THE FORTY-SECOND NOUELL.

_Didaco a Spaniarde, is in loue with a poore maiden of Valencia, and

secretly marieth her, afterwardes lothinge his first mariage, because

she was of base parentage, he marieth an other of noble birth. His

first wyfe, by secrete messenger prayeth his company, whose request

he accomplisheth. Beinge a bedde, shee and her maide killeth him. She

throweth him into the streate: shee in desperate wise confesseth the

facte before the Maiestrates, and is put to death._

There is no man but doth knowe, that Valencia is at this day, the chiefe

and onelye Rampar of Spaine, the true seate of Faith, Iustice and

humanity. And amonges all the rare and excellent ornamentes, that Citie

is wel furnished with so trimme Ladies and curteous gentlewomen, as they

know how to baite and feede yong men with foolish daliaunce, and idle

passetime. So that if there be any beetlehead or grosse person, the

better to allure and prouoke him to those follies, they tell him by a

common Prouerbe: That he must go to Valencia. In this citie there was in

old time as it is at this day, a verye aunciente stocke and familie

called Ventimiglia, oute of which be descended a great nomber of riche

and honourable knightes. Amonges whom, not long time paste, there was

one named Didaco, verye famous and renowmed to be the most liberall and

familiar gentleman of the City, who (for want of better businesse)

walked vppe and downe the citie, and so consumed his youth in triumphes,

maskes, and other expences, common and apte for such pilgrimes,

addressing his loue indifferently to al women, without greater affection

to one, then to an other, and continued that order, till vppon an holy

daye, he espyed a yonge maide of fimal yeares, but of very exquisite

beauty: which maiden sodainlye castinge her eye vppon him, so pearced

the knighte Didaco with her looke, that from that time forth shee entred

more neare his hart than any other. And after he had well marked her

dwelling place, he many times passed and repassed before the doore, to

espie if he might get some loke or other fauour of her, that began

already to gouerne the bridle of his thoughtes, and if it chaunced that

the gentleman beheld her, she shewed herselfe curteous and amiable,

indued with grace so good as he neuer departed ill contented out of the

streate. The gentleman continuing certaine time in those vanities, was

desirous to know a far of what she was, of what lineage and of what

vocation. And after he had curiously searched out all her original, he

vnderstoode by diuers reporte, that she was a Goldsmithes doughter,

whose father was dead certaine yeares before, hauinge no more but her

mother aliue, and two brethren, both of their father’s science.

Notwithstanding, of life she was chaste and honest, defamed with none,

although she was pursued of many. Her outward beautie did not so much

set her forth, as her grace and order of talke, who although brought vp

in a Citizen’s house, yet no Lady or gentlewoman in the Citie, was

comparable to her in vertue and behauiour. For from her tender yeares,

she was not onely giuen to her nedle (a meete exercise for mayds of her

degre,) but also was trayned vp to write and reade, wherein she toke so

greate pleasure, as ordinarilie shee caried a booke in her hande, which

she neuer gaue ouer, till she had gathered som fruit thereof. This

knight hauing receyued that first impression, of the valor and vertue of

Violenta (for that was her name) was further in loue then before: and

that which added more oile to the matche, was the continuall lookes,

wherewith she knew how to delighte him: and wyth them shee was so

liberall, that so oft as he passed through the streate she shot them

forth so cruelly, as his poore hart (feeling it selfe so tormented)

could not indure that new onset. By reason whereof, thincking to quench

the fire, that by litle and litle consumed him, he attempted her

chastity, with giftes, letters, and messengers, which he continued the

space of halfe a yeare or more. Whereunto Violenta geuing no place, in

the ende hee was constrayned to assayle her with his owne presence: and

one daye finding her alone at the doore, after he had made a verye

humble reuerence vnto her, he sayde: “Maistresse Violenta, considering

your order and the colde regard that you haue to my letters and

messages, I do remember the subtiltye that is attributed to the

Serpente, who with his taile stoppeth his eares, because he will not

heare the words, which hath power to constraine him to do against his

wil, which hath made me to leaue to write vnto you, and to desire

specially to speake vnto you, that mine affectuous accentes, my sorowful

words and feruent sighes mighte certifie you better then paper, the rest

of my passion, beleuing verely, that if the heauy sound of my greuous

complaints, may come to your delicate eares, they will make you to

vnderstand a part of that good and euill, which I feele continually in

my harte, although the loue which I beare you, be such as I cannot giue

such liuely experience outwardly, being but litle in comparison of them,

which may be seene within.” And pronouncing those words, there followed

so many teares, sobbes and sighes, as they gaue sufficient testimony,

that his tongue was the true and faithfull messenger of his hart.

