_A beautifull yong Virgin, named_ Andreana, _became enamored of a

yong Gentleman, called_ Gabriello. _In conference together, she

declared a dreame of hers to him, and he another of his to her;

whereupon_ Gabriello _fell downe sodainly dead in her armes. Shee,

and her Chamber-maide were apprehended, by the Officers belonging to

the Seigneury, as they were carrying_ Gabriello, _to lay him before

his owne doore. The Potestate offering violence to the Virgin, and

she resisting him vertuously: it came to the understanding of her

Father, who approved the innocence of his daughter, and compassed her

deliverance. But she afterward, being weary of all worldly felicities,

entred into Religion, and became a Nun._

The sixth Novell.

_Describing the admirable accidents of Fortune; and the mighty

prevailing power of Love._

The Novell which Madam _Philomena_ had so graciously related, was

highly pleasing unto the other Ladies; because they had oftentimes

heard the Song, without knowing who made it, or uppon what occasion

it was composed. But when the King saw that the Tale was ended: hee

commanded _Pamphilus_, that hee should follow in his due course:

whereupon he spake thus.

The dreame already recounted in the last Novell, doth minister matter

to me, to make report of another Tale, wherein mention is made of two

severall dreames; which divined as well what was to ensue, as the other

did what had hapned before. And no sooner were they finished in the

relation, by both the parties which had formerly dreampt them, but the

effects of both as sodainly followed.

Worthy Ladies, I am sure it is not unknowne to you, that it is, &

hath bene a generall passion, to all men and women living, to see

divers and sundry things while they are sleeping. And although (to

the sleeper) they seeme most certaine, so that when he awaketh, hee

judgeth the trueth of some, the likelyhood of others, and some beyond

all possibility of truth: yet notwithstanding, many dreames have bene

observed to happen, and very strangely have come to passe. And this

hath bene a grounded reason for some men, to give as great credit to

such things as they see sleeping, as they do to others usually waking.

So that, according unto their dreames, and as they make construction of

them, that are sadly distasted, or merrily pleased, even as (by them)

they either feare or hope. On the contrary, there are some, who will not

credit any dreame whatsoever, untill they be falne into the very same

danger which formerly they saw, and most evidently in their sleepe.

I meane not to commend either the one or other, because they do not

alwayes fall out to be true; neither are they at all times lyars.

Now, that they prove not all to be true, we can best testifie

to our selves. And that they are not alwayes lyars, hath already

sufficiently bene manifested, by the discourse of Madame _Philomena_,

and as you shall perceive by mine owne, which next commeth in order

to salute you. Wherefore, I am of this opinion, that in matters of

good life, and performing honest actions; no dreame is to be feared

presaging the contrary, neither are good works any way to be hindred

by them. Likewise, in matters of bad and wicked quality, although our

dreames may appeare favourable to us, and our visions flatter us with

prosperous successe: yet let us give no credence unto the best, nor

addicte our minds to them of contrary Nature. And now we will proceed

to our Novell.

In the Citie of _Brescia_, there lived sometime a Gentleman, named

_Messer Negro da Ponte Cararo_, who (among many other children)

had a daughter called _Andreana_, yong and beautifull, but as yet

unmarried. It fortuned, that shee fell in love with a neighbour, named

_Gabriello_, a comely yong Gentleman, of affable complexion, and

graciously conditioned. Which love was (with like kindnesse) welcommed

and entertained by him, and by the furtherance of her Chamber-maide, it

was so cunningly carried, that in the Garden belonging to _Andreanaes_

Father, she had many meetings with her _Gabriello_. And solemne vowes

being mutually passed betweene them, that nothing but death could alter

their affection: by such ceremonious words as are used in marriage,

they maried themselves secretly together, and continued their stolne

chaste pleasures, with equall contentment to them both.

It came to passe, that _Andreana_ sleeping in her bed, dreamed, that

she met with _Gabriello_ in the Garden, where they both embracing

lovingly together, she seemed to see a thing blacke and terrible, which

sodainely issued forth of his body, but the shape thereof she could

not comprehend. It rudely seized upon _Gabriello_, & in despight of

her utmost strength (with incredible force) snatched him out of her

armes, and sinking with him into the earth, they never after did see

one another; whereuppon, overcome with extremity of greefe and sorrow,

presently shee awaked, being then not a little joyfull, that she found

no such matter as shee feared, yet continued very doubtfull of her

dreame. In regard whereof, _Gabriello_ being desirous to visite her the

night following: she laboured very diligently to hinder his comming to

her; yet knowing his loyall affection toward her, and fearing least he

should grow suspitious of some other matter: she welcommed him into the

Garden, where gathering both white and Damaske Roses (according to the

nature of the season) at length, they sate downe by a goodly Fountaine,

which stoode in the middst of the Garden.

After some small familiar discourse passing betweene them, _Gabriello_

demanded of her upon what occasion shee denied his comming thither the

night before, and by such a sodaine unexpected admonition? _Andreana_

told him, that it was in regard of a troublesome dreame, wherewith hir

soule was perplexed the precedent night, and doubt what might ensue

thereon. _Gabriello_ hearing this, began to smile, affirming to her,

that it was an especiall note of folly, to give any credit to idle

dreames: because (oftentimes) they are caused by excesse of feeding,

and continually are observed to be meere lies. For (quoth hee) if I

had any superstitious beleefe of dreames, I should not then have come

hither nowe: yet not so much as being dismayed by your dreame, but

for another of mine owne, which I am the more willing to acquaint you

withall.

Me thought, I was in a goodly delightfull Forrest, in the Noble

exercise of sportfull hunting, and became there possessed of a yong

Hinde, the verie loveliest and most pleasing beast that was ever

seene. It seemed to be as white as snow, and grew (in a short while)

so familiar with mee, that by no meanes it would forsake me. I could

not but accept this rare kindnesse in the beast, and fearing least (by

some ill hap) I might loose it, I put a coller of Gold about the necke

thereof, and fastned it into a chain of Gold also, which then I held

strictly in my hand. The Hind afterward couched downe by mee, laying

his head mildely in my lap; and on a sudden, a blacke Grey-hound bitch

came rushing on us (but whence, or how I could not imagine) seeming

halfe hunger-starved, and very ugly to look upon. At me she made her

full carriere, without any power in me of resistance: and putting her

mouth into the lefte side of my bosome, griped it so mainly with her

teeth, that (me thought) I felt my heart quite bitten through, and she

tugged on still, to take it wholly away from me; by which imagined

paine and anguish I felt, instantly I awaked: Laying then my hand upon

my side, to know whether any such harme had befaln me, or no, and

finding none at all, I smiled at mine owne folly, in making such a

frivolous and idle search. What can be said then in these or the like

cases? Divers times I have had as ill seeming dreames, yea, and much

more to be feared: yet never any thing hurtfull to me followed thereon;

and therefore I have alwaies made the lesse account of them.

The yong Maiden, who was still dismayed by her owne dreame, became much

more afflicted in her minde, when shee had heard this other reported by

_Gabriello_: but yet to give him no occasion of distast, she bare it

out in the best manner she could devise to doe. And albeit they spent

the time in much pleasing discourse, maintained with infinite sweete

kisses on either side: yet was she still suspitious, but knew not

whereof; fixing her eies oftentimes upon his face, and throwing strange

lookes to all parts of the Garden, to catch hold on any such blacke

ugly sight, whereof he had formerly made description to her. As thus

she continued in these afflicting feares, it fortuned, that _Gabriello_

sodainly breathing forth a very vehement sighe, and throwing his armes

fast about her, said: O helpe me deare Love, or elsee I dye; and,

in speaking the words, fell downe uppon the ground. Which the yong

Damosell perceiving, and drawing him into her lappe, weeping saide:

Alas sweete Friend, What paine dost thou feele?

_Gabriello_ answered not one word, but being in an exceeding sweate,

without any ability of drawing breath, very soone after gave up the

ghost. How greevous this strange accident was to poore _Andreana_,

who loved him as deerely as her owne life: you that have felt loves

tormenting afflictions, can more easily conceive, then I relate.

Wringing her hands, & weeping incessantly, calling him, rubbing his

temples, and using all likely meanes to reduce life: she found all

her labour to be spent in vain, because he was starke dead indeed,

and every part of his body as cold as ice: whereupon, she was in such

wofull extremity, that she knew not what to do or say. All about the

Garden she went weeping, in infinite feares and distraction of soule,

calling for her Chamber-maid, the only secret friend to their stolne

meetings, and told her the occasion of this sudden sorrow. After they

had sighed and mourned awhile, over the dead body of _Gabriello,

Andreana_ in this manner spake to her maid.

Seeing Fortune hath thus bereft me of my Love, mine owne life must

needs be hatefull to me: but before I offer any violence to my selfe,

let us devise some convenient meanes, as may both preserve mine honour

from any touch or scandall, and conceale the secret love passing

betweene us: but yet in such honest sort, that this body (whose blessed

soule hath too soone forsaken it) may be honourably enterred. Whereto

her Mayde thus answered: Mistresse, never talke of doing any violence

to your self, because by such a blacke and dismall deed, as you have

lost his kind company here in this life, so shall you never more see

him in the other world: for immediately you sinke downe to hell,

which foule place cannot bee a receptacle for his faire soule, that

was endued with so many singular vertues. Wherefore, I holde it farre

better for you, to comfort your selfe by all good meanes, and with

the power of fervent prayer, to fight against all desperate intruding

passions, as a truly vertuous minde ought to doe. Now, as concerning

his enterrement, the meanes is readily prepared for you heere in this

Garden, where never he hath bene seene by any, or his resorting hither

knowne, but onely to our selves. If you will not consent to have it so,

let you and I convey his bodye hence, and leave it in such apt place,

where it may be found to morrow morning: and being then carried to his

owne house, his friends and kindred will give it honest buriall.

