_A Ladie falslie accused of adultrie, was condempned to be deuoured
of Lions: the maner of her deliuerie, and how (her innocencie being
knowen) her accuser felt the paines for her prepared._
In the countrie of Aquitane, there was sometime a Lord, whose lands and
lordships laye betweene Lismosine and Poictou, and for the antiquitye of
his house was renowmed both for bloude and wealth, amonges the chiefe of
all the Countrie. Being allied in kindred wyth the best, hee had full
accesse and fauour as well in the houses of the aunciente Dukes of
Guienne, and Countes of Poictou, as in the Royall Courtes of the French
kinges. This Lorde (whom Bandello the aucthour of this history affirmeth
to be Signor de la Rocca Soarda, but the translatour and augmentor of
the same in French called Francois de Belle Forest, leaueth out his
name, for good respect as he alleageth) kept a great Court and liberal
household, and singularlie delighted (after the maner of the French
nobilitie) in huntinge and hawking. His house also was had in greater
admiracion (the rudenes and ignoraunce of that tyme was such) because he
had gotten beastes of straunge countries, cheflie Lions, wherein he had
great pleasure aswell for the rarenesse of that beast in Fraunce, as for
a certain generositie that he knew to be in the same, which resembled
the magnanimitie and courage of noble men, whose minds and spirites doe
not esteeme thinges that be vaine and cannot be affraide in doing of
deedes, whereunto honour is offred for reward. This Lord maried a Ladie,
the doughter of one of his neighbours, a woman worthie for such a
husbande: whose beautie was so rare as there was none comparable vnto
her: which the more increased for that shee was indued with perfite
vertue, and furnished with so good behauiour as right good mindes and
wittes should be occupied, naie rather put to their shiftes to decide,
whether gifte were greatest, either the exquisite workemanshippe of her
excelling beautie, or whether nature had imploied al her cunning, to
frame a body to appeare before men miraculous, or els her honest porte,
her good grace, curtesie and graue mildnes, accompanied with vertue, not
vulgare or common to many men, which made this Ladie to shine like the
glisteringe Planet of Mars, amonges other the wanderinge starres. In
such wife as the very sauage and brute were forced with splendent fame,
to praise her to be such a woman whose equall they neuer knew to be in
all their Countrie, who made the house of her husband glorious and him a
contented man, to beholde such a starre to lie by his side, which
sufficed to illustrate and beautifie a whole countrie by her onely
presence, and to nobilitate a race, althoughe the bloud of auncestours
did faile, for the accomplishmente of their perfection. Such is the
great force of vertue which not onely did aduaunce her aboue other
creatures, but also did constraine the enuious to haue her in
admiration. But these admiratours and praisers of vertue, doe not vse
like indeuour for the merites of vertue, rather they imploie their onely
industrie to gather some profite of vertue and then (followinge the
nature of the dogge) they retourne to their vomite, and vomite forth
their venime hidden in their serpent’s breast. As it came to passe and
was euident in a certaine man, that was Stewarde of this nobleman’s
house (truly a very happye house, as well for the honest loue betwene
the Lord and the Lady, as for the vertue and clemency wherewith both the
one and the other were accompanied) who in the beginninge, as honestie
and dutie did require, was a louer of good maners and commendable
demeanour of his Lady and maistresse, afterwardes (forgetting the
fidelitie which he did owe vnto his Lorde, the nobilitie of his
predecessours, and the perill of his owne life) began to loue her and
serue her in harte, and to wishe for the fairest thing which outwardlye
did appeare to be in her, where he oughte not so much as with the loke
of his eye, to giue any atteint of liking, for the reuerence of him
which was the right owner and iuste possessor of the same. This maister
foole then, not measuring his forces, and lesse followinge the instincte
of reason, became so amourous of his Madame, as continually he imagined
by what meanes he mighte giue her to understand the paines and languores
wherein he liued for the loue of her. But (alas) these deuises vanished,
like a litle dispersed cloude at the rysinge of the Sunne: for thinking
vppon the vertue of his maistresse, his desires were soner remoued from
his hart, then he was able to impresse them in the seat of his
iudgement, therby to take anye certaine assuraunce. Notwithstandinge his
heade ceased not to builde Castels in the ayre, and made a promise to
himselfe to enjoye her whom he worshipped in his hart. For he toke such
paynes by his humble seruice, that in the ende he acquired some part of
his Laydes good grace and fauour. And for that he durste not be so bolde
to manifest vnto her the vehemence of his griefe, he was contented a
long time to shew a counterfaict ioy, which raised vnto him a liuely
spring of sorowes and displeasures, which ordinarily did frette and
boyle his minde so muche: as the force of his weping for vaine hope, was
able to suffocate the remnant of life, that rested in his tormented
hart, which caused certaine litle brokes of teares to streame downe,
assailing the minde of this foolishe Louer. This faire and chaste Ladie
was so resolued in the loue of her husbande, that she toke no regarde of
the countenaunces and foolishe fashiones of this maister Louer. Who
seing his mishappe to growe to dispaire, and from thence foorthe no
remedie, that whether by reioyse, well hoping of better lucke, or for