Whereof Violenta some what ashamed, with a constante grace said vnto

him: “Senior Didaco, if you do yet remember your life past, and mine

honesty (which peraduenture you haue thought either rude or cruell) I

doubt not, that you haue any cause to maruaile of my presumption and to

attribute that to vice, which is familiar with vertue. For although that

you haue sollicited mee to loue you, by an infinite nomber of letters

and messages, yet it is so, that following the nature of maydes of my

degree, I haue neither allowed them, nor yet condempned them, as

wherunto accordingly I haue made no aunswere: not for despite or

contempt, but to let you know more certainly, that by fauouring your

enterprises, I should increase your griefe, which can receiue none ende

by the waye you pretende. For although that I haue made the firste

proofe vpon my selfe, and therefore of reason I ought to lamente them,

whiche be in semblable paine, yet I will not let slippe the bridle in

suche wise to my passion, that mine honestie shall remain in an other

man’s power, and (so it may be) at the mercie and curtesie of them, who

not knowing howe dere it is to me, shall thinke they haue made a pretie

conquest. And that I maye haue no cause to repent to late, I haue

stopped mine eares for feare, that I be not arested and stayed with the

violence of your charmes, a thing as you say proper to Serpentes. But I

haue fortefied my harte, and so armed my inwarde minde, as if God

continue that grace in me, which hitherto he hath done, I hope not to be

surprised. Although that I must needes confesse (to my shame) that I

haue receiued marueilous assaultes of loue, not onely for the common

renowme of your vertues, and through the curtesie and gentlenesse dayly

imparted to me by your letters, but specially by your presence, whiche

hath yelded vnto me experience and assuraunce of that, whiche all the

letters of the world could not do, nor all other messages were not able

to conceiue. And to the ende that I may not be vtterly ingrate, and that

you doe not departe from me, altogether miscontent, I doe promise you

nowe that from henceforth, you shall inioye the first place of my harte,

whereunto another shall neuer enter: if so be you can be content with

honest amitie, wherein you shall finde me in time to come so liberall,

in all that whiche honestie shall permitte, that I am contente to forgoe

the name of a presumptuous or cruell Damosell for your sake. But if you

meane to abuse me, or hope for anye thing of me, contrarie to mine

honour, you be meruailously deceiued. Wherefore if you thinke your

worthinesse to great to cary away a recompence so small, you shall doe

very wel both for me and yourselfe, in forgetting that is past, to cut

of all hope in time to come.” And she thinking to prolonge a further

discourse, the mother of Violenta which stil stode at the wyndowe al the

time that Senior Didaco was with her doughter, came downe to the doore,

interrupting their talke, saide to Didaco: “Sir, I suppose you take

great pleasure in the follie of my doughter, because you tarie and abide

here, rather to contriue your tyme, then for any other contentacion you

can receiue. For she is so euill taught, and of suche rude behauiour,

that her demeanour will rather trouble you, than geue you cause of

delight.” “Maistresse,” said Didaco, “although in the beginning I

purposed not to tary so long, yet when I entered in more familiar

acquaintaunce and had well experienced her good graces, I confesse that

I haue staied here longer then I thought. And were hee neuer so great a

Lorde, that liueth at this daie, I dare auouche that he might thinke his

tyme well spente, in hearing suche sober and honest talke, wherewith I

thinke my selfe so well satisfied and instructed, as all the daies of my

life I wyll witnesse, that vertue, curtesie, and sober behauiour is to

bee founde, as well in meane degrees and houses, as in them that be

right noble, amonges which meane families, although she be one (it maye

so be) that one more illustre and noble, can not bee more excellente,

and accomplished with better manners, then she: whiche is nowe well

manifested to me in this little discourse.” And after certaine other

common talke, Didaco took his leaue, and went home to his house, where

hee lyued fourtene or fiftene monethes without any reste, assaying by

all meanes to mortifie his desires, but it auayled not: For although he

was ryche, a trymme Courtiar, and an eloquent gentleman, and had

opportunitie to speake vnto her many times, and she gentle enough to

heare him, and to vnderstande his errantes, and was assured by frendes

that she for her part was also in loue, yet he was not able by humane

arte and pollicie, to conuerte her to his mynde. Wherewithall hee was

long tyme molested, and at lengthe pressed with griefe and annoyance,

hee was aduised to sende sixe hundred ducates to the mother, for a

reliefe to the mariage of her doughter, promising besides, that he would

assigne her an honest dowrie, when she found a man worthy to be her

husbande: vppon condicion that she would yelde to him some comforte, to

ease his affection. But shee whiche could not be wonne with loue, was

not able to be recouered with money: and was offended that Senior Didaco

had forgotten himselfe so farre as to thinke to gaine that for money,

which with so great paine, teares and sighes, had bene denied him. And

to make him vnderstande howe she was offended, shee sent woorde by him

that brought her the money, that he should goe and proue hereafter to

deceiue them that measured their honour with the price of profite, and

not to sette trappes to deceiue other that would buye nothing hurtfull

to vertue. And after Didaco was aduertised of her minde, and perceiued

that he lost time in all his enterprises, and was able no longer to

susteine his extreme paine and sorowe, whiche daily augmented, and when

hee had debated in his minde all the successe of his loue, he resolued

in the end vpon that which he thought moste profitable for his quiet,

whiche was to marye her. And although she was of no suche house, and yet

lesse indowed with substaunce, as he deserued, yet her beautie and

vertue, and other giftes of grace, wherewith she was inriched, made her

worthie of a great lorde. And resolued vpon this, hee repaired to

Violenta, to whom he said: “Maistresse Violenta, if the true touchstone

to knowe them that be perfecte louers (amonges other) is mariage,

certainly you haue gotten a husbande of me, if it please you to accepte

me for suche one, whom in time you shall make to vnderstande the

difference betweene goodes and vertue, and betweene honestie and

richesse.” Violenta then rauished with ioye, and incredible

contentation, somewhat abashed, sayd vnto him: “Senior Didaco, I knowe

not whether you pretende by woordes to proue my constancie, or els to

bring me into fooles paradise: but of one thing I can assure you, that

although I acknowledge my selfe inferiour to you in merites, goodes and

vertue, yet if that come to passe which you promise, I will not geue

place to you in loue, trusting if God sende us life together, you shall

well vnderstande one daye that you would not exchaunge my persone for a

greater Ladie, what so euer she be.” For confirmation whereof, Didaco