_Andreana_, although her soule was extraordinarily sorrowfull, & teares

flowed abundantly from her eyes; yet she listned attentively to hir

maids counsell; allowing her first advice against desperation, to be

truly good; but to the rest thus she replied. God forbid (quoth she)

that I shold suffer so deare a loving friend, as he hath alwayes shewed

himselfe to mee; nay, which is much more, my husband; by sacred and

solemn vowes passed betweene us, to be put into the ground basely, and

like a dog, or elsee to be left in the open streete. He hath had the

sacrifice of my virgin teares, and if I can prevaile, he shall have

some of his kindred, as I have instantly devised, what (in this hard

case) is best to be done. Forthwith she sent the maid to her Chamber,

for divers elles of white Damaske lying in her Chest, which when she

had brought, they spread it abroad on the grasse, even in the manner of

a winding sheete, and therein wrapped the bodie of _Gabriello_, with

a faire wrought pillow lying under his head, having first (with their

teares) closed his mouth and eyes, and placed a Chaplet of Flowers on

his head, covering the whole shrowd over in the same manner, which

being done, thus she spake to her maide.

The doore of his owne house is not farre hence, and thither (between

us two) he may be easily carried, even in this manner as we have

adorned him; where leaving him in his owne Porch, we may returne back

before it be day; and although it will be a sad sight to his friends;

yet, because he dyed in mine armes, and we being so well discharged

of the bodie, it will be a little comfort to me. When she had ended

these words, which were not uttered without infinite teares, the Maid

entreated her to make hast, because the night passed swiftly on. At

last, she remembred the Ring on her finger, wherewith _Gabriello_ had

solemnly espoused her, and opening the shroud againe, she put it on

his finger, saying, My deare and loving husband, if thy soule can see

my teares, or any understanding do remaine in thy body, being thus

untimely taken from me: receive the latest guifte thou gavest me, as a

pledge of our solemne and spotlesse marriage. So, making up the shroud

againe as it should be, and conveighing it closely out of the Garden,

they went on along with it, towardes his dwelling house.

As thus they passed along, it fortuned, that they were met and taken

by the Guard or Watch belonging to the Potestate, who had bin so

late abroad, about very earnest and important businesse. _Andreana_,

desiring more the dead mans company, then theirs whom she had thus

met withall, boldly spake thus to them. I know who and what you are,

and can tel my selfe, that to offer flight will nothing availe me:

wherefore, I am ready to go along with you before the Seigneurie, and

there will tel the truth concerning this accident. But let not any man

among you, be so bold as to lay hand on me, or to touch me, because

I yeeld so obediently to you: neither to take any thing from this

body, except he intend that I shal accuse him. In which respect, not

any one daring to displease her, shee went with the dead bodye to the

Seigneurie, there to answere all Objections.

When notice heereof was given to the Potestate, he arose; and shee

being brought foorth into the Hall before him, he questioned with

her, how and by what meanes this accident happened. Beside, he sent

for divers Physitians, to be informed by them, whether the Gentleman

were poysoned, or otherwise murthered: but al of them affirmed the

contrary, avouching rather, that some impostumation had engendred neere

his heart, which sodainly breaking, occasioned his as sodaine death.

The Potestate hearing this, and perceiving that _Andreana_ was little

or nothing at all faulty in the matter: her beauty and good carriage,

kindled a villanous and lustfull desire in him towards her, provoking

him to the immodest motion, that upon granting his request, he would

release her. But when he saw, that all his perswasions were to no

purpose, hee sought to compasse his will by violence; which, like a

vertuous and valiant _Virago_, shee worthily withstood, defending her

honour Nobly, and reprooving him with many injurious speeches, such as

a lustfull Letcher justlie deserved.

On the morrow morning, these newes being brought to her Father, _Messer

Negro da Ponte Cararo_; greeving thereat exceedingly, and accompanied

with many of his friends, he went to the Palace. Being there arrived,

and informed of the matter by the Potestate: hee demaunded (in teares)

of his daughter, how, and by what meanes shee was brought thither? The

Potestate would needs accuse her first, of outrage and wrong offered to

him by her, rather then to tarry her accusing of him: yet, commending

the yong Maiden, and her constancie, proceeded to say, that onely to

prove her, he had made such a motion to her, but finding her so firmly

vertuous, his love and liking was now so addicted to her, that if hir

Father were so pleased, to forget the remembrance of her former secret

husband, he willingly would accept her in marriage.

While thus they continued talking, _Andreana_ comming before her

Father, the teares trickling mainly downe her cheekes, and falling at

his feete, she began in this manner. Deare Father, I shall not neede

to make an historicall relation, either of my youthfull boldnesse or

misfortunes, because you have both seene and knowne them: rather most

humblie, I crave your pardon, for another error by me committed, in

that, both without your leave and liking, I accepted the man as my

troth-plighted husband, whom (above all other in the world) I most

intirely affected. If my offence heerein do challenge the forfeite of

my life, then (good Father) I free you from any such pardon: because my

onely desire is to die your daughter, and in your gracious favour; with

which words, in signe of her humility, she kissed his feete. _Messer

Negro da Ponte_, being a man well stept into yeares, and of a milde

and gentle nature, observing what his daughter had saide: could not

refraine from teares, and in his weeping, lovingly tooke her from the

ground, speaking thus to her.

Daughter, I could have wished, that thou hadst taken such an husband,

as (in my judgement) had bene best fitting for thee, and yet if thou

didst make election of one, answerable to thine owne good opinion &

liking: I have no just reason to be therewith offended. My greatest

cause of complaint, is, thy too severe concealing it from me, and the

slender trust thou didst repose in me, because thou hast lost him,

before I knew him. Neverthelesse, seeing these occasions are thus

come to passe, and accidents alreadie ended, cannot by any meanes be

re-called: it is my will, that as I would gladly have contented thee,

by making him my Sonne in Law, if he had lived; so I will expresse

the like love to him now he is dead. And so turning himself to his

kindred and friends, lovingly requested of them, that they would grace

_Gabriello_ with most honourable obsequies.

By this time, the kindred and friends to the dead man (uppon noise of

his death bruited abroad) were likewise come to the Pallace, yea, most

of the men and women dwelling in the City, the bodie of _Gabriello_

beeing laide in the midst of the Court, upon the white Damaske shrowde

given by _Andreana_, with infinite Roses and other sweet Flowers

lying thereon: and such was the peoples love to him, that never was

any mans death, more to be bemoaned and lamented. Being delivered

out of the Court, it was carried to buriall, not like a Burgesse or

ordinary Citizen, but with such pompe as beseemed a Lord Baron, and on

the shoulders of very noble Gentlemen, with very especiall honour and

reverence.

Within some few dayes after, the Potestate pursuing his former motion

of marriage, and the Father moving it to his daughter; she wold not

by any meanes listen thereto. And he being desirous to give her

contentment, delivered her and her Chamber-maid into a Religious Abbey,

very famous for devotion and sanctity, where afterwardes they ended

their lives.

_Faire_ Simonida _affecting_ Pasquino, _and walking with him in a

pleasant garden, it fortuned, that_ Pasquino _rubbed his teeth with

a leafe of Sage, and immediately fell downe dead._ Simonida _being

brought before the bench of Justice, and charged with the death of_

Pasquino: _she rubbed her teeth likewise with one of the leaves of the

same Sage, as declaring what shee saw him do: and thereon she dyed also

in the same manner._

The seaventh Novell.

_Whereby is given to understand, that Love & Death do use their power

equally alike, as well upon poore and meane persons, as on them that

are rich and Noble._

_Pamphilus_ having ended his Tale, the King declaring an outward shew

of compassion, in regard of _Andreanaes_ disastrous Fortune: fixed

his eye on Madam _Emillia_, and gave her such an apparant signe, as

expressed his pleasure, for her next succeeding in discourse; which

being sufficient for her understanding, thus she began: Faire assembly,

the Novel so lately delivered by _Pamphilus_, maketh me willing to

report another to you, varying from it, in any kinde of resemblance;

onely this excepted: that as _Andreana_, lost her lover in a Garden,

even so did shee of whome I am now to speake. And being brought before

the seate of Justice, according as _Andreana_ was, freed her selfe from

the power of the Law; yet neither by force, or her owne vertue, but by

her sodaine and inopinate death. And although the nature of Love is

such (according as wee have oftentimes heeretofore maintained) to make

his abiding in the houses of the Noblest persons; yet men and women of

poore and farre inferiour quality, do not alwayes sit out of his reach,

though enclosed in their meanest Cottages; declaring himselfe sometimes

as powerfull a commaunder in those humble places, as he doth in the

richest and most imperious Palaces. As will plainly appeare unto you,

either in all, or a great part of my Novell, whereto our Citie pleadeth

some title; though, by the diversity of our discourses, talking of so

many severall accidents; we have wandred into many other parts of the

world, to make all answerable to our owne liking.

It is not any long time since, when there lived in our City of

_Florence_, a young and beautifull Damosell, yet according to the

nature of hir condition; because she was the Daughter of a poore

Father, and called by the name of _Simonida_. Now, albeit shee was

not supplied by any better meanes, then to maintaine her selfe by her

owne painfull travell, & earne her bread before shee could eate it, by

carding and spinning to such as employed her; yet was she not of so

base or dejected a spirit, but had both courage and sufficient vertue,

to understand the secret solicitings of love, and to distinguish

the parts of well deserving, both by private behaviour and outward

ceremony. As naturall instinct was her first tutor thereto, so wanted

she not a second maine and urging motion; a chip hewed out of the

like Timber, one no better in birth then her selfe, a proper young

springall, named _Pasquino_, whose generous behaviour, and gracefull

actions (in bringing her daily wooll to spin, by reason his master was

a Clothier) prevailed upon her liking and affection.

Nor was he negligent in the observation of her amorous regards, but the

Tinder tooke, and his soule flamed with the selfe-same fire; making him

as desirous of her loving acceptance, as possibly she could bee of his:

so that the commanding power of love, could not easily be distinguished

in which of them it had the greater predominance. For, everie day as

he brought her fresh supply of woolles, and found her seriously busied

at hir wheele: her soule would vent forth many deepe sighes, and those

sighes fetch floods of teares from her eyes, thorough the singular good

opinion she had conceyved of him, and earnest desire to enjoy him.

_Pasquino_ on the other side, as leysure gave him leave for the least

conversing with her: his disease was every way answerable to her, for

teares stood in his eyes, sighes flew abroad, to ease the poore hearts

afflicting oppressions, which though he was unable to conceale; yet

would hee seeme to clowd them cleanly, by entreating her that his

masters worke might be neatly performed, and with such speed as time

would permit her, intermixing infinite praises of her artificiall

spinning; and affirming withall, that the Quilles of Yearne received

from her, were the choisest beauty of the whole peece; so that when

other worke-women played, _Simonida_ was sure to want no employment.

