THE FORTY-FOURTH NOUELL.

_The loue of Alerane of Saxone, and of Adelasia the daughter of the

Emperour Otho the thirde of that name. Their flight and departure

into Italie, and how they were known againe, and what noble houses

of Italie descended of their race._

The auncient histories of Princes (as wel vnder the name of kinge, as of

the title of Duke, which in time paste did gouerne the Countrie of

Saxone) do reporte that Otho the seconde of that name, which was the

first Emperour that lawfullye raigned (after the Empire ceassed in the

stock of Charles the great) had of his wife Matilde doughter of the king

of Saxone, one sonne which succeded him in the Imperial crowne, called

Otho the third, who for his vertuous education and gentle disposition,

acquired of all men the surname of _The loue of the world_. The same

Emperour was curteous and mercifull, and neuer (to any man’s knowledge)

gaue occasion of griefe to any person, he did good to euery man, and

hurt none: likewise he thought that kingdome to be well gotten, and

gotten to be better kept, where the king, Prince or Ruler therof, did

studie and seeke meanes to be beloued, rather then feared, sith loue

ingendreth in it selfe a desire of obedience in the people. And contrary

wise, that Prince which by tyrannic maketh himself to be feared, liueth

not one houre at rest, hauing his conscience tormented indifferently,

both with suspition and feare, thinking stil that a thousand swords be

hanging ouer his head, to kill and destroye him. Otho then vnder his

name of Emperour, couered his clemencie with a certaine sweete grauite

and Princely behauiour. Who notwithstanding declared an outward shew of

curtesie, to make sweete the egreness of displeasure, which they feele

and taste that be subiect to the obeysaunce of any new Monarchie. Man

being of his owne nature so louing of himselfe, that an immoderate

libertie seemeth vnto him sweeter, more iust and indurable, than

aucthorities rightly ordained, the establishment whereof seemeth to

represente the onely gouernment of that first kinge, which from his high

throne, giueth being aud mouing to al thinges. That good Emperour then

knowinge verye well the mallice of men, who although he was a good man

of warre, hardye of his hands, and desirous of glorie, yet moderated so

well the happie successe of his enterprises, as his grace and gentlenes

principally appeared, when he had the vpper hand, for that he cherished

and well vsed those whom he had subdued vnder his obedience: his force

and felicitie was declared when he corrected and chastised rebells, and

obstinate persons, which wilfully would proue the greate force of a

Princes arme iustly displeased, and to others what fauour a king could

vse towards them, whom he knew to be loyal and faithfull: giuing cause

of repentaunce to them which at other times had done him displeasure.

And to say the truth, he mighte be placed in the ranke of the most

happie princes that euer were, if the priuate affaires of his owne house

had so happily succeeded, as the renowme which hee wanne in the science

of warfare, and in the administration of the common wealth. But nothing

being stable in the life of man, this emperour had in him, that which

diminished the glorie of his wisedome, and (resembling an Octauius

Augustus) the vnhappie successe of his owne house did somewhat obscure

the fame of his noble factes, and those insolent doinges serued vnto him

as a counterpoyse to prosperous fortune, which may be easely perceiued,

by the progresse and continuation of this historie. This good Prince had

one daughter, in whom nature had distributed her giftes in such wise, as

she alone might haue vaunted her self to attaine the perfection of all

them, which euer had any thing, worthy of admiration, were it in the

singularitie of beauty, fauour and courtesie, or in her disposition and

good bringing vp. The name of this fayre Princesse was Adelasia. And

when this Ladie was very yong, one of the children of the Duke of

Saxone, came to the Emperour’s seruice, whose kinsman he was. This yonge

Prince, besides that he was one of the fayrest and comliest gentlemen of

Almaigne, had therwithall, together with knowledge of armes, a passing

skill in good sciences, which mitigated in him the ferocitie both of his

warlike knowledge, and of the nature of his countrey. His name was

Alerane, who seing himsefe the yongest of his house, and his

inheritaunce very small, indeuoured to conciliate every man’s fauour and

good will, to remoue his owne fortune, and to bring himselfe in

esteemation with the Emperour, wherein all thinges hee imployed so well

his indeuour, as through his worthines he wanne commendation and report,

to be the most valiaunte and stoutest gentleman in all the Emperour’s

Court, which praise did greatly commend the tendernes of his yong

yeares, and was therewithall so sober, and of so gentle spirite, that

although he excelled his companions in all things, yet he auoyded cause

of offence (shewinge himselfe familiar amonge all the Courtiers.) Euery

man (which is a greate matter) praised him and loued him, and he thought

himself most happie, that by any meanes could fashion himself to imitate

the vertue that made Alerane’s name so renowmed. And that which made him

fuller of admiracion, and brought him into fauour with his Lord and

maister was, that vpon a day the Emperour being in hunting alone in the

middes of a launde, and in a desert place, it chaunced that a Beare

issuinge out of her caue, was assayled of Hunters: the fierce beaste,

auoyding the toyles and flyinge the pursute of the dogges, came with

greate vehemencie and speede from a mountaine, and was vpon the Emperour

or he was ware, separated from his companie and without his sword. But

Alerane by good fortune was at hand, who more careful for the safetie of

his Prince than for his owne life, encountred the beare, and killed him

in the presence of the Emperour and many other. All which beholding (to

their great astonishmente) the dexteritie and hardines of Alerane at

those small yeares, (for then hee was not aboue the age of XVII.) the

Emperour imbracing him, did highly commende him, tellinge them that were

by, that his life was saued chiefely by God’s assistaunce, and nexte by

the prowesse of Alerane. The newes hereof was so bruted abroade, as

there was no talke but of the valiaunce and stoutenes of this yong man

of warre, which caused fair Adelasia (moued by naturall instigation, and

with the opinion and reporte of the vertue toward in that yonge Prince)

to feele a certaine thing (I cannot tell what) in her minde, which

inflamed her senses and hart. And she had no sooner cast her eyes vpon

Alerane, but loue, which had prepared the ambushe, so pearsed her

delicate breast, as he toke ful possession of her: in such wyse as the

Princesse was so straungelye in loue wyth the yonge Prince, that she

neuer founde pleasure and contentment but in that which was done or said

by her louer, whom she accompted the chiefe of all the men of his time.

In this burning heate, she felt the passions of Loue so vehement, and

his pricks so sharpe, that she could not euaporate the cloudes which

darkened her spirites and continually tormented her minde. And albeit

that the little occasion, which she saw, for their comminge together in

time to come, did disswade her from pursuing the thing which she most

desired: yet the tyrant Loue shewed himselfe very extreame in that

diuersitie of thoughts, and variety of troubles which vexed the spirite

of the Princesse: for shee could not so well dissemble that, which

honour and age commaunded her to keepe secrete, but that Alerane which

was (as we haue alreadie said) well expert and subtile, perceiued the

inwarde disease of Adelasia. Moreouer there was betweene them a naturall

conformitie and likelyhode of conditions, which made them to agree in

equall desires, to feede of like meates, their passionate mindes were

martired with equall sorowe and paine, departed as wel in the one as in

the other. For Alerane by taking careful heede to the lookes which the

Princesse continually did stealingly cast vpon him, saw the often and

sodaine chaunces of colour, wherein sometimes appeared ioye, which by

and by did ende with infinite nomber of sighes, and with a countenance

agreeable to that, which the hart kept secrete and couert, whereby he

assured himselfe vnfainedly to be beloued, which caused him to do no

lesse (for satisfaction of such like merite and desert done by Adelasia)

