apparel, and so sone as they were ready, he let them out at a litle dore, very secretlye vnknowen of anye, and so they went home to their houses. So sone as they had put of their fayre furnitures, they folded them vp, and layd them in their chestes: which done, they went about their houshold busines, till their husbands came home, who being retourned they founde their wives sowing by the fire side in their chambers: and because of their apparell, their ringes and iewels, which they had seene in the Scholler's Chamber, it made them to suspect their wiues, euery of them demaunding his seuerall wife, where she had bin that nighte, and where their apparell was. They well a.s.sured of themselues, aunswered boldly, that they were not out of their house all the euening, and taking the keyes of their cofers shewed them their aparell, their ringes and other things, which their husbandes had made them. Which when their husbandes saw, they could not tell what to say, and forthwith reiected all suspicion, which they had conceiued: telling them from point to point, what they had seen that night. The women vnderstanding those woordes, made as though they knew nothing and after a little sport and laughter betweene them, they went to bed. Many times Philenio met his Gentlewomen in the streates and sayde vnto them: "Which of you was most afraide or worste intreated?" But they holding downe their heads, pa.s.sed forth not speaking a word: in this maner the Scholler was requited so well as he could of the deceites done against him, by the three Gentlewomen aforesaid.

THE FIFTYETH NOUELL.

_The piteous and chaste death of one of the muleters wiues of the Queene of Nauarre._

In the citie of Amboise, there was a muleter that serued the Queene of Nauarre, sister to king Fraunces the firste of that name, which was broughte a bedde of a sonne at Blois: to which towne the said muleter was gone to be paide his quarter's wages: whose wyfe dwelled at Amboise beyond the bridges. It chaunced that of long time one of her husband's seruauntes did so disordinately loue her, as vppon a certaine day he could not forbeare but he muste vtter the effect of his loue borne vnto her. Howbeit shee being a right honest woman, tooke her man's sute in very ill part, threatning to make her husband to beat him, and to put him away, and vsed him in suche wyse, that after that time he durst not speake thereof any more, ne yet to make signe or semblance: keeping yet that fier couered within his brest, vntill his Maister was ridden out of the towne, and that his Maistresse was at euensong at Saint Florentine's, a Church of the Castle, farre from her house: who now being alone in the house, began to imagine how he might attempt that thinge by force, which before by no supplication or seruice he was able to attaine. For which purpose, hee brake vp a borde betweene his Maistresse chamber and his: but because the curteins of his maister and maistresse bed, and of the seruauntes of the other side couered and hid the walles betweene, it could not be perceyued, nor yet his malice discried vntill suche time as his Maistresse was gone to bed, with a litle wenche of XII. yeares of age: and so sone as the poore woman was fallen into her first sleepe, this varlet entred in at a hole which he had broken, and conueyed himself into her bed in his shirt, with a naked sworde in his hande: who so sone as she felt him layed downe by her, lepte out of her bed, perswading him by all possible meanes meete for an honest woman to do: and he indued with beastly loue, rather acquainted with the language of his mulets than with her honest reasons, shewed himselfe more beastly then the beasts with whom he had of long time bin conuersant: for seing her so oft to runne about the table that he could not catch her, and also that she was so strong, that twise she ouercame him, in dispaire that he should neuer enioy her aliue, hee gaue her a great blow with his sword ouer the raines of the back, thinking that if feare and force could not make her to yeld, paine and smart should cause her. Howbeit, the contrarie chaunced: for like as a good man of armes when he seeth his owne bloud, is more set on fier to be reuenged vpon his enemies to acquire honor: euen so the chaste hart of this woman, did reenforce and fortefie her courage in double wise, to auoyde and escape the hands of this wicked varlet, deuising by all meanes possible by fayre words to make him acknowledge his fault: but he was so inflamed with furie, there was no place in him to receiue good counsell. And eftsones with his sword, he gashed her tender bodye with diuers and sondry strokes, for the auoydiug wherof, so fast as her legges could beare her, she ran vp and downe the chamber: and when through want of bloud she perceiued death approch, lifting vp her eyes vnto heaven, and ioyning her hands together, gaue thanckes vnto G.o.d, whom she termed to be her force, her vertue, her pacience and chast.i.tie, humblie beseeching him to take in good part the bloude whiche by his commandemente was sheade in honor of that precious bloude, which from his owne sonne did issue vppon the Crosse, whereby shee did beleeue, firmelye and stedfastlye that all her sinnes were wiped awaye and defaced from the memorye of his wrathe and anger, and in sayinge: "Lorde receiue my soule which was dearely bought and redeemed with thy bounty and goodnes:" shee fell downe to the ground vpon her face where the wycked villaine inflicted her bodye with manifold wounds: and after she had lost her speache and the force of her body, thys most wicked and abhominable varlet toke her by force, whiche had no more strength and power to defende herselfe: and when he had satisfied his cursed desire, he fled away in such hast, as afterwards for all the pursute made after him he could not be found. The yong wench which lay with her, for feare hid herselfe vnder the bed. But when she perceyued the villaine departed, shee came vnto her Maistresse and finding her speachlesse and without mouing, she cryed out at the window vnto the nexte neighbours to come to succour her: and they which loued her and esteemed her so wel as any woman in the towne, came presently vnto her, and brought diuers surgeons with them, who findinge vpon her body XXV.