Heereupon, the one soliciting, and the other taking delight in beeing

solicited; it came to passe, that often accesse bred the bolder

courage, & over-much bashfulnesse became abandoned, yet no immodestie

passing betweene them: but affection grew the better setled in them

both, by interchangeable vowes of constant perseverance, so that death

onely, but no disaster elsee had power to divide them. Their mutuall

delight continuing on in this manner, with more forcible encreasing

of their Loves equall flame; it fortuned, that _Pasquino_ sitting by

_Simonida_, tolde her of a goodly Garden, whereto hee was desirous

to bring her, to the end, that they might the more safely converse

together, without the suspition of envious eyes. _Simonida_ gave answer

of her well-liking the motion, and acquainting her Father therewith, he

gave her leave, on the Sunday following after dinner, to go serch the

pardon of S. _Gallo_, and afterwards to visit the Garden.

A modest yong maiden named _Lagina_, following the same profession,

and being an intimate familiar friend, _Simonida_ tooke along in her

company, and came to the Garden appointed by _Pasquino_; where shee

found him readily expecting her comming, and another friend also with

him, called _Puccino_ (albeit more usually tearmed _Strambo_) a secret

well-willer to _Lagina_, whose love became the more furthered by this

friendly meeting. Each Lover delighting in his hearts chosen Mistresse,

caused them to walke alone by themselves, as the spaciousnesse of the

Garden gave them ample liberty: _Puccino_ with his _Lagina_ in one

part, & _Pasquino_ with his _Simonida_ in another. The walke which they

had made choise of, was by a long and goodly bed of Sage, turning and

returning by the same bed as their conference ministred occasion, and

as they pleased to recreate themselves; affecting rather to continue

still there, then in any part of the Garden.

One while they would sit downe by the Sage bed, and afterward rise

to walke againe, as ease or wearinesse seemed to invite them. At

length, _Pasquino_ chanced to crop a leafe of the Sage, wherewith

he both rubbed his teeth and gummes, and champing it betweene them

also, saying; that there was no better thing in the world to cleanse

the teeth withall, after feeding. Not long had he thus champed the

Sage in his teeth, returning to his former kinde of discoursing, but

his countenance began to change very pale, his sight failed, and

speech forsooke him; so that (in briefe) he fell downe dead. Which

when _Simonida_ beheld, wringing her hands, she cryed out for helpe

to _Strambo_ and _Lagina_, who immediately came running to her. They

finding _Pasquino_ not onely to be dead, but his bodie swolne; and

strangely over-spred with foule black spots, both on his face, handes,

and all parts elsee beside: _Strambo_ cried out, saying; Ah wicked

maide, what hast thou poisoned him?

These words and their shrill out-cries also, were heard by Neighbours

dwelling neere to the Garden, who comming in sodainly uppon them, and

seeing _Pasquino_ lying dead, and hugely swoln, _Strambo_ likewise

complaining, and accusing _Simonida_ to have poysoned him; shee making

no answer, but standing in a gastly amazement, all her senses meerely

confounded, at such a strange and uncouth accident, in loosing him

whome she so dearely loved: knew not how to excuse her selfe, and

therefore every one verily beleeved, that _Strambo_ had not unjustly

accused her. Poore woful maide, thus was shee instantly apprehended,

and drowned in her teares, they led her along to the Potestates Palace,

where her accusation was justified by _Strambo, Lagina,_ and two men

more; the one named _Atticciato_, and the other _Malagevole_, fellowes

and companions with _Pasquino_, who came into the Garden also upon the

out-cry.

The Judge, without any delay at all, gave eare to the busines, and

examined the case very strictly: but could by no meanes comprehend,

that any malice should appeare in her towards him, nor that she was

guiltie of the mans death. Wherefore, in the presence of _Simonida_,

hee desired to see the dead body, and the place where he fell downe

dead, because there he intended to have her relate, how she saw the

accident to happen, that her owne speeches might the sooner condemne

her, whereas the case yet remained doubtfull, and farre beyond his

comprehension. So, without any further publication, and to avoid the

following of the turbulent multitude: they departed from the bench of

Justice, and came to the place, where _Pasquinoes_ body lay swolne like

a Tunne. Demanding there questions, concerning his behaviour, when they

walked there in conference together, and, not a little admiring the

manner of his death, while hee stood advisedly considering thereon.

She going to the bed of Sage, reporting the whole precedent history,

even from the original to the ending: the better to make the case

understood, without the least colour of ill carriage towardes

_Pasquino_; according as she had seene him do, even so did she plucke

another leafe of the Sage, rubbing her teeth therewith, and champing

it as he formerly did. _Strambo_, and the other intimate friends of

_Pasquino_, having noted in what manner she used the Sage, and this

appearing as her utmost refuge, either to acquit or condemne her:

in presence of the Judge they smiled thereat, mocking and deriding

whatsoever shee saide, or did, and desiring (the more earnestly) the

sentence of death against her, that her body might be consumed with

fire, as a just punishment for her abhominable transgression.

Poore _Simonida_, sighing and sorrowing for her deere loves losse, and

(perhappes) not meanly terrified, with the strict infliction of torment

so severely urged and followed by _Strambo_ and the rest: standing

dumb still, without answering so much as one word; by tasting of the

same Sage, fell downe dead by the bed, even by the like accident as

_Pasquino_ formerly did, to the admirable astonishment of all there

present.

Oh poore infortunate Lovers, whose Starres were so inauspicious to

you, as to finish both your mortall lives, and fervent love, in lesse

limitation then a dayes space. How to censure of your deaths, and

happines to ensue thereon, by an accident so straunge and inevitable:

it is not within the compasse of my power, but to hope the best, and

so I leave you. But yet concerning _Simonida_ her selfe, in the common

opinion of us that remaine living: her true vertue and innocency

(though Fortune was other wise most cruell to her) would not suffer

her to sinke under the testimony of _Strambo, Lagina, Atticciato_

and _Malagevole_, being but carders of wool, or perhaps of meaner

condition; a happier course was ordained for her, to passe clearly from

their infamous imputation, and follow her _Pasquino_, in the verie same

manner of death, and with such a speedie expedition.

The Judge standing amazed, and all there present in his companie, were

silent for a long while together: but, uppon better re-collection of

his spirits, thus he spake. This inconvenience which thus hath hapned,

and confounded our senses with no common admiration; in mine opinion

concerneth the bed of Sage, avouching it either to bee venomous, or

dangerously infected; which (neverthelesse) is seldom found in Sage.

But to the end, that it may not be offensive to any more heereafter, I

will have it wholly digd up by the rootes, and then to bee burnt in the

open Market place.

Hereupon, the Gardiner was presently sent for, and before the Judge

would depart thence, he saw the bed of Sage digged up by the roots,

and found the true occasion, whereby these two poore Lovers lost their

lives. For, just in the middest of the bed, and at the maine roote,

which directed all the Sage in growth; lay an huge mighty Toad, even

weltring (as it were) in a hole full of poyson; by meanes whereof, in

conjecture of the Judge, and all the rest, the whole bed of Sage became

envenomed, occasioning every leafe thereof to be deadly in taste. None

being so hardie, as to approach neere the Toade, they made a pile

of wood directly over it, and setting it on a flaming fire, threw

all the Sage thereinto, and so they were consumed together. So ended

all further suite in Lawe, concerning the deaths of _Pasquino_ and

_Simonida_: whose bodies being carried to the Church of Saint _Paul_,

by their sad and sorrowfull accusers, _Strambo, Lagina, Atticciato_

and _Malagevole_, were buried together in one goodlie Monument, for a

future memory of their hard Fortune.

Jeronimo _affecting a yong Maiden, named_ Silvestra: _was constrained

(by the earnest importunity of his Mother) to take a journey to_ Paris.

_At his return home from thence againe, hee found his love_ Silvestra

_married. By secret meanes, he got entrance into her house, and dyed

upon the bed lying by her. Afterward, his body being carried to Church,

to receive buriall, she likewise died there instantly upon his coarse._

The eight Novell.

_Wherein is againe declared, the great indiscretion and folly of them,

that think to constraine love, according to their will, after it is

constantly setled before: With other instructions, concerning the

unspeakeable power of Love._

Madam _Emillia_ had no sooner concluded her Novell, but Madame

_Neiphila_ (by the Kings command) began to speake in this manner. It

seemeth to mee (Gracious Ladies) that there are some such people to

be found, who imagine themselves to know more, then all other elsee in

the world beside, and yet indeede doe know nothing at all: presuming

(thorough this arrogant opinion of theirs) to imploy and oppose their

senselesse understanding, against infallible grounded reason, yea, and

to attempt courses, not only contrary to the counsell and judgment of

men, but also to crosse the nature of divine ordination. Out of which

fancy & ambitious presumption, many mighty harmes have already had

beginning, and more are like to ensue uppon such boldnesse, because it

is the ground of all evils.

Now, in regard that among all other naturall things, no one is lesse

subject to take counsell, or can bee wrought to contrariety, then

Love, whose nature is such, as rather to run upon his owne rash

consumption, then to be ruled by admonitions of the very wisest: my

memory hath inspired itself, with matter incident to this purpose,

effectually to approve, what I have already said. For I am now to

speake of a woman, who would appeare to have more wit, then either

she had indeed, or appertained to her by any title. The matter also,

wherein she would needs shew hir studious judgement and capacity, was

of much more consequence then she could deserve to meddle withall. Yet

such was the issue of her fond presuming; that (in one instant) she

expelled both love, and the soule of her owne sonne out of his body,

where (doubtlesse) it was planted by divine favour and appointment.

In our owne City (according to true & ancient testimony) there dwelt

sometime a very worthy and wealthy Merchant, named _Leonardo Sighiero_,

who by his wife had one onely Sonne, called _Jeronimo_, and within a

short while after his birth, _Leonardo_ being very sicke, and having

setled al his affaires in good order; departed out of this wretched

life to a better. The Tutors and Governours of the Childe, thought

it fittest to let him live with his Mother, where he had his whole

education, though schooled among many other worthy neighbours children,

according as in most Cities they use to do. Yong _Jeronimo_ growing on

in yeares, and frequenting dayly the company of his Schoole-fellowes

and others: hee would often sport (as the rest did) with the neighbours

children, and much prety pastime they found together.