but to beare vnto her like affection, forcinge her by all diligence and

seruice to continue still that good will toward him, yelding himselfe a

pray to the selfe same Loue. Who ruling thaffections of the Princesse,

(as braue and pleasaunt as she was) made her sorowfull and pensife, and

altered her in such wise as she thought the companie wherein she was did

impeach her ioy, which companie she imagined to conceiue the like

pleasure that she did, when at libertie and alone shee reuolued her

troubles, and fansied her contentation in her minde. Alerane on the

other side slept not, but as though he had receiued the first wound by

the handes of the blinde little archer Cupide, ceassed not to thincke of

her, whose image ordinarelye appeared before his eyes, as engrauen more

liuely in his minde than anye forme may be insculped vppon mettall or

marble. And yet neither the one nor the other, durste discouer the least

passion of a greate nomber which oppressed their besieged hartes, and

which suffered not to liue in anye reste this faire couple of loyall

louers. The eyes alone did thoffice of the handes and tongue, as trustie

secretaries, and faithful messengers of the effects of the minde. That

which kindled the fier moste, was their frequente talke together, which

was but of common matters, withoute vtteraunce of that which the hart

knewe well enoughe, and whereof the eyes gaue true testimonie. A passion

truly most intollerable for a yonge Princesse, as well because she neuer

had experience of semblable sorow, as for her tender age, and yet more

for a naturall abashmente and shame, which with the vaile of honor doth

serue, or ought to serue for a bridle, to euery Ladie couetous of fame,

or like to be the ornament or beauty of her race. Adelasia then floting

in the tempestuous seas of her appetites, guided by a maister which

delighteth in the shipwracke of them he carieth, vanquished with an

immoderate rage of loue, tormented with grief vnspeakeable, offended

with her owne desires, beinge alone in her chamber, began to complaine

her sorowes, and saide: “Ah, what passion is it that is vnknowen vnto

me, that ingendreth an obliuion of that which was wont to delighte and

contente me? From whence commeth this new alteration, and desire

vnaccustomed, for solitarie being alone, is the reste and argumente of

my troubles? What diuersities and chaunges be these that in this sorte

do poise and weigh my thought? Ah, Adelasia, what happie miserie dost

thou finde in this free prison, where pleasure hath no place till the

enemies haue disquieted the life, with a Million of painefull aud

daungerous trauailes? What is this to say, but that againste the nature

of maidens of my yeres I will not, or cannot be quiet day nor night, but

take my repast and feeding vpon cares and thoughtes? Alacke, I thought

then to finishe my sorowes and griefes, when (being alone) I began to

frame the plot of my tormentes and paines, with so many formes and

deuises in my fansie, as I do make wishes and requestes vpon the thing I

loue and esteeme aboue all, vppon which all mine affections do depende

and take their beginning. What is this to saye, but that my maydes do

offende mee, when with discrete wordes they go about to diuert me from

my follies and pleasaunt noysome thoughtes? Wherefore should not I take

in good part the care which they haue of my health, and the paine which

they take to remember me of my torment? Alas, they know not wherein

consisteth the force of mine euil, and much lesse is it in their power

to remedie the same. Euen so I would haue none other plaister but him

that hath giuen me the wound, nor none other meate but the hunger that

drieth me vp, I craue none other comfort but the fire which burneth mee

continuallye, the force wherof pearceth the sucke and marie within my

bones. Ah Alerane, Alerane, the floure and mirror of all prowesse and

beautie: it is thou alone that liueste in mee, of whom my minde

conceyueth his hope, and the hart his nourishment. Alas: that thy

worthines should be the ouerthrow of mine honour, and thy perfection the

imperfection of my life. Ah Loue, Loue, how diuersly thou dealest with

mee. For seing mine Alerane, I am attached with heate in the middes of

ise that is full oolde. In thinking of him, I do both rest and trauaile

continually. Nowe I flee from him, and sodainly againe I desire him. In

hearing him speake, the suger and hony, that distilleth from his mouth,

is the contentmente of my minde, till such time as his words appeare to

be different from my desire. For then, ah Lord: my rest is conuerted

into extreme trauaile, thy honye into gall, and wormewoode more bitter

than bitternes it selfe, the hope of my minde is become dispayre so

horrible, as the same onely wil breede vnto me, (if God haue not pittie

vpon me) a short recourse of death.” After these wordes, shee rested a

longe time without speaking, her armes a crosse, and her eyes eleuate on

highe, which ranne downe like a Ryuer of teares, and seemed to be so

rauished, as a man would haue iudged her rather a thing withoute life,

than a creature sensible, and labouring for life, till, recouering her

spirites againe, as comming from an extasie and sounde, she beganne her

plaintes againe in this sort: “What? must such a Princesse as I am,

abase my selfe to loue her owne subiect, yea and her kinseman, and

specially not knowing yet how his minde is disposed? Shall I be so

vnshamefast, and voyde of reason, to surrender my selfe to anye other

but to him, whom God and fortune hath promised to be my espouse? Rather

death shall cut of the threde of my yeres, than I wil contaminate my

chastitie, or that any other enioy the floure of my virginitie, than he

to whom I shal be tied in mariage. Ah: I say and promise muche, but

there is a tormenter in my minde which dealeth so rigorouslie with my

reason, as I cannot tel wherupon wel to determine. I dare not thincke

(which also I ought not to do) that Alerane is so foolish to despise the

loue of one, that is the chiefeste of the doughters of the greatest

Monarches of the world, and much lesse that hee should forget himselfe,

in such wise to forsake mee, hauing once enioyed the best and dearest

thing that is in mee, and whereof I meane to make him the onelye and

peaceable possessor. Truly the vertue, gentlenes, and good nurriture of

Alerane, doe not promise suche treason in him, and that great beautie of

his, cannot tell how to hyde such rigor as hee will refuse one that is

no deformed and ill fauoured creature, and which loueth him with such

sinceritie, as wher she shall lose the meanes to inioy him, there shee

shal feele, euen forthwith, the miserable ende of her sorowfull dayes.”

And then againe she helde her peace, tossed and turmoiled with diuers

thoughtes fleetinge betweene hope and feare: by and by she purposed to

deface from her hart the memorie of Loue, which alreadie had taken to

faste footinge, and would not be separated from the thing, which heauen

himselfe seemed to haue prepared, for the perfection and glorie of his

triumphe. Loue then constrayned her, to resolue vppon her laste

determination. Then continuinge her talke, sighing without ceasing, she

said: “Chaunce what may to the vttermost, I can but wander like a

Vagabonde and fugitiue with mine owne Alerane (if hee will shew me so

much pleasure to accept mee for his own): for sure I am, the Emperour

wil neuer abide the mariage, which I haue promised: and sooner will I

die, than another shall possesse that which Alerane alone deserueth:

hauinge a long time vowed and dedicated the same vnto him. And

afterwards let the vulgar sort blabbe what they liste of the bolde and

foolishe enterprises of Adelasia, when my harte is contented and desire

satisfied, and Alerane enioyeth her that loueth him more than her selfe.

Loue verily is not liable to the fansie of the parentes, nor yet to the

will euen of them that subiungate themselues to his lawes. And besides

that I shall not be alone amongest Princesses, that haue forsaken

parentes and countries, to folow their loue into straunge regions. Faire

Helena the Greeke, did not she abandon Menelaus her husbande and the

rich citie of Sparta, to follow the faire Troian, Alexander sailing to

Troie? Phedria and Ariadne, despised the delicates of Creta, lefte her

father a very old man, to go with the Cecropian Theseus. None forced

Medea the wise furious lady (but loue) to departe the isle of Colchos,

her owne natiue countrey, wyth the Argonaute Iason. O good God, who can

resist the force of loue, to whom so many kinges, so many Monarches, so

many wise men of al ages haue done their homage? Surely the same is the

onely cause that compelleth me (in makinge my selfe bolde) to forget my

dutie towardes my parentes, and specially mine honour, which I shall

leaue to be reasoned vpon by the ignoraunt which considereth nothing but

that which is exteriourly offred to the viewe of the sighte. Ah: how

much I deceiue my selfe, and make a reckeninge of much without mine

hoste: and what know I if Alerane (although hee do loue me) will loose

the good grace of the Emperour; and forsake his goods, and (so it maye

bee) to hazard his life, to take so poore and miserable a woman as I am?

