_Tancredi Prince of Salerne, caused his daughter’s louer to be slayne,
and sente his harte vnto her in a cup of golde: whiche afterwardes she
put into poysoned water, and drinking thereof died._
Tancredi Prince of Salerne, (an vniuersitie in the region of Italie) was
a curteous Lorde, and of gentle nature: had he not in his age imbrued
his handes with the bloud of his owne doughter. It chaunced that this
Prince in al his life time, had but that doughter: but more happie had
he ben if she had neuer ben borne. That doughter he loued so well, as a
father might loue his childe: and for the tender loue he bare her, he
was not able to suffer her to be out of his sight. And could not finde
in his harte to marie her, although she had many yeres passed the time
that she was mariageable: notwithstanding, in thende he gaue her to wife
to one of the sonnes of the Duke of Capua, with whom she continued no
long time, but was a widowe, and then retourned vnto her fathers house
againe. This Ladie was very faire and comely of bodie and face, as any
creature could be, yonge, lustie, and more wise peraduenture then a
woman ought to be. And thus dwelling with her louing father, she liued
like a noble Ladie, in great pleasure: and seing that her father for the
loue he bare vnto her, had no mynde or care to marie her agayne, and
also she thinking it skarce honest to require him thereunto, deuised
secretly (if it were possible) to retaine some valiaunt man to be her
louer. And seyng manye gentlemen and others, frequenting her fathers
court (as we commonly see in the courtes of princes) and marking the
behauiour and order of many (amonges all) there was a young man, one of
her fathers seruauntes that liked her well, whose name was Guiscardo, of
very base birth (but in vertue and honest condicions more noble then the
reste) and many times when she sawe him, she wonderfully delited in him,
alwayes praysing his doinges aboue all others. The younge man, not
hauing good consideration of him selfe, perceiuing her feruent
affection, so fixed his minde that he disposed the same vpon nothing els
but to loue her. One louing an other secretly in this sorte, and the
Ladie verie studious to finde occasion that she might talke with him,
vnwilling to committe the secrecie of her loue to any man, she imagined
a newe deuise to geue him knowledge thereof. And wrote a letter
signifying vnto him, what he should doe the next day, and howe he might
vse himselfe to come to talke with her: and then putting the letter into
the cane of a rede, she gaue it vnto Guiscardo in sporting wise, and
said. “Thou shalt this night make a paire of Bellowes for thy seruaunt
wherwith she may kindle the fire.” Guiscardo toke it, and thought that
shee did not geue it vnto him, without some special purpose went to his
chamber, and loking vpon the Cane perceiued it to be hollowe, and
openyng it founde the letter within whiche shee had written. And when he
had well perused it, vnderstandyng the tenour thereof, hee thought hym
selfe the happiest man in the worlde, and began to put hym selfe in
readinesse, to mete with his Ladie, by suche wayes and meanes, as shee
had to him appointed. There was in the corner of the Princes palace a
Caue, long time before made vnder the syde of a hille, whiche Caue
receiued light by certayne ventes made of force within the sayd
mountaine, and because the same was not frequented and vsed, it was
ouergrowen with busshes and thornes. Into which Caue was a discent by a
secrete payre of stayers, into one of the lowest chambers of the
Palaice, wherin the Ladie lay, which was out of all men’s minde, because
it was not occupied many a day before, and shut vp with a very strong
doore. But Loue (in the eyes wherof nothing is so secrete, but will come
to knoweledge) had brought the same againe into the remembraunce of the
amorous Lady. The opening of which doore (that no man might knowe it)
many dayes did trouble her wittes: afterwarde when she had founde the
waye, she went downe alone into the Caue, and viewing the vente,
whereunto she had geuen order for Guiscardo to come, she tolde him of
what height it was from the ground: for the execution whereof, Guiscardo
prepared a rope with knots and degrees to goe vp and downe, and putting
vpon him a leather coate, to kepe him from the thornes and bushes, went
downe the next night at the saide vente, vnknowen of any man: and
fastening one of the endes of the rope, to the stocke of a tree, that
grewe at the mouth of the vente, hee slipte downe into the Caue, and
taried there for the Ladie, who the next daye faining her selfe to slepe
after dinner, sent her maydes out of her chamber, and locked her selfe
within alone: and then opened the doore, and went downe into the Caue,
where finding Guiscardo, they marueilously reioysed one with an other.