plucked from his finger an Emeralde of great value, which (when he had

kissed her) he gaue vnto her in the waye of mariage, praying her that

she would not disclose it for a certaine time, vntill he him selfe had

made all his frendes priuie vnto it. Notwithstanding, he willed her to

imparte the same to her twoo brethren, and to her mother, and he would

get some Priest of the countrie to solempnize the mariage within their

house: which was doen in a chamber, about fower of the clocke in the

morning, being onely present the mother, the brethren, the Prieste, and

a seruaunt of the house, brought vp there from her youthe, and his own

man, without making any other preparation of coste, requisite for suche

a matter. In this sorte they spent the day in great ioye and mirthe

(which they can conceiue, that be of base birth, and exalted to some

highe degree of honour) till night was come, and then euery man

withdrewe them selues, leauing the bride and her husbande to the mercie

of loue, and order of the night. Who being alone receiued equal ioye,

and like contentation, which they fele that being pressed with ardent

and greuous thirste, doe in the ende afterwardes with liuely ioye, and

all kinde of libertie, quenche that cruell discommoditie. And continued

in those pleasures till morning, that daye began to appeare, to whome

Violenta saide: “My honourable Lorde and dere husbande, sithe that you

be nowe in possession of that which you haue so greatly desired,

I humbly beseeche you, to consider for the time to come, howe and what

wyse your pleasure is that I shall vse my selfe. For if God graunt me

the grace to be so discrete in pleasing you, as I shalbe readie and

desirous to obey you, in all that you shall commaunde mee, there was

neuer gentleman’s seruaunt, that did more willingly please his maister,

then I hope to doe you.” Whereunto Didaco aunswered: “My sweete and

welbeloued wife, let vs leaue this humblenesse and seruice for this

time, to them whiche delight in them: for I promise you of my faith,

that I haue you in no lesse reuerence and estimation, then if you had

come of the greatest house in Cathalongne: as I will make you

vnderstande some other time, at more leasure. But till I haue giuen

order to certaine of mine affaires, I praye you to kepe our mariage

secrete, and bee not offended if many times I do resorte home to mine

own house, although ther shall no day passe (by my wil) but at night I

wil kepe you companie. In the mean time to buye you necessaries, I will

sende you a thousande, or twelue hundred Ducates, to imploye not vpon

apparell, or other things requisite to your degree (for I will prouide

the same my selfe at an other time) but vpon small trifles, such as be

apt and conuenient for householde.” And so departed Senior Didaco from

his wiue’s house: who did so louingly interteigne him as by the space of

a yeare, there was no daye wherein he was content without the view and

sight of his wife. And vpon his ofte resorte to their house, the

neighbours began to suspect that he kept the mayden, and rebuked her

mother and brethren, but specially Violenta, for suffering Didaco to vse

their house in suche secrete wise: and aboue al they lamented the ill

happe of Violenta, who being so wel brought vp till she was twentie

yeares of age, and maiden of such beautie, that there was none in all

the citie of Valencia but greatly did esteme her to be of singuler

honestie and reputation. Notwithstanding, degenerating from her

accustomed vertue, they iudged her to be light of behauiour, giuen to

lasciuious loue: and albeit that verie many times, such checkes and

tauntes were obiected, yet she made smal accompte of them, knowing that

her conscience by anye meanes was not charged with such reproch: hoping

therwithall that one daye she would make them to give ouer that false

opinion when her mariage should be published and knowen. But certaine

times feeling her selfe touched, and her honestie appaired, could not

conteine but when she sawe time with her husband, she prayed him verie

earnestlie to haue her home to his own house, to auoyde slaunder and

defamacion of neighbours. But sir Didaco knewe so well howe to vse his

wife by delaies and promises, as she agreed vnto him in all thinges, and

had rather displease the whole world together then offende him alone.

Being now so attached with the loue of the knight as she cared for

nothing els, but to please and content him in al things wherunto she

sawe him disposed, and like as in the beginning she was harde and very

slacke in loue, nowe she became so feruent and earnest in her affections

as she receiued no pleasure but in the sight of Didaco, or in that which

might content and please him best. Which the knight did easely perceiue,

and seing him selfe in full possession of her harte, began by litle and

litle to waxe cold, and to be grieued at that which before he compted

deare and precious, perswading himself that he should do wrong to his

reputation, if that mariage vnworthy of his estate, were discouered and

knowen in the citie: and to prouide for the same, he more seldome tymes

repaired to visite his wife Violenta: yea and when soeuer he resorted to

her, it was more to satisfie his carnall pleasure, then for any loue he

bare her. And thus forgetting both God and his own conscience, he

frequented other companies in diuerse places, to winne the good will of

some other gentlewoman. In the ende by sundrie sutes, dissimulations,

and hipocrisies, he so behaued him self, as he recouered the good wil of

the doughter of Senior Ramyrio Vigliaracuta, one of the chiefest

knightes, and of moste auncient house of Valentia. And (as we haue

declared before) because he was ritche and wealthie, and issued of a

noble race, her parentes did easely agree to the mariage: and the father

hauing assigned an honourable dowrie to his doughter, the Nupcials were

celebrated publikely with greate pompe and solemnitie, to the singuler

contentation of all men. The mariage done and ended, Sir Didaco and his

newe wife continued at the house of his father in lawe, where he liued a

certaine time in suche pleasure and delectation as they do that be newly

maried. Wherof the mother and brethren of Violenta being aduertised,

conceiued like sorowe, as accustomably they doe, that see the honor of

them that be issued of their owne bloud vniustly and without cause to be

dispoiled. And these poore miserable creatures, not knowing to whom to

make their complainte, liued in straunge perplexitie, bicause they knew

not the priest which did solempnise their mariage. On the other side

they had no sufficient proofe of the same. And albeit they were able to

verifie in some poinctes the first mariage of Didaco, yet they durst not

prosecute the lawe against two of the greatest Lordes of their citie:

and knowing the stoute hart of Violenta, they thought to conceale the

same from her for a time, but it was in vaine: for not long after shee

was certified thereof, not onely by the next neighbours, but by the

common brute of the Citie, which reported that in tenne yeres space,

there was not seen in Valencia, a Mariage more honourable or royall, nor

frequented with a nobler companie of Gentlemen and Ladies, then the same

was of the yong knight Didaco, with the doughter of Senior Ramyrio.