sodaine and miserable death, he determined to proue Fortune: and to see
if the water of his hope coulde finde any passage, stedfastlye
determined that if he were throwen downe hedlong into the bottome of
Refusal, and contempned for his seruice, not to retire againe, but
rather further to plondge for the accelerating of the ruine of him self,
and his desires: for he thought it impossible that his harte could
indure more intollerable heate of that invisible fier, then it had felt
alreadie, if he founde no meanes for the smoke to haue some vent and
issue. For whiche consideration, cleane besides him selfe, bewitched
with foolish Loue, like a beast throughly transformed into a thing, that
had no sense of a a reasonable man (such as they be accustomably, that
be inrolled in the muster bookes of Venus’ sonne) was purposed to open
to the Ladie (when occasion serued) both the euill, and also the griefe
that he susteined in bearing towarde her, so great and extreme
affection. Behold here one of the effects of humane follie: this was the
firste acte of the Tragedie, wherein loue maketh this brainlesse man to
playe the first and principall parte vpon the Stage. This poore
gentleman (otherwyse a good seruaunt, and carefull for the profite and
honoure of his maister) is nowe so voyde of him selfe and blinde in
vnderstanding as hee maketh no conscience to assaile her (to defraude
her of her greatest vertue) the simple name of whom ought to haue made
him tremble for feare, and to blushe for shame, rather then for her
beautie sake and naturall curtesie, to dispoyle her of her honestie, and
to attempte a thing vncertaine to winne and also more daungerous to
practise. Nowe whiles he liued in the attemte of his hoped occasion, it
chaunced that the Lady (thinking no malice at all) began to beholde the
Stewarde with a better eie and looke more familier, then any of the
gentlemen and domesticall seruauntes of the house, as well for the
painted honestie of this Galant, as to se him so prompte and readie to
obey her: and therefore vpon a daye as she walked in the Gallerie she
called him vnto her, and verie familierly communicated certaine affaires
touching the profite of the house. He that marched not but vpon one
foote, and burned with Loue, and whose harte leapte for ioye, and
daunced for gladnesse, thought that he had nowe obteined the toppe of
his felicitie, and the whole effect of his desire: sodainly he cast away
the dispaire of his former conceiptes, obiecting him selfe to the
daunger wherin he was to bee ouerwhelmed, if the Ladie accepted not his
request with good digestion. In the end, recouering force, he discoursed
in minde this wicked opinion, wherwith foolish and wilfull fleshly
louers doe blason and displaye the honour and chastitie of Ladies, when
they make their vaunte that there is no woman, be she neuer so chaste,
continente, or honest, but in the ende yeldeth, if she be throughly
pursued. O, the wordes and opinion of a beast, rather then of a man
knowing vertue. Is the nomber of chaste women so diminished that their
renowme at this daye is like a Boate in the middes of some tempestious
sea, whereunto the mariners do repaire to saue them selues? It is the
only vertue of Ladies which doeth constraine them to vomite foorthe
their poyson, when they see them selues deceiued, of their fonde and
vncomely demaundes. A man shall neuer heare those woordes precede, but
from the mouthes of the moste lasciuious, which delight in nothing els,
but to corrupte the good names of Ladies, afterward to make them
ridiculous to the worlde. Retourne we then to our purpose, this valiaunt
souldier of loue, willing to geue the first onset vpon his swete enemie,
began to waxe pale and to tremble like the Reede blowen with the wynde,
and knoweth not in what part, or by what meanes, to bestowe the firste
strokes of his assault. At length with foltring tongue and trembling
voyce, he speaketh to his Ladie in this wyse. “Alas, madame, how happie
were the course of our transitorie life, if the common passions received
no increase of troubles, by newe and diuers accidents, which seme to
take roote in vs, for the very great diminution of that libertie, which
euery man doth studie so much to conserue. But truly that studie is
vain, and the paine thereof vnprofitablie bestowed: for he inforceth him
selfe to liue free from passion, which in the middes of his inforcement,
feeleth him selfe to be violently constrained, and seeth the taking away
of his libertie, to be a certaine impeachemente, whiche thereunto hee
would geue. Alacke, I haue proued that mischiefe, and am yet in the
greatest excesse and pangues of my disease. I fele (alas) a diuersitie
of anguishes, and a sea of troubles, which tormente my minde, and yet I
dare not discouer the cause, seing that the thing, which is the
fountaine of my grief, to be of suche desert as my seruice paste, and
all that is to come, is not able to geue the proofe, if one speciall
grace and fauour, do not inlarge, the litle power that is in mee, to
counteruaile the greatnesse, and perfection of that which thus doth
variat and alter bothe my thoughtes and passions. Pardon mee (madame) if
I doe speake obscurelye, for the confusion of my minde maketh my woordes
correspondent to the qualitie of the same. Notwithstanding I wyll not
kepe silente from you that whiche I doe suffer, and muche lesse
dissemble what passion I indure, beyng assured for your vertue and
gentlenes, that you (moued with compassion) will succour me so muche as
shall lie in you, for preseruacion of the life of him that is the best
and most obedient seruaunt amonges them all that do you humble seruice.”