mortall woundes, they did so much as in them laye to helpe her: but it was impossible. Howbeit shee laye one houre without speache, makinge signes with hir eyes and hands, declaring that she had not lost her vnderstanding: being demaunded by the priest, of the fayth wherin she died, and of her saluacion, she aunswered by such euident signes, as her liuely speach and communication coulde not haue declared it better, howe that her trust and confidence was in the death of Iesus Christ, whom she hoped to see in the Celestiall citie, and so with a ioyfull countenaunce, her eyes erected vp to the heauens, she rendred her chast body to the earth, and her soule to her Creator: and when shee was shrouded ready to the buriall, as her neighbours were attending to followe her to the Church, her poore husbande came home, and the first sight he sawe, was the body of his dead wife before his doore, wherof before that instant hee had no newes. And when he vnderstode the order of her death, he then doubled his sorrowe, in such wyse that he was also like to die.

In this sort was this marter of chast.i.tie buried in the church of S. Florentine, where all the honest dames and wiues of the citie endeuoured themselues to accompany her, and to honour her with suche reuerence as they were able to do: accomptinge themselues most happie to dwell in that towne, where a woman of such vertuous behauiour did dwell. The foolish and wanton seing the honour done to that deade bodye, determined from that time forth to renue their former life, and to chaunge the same into a better.

THE FIFTY-FIRST NOUELL.

_A king of Naples, abusing a Gentleman's wife, in the end did weare the hornes himselfe._

In the citie of Naples when king Alphonsus raigned, in whose time wantonnesse bare chiefest sway, there was a Gentleman so honest, beautifull and comely, as for his good conditions and wel knowen behauiour an old Gentleman gaue to him his daughter in mariage, which in beautie and good grace was pa.s.singly well beloued and comfortable to her husband. The Loue was great betwene them, till it chaunced vpon shrouetide that the king went a masking into the citie, where euery man endeuoured to intertaine him the best he could. And when he came to this Gentleman's house, he was best receyued of any place in all the towne, aswell for banqueting, as for musicall songes, and the Gentlewoman, the fayrest that the king sawe in all the citie to his contentacion. And vpon the end of the banket, she sang a song with her husbande, with a grace so good as it greatly augmented her beautie. The king seeing so many perfections in one body, conceyued not so great pleasure in the sweete accords of her husband and her, as he did howe to deuise to interrupt and breake them: and the difficultie for bringinge t