And from thence went vp together into her chamber: where they remained
togethers, the moste parte of that day, to their great delight. And
hauing geuen good order for the affaires of their loue, and the secrete
vse therof, Guiscardo retourned into the Caue, and the Ladie locked the
doore, and came out amonges her maides. The next night after, Guiscardo
issued out of the vente vpon the rope, wherewith he descended and
conueied him selfe into his chamber. And hauing learned the waye, he
resorted thither many times after. But Fortune enuious of that pleasure,
so long and great, with dolorous successe, tourned the ioye of those
twoo louers into heauie and sorowefull ende. The Prince accustomed
sometimes to resorte alone into his doughter’s chamber, and there for a
whyle to tarie and talke with her, and so to departe. Vpon a daye after
dinner, when the Ladie (whose name was Gismonda) was in the garden with
all her maidens, he repaired vnknowen or seene of any man into her
chamber. But being loth to trouble his doughter of her pleasure, and
finding the wyndowes of her chamber shut and the curtens of her bedde
drawen, he satte down vpon a stoole at the beddes feete, and leaning his
head to the bedde the Curteine drawen ouer him (as he had bene hidden of
purpose) he fel a slepe. And the king being thus a slepe, Gismonda that
(in euill time) the same day had appointed Guiscardo to come, left her
maydens in the Gardeine, and entred very secretly into her chamber,
locking fast the doore after her, and not knowing any man to be there,
shee opened the doore of the Caue to Guiscardo, who was redie to wayte
for her comming. Then they caste them selues vpon the bedde, as they
were wonte to doe, solacing the time together, vntill it chaunced that
the Prince awaked, heard and sawe what Guiscardo and his doughter did.
Whereof being verie sorowfull, he would vpon the first sight haue cried
out: but that he thought it better for that time to holde his peace,
still to kepe him selfe secrete, to the intent that he might more
priuelie, and with lesse shame, accomplishe that which he purposed to
do. The twoo louers continued togethers a great time, as they were wont
to do, without any knowledge of the Prince his being there, and when
they saw time, they went downe from the bedde: and Guiscardo retourning
to the Caue, shee went foorthe of her chamber, from whence Tancredi (as
olde as he was) conueyed him selfe into the Gardeine out at a wyndowe of
the same, vnseen and not perceiued of any. Who like a pensife man, and
carefull euen vnto death, repaired to his owne chamber, and the next
night, about one of the clocke, he caused Guiscardo to be apprehended,
by an order that he had prescribed, at his comming forth of the Caue,
euen clothed as he was, with his leather coate: and by twoo men was
secretly conueyed to the Prince. Who so sone as he sawe him, sayd vnto
him with teares standing in his eies: “Guiscardo, the beneuolence and
goodnes towardes thee, haue not merited this outrage and shame, that
thou hast committed this daye in mine owne house, which I sawe with mine
owne eyes.” To whom Guiscardo gaue no other aunswere, but that Loue was
of greater force, then either any Prince or hym selfe. Then the Prince
commaunded him to be kept, in a chamber adioyning. The next day the king
(Gismonda being ignoraunt hereof) reuolued in his minde, diuers and
sundrye matters, and after diner as he was accustomed, he wente into his
doughter’s chamber, and caused her to be called vnto him, and shutting
the chamber doore, in lamentable speche sayd vnto her. “Gismonda, I had
so much affiaunce and truste in thy vertue and honestie, that it coulde
neuer haue entred into my mynde (althoughe it had bene tolde me, if I
had not sene it with mine owne propre eyes) but that thou haddest not
onely in deede, but also in thought, abandoned the companie of all men,
except it had bene thy husbande: whereof I shalbe right pensife and
sorowefull so longe as this litle remnaunt of life (that mine olde age
doth preserue) indureth in mee. And sithe thou couldest not conteyne
from suche dishonest loue, I woulde it had pleased God, that thou
haddest taken a manne, equall to thyne estate. But amonges so many that
do frequente my court, thou hast chosen this young man Guiscardo, whose
birthe is very vile and base, and brought vp (as it were for God’s sake)
from a childe to this present daye, in our Court. For which
consideration I am verie sore disquieted, not knowing how to take this
at thy handes: for with him (whom I haue caused to be taken this nighte
in going out of the Caue, and nowe kepte as prisoner) I have already
concluded what to do. But with thee what I shal do, God knoweth: of the
one side, the loue that I still beare thee, more then any father euer
bare to his doughter, doth drawe me: on the other side, a iust
displeasure and indignation, taken for thy great follie, doth moue me.