Wherewithall Violenta vexed beyonde measure pressed with yre and furie,

withdrewe herselfe into her chamber alone, and there began to scratche

and teare her face and heare, like one that was madde and out of her

wittes, saying: “Alas, alas, what payne and trouble, what vnmeasurable

tormentes suffreth nowe my poore afflicted mynde, without comfort or

consolation of any creature liuing? what dure and cruell penaunce doe I

susteine, for none offence at all? Ah! fortune, fortune, the enemy of my

felicitie and blisse, thou haste so depriued me of all remedie, as I

dare not so muche as to make any man know or vnderstand my mishap that

the same might be reuenged, which being doen would render such content

to my minde, that I should departe out of this worlde the beste

satisfied mayden that euer died. Alas, that the Goddes did not graunte

me the benefite, that I might haue come of noble kinde, to the intente I

might haue caused that trayterous ruffien, to feele the grieuous paine

and bitter tormentes, which my poore harte susteineth. Ah wretched

caitife that I am, abandoned and forlorne of all good fortune: nowe I

doe see that with the eies of my minde, which with those of my body

daseled and deceiued I could not see or perceiue. Ah cruell enemy of all

pitie, doest thou not knowe and feele in thy minde, the heauie and

sorowfull sounde of my bitter plaintes? Vnderstandest not thou my voyce

that crieth vengeaunce vpon thee for thy misdede? Can not thy crueltie

in nothing be diminished seing me dismembred with the terrour of a

thousand furious martirdomes? Ah ingrate wretche, is this nowe the

rewarde of my loue, of my faithfull seruice, and mine obedience?” And as

she thus bitterly tormented her selfe, her mother and brethren, and her

maide, whiche was brought vp with her from her tender yeres, went vp to

the chamber to Violenta, where they found her then so deformed with rage

and furie, that almoste she was out of their knowledge. And when they

went about to reduce her by al meanes possible from those furious

panges, and saw that it nothing auailed, they lefte her in the keeping

of the olde maiden, whom she loued aboue any other. And after the maiden

had vttered vnto her particularly many reasons, for the appeasing of her

griefe, she told her that if she would be quiet a litle while, she would

go and speake to the knight Didaco, and make him to vnderstand his

fault. And would with discrete order so deale with him, that he should

come home to her house, and therefore shee prayed her to arme herselfe

against this wickednes, and to dissemble the matter for a time, that

hereafter she might vse vpon him iust reuenge. “No, no Ianique” answered

Violenta, “that offence is very small and lighte, where counsaile is

receiued: and albeit that I cannot chose, but confesse thine aduise to

be very meete, yet there wanteth in me a minde to followe it: that if I

did feele any part in me disposed to obeye the same, I would euen before

thy face, separate that minde from my wretched bodie: for I am so

resolued in the mallice and hatred of Didaco, as he cannot satisfie me

without life alone. And I beliue the gods did cause me to be borne with

mine owne hands to execute vengeaunce of their wrath and the losse of

mine honour. Wherefore, Ianique, if from my youth thou diddest euer loue

me, shew now the same to me by effect, in a matter whereunto thy helpe

is moste necessary: for I am so outraged in my mischiefe, as I do enuie

the miserablest creatures of the world, remayning no more in me to

continue life in wailing and continuall sighes, but the title of a vile

and abhominable whore. Thou art a straunger and liuest here a beastly

life, ioyned with continuall labour: I haue twelve hundred crownes with

certaine Iewelles, which that false traitour gaue me, which he

predestinated by the heauens for none other purpose but to paie them

their hire, which shall do the vengeaunce vpon his disloyall persone.

I doe put the same money nowe into thy hands, if thou wilte helpe mee to

make sacrifice with the bodye of poore Didaco: but if thou doest denie

me thy helpe I will execute the same alone: and in case he do not die,

as I do intende, he shalbe murdred as I may, for the first time that I

shal see him with mine eyes, come of it what will, his life shalbe

dispatched with these two trembling hands which thou seest.” Ianique

seing her maistresse in these termes, and knowinge her stoute nature,

indued with a manly and inuincible stomacke, after shee had debated

manye thinges in her minde, she determined wholie to imploye herselfe

for her maistres in that shee was able to doe. Moued partly with pitie

to see her maistres dishonored with a defamed mariage, and partly

prouoked with couetousnes to gaine so great a summe of money, which her

maistres did offer if she would condiscende to her enterprise (thinking

after the facte committed, to flee into some other countrie.) And when

shee was throughlye resolued vppon the same, shee imbraced Violenta, and

said vnto her: “Maistres, if you will be ruled by mee, and giue ouer the

vehemencie of your wrathe and displeasure, I haue found a way for you to

be reuenged vppon Didaco, who hath so wickedly deceyued you: and albeit

the same cannot be doen secretly, but in the end it must be knowen, yet

I doubte not but the cause declared before the iudges, and they

vnderstandinge the wronge hee hath doen you, they wil haue compassion

vpon your miserie: who know right well that alwayes you haue been knowen

and esteemed for a very honest and vertuous maiden: and to the ende that

you be informed how this matter may be broughte to passe, first you must

learne to dissemble your griefe openlye, and to faine your selfe in anye

wise not to bee offended with the new mariage of the knight. Then you

shall write vnto him a letter with your owne hande, letting him therby

to vnderstande the paine that you suffer for the great loue you beare

him, and ye shal humblie beseech him, some times to come and visite you.