The Lady which neuer thought of the wickednesse which this insensate man
began to imagine, aunswered him verye curteously: “I am sorie trulye for
your mishap, and do marueile what should be the effect of that passion
which as you say, you feele with such dimunicion of that which is
perfect and accomplished in you: for I do see no cause that ought to
moue you to so straunge infirmitie, whereof you told mee, and wherewith
I had alreadie found fault although you had said nothing. I would to God
I knew which way to helpe you, aswel for my lord my husbandes sake, whoe
I am sure doth beare you good will, as for the honestie which hetherto I
haue knowen to be in you, wherein I thincke all other resembling you,
for vertue and good conditions doe deserue that accompt and
consideration.” He that thought her already to be taken in his nettes,
seing so faire a waye open and cleare, to disclose that which he had
kept couerte so long, in the depth of his hart, aunsweared. “Ah, madame,
are ye ignoraunte of the forces of Loue, and how much his assaultes can
debilitate the liuelihoode of the bodies and spirites of men? Knowe ye
not that he is blinde and naked, not caring whither hee goeth;
manifesting himselfe there, wher occasion is offred? Alas, madame, if
you haue not pitie vppon mee, and doe not regard that, which I do suffer
for the loue of you, I know not how I am able to auoyde death, which
will approche so sone to cutte of, and abridge my yeares, as I shall
vnderstande a refusall of that which the extreme Loue I beare you
(madame) forceth mee to require: which is to receiue a new seruice of
your auncient and faithfull seruiture: who inflamed by the brighte
beames of your diuine face, knoweth not how to chaunge his affection,
and much lesse to receiue helpe, but of the place where hee receiued the
pricke. Excuse (madame I beseech you) my rashnesse, and pardon my
follie: accuse rather, either your celestiall beautie, or els that
tyrant Loue who hath wounded me so luckelie, as I esteme mine euill
fortunate, and my wounde happie: sithe by his meane my thoughtes and
cogitations doe onelye tende to do you seruice, and to loue you in mine
hart, which is the Phenix of the fairest and moste curteous Ladies
within all our Prouince. Alas, that excellencie, which thus maketh me
your seruaunt shall one daye be my ruine, if by your good grace
(speaking it with weaping teares) you doe not fauour him, which liueth
not, but to obey you, and which lesing your good grace, will attempte to
depriue him selfe of life, which being depriued through your crueltie,
will go to complaine of his bolde attempt, and also of your rigor
amonges the ghostes and shadowes of them that bee alreadie dead for like
occassion.” The chaste Ladie was so wrapt of wittes for the straungenes
of the case, and for the griefe whiche she concerned, to see the
vnshamefast hardinesse of the varlette, as she could not tell how to
make him aunswere: but in the ende breaking silence, and fetching a
great sighe from the bottome of her harte, her face stayned with a
freshe Vermilion rudde, which beautified her colour, by reason of
disdaine conceiued against this impudent Orator, she aunswered him verie
seuerely. “O God, who would haue thought, that from a hart nobly brought
vp, and deriued from an honourable race, a vilanie so greate could haue
taken roote and spring vp with such detestable fruite? What maister
Stewarde? have ye forgotten the dutie of a seruaunt towarde his Lorde
and maister? Haue ye forgotten I saye, the dutie of a vertuous
gentleman, wel nourished and trayned vp towarde suche and so great a
ladie as I am? Ah, Thefe and Traitour! Is this the venime which thou
kepest so couert and secrete, vnder the swetenesse of thy counterfaicte
vertue? A vaunte varlet, a vaunt: goe vtter thy stuffe to them that be
like thy self, whose honour and honestie is so farre spent, as thy
loialtie is light and vayn. For if I heare thee speake any more of these
follies be assured that I wil mortifie that raging flame, which burneth
thy light beleuing harte, and wil make thee feele by effecte what manner
of death that is, wherein thou reposest the reste of thy trauell.” As
this deceiued Oratour was framing his excuse, and about to moderate the
iust wrath of his Ladie, displeased vpon good occasion, she not able to
abyde any more talke, sayde further. “And what signes of dishonestie
haste thou seen in mee, that moue thee to perswade a thing so wicked,
and vncomely for mine estate: yea and so preiudiciall to me, to my
frendes, and the house of thy maister, my Lorde and spouse? I can not
tell what it is that letteth me, from causing thee to be caste foorthe
amonges the Lions (cruell and capitall enemies of adulterie, amonges
themselues) sithe thy pretence is, by violating my chastitie to
dishonour the house, whereunto thou owest no lesse, then al the
aduancements thou hast: from the taste whereof thou hast abandoned
Vertue, the best thing wherwith thou were affected. Auoyde nowe,
therefore, let me heare no more of this, vppon paine of thy life,
otherwyse thou shalt feele the rewarde of thy temerite, and vnderstande
the bitternesse of the litle pleasure, whiche I haue conceiued of thy
follies.” So the good Ladie held her peace, reseruing in her harte, that
whiche should bee her helpe in time and place: howbeit she sayde nothing
hereof vnto her husbande, aswell for raising offence or slaunder, as for
prouoking him against him whiche susteined the punishement him selfe,
sithe that this refuse, did more straungely pinche him, nerer at the
harte then euer the Egle of Caucasus (whereof the Poetes haue talked so
muche) did tier the mawe of the subtile thefe Prometheus. And yet the