In the harmlesse recreations of youth, graver judgements have often

observed, that some especiall matter received then such original,

as greater effect hath followed thereon. And many times, parents

and kindred have bene the occasion (although perhaps beyond their

expectation) of very strange and extraordinary accidents, by names of

familiarity passing betweene Boyes and Girles, as King and Queene,

sweet heart and sweet heart, friend and friend, husband and wife, and

divers other such like kind tearmes, prooving afterwards to be true

indeede. It fell out so with our yong _Jeronimo_; for, among a number

of pretty Damoselse, daughters to men of especiall respect, and others

of farre inferiour qualitie: a Taylors daughter, excelling the rest

in favour and feature (albeit her Father was but poore) _Jeronimo_

most delighted to sport withall; and no other titles passed betweene

them, even in the hearing of their parents and friendes, but wife and

husband: such was the beginning of their young affection, presaging (no

doubt) effectually to follow.

Nor grew this familiarity (as yet) any way distasted, till by their

dayly conversing together, and enterchange of infinite pretty speeches:

_Jeronimo_ felt a strange alteration in his soule, with such enforcing

and powerfull afflictions; as he was never well but in her company, nor

she enjoyed any rest if _Jeronimo_ were absent. At the length, this

being noted by his Mother, she beganne to rebuke him, yea, many times

gave him both threatnings and blowes, which proving to no purpose, nor

hindering his accesse to her; she complained to his Tutors, and like

one that in regard of her riches, thought to plant an Orange upon a

blacke thorne, spake as followeth.

This Sonne of mine _Jeronimo_, being as yet but fourteene years of age,

is so deeply enamored of a yong Girle, named _Silvestra_, daughter unto

a poore Tailor, our neere dwelling neighbour: that if we do not send

him out of her company, one day (perhaps) he may make her his wife,

and yet without any knowledge of ours, which questionlesse would be my

death. Otherwise, he may pine and consume himselfe away, if he see us

procure her marriage to some other. Wherefore, I hold it good, that

to avoid so great an inconvenience, we shold send _Jeronimo_ some far

distance hence, to remaine where some of our Factors are employed:

because, when he shall be out of her sight, and their often meetings

utterly disappointed; his affection to her will the sooner ceasse, by

frustrating his hope for ever enjoying her, and so we shall have the

better meanes, to match him with one of greater quality. The Tutors

did like well of her advice, not doubting but it would take answerable

effect: and therefore, calling _Jeronimo_ into a private Parlour, one of

them began in this manner.

_Jeronimo_, you are now growne to an indifferent stature, and (almost)

able to take government of your selfe. It cannot then seeme any way

inconvenient, to acquaint you with your deceased Fathers affaires, and

by what good courses he came to such wealth. You are his onely sonne

and heire, to whom hee hath bequeathed his rich possessions (your

Mothers moity evermore remembred) and travaile would now seeme fitting

for you, as well to gaine experience in Traffick and Merchandize, as

also to let you see the worlds occurrences. Your Mother therefore (and

we) have thought it expedient, that you should journey from hence to

_Paris_, there to continue for some such fitting time, as may grant

you full and free opportunity, to survey what stocke of wealth is

there employed for you, and to make you understand, how your Factors

are furtherous to your affayres. Beside, this is the way to make you

a man of more solid apprehension, & perfect instruction in civill

courses of life; rather then by continuing here to see none but Lords,

Barons, and Gentlemen, whereof wee have too great a number. When you

are sufficiently qualified there, and have learned what belongeth to a

worthy Marchant, such as was _Leonardo Sighiero_ your famous Father;

you may returne home againe at your owne pleasure.

The youth gave them attentive hearing, and (in few words) returned

them answer: That he would not give way to any such travaile, because

hee knew how to dispose of himselfe in _Florence_, as well as in any

other place he should be sent too. Which when his Tutors heard, they

reproved him with many severe speeches: and seeing they could win no

other answer from him, they made returne thereof to his Mother. Shee

storming extreamly thereat, yet not so much for denying the journey

to _Paris_, as in regard of his violent affection to the Maide; gave

him very bitter and harsh language. All which availing nothing, she

began to speake in a more milde and gentle straine, entreating him

with flattering and affable words, to be governed in this case by

his Tutors good advise. And so farre (in the end) she prevailed with

him, that he yeelded to live at _Paris_ for the space of a yeare; but

further time he would not graunt, and so all was ended.

_Jeronimo_ being gone to remain at _Paris_, his love daily increasing

more and more, by reason of his absence from _Silvestra_, under faire

and friendly promises, of this moneth and the next moneth sending

for him home; there they detained him two whole yeares together.

Whereuppon, his love was growne to such an extremity, that he neither

would, or could abide any longer there, but home hee returned, before

hee was expected. His love _Silvestra_, by the cunning compacting of

his Mother and Tutors, he found married to a Tent-makers Sonne; whereat

hee vexed and greeved beyond all measure. Neverthelesse, seeing the

case was now no way to bee holpen; hee strove to beare it with so much

patience, as so great a wrong, and his hearts tormenting greefe, would

give him leave to doe.

Having found out the place where she dwelt, hee began (as it is the

custome of yong Lovers) to use divers daily walkes by her door: as

thinking in his minde, that her remembrance of him was constantly

continued, as his was most intirely fixed on her. But the case was

verie strangely altred, because she was now growne no more mindfull

of him, then if she had never seene him before. Or if she did any

way remember him, it appeared to be so little, that manifest signes

declared the contrary. Which _Jeronimo_ very quickely perceived,

albeit not without many melanchollie perturbations. Notwithstanding,

he laboured by all possible meanes, to recover her former kindnesse

againe: but finding all his paines frivouslie employed; he resolved to

dye, and yet to compasse some speech with her before.

By meanes of a neere dwelling neighbour (that was his verie deare &

intimate friend) he came acquainted with every part of the house, &

prevailed so far, that one evening, when she and her husband supt at

a neighbours house; he compassed accesse into the same bed chamber,

where _Silvestra_ used most to lodge. Finding the Curtaines ready

drawne, he hid himselfe behinde them on the further side of the bed,

and so tarried there untill _Silvestra_ and her husband were returned

home, and laide downe in bedde to take their rest. The husbands sences

were soone overcome with sleepe, by reason of his painefull toyling

all the day, and bodies that are exercised with much labour, are the

more desirous to have ease. She staying up last, to put out the light,

and hearing her husband sleepe so soundly, that his snoring gave good

evidence thereof: layed her selfe down the more respectively, as being

very loath any way to disease him, but sweetly to let him enjoy his

rest.

_Silvestra_ lay on the same side of the bed, where _Jeronimo_ had hid

himselfe behinde the Curtaines; who stepping softly to her in the

darke, and laying his hand gently on her brest, saide: Deare Love,

forbeare a little while to sleepe, for heere is thy loyall friend

_Jeronimo_. The yong woman starting with amazement, would have cried

out, but that hee entreated her to the contrary; protesting, that he

came for no ill intent to her, but onely to take his latest leave of

her. Alas _Jeronimo_ (quoth she) those idle dayes are past and gone,

when it was no way unseemly for our youth, to entertaine equality of

those desires, which then well agreed with our young blood. Since when,

you have lived in forraine Countries, which appeared to me to alter

your former disposition: for, in the space of two whole yeares, either

you grew forgetfull of me (as change of ayre, may change affection)

or (at the best) made such account of mee, as I never heard the

least salutation from you. Now you know me to be a married wife, in

regard whereof, my thoughts have embraced that chaste and honourable

resolution, not to minde any man but my husband; and therefore, as

you are come hither without my love or license, so in like manner I

do desire you to be gone. Let this priviledge of my Husbandes sound

sleeping, be no colour to your longer continuing heere, or encourage

you to finde any further favour at mine hand: for if mine husband shold

awake, beside the danger that thereon may follow to you, I cannot but

loose the sweet happinesse of peacefull life, which hitherto we have

both mutually embraced.

The yong man, hearing these wordes, and remembring what loving

kindnesse he had formerly found, what secret love Letters hee had sent

from _Paris_, with other private intelligences and tokens, which never

came to her receite and knowledge, so cunningly his Mother and Tutors

had carried the matter: immediately he felt his heart strings to break;

and lying downe upon the beds side by her, uttered these his very

last words. _Silvestra_ farewell, thou hast kilde the kindest heart

that ever loved a woman: and speaking no more, gave up the ghost. She

hearing these words delivered with an entire sighe, and deepe-fetcht

groane: did not imagine the strange consequence following thereon;

yet was mooved to much compassion, in regard of her former affection

to him. Silent shee lay an indifferent while, as being unable to

returne him any answer; and looking when he would be gone, according

as before she had earnestly entreated him. But when she perceyved him

to lye so still, as neither word or motion came from him, she saide:

Kinde _Jeronimo_, why doest thou not depart and get thee gone? So

putting forth her hand, it hapned to light upon his face, which she

felt to be as cold as yce: whereat marvelling not a little, as also

at his continued silence: shee jogged him, and felt his hands in like

manner, which were stiffely extended forth, and all his body cold,

as not having any life remaining in him, which greatly amazing her,

and confounding her with sorrow beyond all measure, shee was in such

perplexity, that the could not devise what to do or say.

In the end, she resolved to try how her husband would take it, that so

strange an accident should thus happen in his house, and putting the

case as if it did not concerne them, but any other of the neighbours;

awaking him first, demaunded of him what was best to bee done, if a man

should steale into a neighbours house, unknowne to him, or any of his

family; & in his bed chamber to be found dead. He presently replyed

(as not thinking the case concerned himselfe) that, the onely helpe in

such an unexpected extremity, was, to take the dead body, and convey

it to his owne house, if he had any; whereby no scandall or reproach

would followe to them, in whose house he had so unfortunately dyed.

Heereupon, shee immediately arose, and lighting a candle, shewed him

the dead bodie of _Jeronimo_, with protestation of every particular,

both of her innocencie, either of knowledge of his comming thither,

or any other blame that could concerne her. Which hee both constantly

knowing and beleeving, made no more ceremonie, but putting on his

Garments, tooke the dead bodie upon his shoulders, and carried it to

the Mothers doore, where he left it, and afterward returned to his owne

house againe.