The one mocion would that I should pardon thee, the other forceth me
against my nature, to be cruell vnto thee. Notwithstanding, before I doe
make any certaine resolucion, I desire to heare what thou canst saye for
thy selfe.” When hee had spoken those woordes, he kissed her face,
weping verie bitterly like a childe that had ben beaten. Gismonda
hearing her father, and knowing that not only her secret loue was
discouered, but also her louer Guiscardo to be in pryson, conceiued an
inestimable sorowe, vttering the same many times, with outcries and
schreches, according to the maner of women, howe beit, her great courage
surpassed her weakenesse, and did sette a bolde face on the matter, with
marueilous stoutnesse determining, before she made any sute for her
selfe, no longer to liue, seing that her frende Guiscardo was alreadie
dead. Wherefore not like a sorowefull woman, or one taken in any faulte,
but as a desperate persone, with a drie and stoute countenaunce, not
troubled or vexed, she said thus to her father: “I doe not purpose,
deare father, to stande in deniall, nor yet by humble sute to make
requeste: for the one wyll nothyng auayle mee, and the other is to none
effecte. Moreouer I doe not intende by any meanes, to beseche your
clemencie and loue towardes mee, to be beneuolente and bontifull, but
confessinge the trouthe, I will first with true reasons and argumentes,
defende myne honour, and afterwardes prosecute in vertuous wyse, by
effectes, the stoutnesse of my courage. True it is, that I haue loued
and do loue Guiscardo, and will loue him so long as I liue, which shalbe
but a litle time. And if so be that a woman may loue a man after death,
I will not cease to loue him. But womanly frailtie and feminine
weakenesse hath not so much induced me hereunto, as the litle care you
haue had to bestow me in mariage, and the great vertues that daily I
haue seene in Guiscardo. You ought deare father to knowe, that your
selfe is of fleshe, and of fleshe you haue engendred me your doughter,
and not of Stone or Iron. In likewyse you ought, and must remember
(although now you be arriued to olde yeares) what yonge folkes bee, and
of what great power the lawe of youth is: and although you were (during
the force of your youthlie dayes) trayned and exercised in factes of
armes, yet nowe you oughte to knowe what great puissaunce resteth in the
idle and delicate life, as well in the aged, as amonges yonge people.
I am then as you be, begotten of fleshe, and my yeres so few, as yet but
yonge, and thereby full of lust and delight. Wherunto the knowledge
which I haue had alredy in mariage, forceth me to accomplishe that
desire: and to the same be added marueilous forces, against whiche it is
impossible for me to resiste, but rather to folowe, whereunto they drawe
me. I am become amorous like a yonge woman, and like a woman as I am,
and certainly I would haue imploied my whole force that waye, so farre
as I could not to committe any shame to you, or to my selfe in that,
whereunto my naturall offence hath forced me. To which thing, pitiful
loue, and gentle fortune haue founde out, and shewed a waye secret
enough, whereby without knowledge of any man, I am come to the effecte
of my desires: which thing I will not denie (who so euer tolde you of
it, or by what meanes so euer you are come to the knowledge of it) I
haue not taken Guiscardo to be my louer by chaunce, as many women haue
done, but I haue chosen him by long aduise and deliberation, aboue all
others, and haue brought him into me in this wise, inioying with our
wise continuance of longe time, the accomplishment of my desire, wherof
me thincke (althoughe I haue not offended but by loue) that you doe
purpose to prosecute rather the vulgar opinion, then the truth,
purposinge in this wise moste bitterly to comptroll me, saying: ‘That
you had not had such an occasion of anger, if I had chosen one that had
been a gentleman.’ Wherein you do not consider, that the faulte is not
mine, but rather to be ascribed to fortune, who ought to be blamed
because many times shee exalteth the vnworthie, and treadeth vnder foote
those that be most worthie: but nowe let vs leaue of further talke of
this matter, and consider the beginninge hereof. First of all you see,
that of one masse of fleshe we haue all receiued flesh, and that one
Creatour hath created euery lyuing creature, with force and puissaunce
equally, and wyth equall vertue: which vertue was the first occasion
that made the difference and distinction of vs all that were borne, and
be borne equall, and they that obtayned the greatest part of vertue, and
did the workes of her, were called noble, the rest continuing vnnoble.