vnhappie stewarde not contented, with the mischiefe committed against
the honour of his maister, seing that it was but lost time to continue
his pursute, and that his gaine would bee no lesse then death, if she
according to her promised threates did therof aduertise her husband,
being a cholericke man, and lighte of beliefe, and because the said
Steward for such an enterprise had receiued a simple recompence,
althoughe correspondent to his desert, premeditated worse mischiefes,
more noisome then the first. He was in doubte, whether it were better
for him to tarie or to departe, sith two thinges in a maner, were
intollerable for him to suffer. For he coulde not forsake the house
where from his cradle he had been so finely brought vp, the lord wherof
made so much of him, as of his owne person. On the other side, he knewe
that so long as the Lady was aliue, he could haue no maner of ioy or
contentation. For that cause, conuerting extreeme loue (which once he
bare to the lady) into cruel hatred, vnseemly for a brutal beaste, and
into an insaciable desire of reueng, he determined to addresse so strong
an ambushe, trained with so great subteltie, that she was not able to
escape without daunger of her life and honour, whereof she declared
herselfe to be so carefull. Alas, what blindnes is that, which
captiuateth the wittes and spirite of him, that feedeth himselfe of
nothing els, but vpon the rage of fantastical despite and vpon the furie
of dispaire. Do wee not see, that after Reason giueth place to desired
reuenge of wrong thought to be receiued, man dispoyleth himselfe of
that, which appertayneth to the kinde of man, to put on the fierce
nature of the moste brute and cruell beastes, to runne headlonge without
reason toward the place wher the disordinate appetite of affections,
doth conduct him? whereof I will not aduouche any other example, but of
this traitour, who passionated not with Loue, but rather with rage and
fury, ceaseth not to espie all the actions and behauiour of his Ladie,
to the intente he mighte bringe to ende his deuised treason against her,
that thoughte (perchaunce) no more of his follies, but honestlie to
passe the time with her deare and wel beloued husbande. Truly, if this
Lady had been of the disposition of some women (that care not to moleste
theyr husbands, for the first Flie that buzzeth before their eyes,
conceyuing a friuolous and sodaine opinion of their chastitie, not so
much assailed, or to sharpely defended, chaunting glorious Hympnes and
high prayses of their victorie) certainly she had not tombled herselfe
into the daunger, wherunto afterwards she fell. Not for that I will
blame them that do reueale to theyr husbandes the assaults which they
receiue of importunate suters, that doe assaie to deflower their
Chastitie. Yet I will saye that Modestie in the same (as in euery other
humaine action) is greatly to be required, sith that such a one, by
thincking to extolle her honour and honestie, and to make proofe of her
Chastitye, rendreth the same suspicious, and giueth occasion to talke to
the people that is more apt and redie to slaunder and defame, then by
good report to prayse them, which by vertue do deserue commendation,
bringing the lyfe and fame of her husband, to such extremitie, as it had
been better vertuously to haue resisted the force of Loue, and the
flattering sute of such louers, then to manifest that which might haue
been kept secrete without preiudice of eyther. And truly that woman
deserueth greater glorie, which of herselfe defendeth her honestie, and
quencheth the flames liuelye kindled in the hartes of other, with the
coldnes of continencie, by that meanes vanquishing two, then she doth,
which manifesting the vice of an other, discloseth as it were,
a certaine apparaunce of her frailtie, and the litle reason wherewith
she is indewed, to vanquish him that confesseth to be her seruaunt, and
whose wil dependeth at her commaundement. And when the whole matter
shalbe rightlye iudged, shee that reuealeth imperfection of a Suter,
sheweth her opinion and minde to be more pliant to yelde, then indewed
with reason to abandone pleasure and to reiect the insolencie of the
same, sith Reason’s force doth easely vanquish light affections of
sensuall partes, whose fancies imprinted wyth ficklenes, do make them so
inconstant, as they perswade themselues to be so puissaunte and mightie,
as all thinges be, and rest at their commaundement. Retourning nowe then
to our former discourse, the Steward so laboured with might and maine,
till he had found meanes to be reuenged of the receiued refusall, with
such subtilty and Diuelish inuention as was possible for man to deuise,
which was this. Among the seruauntes of this greate Lorde there was one
no lesse yonge of witte and vnderstanding, then of age. And albeit that
he was fare and comely, yet so simple and foolishe as hee had much a do
to tell the nomber of sixe. This foole by reason of his follye and
simplicitye, was the onelye sporte and pastime of the Lord and Lady. The
Lady many times toke pleasure, to talke with this maister foole, to
bring him into a choler and chaufe, thereby to prouoke laughter. And
therefore all the houshold vsed to call him in mockerie, my Ladyes
darlinge. In whom the Lorde toke singular pleasure and delighte,
esteeming him so well as any of his other seruaunts. The malicious
Steward, seing the familiaritie of the lady with the foole (like one
that had already catched his pray within his snares) began also to make
much of that yonge Cockescome, in such wyse as he had brought him into
such fooles paradise, as he mighte make him do and saye what he liste.