And sithe that frowarde fortune will not suffre you to be his wife, yet

that it would please him to vse you as his louer, that you maye possesse

the second place of his loue, sith by reason of his new wife you cannot

inioy the first. Thus the deceiuour shalbe begiled by thinkinge to haue

you at his commaundment as he was wont to doe: and being come hither to

lie with you, we will handle him in such wise, as I haue inuented, that

in one nighte he shal lose his life, his wife, and her whom hee thinketh

to haue for his louer: for when he is a bedde with you, and fallen into

his first sleepe, we will sende him into another place where in a more

sonder sleepe hee shall euerlastinglie continue.” Violenta all this time

which fed her bloudie and cruell harte with none other repaste but with

rage and disdaine, began to bee appeased, and founde the counsaile of

Ianique so good, as she wholy purposed to follow the same. And to begin

her enterprise, shee prayde Ianique for a time to withdrawe her selfe,

vntill shee had written her letter, by the tenor whereof shee should

vnderstande with what audacitie shee would prosecute the reste: and

being alone in her chamber, takinge penne and paper, she wrote to

Didaco, with fayned hart as followeth. “Senior Didaco I am perswaded,

that if you wil vouchsafe to read and peruse the contentes of these my

sorowful letters, you shalbe moued with some compassion and pitie, by

beholdinge the true Image of my miserable life, pourtrayed and painted

in the same, which through your disloyaltie and breach of promise is

consumed and spent with so many teares, sighes, tormentes and griefes,

that diuers times I maruaile howe Nature can so long support and defende

the violente assaultes of so cruell a martyrdome, and that she hath not

many times torne my feeble spirite out of this cruell and mortall

prison: which maketh me to thinke and beleeue by continuinge life, that

death himselfe hath conspired my miserie, and is the companion of my

affliction: considering that by no torment she is able to make diuision

betweene my soule and body. Alas, how many tenne hundred thousande times

in a day haue I called for death, and yet I cannot make her to recline

her eares vnto my cries. Alas, how many times am I vanquished with the

sharpe tormentes of sorowe, readie to take my leaue and last farewell of

you, being arriued to the extreme panges of death. Behold Didaco mine

ordinary delites, behold my pleasures, behold all my pastime. But yet

this is but litle in respect of that which chaunceth in the night: for

if it happen that my poore eyes doe fall a sleepe, weary with incessaunt

drawing forth of well springes of teares, slombring dreames cease not

then to vexe and afflict my minde, wyth the cruellest tormentes that are

possible to be deuised, representing vnto me by their vglie and horrible

visions, the ioye and contentacion of her, which inioyeth my place:

wherby the greatest ioy which I conceiue is not inferior to cruell

death. Thus my life maintayned with continuacion of sorowes and griefes,

is persecuted in most miserable wise: now (as you know) I dailye passe

my sorow, vnder painefull silence, thinkinge that your olde promisses,

confirmed with so many othes, and the assured proof which you still haue

had of my faith and constancie, would haue brought you to some order,

but now seing with mine eyes, the hard metall of your harte, and the

crueltie of my fate, which wholie hath subdued mee to your obedience,

for respect of mine honour: I am forced to complaine of him that beateth

mee and thereby despoileth mee both of mine honour and life, not

vouchsafing onely so much as ones to come vnto mee. And vncertaine to

whom I may make recourse, or where to finde redresse, I appeale vnto

you, to thende that seing in what leane and vglie state I am, your

cruelty maye altogether be satisfied, which beholdinge a sighte so

pitifull, wherein the figure of my tormente is liuely expressed, it may

be moued to some compassion. Come hither then thou cruell manne, come

hither I saye, to visite her whom with some signe of humanitie, thou

maiest staye or at least wise mollifie and appease the vengeaunce which

shee prepareth for thee: and if euer sparke of pitie did warme thy

frosen hart, arme thy selfe with greater crueltie then euer thou was

wont to doe, and come hither to make her sobbe her laste and extreme

sighes, whom thou haste wretchedly deceiued: for in doing otherwise thou

maiest peraduenture to late, bewaile my death and thy beastlye

crueltie.” And thinking to make a conclusion of her letter, the teares

made her woords to die in her mouth, and woulde not suffer her to write

any more: wherefore she closed and sealed the same, and then calling

Ianique vnto her she said: “Holde, gentle Ianique, carye these letters

vnto him, and if thou canste so well play thy part as I haue doen mine,

I hope wee shall haue shortly at our commaundemente him that is the

occasion of this my painfull life, more greuous vnto me then a thousand

deathes together.” Ianique hauing the letter, departed with diligence,

and went to the house of the father in lawe of Didaco, where quietly

shee waited till shee mighte speake with some of the house, which was

within a while after: for one of the seruauntes of Didaco whom she knew

right well, wente about certaine his maisters busines, and meeting

Ianique was abashed. Of whom she demaunded if the Lord Didaco were

within, and saide that she would faine speake with him: but if it were

possible she would talke with him secretly. Whereof Didaco aduertised,

came forth to her into the streate, to whom smilingly (hauing made to

him a fayned reuerence) she said: “Senior Didaco, I can neither write

nor reade, but I dare laie my life, ther is sute made vnto you by these

letters, which Madame Violenta hath sent vnto you. And in deede to say

the truth, there is great iniurie doen vnto her of your parte, not in

respecte of your new mariage: (for I neuer thought that Violenta was a

wife meete for you, considering the difference of your estates) but

because you wil not vouchsafe to come vnto her, seeming that you make no

more accompte of her and speciallye for that you prouide no mariage for

her in som other place. And assure your selfe she is so farre in loue

with you, that she is redie to die as she goeth, in such wise that

making her complaint vnto me this day weeping, she said vnto me: ‘Well,

for so much then as I cannot haue him to be my husbande, I would to God

he would mainteigne me for his frende, and certaine times in the weeke

to come to see mee specially in the night, lest he should be espied of

the neighbours.’ And certainly if you would followe her minde herein,

you shall do very well: for the case standeth thus, you may make your

auaunte that you be prouided of so faire a wife, and with so beautifull

a frende as any gentleman in Valentia.” And then Ianique deliuered him

the letter, which he receiued and redde, and hauing well considered the

tenor of the same he was incontinently surprised with a sodaine passion:

for hatred and pitie, loue and disdaine (as within a Cloude be conteined

hotte and colde, with many contrary winds) began to combate together,

and to vexe his hart with contrary minds, then pawsinge vpon answere, he

said vnto her: “Ianique, my dere frende recommende mee to the good grace

and fauour of thy maistres, and say vnto her, that for this time I will

make her no answere, but to morow at fower of the clocke in the morning

I will be at her house, and keepe her companie all the daye and nighte,

and then I will tell her what I haue doen sithens I departed last from

her, trusting shee shall haue no cause to be offended with me.” And then

Ianique taking her leaue, retourned towarde Violenta, telling her what

shee had doen. To whom Violenta answeared: “Ianique, if thou hast made a

good beginninge to our plotted enterprise, I likewise for my part haue

not slept. For I haue deuised that wee must prouide for a stronge roape,

which wee will fasten to the beddes side, and when hee shalbe a sleepe,

I will caste the other ende of the rope to thee, ouerthwart the bedde,

that thou maiest plucke the same with all thy mighte, and before thou

beginnest to pull I will with a knife cutte his throate, wherefore thou

muste prepare two great kniues, what soeuer they cost, but I pray thee

let me alone with doing of the facte, that I may dispatche him of his

life, which alone did make the first assault to the breach of mine

honour.” Ianique knew so well how to prouide for all that was requisite

for the execution of their enterprise, as there rested nothing but

opportunitie, to sort their cruel purpose to effect. The knight sir

Didaco, at the houre appointed, tolde his new wife that he must go into

the countrie, to take order for the state of his land, and that he could

not retourne, til the next day in the morning. Which she by and by

beleued: and the better to couer his fact, he caused two horse to be

made redie, and rode forth when the clocke strake iiii. And when he had

riden through a certain streat, he said to his man, which was wonte to

serue his tourne in loue matters: “Carie my horse to such a manour in

the countrie, and tarrie there all this day, and to morowe morning come

seeke mee in suche a place, when I am gone from the house of Violenta.

In the meane time set my horse in some Inne: for in any wise I will haue

no man know that I doe lie there.” Which doen the maister and the

seruaunte wente two seuerall wayes. The knight being come to the house

of Violenta, he found Ianique tarying for him, with good deuocion to vse

him according to his desert, and conueyed him to the chamber of

Violenta, and then she retourned about her busines. The knighte kissed

Violenta and bad her good morowe, asking her how she did? Whom Violenta

aunsweared: “Sir Didaco, you bid me good morrow in words, but in deede

you go about to prepare for me a heuie and sorowfull life. I beleeue

that your minde beareth witnes, of the state of my welfare: for you haue

broughte me to such extremitie, that you see right wel how nothing els

but my voice declareth me to be a woman, and therewithall so feeble a

creature, as I still craue and call for death or for pitie, although

both of thone and of the other, I am not heard at all: and yet thincke

not Didaco, that I am so farre out of my wittes to beleeue that the

cause of my writing the letter was for hope, that (you remembring my

bitter paines, and your owne hainous crime) I coulde euer moue you to

pitie: for I am perswaded that you wil neuer cease to exhauste and sucke

the bloud, honor, and life of them that credite your trumperies and

deceiptes, as nowe by experience I know by my selfe, with such deadly

sorow that I still attende and loke for the sorowful ende of my life.”