When day light was come, and the dead body found lying in the Porch,

it moved very much greefe and amazement, considering, he had bin seene

the day before, in perfect health to outward appearance. Nor neede we

to urge any question of his Mothers sorrow upon this straunge accident,

who, causing his body to bee carefully searched, without any blow,

bruise, wound, or hurt uppon it, the Physitians could not give any

other opinion, but that some inward conceyte of greefe had caused his

death, as it did indeed, and no way otherwise. To the cheefe Church

was the dead body carried, to be generally seene of all the people,

his mother and friends weeping heavily by it, as many more did the

like beside, because he was beloved of every one. In which time of

universall mourning, the honest man (in whose house he dyed) spake

thus to his wife: disguise thyselfe in some decent manner, and go to

the Church, where (as I heare) they have laide the body of _Jeronimo_.

Crowde in amongest the Women, as I will doe the like amongst the men,

to heare what opinion passeth of his death, and whether wee shall bee

scandalized thereby, or no.

_Silvestra_, who was now become full of pitty too late, quickely

condiscended, as desiring to see him dead, whom sometime she dearly

affected in life. And being come to the Church, it is a matter to bee

admired, if advisedly we consider on the powerfull working of love; for

the heart of this woman, which the prosperous fortune of _Jeronimo_

could not pierce, now in his wofull death did split in sunder; and the

ancient sparks of love so long concealed in the embers, brake foorth

into a furious flame; and being violently surprized with extraordinary

compassion, no sooner did she come neere to the dead body, where many

stoode weeping round about it; but strangely shrieking out aloud, she

fell downe upon it: & even as extremity of greefe finished his life, so

did it hers in the same manner. For she moved neither hand not foot,

because her vitall powers had quite forsaken her. The women labouring

to comfort her by al the best means they could devise; did not take any

knowledge of her, by reason of her disguised garments: but finding her

dead indeede, and knowing her also to be _Silvestra_, being overcome

with unspeakable compassion, & danted with no meane admiration, they

stood strangely gazing each upon other.

Wonderfull crowds of people were then in the Church; and this accident

being now noysed among the men, at length it came to her Husbands

understanding, whose greefe was so great, as it exceeded all capacitie

of expression. Afterward, he declared what had hapned in his house the

precedent night, according as his wife had truly related to him, with

all the speeches, which past between _Silvestra_ and _Jeronimo_; by

which discourse, they generally conceived, the certaine occasion of

both their sodaine deaths, which moved them to great compassion. Then

taking the yong womans body, and ordering it as a coarse ought to bee:

they layed it on the same Biere by the yong man, and when they had

sufficiently sorrowed for their disastrous fortunes, they gave them

honourable buriall both in one grave. So, this poore couple, whome love

(in life) could not joyne together, death did unite in an inseparable

conjunction.

_Messer_ Guiglielmo _of_ Rossiglione _having slaine Messer_ Guiglielmo

Guardastagno, _whom hee imagined to love his wife, gave her his heart

to eate. Which she knowing afterward, threw her selfe out of an high

window to the ground; and being dead, was then buried with her friend._

The ninth Novell.

_Whereby appeareth, what ill successe attendeth on them, that love

contrarie to reason: in offering injurie both to friendship and

marriage together._

When the Novell of Madam _Neiphila_ was ended, which occasioned much

compassion in the whole assembly; the King who wold not infringe the

priviledge graunted to _Dioneus_, no more remaining to speake but

they two, began thus. I call to minde (gentle Ladies) a Novell, which

(seeing we are so farre entred into the lamentable accidents of

successelesse love) will urge you unto as much commisseration, as that

so lately reported to you. And so much the rather; because the persons

of whom we are to speake, were of respective quality; which approveth

the accident to bee more cruell, then those whereof wee have formerly

discoursed.

According as the people of _Provence_ do report, there dwelt sometime

in that jurisdiction, two noble Knights, each well possessed of Castles

& followers; the one beeing named _Messer Guiglielmo de Rossiglione_,

and the other _Messer Guiglielmo Guardastagno_. Now, in regard that

they were both valiant Gentlemen, and singularly expert in actions of

Armes; they loved together the more mutually, and held it as a kinde

of custom, to be seene in all Tiltes and Tournaments, or any other

exercises of Armes, going commonly alike in their wearing garments.

And although their Castles stood about five miles distant each from

other, yet were they dayly conversant together, as very loving and

intimate friends. The one of them, I meane _Messer Guiglielmo de

Rossiglione_, had to wife a very gallant beautifull Lady, of whom

_Messer Guardastagno_ (forgetting the lawes of respect and loyall

friendshippe) became over-fondly enamoured, expressing the same by such

outward meanes, that the Lady her selfe tooke knowledge thereof, and

not with any dislike, as it seemed, but rather lovingly entertained;

yet she grew not so forgetfull of her honour and estimation, as the

other did of faith to his friend.

With such indiscretion was this idle love carried, that whether it

sorted to effect, or no, I know not: but the husband perceived some

such manner of behaviour, as hee could not easily digest, nor thought

it fitting to endure. Whereuppon, the league of friendly amity so long

continued, began to faile in very strange fashion, and became converted

into deadly hatred: which yet hee very cunningly concealed, bearing

an outwarde shew of constant friendshippe still, but (in his heart)

hee had vowed the death of _Guardastagno_. Nothing wanted, but by

what meanes it might best be effected, which fell out to bee in this

manner. A publicke Just or Tourney, was proclaimed by sound of Trumpet

throughout all France, wherewith immediately, _Messer Guiglielmo

Rossiglione_ acquainted _Messer Guardastagno_, entreating him that

they might further conferre thereon together, and for that purpose to

come and visit him, if he intended to have any hand in the businesse.

_Guardastagno_ being exceeding gladde of this accident, which gave him

liberty to see his Mistresse; sent answer backe by the messenger, that

on the morrow at night, he would come and sup with _Rossiglione_; who

upon this reply, projected to himselfe in what manner to kill him.

On the morrow, after dinner, arming himselfe, and two more of his

servants with him, such as he had solemnly sworne to secrecy, hee

mounted on horseback, and rode on about a mile from his owne Castle,

where he lay closely ambushed in a Wood, through which _Guardastagno_

must needs passe. After he had stayed there some two houres space and

more, he espyed him come riding with two of his attendants, all of

them being unarmed, as no way distrusting any such intended treason.

So soone as he was come to the place, where he had resolved to do the

deed; hee rushed forth of the ambush, and having a sharpe Lance readily

charged in his rest, ran mainly at him, saying: False villain, thou art

dead. _Guardastagno_, having nothing wherewith to defend himselfe, nor

his servants able to give him any succour; being pierced quite through

the body with the Lance, downe hee fell dead to the ground, and his men

(fearing the like misfortune to befall them) gallopped mainely backe

againe to their Lords Castle, not knowing them who had thus murthered

their Master, by reason of their armed disguises, which in those

martiall times were usually worne.

_Messer Guiglielmo Rossiglione_, alighting from his horse, and having

a keene knife ready drawne in his hand; opened therewith the brest of

dead _Guardastagno_, and taking foorth his heart with his owne hands,

wrapped it in the Banderole belonging to his Lance, commanding one of

his men to the charge thereof, and never to disclose the deed. So,

mounting on horse-backe againe, and darke night drawing on apace,

he returned home to his Castle. The Lady, who had heard before of

_Guardastagnoes_ intent, to suppe there that night, and (perhaps) being

earnestly desirous to see him; mervailing at his so long tarrying,

saide to her husband. Beleeve me Sir (quoth she) me thinkes it is

somewhat strange, that _Messer Guiglielmo Guardastagno_ delayes his

comming so long, he never used to do so til now. I received tidings

from him wife (said he) that he cannot be heere till to morrow. Whereat

the Lady appearing to bee displeased, concealed it to her selfe, and

used no more words.

_Rossiglione_ leaving his Lady, went into the Kitchin, where calling

for the Cooke, he delivered him the heart, saying: Take this heart of

a wilde Boare, which it was my good happe to kill this day, and dresse

it in the daintiest manner thou canst devise to doe; which being so

done, when I am set at the Table, send it to me in a silver dish,

with sauce beseeming so dainty a morsell. The Cooke tooke the heart,

beleeving it to be no otherwise, then as his Lord had saide: and using

his utmost skill in dressing it, did divide it into artificiall small

slices, and made it most pleasing to be tasted. When supper time was

come, _Rossiglione_ sate downe at the table with his Lady: but hee had

little or no appetite at all to eate, the wicked deed which he had done

so perplexed his soule, and made him to sit very strangely musing. At

length, the Cook brought in the dainty dish, which he himselfe setting

before his wife, began to finde fault with his own lack of stomack, yet

provoked her with many faire speeches, to tast the Cooks cunning in so

rare a dish.

The Lady having a good appetite indeede, when she had first tasted it,

fed afterward so heartily thereon, that shee left very little, or none

at all remaining. When he perceyved that all was eaten, he said unto

her: Tel me Madam, how you do like this delicate kinde of meat? In good

faith Sir (quoth she) in all my life I was never better pleased. Now

trust mee Madam, answered the Knight, I doe verily beleeve you, nor

do I greatly wonder thereat, if you like that dead, which you loved

so dearly being alive. When she heard these words, a long while she

sate silent, but afterward saide. I pray you tell mee Sir, what meate

was this which you have made me to eate? Muse no longer (said he) for

therein I will quickly resolve thee. Thou hast eaten the heart of

_Messer Guiglielmo Guardastagno_, whose love was so deare and precious

to thee, thou false, perfidious, and disloyall Lady: I pluckt it out of

his vile body with mine owne hands, and made my Cooke to dresse it for

thy diet.

Poor Lady, how strangely was her soule afflicted, hearing these harsh

and unpleasing speeches? Teares flowed aboundantly from her faire eies,

and like tempestuous windes embowelled in the earth, so did vehement

sighes breake mainly from her heart, and after a tedious time of

silence, she spake in this manner. My Lord and husband, you have done

a most disloyall and damnable deede, misguided by your owne wicked

jealous opinion, and not by any just cause given you, to murther so

worthie and Noble a Gentleman. I protest unto you uppon my soule, which

I wish to bee confounded in eternall perdition, if ever I were unchaste

to your bedde, or allowed him any other favour, but what might well

become so honourable a friend. And seeing my bodie hath bene made the

receptacle for so precious a kinde of foode, as the heart of so valiant

and courteous a Knight, such as was the Noble _Guardastagno_; never

shall any other foode heereafter, have entertainment there, or my selfe

live the Wife to so bloody a husband.