Notwithstanding I wil proue fortune, death is the worst that can

chaunce, which I wil accelerate rather than my desire shall loose his

effecte.” Thus the fayre and wise Princesse concluded her vnhappie

state: and all this time her best frende Alerane, remained in greate

affliction, and felt such feare as cannot be expressed with woordes,

onely true louers know the force, altogether like to that wherof the

yong Prince had experience, and durst not discouer his euill to her,

that was able to giue him her allegeaunce, much lesse to disclose it to

any deare frende of his, into whose secrecie he was wont to commit the

most parte of his cares, which was the cause that made him feele his

hart to burne like a litle fier in the middes of a cleare riuer, and saw

him selfe ouerwhelmed within the waters, hotter than those that be

intermixed with Sulphure, and do euaporate and sende forth ardente

smokes in an Æthna hill or Vesuue mountaine. The Princesse impaciente to

endure so long, could no longer keepe secrete the flames hidden within

her, without telling and vtteringe them to some, whom her minde liked

best, and there to render them wher she thought they toke their essense

and beinge, casting away all shame and feare, which accustomablie doth

associate Ladies of her estate and age. One day, she toke secretly

aside, one that was her gouernesse named Radegonde, a gentlewoman, so

vertuous, wise and sober, as anye other that was in the Emperour’s

Courte, who for her approued manners and chaste life, had the charge of

the bringing vppe and nourishing of Adelasia, from her infancie. To this

gentlewoman then the amorous princesse deliberated to communicate her

secretes, and to let her vnderstande her passion, that shee might find

some remedie. And for that purpose they two retired alone within a

closet, the poore louer tremblinge like a leafe (at the blaste of the

westerne winde, when the Sunne beginneth to spread his beames) sighinge

so strangely, as if her bodye and soule would haue departed, said thus:

“The trust which euer I haue found in that naturall goodnes that

appeareth to be in you, my mother and welbeloued Ladie, ioyned with

discretion and fidelitie, wherwith all your actes and affayres be

recommended, do presently assure me, and make me bolde in this my

trouble, to participate vnto you my secretes, which be of greater

importance without comparison, than anye that euer I tolde you,

perswading my selfe that the thing which I shall tell you, whatsoeuer it

be (be it good or ill) you will accept it in suche wyse, as your

wysedome requireth, and to keepe it so close as the secrete of such a

Ladie as I am doth deserue. And that I maye not holde you longe in

doubte what it is, know ye, that of late the valor, prowesse, beautye,

and curtesie, of Senior Alerane of Saxon, hath founde such place in my

hart, as (in despite of my self) I am so in loue with him, that my life

is not deare vnto me but for his sake, my hart taketh no pleasure but in

his glorie and vertue, hauing chosen him so vertuous a Prince for my

frend, and one day (by God’s sufferaunce) for my lawfull spouse and

husband. I haue assaied a thousand meanes, and so many wayes, to cast

him of and to blot him out of my remembraunce: but, alas! vnhappie

caytife, fortune is so froward and so vnmercifull to my endeuour, as the

more I labour and go aboute to extinguishe in me, the memorie of his

name and commendable vertues, so much the more I do enlarge and augmente

them, the flames of which loue do take such increase, as I do litle or

nothinge esteeme my life without the enioyinge the effecte of my desire,

and the taste of suche licour, which nourishing my hope in pleasure, may

quenche the fier that doth consume me: otherwise I see no meanes

possible but that I am constrayned, either to lose my good wittes

(whereof already I feele some alienation) or to ende my dayes with

extreme anguishe, and insupportable hartes sorowe. Alas, I know well

that I shall loose my time, if I attempt to pray the Emperour my father

to giue me Alerane to husbande, sith he doth already practise a mariage

betwene the king of Hungarie and me: and also that Alerane (although he

be a Prince of so noble bloud and honourable house, as the Saxon is) yet

he is to base to be sonne in lawe to an Emperour. In these my

distresses, it is of you alone, of whom I looke for ayde and counsaile,

beinge certaine of your prudence and good iudgement: and therefore I

pray you to haue pitie vpon mee, and haue remorse vpon this immoderate

passion that doth tormente mee beyonde measure.” Radegonde hearing

Adelasia disclose this talke, wherof she would neuer haue thought, was

so confounded and astoned, that of long time she could not speake a

word, holding her head downe, reuoluing a thousand diuers matters in her

minde, knewe not well what to aunswere the Princesse. Finally gatheringe

her spirites vnto her, shee aunswered her with teares in her eyes,

saying: “Alas, madame, what is that you saye? Is it possible that the

wisest, vertuous, and most curteous Princesse of Europa could suffer

herselfe in this sort (through her onely aduise) to be transported to

her owne affections and sensuall appetites? Is it well doen that you

seing in me, a discretion and modestie, doe not imitate the puritie

thereof? Be these the godly admonicions which heretofore I haue giuen

you, that you will so lightly defile your father’s house with the blot

of infamie, and your self with eternal reproch? Would you, Madame, that

vpon the ende of my yeares I should begin to betraye my Lord the

Emperour, who hath committed to my hands the most precious iewell of his

house? Shal I be so vnconstant in mine old dayes to become an

vnshamefast minister of your fonde and foolishe loue, a thing which I

neuer did in the ardent time of youth? Alas, madame, forget I beseech

you this foolish order, cast vnder your feete this determination

wickedly begonne, such as to the blemishinge of the honourable brightnes

of your fame, maye cause the ruine of vs all. Follow the counsell of

your deare nourice Radegonde, whoe loueth you better than her owne

soule. Quenche these noisome and parchinge flames which haue kindled,

and throwen forth their sparkes into your chaste and tender harte. Take

heede, I beseech you, that a vaine hope doe not deceiue you, and a

foolishe desire abuse you. Alas, thincke that it is the parte of a sage

and prudente minde, to restraine the first motions of euerye passion,

and to resiste the rage that riseth in our willes, and the same very oft

by succession of time, bringeth to it selfe to late and noysome

repentance. This your thought procedeth not of loue: for hee that

thincketh to sustain himselfe with venim sugred with that drogue, in the

ende he seeth himselfe so desperately impoysoned, as onely death is the

remedie for suche disease: a louer truly may be called the slaue of a

tyrant most violent, cruell, and bloudie that may be found, whose yoke

once put on, can not be put of, but with painful sorrowe and

vnspeakeable displeasure. Do you not know Madame, that loue and follie

be two passions so like one an other, that they engender like effectes

in the minds of those that do possesse them: in such wise as the

affection of the paciente cannot be concealed? Alas, what shall become

of you and him that you loue so well, if the Emperour do know and

perceiue your light and fond determinations. Shew Madame, for God’s

sake, what you be. Let the ripe fruits of your prudence so long time

tilled, appeare abrode to the worlde: expell from you this vnruled loue,

which if you suffer frankly to enter into your hart, assure your selfe

he wil take such holdfaste of the place, that when you thincke to

extrude the enemie out, it is he that will driue away that small portion

of force and reason that resteth in you: and then the comfort of your

miseries, wil be the lamentation of your losses, and a folowing

repentaunce for that which cannot be by any meanes recouered.” Adelasia

burning in loue and fretting with anger, not able to abide contrarie

replie to her minde, began to loke furiouslie vppon the Ladie that gave

her suche holsome admonicion, to whom she said with more than womanly

stoutnes, these words: “And what are you, good gentlewoman, that dare so

hardly prescribe lawes to Loue that is not subiect or tied vnto the

fantasie of men? Who hath giuen you commission to take the matter so

hote against that I haue determined to doe, say you what you can? No,

no, I loue Alerane and wil loue him whatsoeuer come of it: and sithe I

can haue none other helpe at your handes, or meete counselle for mine

ease and comfort: be assured that I will endeauour to finde it in my

selfe: and likewise to prouide so well as I can for mine affaires, that

eschewing the alliaunce which the Emperour prepareth, I will liue at

hartes ease with him, whom (in vaine) you go about to put out of my

remembraunce: and if so be I chaunce to fayle of my purpose, I haue a

medicine for my calamities which is death, the laste refuge of all

miseries: which will be right pleasaunt vnto me, ending my life, in the

contemplation and memorie of the sincere and perfecte loue that I beare

to mine Alerane.” Radegonde no lesse abashed, than surprised with feare,

hearinge the resolution of the Princesse, could not at the first make

any aunswere, but to make her recourse to teares, the most familiar

weapons that women haue. Then seing by the countenaunces of Adelasia,

that the passion had set in foote to deepe for any to attempt to plucke

oute the rootes, from that time forth shee wiped her eyes, not without

euident demonstration (for all that) of her great griefe conceyued, with

infinite sighes, turning her face to the Ladie, shee said to her with

pleasaunter countenaunce than before: “Madame, sith your mishap is such

as withoute Alerane you cannot bee quiet or pacifyed in minde, appease

your plaintes, wipe awaye your teares, shew your countenaunce ioyful,

and setting aside all care, put on good corage, and repose in mee all

your anguishe and trouble. For I doe promise you and sweare by the fayth

that I do owe you Madame, come whatsoeuer shall vnto me, I will deuise

in practising your rest to beginne mine owne sorow. And then you shall

see how much I am your frend, and that the words which I haue spoken do

not proceede els where, but from the desire that I haue to doe you

seruice, seeking al wayes possible your aduauncement.” Adelasia at these

last words felt such a motion in her minde, as much a doe she had for

the exceeding great ioy and pleasure she conceiued, to staie her soule

from leapinge forth of that corporall prison (like the spirite of that

Romaine Ladie which once lefte the bodye to descende into the Elisien

fields, to vse the perfection of her ioy with the blessed soules there,

when she saw her sonne retorne safe and sounde from the battaile of

Thrasimene besides the lake of Peruse, where the Consull Flaminius was

ouercome by Hanniball): but in the ende, the hope to haue that which

Radegonde had promised, made her to receiue hart againe, and to clepe

her counseler, sayinge: “God forbid, deare mother, that the thing you do

for me should rebound to your mishap or discontentmente, sithe the

affection which you haue consisteth in the onely pitie and conseruation

of a poore afflicted maiden. And your desire tendeth to the deliuerance

of the most passionate Princesse that euer was borne of mother: and

beleeue that fortune will bee so fauourable, that what mischiefe soeuer

chaunce, you remayninge without paine, I shall be shee that alone shal

beare the penaunce: wherefore once againe I beseech you, (sayd shee

embracinge Radegonde) to bringe that to passe whereof you giue assured

hope.” “Care not you Madame,” sayde Radegonde “I truste within a while

to make you proue the effecte of my promise: and will cause you to

speake vnto him whom you desire so muche: onely be meerye and forgette

these straunge fashions, in tormentinge your selfe so muche before your

maides, to the intente that, which hitherto hath bin kepte secrete, maye

not be reueyled to your great shame and hinderaunce, and to the vtter

ruine and ouerthrow of me.” During all this time, Alerane liued in

despaire, and hardy cowardise, for although he saw the amorous gestes of

Adelasia, yet he durst fixe no certain iudgement of his owne

satisfaction, although his harte tolde him, that he was her onely

fauoured friend, and promised him that, which almost he feared to

thinke, whiche was to haue her one day for friend, if the name of spouse

were refused. Thus tormented with ioye and displeasure, wandering

betwene doubt and assuraunce of that he hoped, the selfe same daye that

Adelasia pratised with Radegonde, for the obtaining of her ioye, and

secrete ministerie of her loue, he entred alone into a garden, into

whiche the Princesse chamber had prospect, and after he had walked there

a good space in an Alley, viewing diligently the order of the fruitful

trees of so diuers sortes, as there be varietie of colours, within a

faire meade, during the verdure of the spring time, and of so good and

sauorours taste as the harte of man could wyshe: he repaired vnder a

Laurel tree so well spred and adorned with leaues, about whiche tree you

might haue seene an infinite number of Myrtle trees of smell odoriferous

and sweete, of Oringe trees laden with vnripe fruite, of pliable

Mastickes and tender Tameriskes: and there he fetched his walkes a long

the thycke and greene herbes, beholding the varietie of floures, whiche

decked and beautified the place, with their liuely and naturall colours.

He then rauished in this contemplation, remembring her which was the

pleasure and torment of his minde, in sighing wise began to saye: “O

that the heauens be not propitious and fauourable to my indeuours: sithe

that in the middes of my iolities, I fele a new pleasaunt displeasure,

which doth adnihilate all other solace, but that which I receiue through

the Image painted in my harte, of that diuine beautie, whiche is more

varieted in perfection of pleasures, than this paradise and delicious

place, in varietie of enamel and painting, although that nature and art

of man, haue workemanlye trauailed to declare and set forth their

knowledge and diligence. Ah, Adelasia, the fairest Lady of al faire and

most excellent Princesse of the earth: is it not possible for me to

feede so well of the viewe and contemplation of thy heauenly and

angelicall face, as I doe of the sight of these faire and sundry

coloured floures? may it not be brought to passe that I may smell that

sweet breath which respireth through thy delicate mouth, being none

other thing than Baulme, Muske, and aumbre, yea and that which is more

precious, and for the raritie and valour hath no name, euen as I do

smell the Roses, Pincks, and Violets, hanging ouer my head, frankely

offering themselues into my handes? Ah, infortunate Alerane, there is no

floure that ought to be so handled, nor sauor, the sweetnesse whereof

ought not to bee sented without desert merited before. Ah! Loue, Loue,

that thou hast fixed my minde vpon so high thinges: alas I feare an

offence so daungerous, which in the ende will breede my death: and yet I

can not withdrawe my harte from that sincke of Loue, although I would

force my selfe to expell it from me: alas, I haue red of him so many

times, and haue heard talke of his force, as I am afraide to boorde him,

and yet feare I shall not escape his gulfe. Alas, I knowe well it is he,

of whom is engendred a litle mirth and laughing, after whiche doth

followe a thousand teares and weapinges, which for a pleasure that

passeth away so sone as the whirlewinde, doth giue vs ouer to great

repentaunce, the sorowe whereof endureth a long time, and sometimes his

bitternesse accompanieth vs euen to the graue. The pacientes that be

tainted with that amorous feuer, although continually they dye, yet they

can not wholy see and perceiue the default and lacke of their life,

albeit they do wyshe and desire it still. But, alas, what mishap is this

that I doe see the poyson whiche causeth my mischiefe, and doe knowe the

waye to remedye the same, and yet neuerthelesse I can not or will not

recouer the helpe: did euer man heare a thing so straunge as a sicke man

seking helpe and fynding recouerie, should yet reiecte it?” Saying so,

he wepte and syghed so piteously as a litle chylde threated by his

mother the nourice. Then roming vp and downe vppon the grasse, he seemed

rather to be a man straught and bounde with chaines, than like one that

had his wittes and vnderstanding. Afterwardes being come againe to

himselfe, hee retourned to his first talke, saying: “But what? am I more

wyse, more constant and perfecte, than so many Emperours, kynges,

Princes, and greate lordes, who notwithstanding their force, wisedome,

or riches, haue bene tributarie to loue? The tamer and subduer of

monsters and tyrants, Hercules (vanquished by the snares of loue), did

not he handle the distaffe in stead of his mightie mace? The strong and

inuincible Achilles, was not he sacrificed to the shadowe of Hector

vnder the colour of loue, to celebrate holy mariage with Polixena,

doughter to king Priamus? The great dictator Iulius Cæsar, the

Conquerour of so many people, Armies, Captaines, and Kinges, was

ouercome with the beautie and good grace of Cleopatra, Queene of Egipt.