And albeit contrary vse afterwards obscured this Law, yet therefore,
shee is not remoued ne abandoned from nature, or good maners. In
likewise hee that by vertue performeth all his doinges, doth manifestlie
shewe himselfe to be noble: and he that doth otherwise terme him, doth
commit the faulte, and not he that is so called. Behold all your
gentlemen, and examine well their vertue, their conditions and maner of
doinges. On the other part, behold the qualities and condicions of
Guiscardo: then if you please to giue iudgement wythout affection, you
shall say that he is righte noble: and that all your gentlemen be
villaines in respecte of him. The vertuous and excellencie of whom,
I beleeue cannot be placed in any other wight, as in hym, as well by
your owne report as by the choyse of mine owne eyes. Who euer praysed
man so, and with such ample commendacions praise worthie, wherein an
honest man ought to be praised, as you haue done? and truly not without
cause: for, if mine eyes be not deceiued, you neuer gaue hym anye praise
but that I haue knowen more in him then your wordes were able to
expresse. Notwithstanding, if I haue bin deceiued herein, it was you by
whom I haue bin deceiued: wil you then say that I couple myselfe with a
man of base condicion? Truly you cannot well say so. But if you will
saye, perchaunce with a poore man, I confesse it: and verely it is to
your shame, that you haue not vouchsafed to place in highe estate a man
so honest, being your owne seruaunt. Neuerthelesse, pouertie doth not
depriue anye parte of nobilitie, but riches hath. Manye kinges and
greate Princes, haue bin poore in olde time, and manye ploughmen and
sheepeheardes in times past, haue bin aduaunced to riche estate. And the
last doubt which troubleth you, is, that you be doubtfull what to doe
with me: caste boldly out of your minde that doubte, and if you do
intend in thextremity of your age to vse that which in your youth you
neuer did, I purpose to become cruel also. Use your cruelty against me,
for the auoyding whereof I haue not determined to make any supplication
to you as giltie of this faulte, if faultes may be rehearsed. Assuring
you, that if you do not vnto me, that which you haue done or will doe to
Guiscardo, mine owne handes shall doe it. Wherefore goe to, and let fall
your teares with women, and if you purpose to be cruell, kill him and
let me also drincke of the same Cuppe, if you thincke we haue deserued
it.” The king hearing the stout words of his doughter, thoughte not that
shee woulde haue done in deede, as her wordes pretended, and as she said
she would doe. Wherefore departing from her, and not willing to vse any
maner of crueltie towards her, hee thoughte by the destruction and
slaughter of Guiscardo, to coole her burning loue. And therefore
commaunded two of his seruauntes (that had Guiscardo in keeping) without
any noise, to strangle him the next nighte, and afterwardes plucking his
harte out of his bodie, to bringe it vnto him: who did as they were
commaunded. And the next day the king caused a faire Cuppe of gold to be
broughte vnto him, wherein he laid the harte of Guiscardo, which he sent
(by one of his trustiest seruauntes) vnto his doughter: and commaunded
him, when hee presented the same vnto her to say these wordes: “Thy
father hath sent thee this presente, to comforte thy selfe with the
thing, which thou doest chiefle loue, as thou haste comforted him of
that which he loued most.” Gismonda not amoued from her cruel
determination, caused to be brought vnto her (after her father was gone)
venemous herbes and rootes, which she distilled together, and made water
thereof to drincke sodenly if that came to passe which she doubted. And
when the kinges seruaunte was come vnto her, and deliuered his presente,
he said as he was commaunded. Gismonda toke the Cuppe with stoute
countenaunce, and couering it, so soone as she sawe the harte, and
vnderstoode the woordes, shee thoughte verelye that it was the hart of
Guiscardo, wherefore beholding the seruaunt, she saide vnto him: “Truly
it behoueth that such a hart as this is, shoulde be intombed in no worse
graue then in golde, which my father hath most wisely done.” Afterwards
lifting the Cuppe to her mouth, she kissed it, saying: “I haue in all
thinges, euen vnto this time (being the last ende of my life) alwayes
found the tender loue of my father towards mee: but nowe I knowe it to
be greater, then euer I did before. And therefore in my behalfe, you