So starting uppe from the Table, and stepping unto a great gazing

Windowe, the Casement whereof standing wide open behinde her: violently

shee leaped out thereat, which beeing an huge heighth in distance from

the ground, the fall did not onely kill her, but also shivered her

bodie into many peeces. Which _Rossiglione_ perceyving, hee stoode like

a bodie without a soule, confounded with the killing of so deare a

friend, losse of a chaste and honourable wife, and all through his owne

over-credulous conceit.

Uppon further conference with his private thoughtes, and remorsefull

acknowledgement of his heinous offence, which repentance (too late)

gave him eyes now to see, though rashnesse before would not permit him

to consider; these two extreamities inlarged his dulled understanding.

First, he grew fearfull of the friends and followers to murdered

_Guardastagno_, as also the whole Countrey of _Provence_, in regarde of

the peoples generall love unto him; which being two maine and important

motives, both to the detestation of so horrid an acte, and immediate

severe revenge to succeed thereon: hee made such provision as best hee

could, and as so sodaine a warning would give leave, hee fled away

secretly in the night season.

These unpleasing newes were soone spread abroad the next morning, not

only of the unfortunate accidents, but also of _Rossigliones_ flight;

in regard whereof, the dead bodyes being found, and brought together, as

well by the people belonging to _Guardastagno_, as them that attended

on the Lady: they were layed in the Chappell of _Rossigliones_ Castell;

where, after so much lamentation for so great a misfortune to befall

them, they were honourably enterred in one faire Tombe, with excellent

Verses engraven thereon, expressing both their noble degree, and by

what unhappy meanes, they chanced to have buriall there.

_A Physitians wife laide a Lover of her Maids (supposing him to bee

dead) in a Chest, by reason that he had drunke water, which usually was

given to procure a sleepy entrancing. Two Lombard Usurers, stealing

the Chest, in hope of a rich booty, carried it into their owne house,

where afterward the man awaking, was apprehended for a Theefe. The

Chamber-maide to the Physitians wife, going before the bench of

Justice, accuseth her selfe for putting the imagined dead body into the

Chest, by which meanes he escapeth hanging. And the theeves which stole

away the Chest, were condemned to pay a great summe of money._

The tenth Novell.

_Wherein is declared, that sometime by adventurous accident, rather

then anie reasonable comprehension, a man may escape out of manifold

perilles, but especially in occurrences of Love._

After that the King had concluded his Novell, there remained none now

but _Dioneus_ to tell the last; which himselfe confessing, and the

King commaunding him to proceede, he beganne in this manner. So many

miseries of unfortunate Love, as all of you have alreadie related,

hath not onely swolne your eyes with weeping, but also made sicke our

hearts with sighing: yea (Gracious Ladies) I my selfe finde my spirits

not meanly afflicted thereby. Wherefore the whole day hath bene very

irkesome to me, and I am not a little glad, that it is so neere ending.

Now, for the better shutting it up altogether, I would be very loath to

make an addition, of any more such sad and mournfull matter, good for

nothing but onely to feede melancholly humour, and from which (I hope)

my faire Starres will defend me. Tragical discourse, thou art no fit

companion for me, I will therefore report a Novell which may minister a

more joviall kinde of argument, unto those tales that must bee told to

morrow, and with the expiration of our present Kings reigne, to rid us

of all heart-greeving heereafter.

Know then (most gracious assembly) that it is not many yeares since,

when there lived in _Salerne_, a verie famous Physitian, named Signieur

_Mazzeo della Montagna_, who being already well entred into years,

would (neverthelesse) marrie with a beautifull young Mayden of the

Cittie, bestowing rich garments, gaudie attyres, Ringes, and Jewelles

on her, such as few Women elsee could any way equall, because hee

loved her most deerely. Yet being an aged man, and never remembering,

how vaine and idle a thing it is, for age to make such an unfitting

Election, injurious to both; and therefore endangering that domesticke

agreement, which ought to bee the sole and maine comfort of Marriage:

it maketh mee therefore to misdoubt, that as in our former Tale of

Signiour _Ricciardo de Cinzica_, some dayes of the Calender did heere

seeme as distastefull, as those that occasioned the other Womans

discontentment. In such unequall choyses, Parents commonly are more

blame-woorthie, then any imputation, to bee layde on the young Women,

who gladdely would enjoy such as in heart they have elected: but

that their Parents, looking thorough the glasses of greedie lucre,

doe overthrow both their owne hopes, and the faire fortunes of their

children together.

Yet to speake uprightly of this young married Wife, she declared her

selfe to be of a wise and chearefull spirit, not discoraged with her

inequalitie of marriage: but bearing all with a contented browe, for

feare of urging the very least mislike in her Husband. And hee, on the

other side, when occasions did not call him to visite his pacients, or

to be present at the Colledge among his fellow-Doctours, would alwayes

bee chearing and comforting his Wife, as one that could hardly affoord

to bee out of her company. There is one especiall fatall misfortune,

which commonly awaiteth on olde mens marriages; when freezing December

will match with flouring May, and greene desires appeare in age, beyond

all possibility of performance. Nor are there wanting good store of

wanton Gallants, who hating to see Beauty in this manner betrayed,

and to the embraces of a loathed bed, will make their folly seene in

publike appearance, and by their dayly proffers of amorous services

(seeming compassionate of the womans disaster) are usually the cause of

jealous suspitions, & very heinous houshold discontentments.

Among divers other, that faine would bee nibling at this bayte of

beautie, there was one, named _Ruggiero de Jeroly_, of honourable

parentage, but yet of such a deboshed and disordered life, as neither

Kindred or Friends, were willing to take any knowledge of him, but

utterly gave him over to his dissolute courses: so that, thoroughout

all _Salerne_, his conditions caused his generall contempt, and hee

accounted no better, but even as a theeving and lewde companion.

The Doctours Wife, had a Chamber-maide attending on her; who,

notwithstanding all the ugly deformities in _Ruggiero_, regarding more

his person then his imperfections (because hee was a compleate and

well-featured youth) bestowed her affection most entirely on him, and

oftentimes did supplie his wants, with her owne best meanes.

_Ruggiero_ having this benefite of the Maides kinde love to him, made

it an hopefull mounting Ladder, whereby to derive some good liking from

the Mistresse, presuming rather on his outward comely parts, then anie

other honest quality that might commend him. The Mistresse knowing what

choyse her Maide had made, and unable by any perswasions to remoove

her, tooke knowledge of _Ruggieroes_ privat resorting to hir house,

and in meere love to her Maide (who had very many especiall deservings

in her) oftentimes she would (in kinde manner) rebuke him, and advise

him to a more setled course of life; which counsell, that it might

take the better effect; she graced with liberall gifts: one while with

Gold, others with Silver, and often with garments, for his comelier

accesse thether: which bounty, he (like a lewde mistaker) interpreted

as assurances of her affection to him, and that he was more graceful in

her eye, then any man elsee could be.

In the continuance of these proceedings, it came to passe, that

master Doctor _Mazzeo_ (being not onely a most expert Physitian, but

likewise as skilfull in Chirurgerie beside) hadde a Pacient in cure,

who by great misfortune, had one of his legges broken all in pieces;

which some weaker judgement having formerly dealt withall, the bones

and sinewes were become so fowly putrified, as he tolde the parties

friends, that the legge must bee quite cut off, or elsee the Pacient

must needes dye: yet he intended so to order the matter, that the

perrill should proceede no further, to prejudice any other part of

the bodie. The case beeing thus resolved on with the Pacient and

his Friends, the day and time was appointed when the deede should

be done: and the Doctor conceyving, that except the Patient were

sleepily entranced, hee could not by anie meanes endure the paine,

but must needes hinder what he meant to do: by distillation hee made

such an artificiall Water, as (after the Pacient hath receyved it) it

will procure a kinde of dead sleepe, and endure so long a space, as

necessity requireth the use thereof, in full performance of the worke.

After he had made this sleepy water, he put it into a glasse, wherewith

it was filled (almost) up to the brimme; and till the time came when

hee should use it; hee set it in his owne Chamber-Windowe, never

acquainting any one, to what purpose he had provided the water, nor

what was his reason of setting it there; when it drew towards the

evening, and he was returned home from his pacients, a Messenger

brought him Letters from _Malfy_, concerning a great conflict hapning

there between two Noble Families, wherein divers were very dangerously

wounded on either side, and without his speedy repairing thither, it

would prove to the losse of many lives. Heereupon, the cure of the mans

leg must needs bee prolonged, untill he was returned backe againe, in

regard that manie of the wounded persons were his worthy friends, and

liberall bountie was there to be expected, which made him presently go

aboord a small Barke, and forthwith set away towards _Malfy_.

This absence of Master Doctor _Mazzeo_, gave opportunity to adventurous

_Ruggiero_, to visite his house (he being gone) in hope to get more

Crownes, and courtesie from the Mistresse, under formall colour of

courting the Maide. And being closely admitted into the house, when

divers Neighbours were in conference with her Mistresse, and helde

her with such pleasing Discourse, as required longer time then was

expected: the Maide, had no other roome to conceale _Ruggiero_ in, but

onely the bed chamber of her Master, where she lockt him in; because

none of the houshold people should descry him, and stayed attending

on her Mistris, till all the Guests tooke their leave, and were gone.

_Ruggiero_ thus remayning alone in the Chamber, for the space of three

long houres and more, was visited neither by Maide nor Mistris, but

awaited when he should bee set at liberty.

Now, whether feeding on salt meats before his coming thither, or

customary use of drinking, which maketh men unable any long while to

abstain, as being never satisfied with excesse; which of these two

extreams they were, I know not: but drink needs hee must. And, having

no other meanes for quenching his thirst, espied the glasse of water

standing in the Window, and thinking it to be some soveraigne kinde

of water, reserved by the Doctor for his owne drinking, to make him

lusty in his old years, he tooke the glasse; and finding the Water

pleasing to his pallate, dranke it off every drop; then sitting downe

on a Coffer by the beds side, soone after hee fell into a sound sleepe,

according to the powerfull working of the water.