Augustus his successour, attired lyke a woman, by a yoeman of his

chamber, did he not take away Liuia from him that was first maried vnto

her? and that common enemy of man and of all curtesie, Claudius Nero,

appeased yet some of his furie for the loue of his Ladie? What straunge

things did the learned, wise, and vertuous Monarche Marcus Aurelius

indure of his well beloued Faustine? and that greate Captaine Marcus

Antonius the very terror of the Romaine people and the feare of straung

and barbarous nations did homage to the child Cupido for the beautie of

Queene Cleopatra, which afterwardes was the cause of his vtter

ouerthrow. But what meane I to alledge and remember the number of

louers, being so infinite as they be? Wherefore haue the poetes in time

past fained in their learned and deuine bookes the loues of Iupiter,

Apollo, and Mars, but that euery man may knowe the force of loue to be

so puissaunt as the Gods themselues have felt his force to be inuincible

and ineuitable? Ah: if sometimes a gentleman be excused for abassing

himself to loue a woman of base birth and bloud, why should I bee

accused or apprehended for louing the daughter of the chiefest Prince of

Europe? Is it for the greatnesse of her house and antiquitie of her

race? Why, that is all one betwene vs twoo, and toke his original of the

place, whereof at this daye, my father is the chiefe and principall. And

admitte that Adelasia be the doughter of an emperour: ah, loue hath no

regarde to persons, houses, or riches, rather is he of greater

commendation whose enterpryses are most famous and haute gestes extende

their flight farre of. Now resteth then to devise meanes how to make her

vnderstand my payne: for I am assured that she loueth me, sauing that

her honour and yong yeres doe let her to make it appeare more manifest:

but it is my propre dutie to make requeste for the same, considering her

merites and my small desertes in respect of her perfections. Ah:

Alerane, thou must vnlose the tongue which so long time hath ben tied

vp, through to much fonde and fearful shame. Set aside the feare of

perill, whatsoeuer it be, for thou canst not employe thy selfe more

gloriously than vpon the pursuit of suche a treasure that semeth to be

reserued for the fame of thy mind so highly placed, which can not

attaine greater perfections, except the heauens do frame in their

impressions a second Adelasia (of whom I think dame nature her selfe

hath broken the moulde) who can not shake of Alerane from the chiefest

place, in whom he hath laid the foundation of his ioye that he hopeth to

finde in Loue.” During these complaintes, Radegonde, that sawe him

rauished in that extasie, coniecturing the cause of his being alone,

caused him to be called by a page: who hearing that, was surprised with

a new feare intermixt with a secrete pleasure, knowing very well, that

she being the gouernesse of his lady, vnderstode the greatest priuities

of her harte, hoping also that she brought him gladsome newes, and

setting a good chere vpon his face all mated and confused for troubles

past, hee repayred to the lady messanger, who was no lesse ashamed, for

the tale that she must tell, than he was afeard and dombe, by sight of

her whom he thought did bring the areste and determination, either of

ioye or of displeasure. After curtesie and welcoms done betwene them,

the lady preambled a certayne short discourse touching the matter, to do

the Saxone Prince to vnderstande the good will and harty loue of

Adelasia towarde him, praying him that the same might not be discouered,

sith the honor of his lady did consiste in the secrecie thereof,

assuring him, that he was so in fauour with the Princesse as any true

and faithfull louer could desire to be for his content. I leaue to your

consideration, in what sodayne ioye Alerane was, hearing suche gladsome

newes whiche he loked not for, and thought he was not able to render

sufficient thankes to the messanger, and much lesse to extolle the

beautie and curtesie of his Lady, who without any of his merites done

before, (as he thought) had him in so good remembraunce. Beseching

moreouer Radegonde, that she would in his name do humble commendations

to his Lady, and therewith to confirme her in the assuraunce of his

perfect good will, and immutable desire, euerlastingly at her

commaundement, onely praying her that he might saye vnto Adelasia three

wordes in secrete, to thintent shee might perceiue his harte, and see

the affection wherewith he desired to obey her al the dais of his life.

The messanger assured him of al that he required, and instructed him

what he had to doe for the accomplishement of that he loked for, which

was, that the next day at night she would cause him to come into her

warderobe, which was adioyning to the Chamber of his Lady, to the ende

that when her maydes were a bed, he might repaire to the place where he

might easely visite his maistresse, and say vnto her what he thought

good. The compact thus made, the Lady returned to the Princesse, that

wayted with good deuotion for the newes of her beloued. And hearing the

reporte of Radegonde, shee was not contente that she should make

repeticion of the same, twise or thrise but a Million of times and euen

till nighte, that she slept vpon that thought with the greatest rest,

that she had receiued in long time before. The morrowe at the houre that

Alerane should come, Adelasia fayning her self to be ill at ease, caused

her maydes to goe to bed, making her alone to tarie with her that was

the messanger of her loue, who a litle while after went to seeke

Alerane, whiche was a building of Castels in the ayre, fantasying a

thousand deuises in his minde: what might befall of that enterprise he

went about: notwithstanding he was so blinded in folly, as without

measuring the fault which he committed, he thought vpon nothing but

vppon the present pleasure, which semed to him so great as the chambre

wherein hee was, seemed not sufficient to comprehend the glory of his

good houre. But the Princesse on the other part, felte a maruellous

trouble in her minde, and almoste repented that she had so hardely made

Alerane to come into a place vndecent for her honour, and at a time so

inconuenient. Howbeit seing that the stone was throwen, shee purposed

not to pretermitte the occasion, which being balde can not easely be

gotten againe if she be once let slip. And whiles she traueiled in these

meditations and discoursed vppon that shee had to doe, Radegonde came

in, leading Alerane by the hande, whom she presented to the Princesse,

saying to her with a verie good grace: “Madame, I deliuer you this

prysoner, whom euen nowe I founde here, betwene your chambre and that

wherin your maydes lye: now consider what you haue to doe.” Alerane in

the meane tyme, was fallen downe vpon his knees before his sainct,

wholly bent to contemplate her excellent beautie and good grace, which

made him as dumbe as an Image. Shee lykewyse beholding hym that made her

thus to erre in her honestie, forced through shame and loue, could not

forbeare to beholde him, the power of her mynde wholy transferred into

her eyes, that then yelded contentation of her harte whiche shee so long

desired. In the ende Alerane holding the handes of Adelasia many tymes

did kisse them, then receiuing courage, he brake of that long silence

and began to saye thus: “I neuer thought (madame) that the sight of a

thing so long desired, had bene of such effect, as it would haue

rauished both the mynde and bodye of their propre duties and naturall

actions, if nowe I had not proued it in beholding the diuinitie of your

beautie moste excellent. And truely madame Radegonde dyd rightly terme

this place here, my pryson, considering that of long tyme I haue partly

loste this my libertie, of the whiche I feele nowe an intire alienation:

of one thing sure I am, that being your prysoner as I am in deede, I may

make my vaunt and boast, that I am lodged in the fairest and

pleasauntest pryson that a man can wyshe and desire. For which cause

Madame, be wel aduised how you do vse and entreate your captive and

slaue, that humbly maketh petition vnto you, to haue pitie vpon his

weakenesse, which he will accept as a grace vnspeakeable, if of your

accustomed goodnesse it may please you to receiue him for your owne, for

that henceforth hee voweth and consecrateth his life, goodes, and

honour, to your commaundemente and seruice.” And saying so, his stomake

panted with continuall sighes and from his eyes distilled a ryuer of

teares, the better to expresse and declare the secret force, that made

hym to vtter these woordes. Which was the cause that Adelasia embrasing

hym very louingly made aunswere thus: “I knowe not (Lorde Alerane) what

pryson that is, where the prisoner is in better case, than the pryson of

whom he termeth himselfe to be the slaue, considering that I fele in me

such a losse of my selfe, as I can not tell whether to go, or where to

retire, but euen to him that craueth the same fredome, whereof I my

selfe doe make requeste. Alas, my welbeloued Alerane, into what

extremity am I brought: the very great loue that I beare you, forceth me

to forget my dutie, and the ligneage wherof I come, yea and mine honor,

which is more to bee estemed than all the reste. But I repose in you

such affiance, as you will not deceiue so simple a Ladie as I am,

vtterly voyde of guyle and deceit. Who, if you be tormented, liueth not

without griefe and sorrowe altogether like vnto yours. If you doe sighe,

I am wholly spent and consumed in teares. Do you desire reste? Alas: I

wishe and craue the same vnto vs both, that be now sundred and deuided,

whiche can not be aquired except they be vnited which before were wholly

separated.” Radegonde interrupting their talke, smilingly said: “And how

can this separation be combined, where the parties them selues do liue

in such disiunctions?” “You say true, madame,” saide Alerane, “for the

perfection of vnitie consisteth in the knitting of that which is

separated. Wherfore madame (sayd he to Adelasia) I humbly besech you,

aswel for your comfort as my rest, not to suffer this diuision to be to

long, sith the outward bound shall combine the same so inwardly, as very

death shall not bee able hereafter to deface or diminishe the same.” “If

I may assure my selfe,” sayde she, “of your fidelitie, it so may come to

passe, as I wold giue you a very great libertie, but hearing tell so

many times of the inconstancie and fickle trust of men, I will be

contented with my first fault, without adding any further aggrauation,

to fasten and binde that, which I do specially esteme.” “Alas, madame,”