Didaco seing her thus afflicted, fearing that her cholere woulde further

inflame, began to cull her, and to take her now into his armes, telling

her that his mariage with the doughter of Vigliaracuta, was concluded

more by force then his owne will and minde, because they pretended to

haue a gift of all the lande and goods he had in succession after his

father was dead, which if they did obtain by law he should be a begger

all the dayes of his life, and that the same was doen to prouide for the

quiet state of them both, and notwithstanding hee had maried an other

wife, yet hee purposed to loue none but her, and meant in time to poison

his wife, and to spend the rest of his life with her. And thus seeming

to remedie his former fault, by surmised reports, chauntinge vppon the

cordes of his pleasaunt tongue, hee thought with Courtlike allurements,

to appease her, which had her wittes to well sharpened to be twise taken

in one trap, howbeit for feare of driuing him awaye, and to loose the

meane to accomplish that which she intended, she said vnto him with

forced smiling: “Sir Didaco, although you haue so ill vsed mee in time

paste, as I haue no greate cause to beleeue your presente woordes, yet

the loue that I beare you, is so rooted in my harte, as the faulte muste

be verye greate, which shoulde remoue the same: in consideration

whereof, I will constraine myselfe to beleeue that your woords be true,

vpon condicion that you will sweare and promise to lie with me here ones

or twyse a weeke. For me thinke that if I might at times inioye your

presence, I should remaine in some part of your grace and fauour, and

liue the best contented woman a liue.” Whereunto hee willingly agreed,

with a great nomber of other like protestations, prompte and redy in

them which meane deceipt. But in the poore miserable woman had perced

the same in the depth of her harte, and had credited all that he spake,

no doubte he woulde haue chaunged his minde. Thus either partes spente

the daye in cold and dissembled flatteries till darke nighte, with his

accustomed silence, did deliuer them the meane to exercise their cruell

facte. So sone as supper was doen, Didaco and Violenta walked vp and

downe together, talking of certaine common matters, till the knight

(pressed with slepe) commaunded his bed to be made redie: it neded not

then to inquire with what diligence Violenta and Ianique obeyed his

requeste: in whome onely as they thought consisted the happe, or

mishappe of their intent: to whom because Violenta might shewe her selfe

more affectionate, went first to bedde, and so sone as they were layde,

Ianique drewe the curteines and tooke away Didaco his swoorde, and

making as though she had a thing to do vnder the bedde, she fastened the

rope and raked vp the fire which was in the chimney, carying a stoole to

the beddes side, and layd vpon the same twoo great kechin knifes, which

doen she put out the candle, and, fayning to goe out of the chamber, she

shut the dore and went in againe. And then the poore infortunate knight,

thinking that he was alone in the chamber with Violenta, began to clepe

and kisse her, whereunto she made no refusal, but desirous to renew his

old priuate toies, she prayed him of al loue that he bare vnto her to

kepe truce for twoo or three howers, for that the night was long inough

to satisfie his desires, affirming that it was impossible for her to

wake, because fiue or sixe dayes before by reason of her griefes, she

had not slept at all, notwithstanding, she said, that after her first

sleepe she would willingly obey him: wherunto the gentleman was easely

perswaded, aswell bicause he hadde els where sufficiently staunched his

thurst, as also for that he was loth to displease her: and faining her

selfe to sleepe, she turned her face to the other side, and in that wyse

continued, till the poore gentleman was fallen into his sound slepe.

Then Ianique softly conueyed the rope ouer his bodye, and gaue it to

Violenta, and after she had placed it according to her minde, as they

together had deuised before, she deliuered thende to Ianique, who being

at the beddes side satte down vpon the grounde, and folding the rope

about her armes, hoisted her twoo feete against the bedde to pull with

greater force when nede required. Not long after, Violenta toke one of

the great knifes, and lifting her selfe vp softlye, she proued with her

hand, to seke a place most meete for her to stabbe a hole into her

enemies fleshe. And inchaunted with wrath, rage and furie, like another

Medea, thrust the poincte of the knife with suche force into his throte

as shee perced it through, and the poore vnhappie man thinking to

resiste the same, by geuing some repulse against that aduerse and heauie

fortune, was appalled, who feeling a new charge geuen vpon him againe,

specially being intricated with the roape, was not able to sturre hande

nor foote, and through the excessiue violence of the paine, his speache

and power to crie, was taken away: in such sorte that after he had

receiued tenne or twelue mortall woundes one after an other, his poore

martired soule departed from his sorowfull body. Violenta hauing ended

her determined enterprise, commaunded Ianique to light the candle, and

approching nere the knightes face, shee sawe by and by that he was

without life. Then not able to satisfie her bloudye harte, ne yet to

quenche her furious rage which boiled in her stomacke, she with the

poinct of the knife tare out the eyes from his head, crying out vpon

them with hideous voice, as if they had ben aliue: “Ah traiterous eyes,

the messengers of a minde most villanous that euer seiorned within the

bodie of man: come out of your shamelesse siege for euer, for the spring

of your fained teares is now exhausted and dried vp.” Then shee played

the Bocher vppon those insensible members, continuing still her rage,

and cruelly seazed vpon the tongue, which with her bloudy handes she

haled out of his mouth, and beholding the same with a murderous eie as

she was cutting it of, sayd: “Oh abhominable and periured tongue, how

many lies diddest thou frame in the same, before thou couldest with the

canon shot of this poysoned member, make breache into my virginitie:

whereof now being depriued by thy meanes, I franckly accelerate my self

to death, wherunto thou presently hast opened the way.” And when shee

had separated this litle member from the reste of the body (insaciable

of crueltie) with the knife ripped a violent hole into his stomacke, and

launching her cruel handes vpon his harte she tare it from the place,

and gashing the same with many blowes, she said: “Ah, vile hart, harder

then the Diamont whose andeuile forged the infortunate trappes of these

my cruel destenies! oh that I could haue discoured thy cogitations in

time past, as I doe now thy materiall substaunce, that I might haue bene

preserued from thine abhominable treason, and detestable infidelitie.”