No sooner were all the Neighbours gone, and the Maide at libertie from

her Mistresse, but unlocking the doore, into the chamber she went; and

finding _Ruggiero_ sitting fast asleepe, she began to hunch and punche

him, entreating him (softly) to awake: but all was to no purpose, for

hee neither mooved, or answered one word, whereat her patience being

some what provoked, she punched him more rudely, and angerly said: Awake

for shame thou drowsie dullard, and if thou be so desirous of sleeping,

get thee home to thine owne lodging, because thou art not allowed to

sleep heere. _Ruggiero_ being thus rudely punched, fell from off the

Coffer flat on the ground, appearing no other in all respects, then

as if hee were a dead body. Whereat the Maide being fearfully amazed,

plucking him by the nose and yong beard, and what elsee she could

devise to do, yet all her labour proving still in vaine: she was almost

beside her wits, stamping and raving all about the roome, as if sence

and reason had forsaken her; so violent was her extreame distraction.

Upon the hearing of this noise, her Mistris came sodainely into

the Chamber, where being affrighted at so strange an accident, and

suspecting that _Ruggiero_ was dead indeed: she pinched him strongly,

and burnt his fingers with a candle, yet all was as fruitlesse as

before. Then sitting downe, she began to consider advisedly with her

selfe, how much her honour and reputation would be endangered heereby,

both with her Husband, and in vulgar opinion when this should come

to publique notice. For (quoth she to her Maide) it is not thy fond

love to this unruly fellow that can sway the censure of the monster

multitude, in beleeving his accesse hither onely to thee: but my good

name, and honest repute, as yet untoucht with the very least taxation,

will be rackt on the tenter of infamous judgement, and (though never so

cleare) branded with generall condemnation. It is wisedome therefore,

that we should make no noise but (in silence) consider with our selves,

how to cleare the house of this dead body, by some such helpfull and

witty device, as when it shall bee found in the morning, his being

heere may passe without suspition, and the worlds rash opinion no way

touch us.

Weeping and lamenting is now laid aside, and all hope in them of his

lives restoring: onely to rid his body out of the house, that now

requires their care and cunning, whereupon the Maide thus beganne.

Mistresse (quoth she) this evening, although it was very late, at our

next Neighbours doore (who you know is a Joyner by his trade) I saw

a great Chest stand; and, as it seemeth, for a publike sale, because

two or three nightes together, it hath not bene thence remooved: and

if the owner have not lockt it, all invention elsee cannot furnish us

with the like help. For therein will we lay his body, whereon I will

bestow two or three wounds with my Knife, and leaving him so, our house

can be no more suspected concerning his being heere, then any other in

the streete beside; nay rather farre lesse, in regard of your husbands

credit and authority. Moreover, heereof I am certaine, that he being of

such bad and disordered qualities: it will the more likely be imagined,

that he was slaine by some of his own loose companions, being with them

about some pilfering busines, and afterward hid his body in the chest,

it standing so fitly for the purpose, and darke night also favouring

the deed.

The Maids counsell past under the seale of allowance, only her Mistris

thought it not convenient, that (having affected him so deerely)

shee should mangle his body with any wounds; but rather to let it be

gathered by more likely-hood, that villaines had strangled him, and

then conveied his body into the Chest. Away she sends the Maide, to

see whether the Chest stood there still, or no; as indeede it did, and

unlockt, whereof they were not a little joyfull. By the helpe of her

Mistresse, the Maide tooke _Ruggiero_ upon her shoulders, and bringing

him to the doore, with diligent respect that no one could discover

them; in the Chest they laide him, and so there left him, closing downe

the lidde according as they found it.

In the same street, and not farre from the Joyner, dwelt two yong men

who were Lombards, living uppon the interest of their moneyes, coveting

to get much, and spend little. They having observed where the chest

stood, and wanting a necessary mooveable to houshold, yet loath to lay

out mony for buying it: complotted together this very night, to steale

it thence, and carry it home to their house, as accordingly they did;

finding it somewhat heavy, and therefore imagining, that matter of

woorth was contained therein. In the chamber where their wives lay,

they left it; and so without any further search till the next morning,

they laid them down to rest likewise.

_Ruggiero_, who had now slept a long while, the drinke being digested,

& the vertue thereof fully consummated; began to awake before day. And

although his naturall sleep was broken, and his sences had recoverd

their former power, yet notwithstanding, there remained such an

astonishment in his braine, as not onely did afflict him all the day

following, but also divers dayes and nights afterward. Having his

eies wide open, & yet not discerning any thing, he stretched forth

his armes every where about him, and finding himselfe to be enclosed

in the chest, he grew more broad awake, and said to himselfe. What is

this? Where am I? Do I wake or sleepe? Full well I remember, that not

long since I was in my sweet-hearts Chamber, and now (me thinkes) I

am mewed up in a chest. What shold I thinke heereof? Is master Doctor

returned home, or hath some other inconvenience hapned, whereby finding

me asleepe, she was enforced to hide me thus? Surely it is so, and

otherwise it cannot bee: wherefore, it is best for mee to lye still,

and listen when I can heare any talking in the Chamber.

Continuing thus a longer while then otherwise hee would have done,

because his lying in the bare Chest was somewhat uneasie and painfull

to him; turning divers times on the one side, and then as often again

on the other, coveting still for ease, yet could not find any: at

length, he thrust his backe so strongly against the Chests side, that

(it standing on an un-even ground) it began to totter, and after fell

downe. In which fall, it made so loud a noise, as the women (lying

in the beds standing by) awaked, and were so overcome with feare,

that they had not the power to speake one word. _Ruggiero_ also being

affrighted with the Chests fall, and perceiving how by that meanes

it was become open: he thought it better, least some other sinister

fortune should befall him, to be at open liberty, then inclosed up so

strictly. And because he knew not where he was, as also hoping to meet

with his Mistresse; he went all about groping in the dark, to finde

either some staires or doore, whereby to get forth.

When the Women (being then awake) heard his trampling, as also his

justling against the doores and Windowes; they demaunded, Who was

there? _Ruggiero_, not knowing their voyces, made them no answer,

wherefore they called to their husbands, who lay verie soundly sleeping

by them, by reason of their so late walking abroad, and therefore

heard not this noise in the house. This made the Women much more

timorous, and therefore rising out of their beddes, they opened the

Casements towards the streete, crying out aloude, Theeves, Theeves.

The neighbours arose upon this outcry, running up and downe from place

to place, some engirting the house, and others entering into it: by

means of which troublesome noise, the two Lombards awaked, and seizing

there uppon poore _Ruggiero_, (who was well-neere affrighted out of

his wittes, at so strange an accident, and his owne ignorance, how he

happened thither, and how to escape from them) he stood gazing on them

without any answer.

By this time, the Sergeants and other Officers of the City, ordinarily

attending on the Magistrate, beeing raised by the tumult of this

uproare, were come into the house, and had poore _Ruggiero_ committed

unto their charge: who bringing him before the Governor, was forthwith

called in question, and known to be of a most wicked life, a shame to

al his friends and kindred. He could say little for himselfe, never

denying his taking in the house, and therefore desiring to finish all

his fortunes together, desperately confessed, that he came with a

fellonious intent to rob them, and the Governor gave him sentence to be

hanged.

Soone were the newes spread throughout _Salerne_, that _Ruggiero_ was

apprehended, about robbing the house of the two usuring Lombardes:

which when Mistresse Doctor and her Chamber-maide heard, they were

confounded with most straunge admiration, and scarsely credited

what they themselves had done the night before, but rather imagined

all matters past, to be no more then meerely a dreame, concerning

_Ruggieroes_ dying in the house, and their putting him into the Chest,

so that by no likely or possible meanes, hee could bee the man in this

perillous extreamitie.

In a short while after, Master Doctor _Mazzeo_ was returned from

_Malfy_, to proceede in his cure of the poore mans legge; and calling

for his glasse of Water, which he left standing in his owne Chamber

window, it was found quite empty, and not a drop in it: whereat hee

raged so extreamly, as never had the like impatience beene noted in

him. His wife, and her Maide, who had another kinde of businesse in

their braine, about a dead man so strangely come to life againe, knewe

not well what to say; but at the last, his Wife thus replyed somewhat

angerly. Sir (quoth she) what a coyle is heere about a paltry glasse

of Water, which perhaps hath bene spilt, yet neyther of us faulty

therein? Is there no more such water to be had in the world? Alas deere

Wife (saide hee) you might repute it to be a common kinde of Water,

but indeede it was not so; for I did purposely compound it, onely to

procure a dead-seeming sleepe: And so related the whole matter at

large, of the Pacients legge, and his Waters losse.

When she had heard these words of her husband, presently she

conceived, that the water was drunke off by _Ruggiero_, which had so

sleepily entranced his sences, as they verily thought him to bee dead,

wherefore she saide. Beleeve me Sir, you never acquainted us with any

such matter, which would have procured more carefull respect of it: but

seeing it is gone, your skill extendeth to make more, for now there is

no other remedy. While thus Master Doctor and his Wife were conferring

together, the Maide went speedily into the Citie, to understand truly,

whither the condemned man was _Ruggiero_, and what would now become of

him. Beeing returned home againe, and alone with her Mistresse in the

Chamber, thus she spake. Now trust me Mistresse, not one in the Citie

speaketh well of _Ruggiero_, who is the man condemned to dye; and,

for ought I can perceive, he hath neither Kinsman nor Friend that will

doe any thing for him; but he is left with the Provost, and must be

executed to morrow morning. Moreover Mistresse, by such instructions as

I have received, I can well-neere informe you, by what meanes hee came

to the two Lombards house, if all be true that I have heard.

You know the Joyner before whose doore the Chest stoode, wherein we

did put _Ruggiero_; there is now a contention betweene him and another

man, to whom (it seemeth) the Chest doth belong; in regard whereof, they

are readie to quarrell extremly each with other. For the one owning

the Chest, and trusting the Joyner to sell it for him, would have

him to pay him for the Chest. The Joyner denieth any sale thereof,

avouching, that the last night it was stolne from his doore. Which the

other man contrarying, maintaineth that he solde the Chest to the two

Lombard usurers, as himself is able to affirme, because he found it in

the house, when he (being present at the apprehension of _Ruggiero_)

sawe it there in the same house. Heereupon, the Joyner gave him the

lye, because he never sold it to any man; but if it were there, they

had robd him of it, as hee would make it manifest to their faces.