sayd Alerane, “doe you thinke that the prouf of my fidelitie may receiue

greater perfection, by enioying the pleasure, that I hope for than it

doth alredy? No, no, madame, and therefore be sure of my harte and

stedfastnesse: for soner shall my body fayle, than defaulte in me to

serue and honor you, if not according to the worthinesse of your estate,

yet by al meanes, so farre as my power shal stretch. And can you finde

in your hart to conceiue, that your Alerane would play the traitour with

her, for whose seruice he feareth not to aduenture a thousand liues if

God had geuen him so many?” Adelasia be sprent all with teares, was in

an extasy or traunce. Which Alerane perceiuing and saw that Radegonde

was gone into the warderobe, to suffer them to talke their fill, he

began to take possession of her mouthe, redoubling kisse vpon kisse,

sometimes washed with teares, sometime dried vp, with frequent vse

thereof, leauing neither eye nor cheke vnkissed: and seing the pacience

of his Ladye, he seased vpon her white, harde, and round breastes, whose

pappes with sighes moued and remoued, yelding a certaine desire of

Alerane to passe further. Which Adelasia perceiuing, dissembling a swete

anger and such a chase as did rather accende the flames of the amorous

Prince, than with moiste licour extinguishe the same, and making him to

geue ouer the enterprise, she fiercely sayd unto him: “How now, (Sir

Alerane) how dare you thus malapertly abuse this my secret frendship, in

suffering you to come so frankely into my chamber. Thinke not that

although I haue vsed you thus familiarly, that I can be able to suffer

you to attempt any further: for (if God be fauourable to conserue me in

my right wittes) neuer man shal haue that aduauntage to gather the

floure of my virginitie, but he with whom I shall be ioyned in mariage.

Otherwyse I shall bee unworthy, bothe of my honourable state, and also

of that man what soeuer he be, worthy of estimation and preferrement.”

“So I thynke to Madame,” aunswered Alerane: {“}for if it woulde please

you to doe me that honour, to receiue me for your faythfull and loyall

espouse, I sweare vnto you by him that seeth and heareth all thynges,

that neuer any other shall bee maistresse of Alerane’s harte, but the

fayre Princesse Adelasia.” She that asked no better, after mutche talke

betwene them, in the ende condescended that Alerane should geue his

faith to marrie her, and to conuey her out of the Courte, till the

Emperour were appeased for their committed fault. Thus had the Saxon

Prince, the full possession of his desires, and carried away the pray so

long time sought for. Radegonde was she, that receiued the othes of

their espousalles, and capitulated the articles of their secrete

mariage. And after the determination made of their flying awaye, and a

daye thereunto appointed, the two louers entred the campe, to make

proufe by combate of their hardinesse and assaye of their trauayle in

time to come, wherein they thought for euer to perseuere and continue.

Beyng a bedde then together, they did consumate the bande that

strayghtly doth bynde the harte of louers together, intiring the vnion

diuided, whiche before they thought imperfect and could not be

accomplished but by inward affections of the minde. And God knoweth howe

this new maried couple vsed their mutuall contentation: but sure it is,

that they continued together vntil the morning had vncouered from the

night her darkenes, euen to the point of day, that Alerane was somoned

by Radegonde to depart, who to conclude his former ioye, very louingly

kissed his newe wife, and sayd vnto her: “Madame, the felicitie that I

fele nowe, by enioying that which vniteth me so nerely being

indissoluble and neuer hereafter to be broken, semeth so great that no

perill whatsoeuer doth happen, can make me forget the least part of my

ioye. So it is that seing the state of our present affaires, and fearing

the daunger that may chaunce, I will for this time take my leaue of you,

and goe about to put the same in order, that no negligence may slacke

your ioye and desired pleasure.” “Ah, sir,” (saith she) “that my harte

forethinketh both the best and worste of our intended enterprise. But to

the intent we may proue our fortune, by whose conduction we must passe,

I doe submitte my selfe to the wisedome of your mynde, and to the good

successe that hetherto hath accompaignied all your indeuours.” And then

they kissed and embraced again, drinking vp one anothers teares, which

distilled from them in such aboundaunce. Thus Alerane departed from his

Ladies chamber, and went home to his owne house, where he solde all his

goodes at small price, making men to vnderstand, that he would employ

the money otherwise in things whereof he hoped to recouer greater gaine.

With that money he bought precious stones, and pretie Iewels, that he

might not be burdened with cariage of to much gold, or other money, and

then he put his males and bougets in readinesse to go with his wife,

either of them in the habite and apparell of pilgrimes, faire and softly

a foote, that they might not be discouered: which was done in the night.

The Princesse faining her selfe to be sicke, made her maydes to

withdrawe themselues into their chamber, and then she went into the

garden where Alerane firste made his plaintes, as you haue heard before:

in whiche place her husbande taried for her. God knoweth whether they

renewed their pastime begon the daye of their mariage, but fearing to be

taken, they began to playe the comedie, the actes whereof were very

long, and the scrolle of their miseries to prolixe to carie, before they

came to the catastrope and ende of their comicall action. For leauing

their sumptuous and riche apparell, they clothed themselves with

pilgrims attire, taking the skallop shell and staffe, like to them that

make their pilgrimage to S. Iames in Gallisia. The Princesse toke the

personage of a yong wench, ruffling her heare whiche she had in time

past so carefully kempt, curled, and trimmed with gold and Iewels of

inestimable value, wherein consisteth the chiefest grace of the beautie

and ornament of the woman. Who is able to deny, but that this naturall

humour and passion, borne so sone as we, whiche they call Loue, is not a

certayne essence and being, the force and vigor whereof, not able to

abide comparison? Is it no small matter, that by the only instinction of

loue’s force, the doughter of so great a Prince, as the Emperour of the

Romaines was, shoulde wander like a vagabonde in dissembled tire, and

poorely cladde, to experiment and proue the long trauaile of iourneyes,

the intemperature of the ayre, the hazarde to meete with so many theeues

and murderers, which wayte in all places for poore passengers, and

moreouer, to feele the bitternesse of trauayle, neuer tasted before, the

rage of hunger, the intollerable alteration of thirst, the heate of

hotte Sommer, the coldenesse of wynter’s yce, subiect to raines, and

stormy blastes: doth it not plainely demonstrate that loue hath either a

greater perfection, than other passions, or els that they which feele

that alteration, be out of the number of reasonable men, endued with the

brightnesse of that noble qualitie. This fayre Lady recouering the

fields with her husband, with determination to take their flight into

Italie, was more ioyfull, freshe, and lusty, than when she liued at ease

amonges the delicates and pleasures, which she tasted in her father’s

court. See howe fortune and loue are content to be blinde, closing vp

the eyes of them, that followe their trace, and subdue themselues to

their edictes, and vnstable dispositions. And truely this rage of loue

was the only meane to dulcorate and make swete the bitter gal of griefe

whiche those twoo louers felte, defatigated almoste with tedious

trauaile, iudging their wearinesse a pastime and pleasure, being guided

by that vnconstante captaine, whiche maketh dolts and fooles wyse men,

emboldeneth the weake hearted and cowardes, fortifieth the feeble, and

to be shorte, vntieth the pursses and bagges of couetous Carles and

miserable Misers. Nowe whyles our faire pilgrimes, without any vowed

deuocion, were abrode at their pleasures (beyng wery with the waye they

had traueyled all nighte) the morrowe after their departure, all the

Emperour’s house was in a great hurly burly and stirre for the absence

of Adelasia. The wayting maydes cried out, and raged without measure,

with such shrichinges, that the Emperour moued with pitie, although his

griefe and anger was great, yet he caused euery place there aboutes to

be searched and sought, but all that labour was in vaine. In the ende,

perceiuing the absence of Alerane, suspected that it was he that had

stolen away his fayre doughter, whiche brought him into such passion and

frensie, as he was like to runne out of his wyttes and transgresse the

bondes of reason. “Ah, traytour,” sayd the good Prince, “is this the

guerdon of good turnes, bestowed vpon thee, and of the honour thou hast

receiued in my company? Do not thinke to escape scot free thus without

the rigorous iustice of a father, deserued by disobedience, and of a

Prince, against whom his subiect hath committed villany. If God geue me

lyfe, I wyll take such order, as the posteritie shall take example by

that iuste vengeaunce whiche I hope to take of thee (arrant theefe, and

despoyler of my honor and consolation.) And thou vnkynde doughter shalte

smartely feele the wrong done to thy kynde, and welbeloued father, who

thought to prouide for thee, more honourably than thy disloyaltie and

incontinencie, so farre as I see, doe merite and deserue, sythe that

without my leaue, and respect of thy vocation, thou hast gotten thee a

husband worthy of thy folly, with whom I hope to make thee vnderstand

thy fault, and my displeasure whiche I receiue through thy shamefull

acte, so reprochfull, specially in her which is the doughter of such a

father as I am, descended of the moste royall race within the circuit of

Europe.” Many other things the Emperour sayd, in great rage and furie:

and in thend commaunded, that one should go into Saxone, to knowe if

Alerane had conueied his stolen doughter thither: but he could bring no

newes at all from thence. He assaied then if he could learne any

tidinges of them by other meanes, causing by sound of Trumpet to be

cried in all the townes confining that if any persone could bring him

worde, or do him to vnderstande certaine and sure newes of those twoo

fugitiues, he would geue them that, wherewith they should be contented

all the daies of their life. But he wan so much by this thirde serche,

as he did by the firste twoo. Whiche thing the Maiestie of God, semed to

permit and suffer as wel for the happie successe that chaunced

afterwardes, as for the punishing of the rashe enterprise of two louers,

whiche liued not very long in prosperitie and ioy, but that they felte

the hande of God, who sometime suffereth the faithfull to fall, to make

him acknowledge his imbecillitie, to the ende he may confesse, that all

health, sustenaunce, reste, and comfort, is to be attended and looked

for at the handes of God. When Alerane and his Lady were gone out of a

citie with in the Emperour’s lande called Hispourge being come into a

certaine wilde and desert place, they fell into the lapse of certaine

theues, whiche stripped Alerane into his shirte, and had done as mutch

to the poore princesse, if certaine Marchauntes had not come betwene,

which forced the theues to flie. Alerane was succoured with some clothes

to couer his bodie, and releued with a litle summe of money, which being

spent, those twoo kinges children were constrained to begge, and aske

for God’s sake reliefe to sustaine their infortunate life. Whiche

distresse was so difficulte for Alerane to disgest, as he was like

(standing vppon his feete) to die for sorrowe and want, not so mutch for

the aduersitie whereunto he was brought through his owne fault, as the

pitie that he toke vpon his deare beloued Lady, whome he sawe in so

lamentable state, and knew that she might attaine her auncient dignitie

and honour againe, if she listed to preferre rewarde or prise before his

life, for which she spared not the very last drop of her bloud. She

knowing the dolor and anguishe that her husband endured, comforted him

very wisely with ioyfull countenaunce, saying: “Howe now, deare husband,

thinke you that fortune is or ought to be still fauourable to Princes

and greate Lordes? Do you not knowe that great bulkes and shippes do

soner perishe and drowne in maine seas and riuers amiddes the raging

waues and surges, than in narrow floudes and brookes, where the water is

still and calme? Doe you not see great trees, whose toppes doe rise

aloft, aboue high hilles and stepe mountaines, soner shaken and tossed

with blustering windie blastes, than those that be planted, in fertile

dales and low valleis? Haue you forgotten so many histories, by you

perused and read with so great delight, when you were in the Emperour’s

Court? Doe not they describe the chaunge of Monarches, the ruine of

houses, the destruction of one realme acquired, by the establishing and

raigne of an other? What Prince, Monarch or Captaine was euer so happy,

as hath not felt some griefe and misfortune? Alas, sweete heart, thinke

that God doth chastise vs with his roddes of tribulation, to make vs to

know him: but in the meane time, he kepeth for vs a better fortune that

wee looke not for. Moreouer he neuer forsaketh them which with a good

heart do go vnto him, hauing their affiaunce in his great goodnesse and

infinite mercie.” Alerane hearing the wise talke of his wife, could not

forbear weeping, and sighing aunswered her in this maner: “Ah, Lady, in

beautie and wisedom incomparable, it is not the present fortune that

causeth my minde to wander and straye from the siege of constancie,

knowing well the qualities and number of fortune’s snares, and how

ielous she is of humaine ioye and felicitie. I am not ignorant that she

layeth her ambushes, and doeth beset the endeuours, soner of personages

that bee noble and of highe parentage, than of those whose heartes be

base and vnnoble, and their victories not able to attain any iote of

honour and fame. But, good God, (saide he, embracing his deare beloued

spouse) it is for you, madame, that I endure tormente, hauing made you

to abandon the pompe of your estate, and bereued from you a king to be

your husband, causing you thus to feele an horrible and new kinde of

punishmente, hunger and famine (I meane) in the middes of the deserts

and wilde places, and therewithall haue ioyned you in companie with an

infortunate felowshippe, who in stead of comfort and solace, ministreth

teares and sighes. O God, most high and puissant, howe profounde and

darke are thy iudgementes, and howe righteous is thy iustice.

I acknowledge mine offence to be the cause of thyne anger, and the

originall of our trespasse, and that this paine chauncheth to vs for our

sinnes, which haue so wickedly betraied the best Prince of the world,

and forsaken the companie of him, at whose bountifull handes I haue

receiued better entertainement and greater honour, than I deserued. Ah,

Emperour Otho, that thou art so well reuenged nowe, with cowardly fraude

and deceipt committed against thee by Alerane of Saxone, taking away her

from thee, which was the staffe and future staye of thy reuerend age.”

And as he was perseuering in this talke, Adelasia (seeing him in that

contemplation) plucked him by the arme, saying: “Sir, it is time to

consider our own affaires: we haue trauailed I can not tell howe farre

without rest, me think (our fortune being no better) that we ought to

remaine in some place attending for the grace and mercy of God, who

(I hope) wil not forsake vs.{”} They were then in Liguria in the desarts,

betweene Ast and Sauonne, a countrie in that time well peopled, and

furnished with huge and darke forestes, garnished with many trees, great

and highe. By the aduise then of Adelasia, the Saxone Prince forced by

necessitie (the maistresse of all artes) retired into those forestes

where he practised the occupation of a Collier, and some said that

nature taught him the order howe to cutte his woode, to make readie his

pittes, and to knowe the season and tyme when his coales were burned

enough. Great paines he susteined about his businesse, and went himself

to sell his coales, which he bare vpon his shoulders, to the next market

townes, tyll he had gayned so mutche as bought him an asse, wherewith he

dayly trauailed to vtter his coales, and other deuises which neede had

forced him to learne. In this time Adelasia was deliuered of a goodly

child, whom they named William. And afterwards, by succession of time,

she bare sixe sonnes more. For they dwelt almost XVIII. or XX. yeares in

that poore and miserable life, and had dressed vp a litle lodging within

a caue, that was faire and brode, wherein verye trimly and well they had

bestowed themselues. When the eldest of their sonnes was growen to the

stature of a pretie stripling, the father sent him sometime to Sauonne,

and sometime to Ast, to sell their litle merchandise, for reliefe of

their houshold. But the boy, whose bloud could not conceale and hide the

nobilitie of his birth, hauing one day sold certaine burdens and loades

of woode and coale: bought with that money a faire yong hauke, which he

caried vnto his father. The good man gently rebuked his sonne, and said,

that suche game belonged not to men of their degree, and that they had

muche a do to liue, without employing their money vppon such trifles.

Long time after, William being arriued to the age of XVI yeares, went to

Sauonne, to sell certaine ware by his father’s commaundement, and with

the money he bought a very fayre sword, which when his father saw, with

teares in his eyes, he went aside and said to himselfe: “Ah vnfortunate

ladde, that thy hard lucke should do thee this great wrong: truely

neither the pouertie of thy parentes, nor the place of thy bringinge vp,

can deface in thee the secrete shining brightnes of thine auncestors

vertue, nor the prediction of thy courage and manhode in time to come,

if God giue the grace to aduaunce thee, to the seruice of some noble

Prince.” Notwithstanding for that time he ceassed not sharply to rebuke

and threaten his sonne, in such wyse as the yong man hauing a harte

greater than his force, determined secretly to depart from his parentes.