shall render vnto him, the last thanckes that euer I shall giue him, for
so great a presente.” After those wordes, tourning herselfe towardes the
Cuppe, which shee helde faste, beholdinge the hart, shee said thus: “Oh
sweete harboroughe of my pleasures, cursed be the crueltye of him that
hath caused mee at this time to loke vppon thee with the eyes of my
face: it was pleasure ynoughe, to see thee euery hower, amonges people
of knowledge and vnderstanding. Thou hast finished thy course, and by
that ende, which fortune vouchsafed to giue thee, thou art dispatched,
and arriued to the ende wherunto all men haue recourse: thou hast
forsaken the miseries and traueyles of this world, and haste had by the
enemy himselfe such a sepulture as thy worthinesse deserueth. There
needeth nothing els to accomplishe thy funerall, but onely the teares of
her whom thou diddest hartelye loue all the dayes of thy lyfe. For
hauing wherof, our Lord did put into the head of my vmercifull father to
send thee vnto me, and truly I will bestow some teares vppon thee,
although I was determined to die, without sheading any teares at all,
stoutlie, not fearefull of any thinge. And when I haue powred them out
for thee, I will cause my soule, which thou hast heretofore so carefully
kepte, to be ioyned wyth thine. For, in what company can I trauell, more
contented, or in better safegard in places vnknowen, then with thy
soule? Truly I am well assured, that it is yet here within, that hath
respecte to the place, aswell of his owne pleasures, as of mine, being
assured (as she who is certaine, that yet he looueth me) that he
attendeth for myne, of whom he is greatly beloued.” When she had thus
sayd, she beganne to let fall (as thoughe there had been a fountaine in
her head) so many teares, as it was a myracle to beholde her, oftentimes
kissing the deade harte. Her maydens that stoode aboute her, knewe not
what hart that was, nor whereunto those woords did tende: but being
moued with compassion they all wepte: pitifullie demaundinge (althoughe
in vayne) the occasion of her sorowfull plaintes: and comforted her so
well as they could. Who after she had powred forth sufficient teares,
lifted vppe her heade and when she had wiped her eyes, she sayd: “Oh
louing hart, all my dutie is fulfilled towardes thee, hauinge nowe
nothinge to doe but onely to yelde foorth my ghoste, to accompany
thyne.” And this sayd, she caused the glasse of water, which she had
made the daye before, to be brought vnto her: and poured it out into the
cuppe where the hart laye, all bained with a multitude of teares: whiche
shee putting to her mouthe, without feare, dronke vp all. And that done
went into her bedde, with the cuppe in her hand, tossing her bodie as
decently as she could vppon the same, holding the harte of her dead
frende, so nere as shee coulde, vnto her owne. Her maidens seing this
(although they knewe not what water it was, that she dranke) sent worde
to the king, who fearing that whiche happened, incontinentlye wente
downe into his doughters chamber: where he arriued euen at that instante
that she had cast her selfe vpon the bedde, and being come to late to
succour her, with sweete woordes he began (seing her in those pangues)
to wepe bitterly. To whome his doughter sayde: “Father, kepe in those
vndesired teares and bestowe them not vpon me, for I desire them not:
who euer sawe man beside you, to bewayle the wilfulnesse of his owne
facte. Howe be it, if there do yet reste in you any sparke of that loue,
which you haue alwayes borne towardes me: graunt me this last requeste,
that although you were not contented that I should liue secretly and
couertly with Guiscardo, yet at lest, cause our bodies to bee openly
buried togethers, where it pleaseth you to bestowe them.” The anguishe
and sorowe would not suffer the Prince to aunsweare one worde for
weping. And the Ladie perceiuing her ende approche, cleped and strained
the dead hart harde to her stomacke, saying: “Farewell sweete harte in
God, for I am going to him.” And therewithall she closed her eyes, and
lost her senses, departing out of this dolorous life. In this maner
sorowefully ended the loue of Gismonda and Guiscardo, as you haue
hearde, whome the prince after he had wepte his fill, and taken to late
repentaunce for his crueltie: caused honorablie to be buried, and
intombed both in one graue, not without great sorowe of all the people
of Salerne.