Then fleashing her selfe vpon the dead body, as a hungry lion vpon his

praye, she lefte no parte of him vnwounded: and when shee had mangled

his bodye all ouer, with an infinite number of gashes, she cried out: “O

infected carrion, whilom an organ and instrumente of the moste

vnfaithfull and trayterous minde that euer was vnder the coape of

heauen. Nowe thou art payed with deserte, worthy of thy merites!” Then

shee sayed to Ianique (whiche with great terrour, had all this whyle

viewed her play this pageant) “Ianique I feele my selfe now so eased of

payne that come death when he will, he shal find me strong and lustie to

indure his furious assault, which of long time I haue assaied. Helpe me

then to traine this corps out of my father’s house, wherein I was first

defloured, then will I tell thee what thou shalt doe: for like as mine

honestie is stayned and published abrode, euen so will I the reuenge to

be manifeste, crauing that his bodie may be exponed to the viewe of all

men.” Whose request Ianique obeied: and then she and Violenta toke the

body, and threwe it out at one of the chamber wyndowes down vpon the

pauement of the streate, with all the partes which she had cut of. That

done she sayd to Ianique: “Take this casket with all the money within

the same, and shippe thy selfe at the next port thou shalt come to, and

get thee ouer into Africa to saue thy life so spedely as thou canst, and

neuer come into these partes again, nor to any other wher thou art

knowen.” Which Ianique purposed to doe, although Violenta had not

consailed her thereunto: and ready to departe, shee gaue a sorowefull

farewell to her maistres, and betoke her selfe to her good fortune: and

from that time forth, no man could tell whether she went, for all the

persute made after her. So sone as daye appeared, the firste that passed

by the streate espied the dead bodie, whiche by reason of the noyse and

brute made throughout the towne, caused many people to come and see it:

but no man knew what he was, being disfiguered as well by reason of the

eyes torne out of his head, as for other partes mutilated and deformed.

And about eight of the clocke in the morning, there was suche a

multitude of people assembled, as it was in maner impossible to come

nere it. The moste parte thought that some theues in the nighte had

committed that murder: whiche opinion seemed to be true, because he was

in his shurte: other some were of contrary opinion: and Violenta, whiche

was at the wyndowe, hearing their sundrie opinions came downe and with a

bolde courage and stoute voyce, that euery man might heare, said; “Sirs,

you do contend vpon a thing whereof (if I were demaunded the question of

the magistrates of this citie) I am able to render assured testimonie:

and without great difficultie this murder can not be discouered by any

other but by me.” Whiche woordes the people did sone beleue, thinking

that diuers gentlemen ielous of Violenta had made a fraye: for she had

now loste her auncient reputacion by meanes of Didaco, who (as the fame

and common reporte was bruted) did keepe her. When she had spoken those

wordes, the Iudges were incontinently aduertised as well of the murder

as of that whiche Violenta had said, and went thither with Sergeauntes

and Officers, where they founde Violenta, more stoute then any of the

standers by: and inquired of her immediatlye howe that murder came to

passe, but shee without feare or appallement, made this aunswere: “Hee

that you see here dead, is the Lorde Didaco: and because it apperteineth

to many to vnderstand the trouth of his death (as his father in lawe,

his wife and other kinsmen) I would in their presence, if it please you

to cause them to be called hither declare what I knowe.” The Magistrates

amased to see so great a Lorde so cruelly slayne, committed her to warde

til after dinner, and commaunded that all the before named should bee

summoned to appeare: who assembled in the palace, with such a number of

the people, as the iudges could skant haue place: Violenta in the

presence of them all, without any rage or passion, first of all

recompted vnto them the chast loue betwene Didaco and her, whiche hee

continued the space of fourtene or fiftene monethes, without receiuing

any fruicte or commoditie thereof. Within a whyle after (he being

vanquished with loue) maried her secretly at her house, and solempnized

the nuptialles by a Prieste vnknowen: declaring moreouer, how they had

liued a yere together in householde, without any occasion of offence, on

her part geuen vnto him. Then she rehersed before them his seconde

mariage with the doughter of such a man, being there present, adding for

conclusion, that sith he had made her to lose her honestie, shee had

sought meanes to make him to loose his life: which she executed with the

helpe of Ianique her mayde: who by her aduise being loth to liue any

longer, had drowned her selfe. And after she had declared the true state

of the matter, passed betwene them, shee sayd for conclusion, that all

that she had rehersed was not to incite or moue them to pitie or

compassion, thereby to prolong her life, whereof shee iudged her self

vnworthy: “For if you (quoth she) do suffer me to escape your handes,

thinking to saue my body, you shalbe the cause and whole ruine of my

soule, for with these mine owne handes, which you see before you, I will

desperatly cut of the thred of this my life.” And with those wordes she

held her peace: wherat the people amased, and moued with pitie, let fall

the luke warme teares from their dolourouse eyes and lamented the

misfortune of that poore creature: imputing the fault vppon the dead

knight, which vnder colour of mariage had deceiued her. The Magistrates

determining further to deliberate vpon the matter, caused the dead bodie

to be buried, and committed Violenta againe to warde, taking away from

her kniues and other weapons, wherewith they thought shee might hurt her

selfe. And vsed such diligent search and inquirie, that the Priest which

maried them was found out, and the seruaunt of Didaco that was present

at the mariage of Violenta, being examined, deposed how by his maister’s

commaundement he caried his horse into the countrie, and how he

commaunded him to come to him againe the nexte morning to the house of

Violenta. And all thinges were so well brought to light, as nothing

wanted for further inuestigation of the truthe, but onely the confession

of him that was dead. And Violenta by the common opinion of the Judges

was condempned to be beheaded: not only for that she had presumed to

punishe the knightes tromperie and offence, but for her excessiue

crueltie doen vpon the dead body. Thus infortunate Violenta ended her

life, her mother and brethren being acquited: and was executed in the

presence of the duke of Calabria, the sonne of king Frederic of Aragon:

which was that time the Viceroy there, and afterwardes died at Torry in

Fraunce: who incontinently after caused this historie to be registred,

with other thinges worthy of remembraunce, chaunced in his time at

Valencia. Bandell doth wryte, that the mayde Ianique was put to death

with her maistres: but Paludanus a Spaniard, a liue at that time,

writeth an excellent historie in Latine, wherin he certainly declareth

that she was neuer apprehended, which opinion (as most probable) I haue

folowed.

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