Who seing him diligent to his desire, one day toke him aside, and after
he had whitled him well, he sayd vnto him. “Dicke, I can tell thee a
knacke, that thou shalt make my Lady laugh wel, but thou must say
nothing, till she do perceiue it.” The poore idiot glad to please his
maistres, was desirous to knowe what it was, and promised to doe
whatsouer he would bidde him. “Thou must (sayd the steward) in the
eueninge before she go into her chamber, hyde thy selfe vnder her bedde,
and tarry there till it be an hower or two before day, and then I wil
tell thee what thou must doe besides.” This plat deuised the foole the
same euening executed the deuise of hys diuelish counsaylour, who seing
his desire to take effecte, went to an olde gentleman, that was of great
honestie and vertue, for which he was of all men so wel knowen, as they
esteemed his word so true as the Gospell. To that gentleman this craftie
villaine, full of poison and malice, wholy bent to mischiefe, told and
reported the facte, not as it was in deede, but to the great preiudice
and dishonour of the Lady, geuing him to vnderstand how much she had
forgotten herselfe, how without the feare of God, reuerence of her
husband, and respect of her owne honesty, she had filthely giuen
herselfe ouer to him which was called her Dareling. The good gentleman
hearing this straung case, was astonned like one that had been stroken
with a flashe of lightening, then drawing nere to the accuser, he
aunswered. “Is it possible that suche wickednes can lye hidden in the
breast of our Madame? I sweare vnto thee by God, that if any other had
told it me besides you, I would not haue beleued it, and truly yet I am
in doubt thereof.” “No, no,” said this wicked blasphemer, “I will make
you see that, which you cannot beleue:” and hauing lessoned his foole,
in his conceiued follie, the next day he procured the gentleman thyther,
who seing the Ladies minion, going out of her chamber (which many times
lay seuerally from her husband) could not refraine weeping, lamenting
the ill fortune of his Lord, who thinkinge that he had had an honest
wyfe, was abused with an impudent and vnshamefast whore. Then he began
to frame a long Oracion, against the incontinencie of women, moued
rather through the good will hee bare to his mayster, then to the truth
of the matter, which vndiscretely he spake against the order of women
kynd. So ignorant was he of the treason and indeuour of the Steward, who
demaunded of him what was to be done in that matter? “What,” sayd the
old gentleman, “such wickednesse ought not to be vnpunished. My Lorde
must be aduertised hereof, that the house maye be purged of suche a
plague and infection, that he maye euidentlye vnderstande the hypocrisye
of her that so longe time hath kept close her incontinencie, vnder the
vaile of fayned chastitie. But the righteous God made openly to appeare
before mens eyes the secrete sinnes of the wicked, to thintent greater
slaunders should not increase.{”} The steward very ioyful that he had
gotten so honeste a man to be a witnesse of his accusation, approued his
aduise, for that it agreed wel with his intent. So they two together
went to the Lord, with countenaunce sad and heauie, correspondent to
their minde, and specially the Traitour, whose sense was so confounded
with gladnesse, that thinking to begin his tale his wordes so stucke in
his mouth as he was not able to vtter a word. Whereat the Lorde was
wonderfully abashed, marueyling what that timidite did meane, till he
had heard the vnfaithfull Stewarde tell his tale, who sayde to him in
this maner. “My Lord, I am sory that it is my lotte to declare vnto you
a matter hitherto vnknowen and not marked or taken heede of by any,
which wyl so much offend you, as any pleasure that euer till this day,
did please and content you. And God knoweth what griefe it is to me (in
your presence) to be an accuser of a person in the world, which I haue
esteemed nexte vnto you aboue anye other creature that lyueth: but being
in that place I am, I might (by good deserte) be accused of treason and
felonie if concealing such a detestable crime, I should leaue the dutie
of fidelitie to an other, lesse desirous to do you seruice then I am.