Then falling into calmer speeches they went together to the Lombardes

house, even as I returned home. Wherefore Mistresse, as you may easily

perceive, _Ruggiero_ was (questionlesse) carried thither in the chest,

and so there found; but how he revived againe, I cannot comprehend.

The Mistresse understanding now apparantly, the full effect of the

whole businesse, and in what manner it had bene carried, revealed to

the maide her husbands speeches, concerning the glasse of sleepie

Water, which was the onely engine of all this trouble, clearly

acquitting _Ruggiero_ of the robbery, howsoever (in desperate fury, and

to make an end of a life so contemptible) he had wrongfully accused

himselfe. And notwithstanding this his hard fortune, which hath made

him much more infamous then before, in all the dissolute behaviour of

his life: yet it coulde not quaile her affection towards him; but being

loath he should dye for some other mans offence, and hoping his future

reformation; she fell on her knees before her mistresse, and (drowned

in her teares) most earnestly entreated her, to advise her with some

such happy course, as might bee the safety of poore _Ruggieroes_

life. Mistresse Doctor, affecting her maide dearely, and plainly

perceiving, that no disastrous fortune whatsoever, could alter her love

to condemned _Ruggiero_; hoping the best heereafter, as the Maide her

selfe did, and willing to save life rather then suffer it to be lost

without just cause, she directed her in such discreet manner, as you

will better conceyve by the successe.

According as she was instructed by hir Mistris, shee fell at the

feete of Master Doctor, desiring him to pardon a great error, whereby

shee had over-much offended him. As how? said Master Doctor. In this

manner (quoth the Maid) and thus proceeded. You are not ignorant

Sir, what a leud liver _Ruggiero de Jeroly_ is, and notwithstanding

all his imperfections, how dearely I love him, as hee protesteth the

like to me, and thus hath our love continued a yeare, and more. You

beeing gone to _Malfy_, and your absence granting me apt opportunity,

for conference with so kinde a friend; I made the bolder, and gave

him entrance into your house, yea even into mine owne Chamber, yet

free from any abuse, neyther did hee (bad though he be) offer any.

Thirsty he was before his coming thether, either by salt meats, or

distempered diet, and I being unable to fetch him wine or water, by

reason my Mistresse sate in the Hall, seriouslie talking with her

Sisters; remembred, that I saw a viall of Water standing in your

Chamber Windowe, which hee drinking quite off, I set it emptie in the

place againe. I have heard your discontentment for the said Water,

and confesse my fault to you therein: but who liveth so justly,

without offending at one time or other? And I am heartily sorry for

my transgression; yet not so much for the water, as the hard fortune

that hath followd thereon; because thereby _Ruggiero_ is in danger

to lose his life, and all my hopes are utterly lost. Let me entreat

you therefore (gentle Master) first to pardon me, and then to grant

me permission, to succour my poore condemned friend, by all the best

meanes I can devise.

When the Doctor had heard all her discourse, angry though he were, yet

thus he answered with a smile. Much better had it bin, if thy follies

punishment had falne on thy selfe, that it might have paide thee with

deserved repentance, upon thy Mistresses finding thee sleeping. But

go and get his deliverance if thou canst, with this caution, that if

ever heereafter he be seene in my house, the peril thereof shall light

on thy selfe. Receyving this answer, for her first entrance into the

attempt, and as her Mistris had advised her, in all hast shee went to

the prison, where shee prevailed so well with the Jaylor, that hee

granted her private conference with _Ruggiero_. She having instructed

him what he should say to the Provost, if he had any purpose to escape

with life; went thither before him to the Provost, who admitting her

into his presence, and knowing that shee was Master Doctors maid, a man

especially respected of all the Citie, he was the more willing to heare

her message, he imagining that shee was sent by her Master.

Sir (quoth shee) you have apprehended _Ruggiero de Jeroly_, as a

theefe, and judgement of death is (as I heare) pronounced against

him: but hee is wrongfully accused, and is clearly innocent of such a

heinous detection. So entering into the History, she declared every

circumstance, from the originall to the end: relating truly, that being

her Lover, shee brought him into her Masters house, where he dranke the

compounded sleepy water, and reputed for dead, she laide him in the

Chest. Afterward, she rehearsed the speeches betweene the Joyner, and

him that laide claime to the Chest, giving him to understand thereby,

how _Ruggiero_ was taken in the Lombards house.

The Provost presently gathering, that the truth in this case was easy

to be knowne; sent first for Master Doctor _Mazzeo_, to know, whether

hee compounded any such water, or no: which he affirmed to bee true,

and upon what occasion he prepared it. Then the Joyner, the owner of

the Chest, and the two Lombards, being severally questioned withall:

it appeared evidently, that the Lombards did steale the chest in the

night season, and carried it home to their owne house. In the end,

_Ruggiero_ being brought from the prison, and demanded, where hee was

lodged the night before, made answer, that he knew not where. Only he

well remembred, that bearing affection to the Chamber-maide of Master

Doctor _Mazzeo della Montagna_, she brought him into a Chamber, where

a violl of water stoode in the Window, and he being extreamly thirsty,

dranke it off all. But what became of him afterward (till being awake,

hee found himselfe enclosed in a Chest, and in the house of the two

Lombards) he could not say any thing.

When the Provost had heard all their answers, which he caused them to

repeate over divers times, in regard they were very pleasing to him:

he cleared _Ruggiero_ from the crime imposed on him, and condemned the

Lombards in three hundred Ducates, to bee given to _Ruggiero_ in way

of an amends, and to enable his marriage with the Doctors Mayde, whose

constancie was much commended, and wrought such a miracle on penitent

_Ruggiero_; that, after his marriage, which was graced with great and

honourable pompe, he regained the intimate love of all his kindred,

and lived in most Noble condition, even as if he had never beene the

disordered man.

If the former Novelse had made all the Ladies sad and sighe, this last

of _Dioneus_ as much delighted them, as restoring them to their former

jocond humour, and banishing Tragicall discourse for ever. The King

perceyving that the Sun was neere setting, and his government as neere

ending, with many kinde and courteous speeches, excused himselfe to

the Ladies, for being the motive of such an argument, as expressed

the infelicity of poore Lovers. And having finished his excuse, up he

arose, taking the Crowne of Lawrell from off his owne head, the Ladies

awaiting on whose head he pleased next to set it, which proved to be

the gracious Lady _Fiammetta_, and thus hee spake. Heere I place this

Crowne on her head, that knoweth better then any other, how to comfort

this fayre assembly to morrow, for the sorrow which they have this day

endured.

Madame _Fiammetta_, whose lockes of haire were curled, long, and

like golden wiers, hanging somewhat downe over her white & delicate

shoulders, her visage round, wherein the Damaske Rose and Lilly

contended for priority, the eyes in her head, resembling those of the

Faulcon messenger, and a dainty mouth; her lippes looking like two

little Rubyes with a commendable smile thus she replyed.

_Philostratus_, gladly I do accept your gift; and to the end that ye

may the better remember your selfe, concerning what you have done

hitherto: I will and commaund, that generall preparation bee made

against to morrow, for faire and happy fortunes hapning to Lovers,

after former cruell and unkinde accidents. Which proposition was very

pleasing to them all.

Then calling for the Master of the Housholde, and taking order with

him, what was most needfull to be done; shee gave leave unto the

whole company (who were all risen) to go recreate themselves until

supper time. Some of them walked about the Garden, the beauty whereof

banished the least thought of wearinesse. Others walked by the River

to the Mill, which was not farre off, and the rest fel to exercises,

fitting their own fancies, untill they heard the summons for Supper.

Hard by the goodly Fountaine (according to their wonted manner) they

supped altogether, and were served to their no mean contentment: but

being risen from the Table, they fell to their delight of singing and

dancing. While _Philomena_ led the dance, the Queene spake in this

manner.

_Philostratus_, I intend not to varie from those courses heeretofore

observed by my predecessors, but even as they have already done, so

it is my authority, to command a Song. And because I am well assured,

that you are not unfurnished of Songs answerable to the quality of

the passed Novelse: my desire is, in regard we would not be troubled

heereafter, with any more discourses of unfortunate Love, that you

shall sing a Song agreeing with your owne disposition. _Philostratus_

made answer, that he was readie to accomplish her command, and without

all further ceremony, thus he began.

_The Song._

Chorus. _My teares do plainly prove,

How justly that poore heart hath cause to greeve,

Which (under trust) findes Treason in his love.

When first I saw her, that now makes me sigh,

Distrust did never enter in my thoughts.

So many vertues clearly shin'd in her,

That I esteem'd all martyrdome was light

Which Love could lay on me. Nor did I greeve,

Although I found my liberty was lost.

But now mine error I do plainly see:

Not without sorrow, thus betray'd to bee.

My teares do, &c.

For, being left by basest treachery

Of her in whom I most reposed trust:

I then could see apparant flatterie

In all the fairest shewes that she did make.

But when I strove to get forth of the snare,

I found myselfe the further plunged in.

For I beheld another in my place,

And I cast off, with manifest disgrace.

My teares do, &c.

Then felt my heart such helse of heavy woes,

Not utterable. I curst the day and houre

When first I saw her lovely countenance,

Enricht with beautie, farre beyond all other,

Which set my soule on fire, enflamde each part,

Making a martyrdome of my poore hart.

My faith and hope being basely thus betrayde;

I durst not moove, to speake I was affrayde.

My teares do, &c.

Thou canst (thou powerfull God of Love) perceive,

My ceasselesse sorrow, voide of any comfort,

I make my moane to thee, and do not fable,

Desiring, that to end my misery,

Death may come speedily, and with his Dart

With one fierce stroke, quite passing through my hart:

To cut off future fell contending strife,

An happy end be made of Love and Life.

My teares do, &c.

No other meanes of comfort doth remaine,

To ease me of such sharpe afflictions,

But only death. Grant then that I may die,

To finish greefe and life in one blest houre.

For, being bereft of any future joyes,

Come, take me quickly from so false a friend.

Yet in my death, let thy great power approve,

That I died true, and constant in my Love.

My teares, &c.

Happy shall I account this sighing Song,

If some (beside my selfe) doe learne to sing it,

And so consider of my miseries,

As may incite them to lament my wrongs.

And to be warned by my wretched fate;

Least (like my selfe) themselves do sigh too late.

Learne Lovers learne, what tis to be unjust,

And be betrayed where you repose best trust._