Who beleueth there is no second person, that desireth better to acquite
the goodnes and preferment which I haue receyued of your Lordship, then
I do. This it is my Lord: my lady misprising her duty to your Lordship,
and the honour of the house whereof shee came, hath not disdayned to
receiue into her chamber at inconuenient time, the foole that is called
her Darelinge, and in the place into which none but your honour, ought
to haue peaceable entrie: whereof this gentleman present (whom you know
to be without comparison) shalbe witnesse: touching myselfe the fayth
and trust, which alwayes I haue vsed in all vour affayres, and the litle
affection which I haue to things contrary to vertue, shal giue true
testimonie of that which I haue saide.” The Lorde hearing these pitiful
newes, which pearced his harte more deepe then anye two edged sword, at
the first was so astonied, that he could not tell what to say or do,
sauing the ardente furie of Cholere made him distill a certaine
Melancholique humour into his eyes, which receyued the superfluous
vapours of his braine. At length breakinge that forth, which troubled
him within, and grindinge his teethe for furie, with stutteringe and
vncertaine voice, fetching sighes betweene, saide: “O God, what newes be
these that I heare? Is it possible, that the fairest and chastest Lady
that liueth, hath in this wise defaced her honour: and so wickedly
blemished my reputation? Alas, if it so be, that she hath in this wise
disparaged herselfe, no trust is to be reposed in any other, what soeuer
she bee. Ah, God! vnder what Planet was I borne, that after so longe
pleasure receiued with my beloued fere and companion, I should by her
feele a displeasure, an hundred times worse then death? Is there no
remedie but that my house muste receiue and see an enterprise so
vilanous, but her onely meane, which ought rather to haue been the
ornamente and beautie of the same?” Then he chaused vp and downe the
chamber, without speaking any more wordes, with his eyes rolling in his
heade, making straunge countenaunces, which did well expresse the griefe
that vexed and tormented his minde. In the ende halfe pacifyed, he
tourned his face toward the accuser, saying: “My frende, if this be
true, which thou hast told mee, I sweare by God, that I will make her
feele the smarte, of such greeuous punishmente, as shalbe spoken of for
euer. But if my wyfe be slaundred, and accused wrongfully, assure thy
selfe that I will be reuenged vppon thee. I know the vertue of this
gentleman very well (hauing had good proofe thereof) and of thy
fidelitie I am nothing at all in doubt. But, alas! the loue that I beare
vnto my wife, and her former vertue, which maketh me to loue and esteeme
her so much, doth throughlye pearce my hart, and much adoe I haue to
liue hearing this reporte: which doth deface and blotte all the honestie
and vertue that euer remaiued in mee.” “And that was it my Lord,
(answeared the traitour) which did deceiue you. For the shewe of that
painted vertue did so delude you, that you be almoste bewitched from
vnderstanding the wronge, so manifestlye perpetrated against you, and
all your house. Now to thend, that you thincke not the accusacion to be
false, I trust (if it please you to assist me) to let you see the thing,
whereof wee haue giuen you intelligence.” “I will do (sayd the Lord)
what you will haue me, although it be to my great griefe and sorow.” “To
morow morning then (answeared the Traitour) one hower before day, I will
let you see the varlet goinge out of her chamber with so great ioy, as I
do conceiue heauines and griefe for the simple remembraunce of so greate
wickednes.” When they were agreed hereupon, this knaue most detestable,
weauing the toile wherin he himselfe was caughte, wente to suborne the
personage of his foole, holy made and instructed in his trumperie:
leauinge the poore Lord with a hamer working in his head, that he was
lyke to runne out of his wittes. So great is the furious force of the
poison of Ialosie, whych ones hauing dispersed the vemine ouer the harte
and intrayles of men, the wysest sorte haue lost the due discretion of
their wittes. In the morning about the hower that the amourous foole
(ignoraunt wherfore he went in) should issue out of his maistresse
chamber, the Stewarde rauished with inexplicable ioye and gladnesse,
like to the pleasure of hym that had attaynde the summe of his desires,
called hys Lorde to see that heauye and dolourous sighte. The good
gentleman, perceyuing the report to be true, and thincking that she had
vsed the foole to be her bedfelowe, was like to haue dyed for sorow, or
els to haue torne in peeces that vnhappy sotte, innocent of the euill
suspected by the Lorde, who durst not so much as thincke to do such a
wicked fact. In the ende geuing place to reason, he caused the poore
foole to be apprehended, and put in the bottome of a dongeon, and
beyonde measure was offended wyth his wyfe, for that he thought the
simplicitie of the imprisoned wretche, had not the face to demaund the
question, and therefore did verely beleeue that it was she that had
induced him to do the deede to satisfie her vnbrideled and filthy lust,
and therefore caused her to be shut vp, within a darke and stincking
prison, not meaninge to see her, or to heare her speake for her
iustification, ne yet woulde suffer that any man should take vppon hym
to stand in her defence, to bring witnesse of her innocency. “For” (sayd
he, replete wyth wrath and anger): “I do better beleue that which I haue
seene, and knowen by myne owne presence, then your wordes, vayne
reasons, and complaintes of no good ground and effecte as founden vppon
her, that hath to muche forgotten herselfe, and her dutye towardes mee.”
Moreouer vanquished with the Cholere (not without cause truly) of a
husband that thought himselfe by her onely meanes deceyued and betrayed,
sent word to the poore captiue, that she should then prouide for her
soules health, sith he was determined the very same day to make her play
a Tragedy, more cruell then that was pleasant, which she had already
done wyth her beloued, in extruding her to be deuoured of hys Lions,
which were the ministers for the execution of the Iustice ordayned
against her, as thoughe she had bin the most lasciuious and detestable
woman that euer the earth brought forth. The fayre and innocent lady,
knowing the humour and Cholere of her husband, and likewyse seing
(contrary to right order of all Iudgement) that she could not be heard
or suffred to make aunsweare, passed through the rigorous law of hym,
that thoughte her to be an Adultresse: and coulde not tell what to doe
but to lamente her ill fortune, gushing forth teares in such abundance,
as the most part of her attyre were wet and bedewed with the same, then
fortefying herselfe in the hope of the mercifull hande of Almightye God
the father of all consolacion, who neuer forgetteth them, which with
intire faith do call vppon him, and appeale to the succour of the holy
and precious name of his sonne Iesus Christe our sauiour, she with
compunction of hart, and sincere deuocion, with ioyned handes and knees
vppon the grounde, addressing her eyes to the heauens, prayed in this
wyse: “Alas, my God, I do knowe and confesse, that the multitude of my
sinnes do surpasse the sea sands, and am not ignoraunt, that this
vnhappie time is chaunced vnto me, for the punishment of my forepassed
offences. Notwithstandinge (Lord) accordinge to thy greate goodnes, haue
no respecte vnto my demerites and wickednes (whereof my life is ful) but
rather extende thy fauour and mercy vppon thy poore creature, whose
innocencie thou (which art the searcher of mennes hartes) doest well
vnderstande and knowe, I do not desire prolongation of miserable lyfe,
onely maye it please thee (O God) for thy goodnes and iustice sake, to
saue mine honour, and to graunt that my husbande maye see with what
integritie I haue alwayes honoured the holy band of mariage, by thee
ordayned, to thintent he may liue from henceforth quiet of his suspicion
conceyued of mee, and that my parentes may not sustaine the blot of
ignominie, which will make theym blushe, when they shall heare reporte
of my forepassed life.” She beinge in these contemplacions and holye
prayers, preparinge herselfe to receyue death, her husband caused her to
be conueyed into the Parke of Lions, which being straunge and terrible
at the first sight, did marueylouslie affray her, but remembring how
innocent she was, putting her hope in God, she went thither with such
constancie and courage, as if she had bin ledde to some ioyous banquet,
and the people which neuer heard tell before of suche a kinde of death,
was assembled in great multitude, tarying to see the ende of that
execution, and talking diuersly of that sodaine iudgement, prayed all
with one voyce, for the preseruation of the Ladie, of whose chastitie
they were alredy right well assured. Now as they attended for the time
of execution, the Lady was placed in the mid of the Parke, not without
teares and sighes of the Assistantes who murmured at the remembraunce of
the horror of a sight so furious. The innocent Ladye kneeled downe vpon
her knees, and both by gesture and mery countenaunce, shewed how ioyful
she went to suffer that which she had neuer deserued: then recommending
her soule to God, for whose saluation she stedfastly hoped, she
pronounced this praier a loude: “O my Lorde God, whiche diddest ones
deliuer Daniell from a daunger like to this, wherunto the false
accusation of the wicked, haue wrongfully cast me hedlond: and diddest
discharge Susanna from the slaunder of the peruerse and adulterous
Iudges, pleaseth the pitifully to behold thy poore creature. Pardon,
O Lorde! forgiue I humblie beseche thee, the simplicitie of my deare
husband, who dealeth thus with mee, rather through the circumuention of
deceiptfull cauilling slaunderers, then by his owne malice and crueltie.
Receiue, O my God, and mercifull father, receiue my soule betwene thy
blessed handes, which thou hast redemed by the bloudshedding of thy
sonne Iesus, vpon the Tree of the Crosse!” As she had ended these
wordes, she sawe the Lions come forth ramping, and bristling vp their
heare, stretching forth their pawes with roaring voice, cruelly looking
round about them, of whom the Lady thought to be the present pray. But
the goodnesse of God, who is a iust Iudge, and suffreth his owne elect
to be proued to the extremitie, of purpose to make their glorie the
greater, and the ruine of the wicked more apparaunt, manifested there an
euident miracle. For the Lions (being cruell of nature, and that time
hungrie and gredie of pray) in lieu of tearing the Ladie in pieces, to
gorge their rauening paunche, they fill to licking and fawning vppon
her, making so much of her as if they had familiarly ben nourished with
her own breastes. A thing no lesse pleasaunt to the Ladye then
merueilous to all the people standing round about, who seing a chaunce
so miraculous cried out, incontinently for the deliuerie of the Ladie,
and for vengeaunce to be taken of him, which so wickedly had protruded
her into that daunger: which for her vertue, ought to be extolled and
praised of the whole world. When the noble man was certified of this
straunge aduenture, hee caused his Steward to be apprehended and
imprisoned, whose conscience forced great remorse, yet not knowing the
ende of the Tragedie, condempned himselfe by his countenaunce. During
his imprisonement the deposition of the beloued foole was taken, who
saide: “That by the suggestion of the malicious Steward, many times
(ignoraunt to the Lady) he conueied himself in her chamber, not knowing
wherunto the intent of him that caused him so to do did tende.” The
other gentleman made excuse (although he was blame worthy) that he was
deceiued by the same false practise, that the Lorde himselfe was. The
Steward openly confessed the treason, which he had deuised against the
Ladie, and the whole occasion thereof, and thinking to be reuenged of
the refusall of loue by her denied, he framed this slaunder to make her
lose her life. Which the Lord hearing could not abide that his death
should any longer be respected, but without other forme of Lawe, he was
thrust out to the Lions, and was presently seased vpon, and torne in
peeces by those beastes, which by God’s iuste iudgement, did absteine
from the good ladie, for the punishement of the detestable sinne of this
varlet. In the meane time the chaste and innocent Ladie, being brought
before her husbande, after he had kissed and imbrased her, with humble
reuerence she sayde vnto him: “My Lorde, I render my humble thankes to
God, for that through his holy grace, and inscrutable Iustice, he hath
let you to vnderstande, twoo diuers affections, in two seuerall persones
of this worlde, which you loue so well. In one, the treason so
pernicious, which prouoked you to soile and imbrue your handes (not
without cause till this daye proued contrarie) in the bloud of your
faithfull and dere beloued wife. In thother, a will and minde so good to
obey you, and to persist in continuation of that effecte, which maketh
her generally to be praysed, and worthy of your earnest loue, for so
much as she is your very affectionate spouse. Notwithstanding, iustly
may I make my complaint of you, for that without excuse for my
discharge, or hearing any thing that might serue for my purgation, you
condempned her, for whose honour and defence you ought to haue imployed
both goodes and life. But God shalbe iudge betwene your litle
discretion, and my righteousnesse, betwene mine obedience and your
crueltie, wherewith you haue abused the nobilitie, of the race whereof I
came.” The husbande hearing this wise and iust complaint, on the one
side transported with ioye, leapt and rejoysed, to see his deare
companion in libertie, and declared to be innocent, on the other part he
blushed for shame, that hee had so lightly, and without better proofe
and triall condempned her, whom God by his grace had preserued from the
lions throates, and durste not lift vp his head, by reason his harte
freated at the remembraunce of his light credite and furie immoderate.
Finallie imbracing his wife, and kissing her louingly, said vnto her:
“Madame, and deare beloued wife, I can not denye but foolishely I haue
attempted to blemishe the honor of her, that whilome made me to shine
and glister amongst the best and chief of al this countrey, but he that
doth wel marke and beholde the galle and disdaine of a husband louing
his wyfe, and then vnderstandyng her litle care and greate
forgetfulnesse whiche shee hath, bothe of his honour and glorie of his
comforte, will easely excuse and pardon my fault, whiche I will not by
any meanes colour and cloke, but rather craue pardon at your handes,
assuring you that I will amende and requite the same, so well and in
suche wise as you and yours shall haue no cause but to be content and
satisfied.” “It suffiseth me, sir, (quod she) that my giltlesse offence
is knowen vnto you, and that I haue recouered place in your fauourable
acceptation: for I doe accompte mine aduersitie well imployed, sith
thereby you and your friendes may glorie, of the seuere iustice
ministred against malefacters, and I reioyce in resistaunce of the
assaultes of loue, and of death to guarde and kepe my chastitie pure and
inuiolable: and may serue for example to euery honourable Ladie, being
assailed with suche strong and mightie aduersaries, to kepe them selues
honest. For the croune is not due but to her that shall lawfully combate
to the ende.” After this the lorde by perswasion of his wife, commaunded
that the foole should be auoided the house, that his presence might not
grieue or torment her, ne yet renewe the memorie of a thing that neuer
was thought or doen. And not without cause: for the Lorde, whiche
reclined his eare to euery trifling report, and credited the woordes of
euery whistling pikethanke, had much a do to escape from doing thinges
unworthy his estate and calling. Of so great force truely is the venime
of such Serpentes, that seasing by little and little, the harte of him
disposed to receiue it in furie, maketh it to be in effect like the
nature of poyson and drogues corrupt: whereof men ought to be no lesse,
but rather more diligent and carefull then of meates, amonges persones
whom they suspect and feare, sithens that maladies and infections of
minde, be farre more daungerous then outward passions which torment the
body. Whereunto if the said nobleman was not hedefull, he felt the
dammage for penaunce of his inconsideration. Howbeit as thinges, both
good and ill amonges men, bee not still durable and perpetuall. Certaine
daies after, he began to solace hymselfe with his wife, and rode an
huntinge abroade, visited his neighbours, and at home made great feastes
and banquettes, whereunto his kindred and frends were inuited, to
congratulate this newe alliaunce, indeuouring thereby to satifye the
fault committed, and the better to gratifie and pleasure his wyfe, to
make her know how much more hee esteemed and regarded her then before:
hee caused the successe of his present historie to be ingrauen with
great industrie, and marueilous cunning in Marble, which he placed ouer
the gate of the first entrie into his Castell, aswell to immortalizate
the great chastitie of this fayre and vertuous wife, as to set forth a
Mirrour and example to euerye housholde seruaunt, and to all other
whatsoeuer they bee, to beware how they attempt any thing against the
honour of Ladies. For many times it chaunceth, that he which diggeth a
ditch, and setteth vp a Gallowes, is the first that doth fall, or is
stretched thereuppon. As you may see by this present discourse, which
setteth before your eyes what ende the fonde loue of them ordinarily
haue, which without reason, not measureing their owne ability, doe
suffer themselues to be guided and led into their sensuall lustes and
appetites: for ill successe faileth not in a beginning, the grounde
whereof abhorring reason, is planted and layed vppon the sandie
foundacion of pleasure, which is shaken and ouerthrowen, by the least
winde and tempest that Fortune can bluster against such building.