Now fortune chaunced so wel and apt for his purpose as then and at the

verye same time, the Hongarians were entred Italye to spoile and robbe

the countrie, against whom the Emperour marched in greate expedicion,

with an huge and goodly armie, of purpose to force them to leaue his

lande in peace. William hauinge knowledge hereof, proceeded towarde the

Emperour’s campe, where hee shewed in deede great hope (being of so smal

yeares) of his future valiaunce and prowesse, by the deedes of armes

that hee did, during that warre. Which ended and the enemie put to

flighte, the Emperour wente into Prouance, to put in order his affaires

in his realme of Arles, which then was subiecte to the Empire.

Afterwards he retired into Italy with deliberation to seiorne at Sauonne

for a certaine time, which displeased William nothing at all, because he

should remaine harde by his parentes, who were very carefull for his

well doing, vtterly ignoraunt where he was become. And notwithstanding a

hope (what I knowe not) made them expect of their sonne som good fortune

in time to come, who was now grown great and of goodly perfection, one

of the most valiaunt souldiours that were in the wages and seruice of

his Maiestie. Which very brauely he declared in a combate, that he

fought man to man with an Almaine souldiour, that was hardy, big made,

and feared of all men, whom neuerthelesse he ouercame in the presence of

the Emperor his graundfather. Who, I know not by what natural

inclination, daily fixed his eye vpon that yong champion, and began to

bear him more good will than anye other in his courte, which was an

occasion, that an auncient gentleman, serving in the Princes Courte,

stedfastly beholding the face, behauiour and countenaunce of William,

seemed to see a picture of the Emperour when he was of his age, which

was more exactlye viewed by diuers other, that were broughte vp in their

youth with Otho. Wherof being aduertised, he caused the yong man to be

called forth, of whom he demaunded the names of his parentes, and the

place where hee was borne. William that was no lesse curteous, humble

and welmanered, than wise, valiant and hardie, kneeled before the

Emperour with a stoute countenaunce, resemblinge the nobilitie of his

auncestours, answered: “Most sacred and renowmed Emperour, I haue

nothinge whereof to render thanckes to fortune, but for the honour that

your Maiestie hath done vnto me, to receiue mee into your noble seruice.

For the fortune and condition of my parentes, be so base, that I blushe

for shame to declare them vnto you. Howbeit being your humble seruaunte,

and hauing receiued fauour of your maiestie, not commonly emploied, your

commaundement to tell you what I am, I will accomplish as well for my

bounden dutie, wherewith I am tied to your maiestie, and to satisfie

that which it pleaseth you to commaund me. Be it knowen therefore vnto

your maiestie, that I am the sonne of two poore Almaines, who flying

their owne countrie, withdrew themselues into the desarts of Sauonne,

where (to beguile their hard fortune) they make coals, and sel them, to

sustaine and relieue their miserable life: In which exercise I spent all

my childhod, although it were to my great sorowe. For my hart thought

(Sir) that a state so vile, was vnworthy of my coragious minde, which

dailye aspired to greater thinges, and leauing my father and mother,

I am come to your seruice, to learne chiualry and vse of armes, and

(mine obedience saued to your maiestie) to find a way to illustrate the

base and obscure education, wherein my parents haue brought me vp.” The

Emperour seinge the courteous behauiour of the yonge man, by this wise

aunswere, remembring the similitude of his face, which almoste resembled

them both, suspected that he was the sonne of Alerane and his doughter

Adelasia, whoe for feare to be knowen, made themselues citizens of those

desertes, albeit that William had told him other names, and not the

proper appellations of his father and mother. For which cause his hart

began to throbbe, and felte a desire to see his doughter, and to

cherishe her with like affection, as thoughe he had neuer conceiued

offence and displeasure. He caused then to be called vnto him a

gentleman, the nere kinsmanne of Alerane, to whom he said with merie

countenaunce and ioyful cheere: “You do know as I thincke, the wrong and

displeasure that your cosin Alerane hath done me, by the rape and

robberie committed vppon the person of my doughter: you are not

ignoraunt also of the reproch wherwith he hath defiled all your house,

committed a felonie so abhominable in my courte, and againste mine owne

person, which am his so soueraigne Lorde. Notwithstanding, sith it is

the force of Loue, that made me forget him till this time, rather than

desire of displeasure, I am very desirous to see him, and to accepte him

for my sonne in lawe, and good kinsman, verye willing to aduaunce him to

that estate in my house, which his degree and bloud do deserue. I tell

you not this without speciall purpose. For this yong souldiour, which

this daye so valiantly and with such dexteritie vanquished hys

aduersary, by the consente of all men, which haue knowen me from my

youth, doth represente so well my figure and lineamentes of face, which

I had when I was of his age, as I am persuaded, and do stedfastly

beleeue, that he is my neuew, the sonne of your cosin Alerane and my

doughter Adelasia. And therefore I will haue you to goe with this yonge

man, into the place where hee shall bring you, and to see them that be

his parents, because I purpose to do them good, if they be other than

those whom I take them. But if they be those two that I so greatly

desire to see, doe mee so much pleasure as I may satisfie my hart with

that contentation, swearing vnto you by the crowne of my Empire, that I

will do no worse to them, nor otherwise vse them, than mine own proper

person.” The gentleman hearing the louing and gentle tearmes of the

Emperour, saide vnto him: “Ah, Sir, I render humble thankes vnto your

maiestie, for the pitie that you haue, vpon our dishonored race and

ligneage of Saxone, dedecorated and blemished throughe Alerane’s

trespasse against you. I pray to God to recompence it (we being vnable)

and to giue you the ioye that you desire, and to mee the grace that I

may do some agreeable seruice both in this and in all other things. I am

readie (Sir) not onely to go seeke my cosin (if it be he that you

thincke it is) to carie vnto him those beneficiall newes which your

maiestie hath promised by word, but rather to render him into your

hands, that you may take reuengement vppon him for the iniurie that he

hath done to the whole Empire.” “No, no,” said the Emperour, “the

desired time of reuenge is paste, and my mallice against Alerane hath

vomited his gall. If in time paste I haue thristed to pursue the ruine

and ouerthrowe of those two offenders, nowe I goe about to forsee and

seeke their aduauncement and quiet, considering the longe penaunce they

haue taken for their fault, and the fruite that I see before mine eyes,

which is such that it maye by the smell and fragrant odour thereof,

supporte the weaknesse and debilitie of my olde yeares, and constraineth

mee (by the vertue thereof) to haue pittie vpon his parents, which

(through their owne ouerthrowe) haue almost vtterly consumed me.” Those

words ended the good Prince gaue euident testimonie of desire to see his

onely doughter, by the liuely colour that rose in his face, and by

certaine teares running downe along his hoare and frostie beard. Then he

caused William to come before him, and commaunded him to conduct the

gentleman to that part of the forest where his father dwelled. Whereunto

the yonge man readily and with all his harte obeyed. Thus the Lorde

Gunforde (for so was Alerane’s cosin called) accompanied with his litle

cosin, and manye other gentlemen, went toward the place, wher the

collier princes remained. And when they were neere the craggie caue, the

lodging of Alerane, the whole companie lighted of their horse, and

espied him busie about the lading of his coales to sende to Ast. For the

arriuall of the Emperour to Sauonne, staied Alerane from going thither

himselfe, by reason his conscience still grudged for his fault committed

against him. Alerane seing this goodly companie, was abashed, as though

hornes had sodenly started out of his head, and yet the sighte of his

sonne richly furnished, and in the company of Gunfort his cosin, did

more astonne him. For he suspected incontinentlye that hee was

discouered, and that the Emperour had sente for him to be reuenged of

the faulte so long time paste committed. And as he had imagined diuers

thinges vppon his harde fortune within his fancie, his sonne came to

embrace him vppon his knees, and to kisse his hands, with an honest and

humble reuerence, saying to Gunfort: “Sir, this is he of whom I told the

Emperour, and of him I toke my being: This is my father.” All this while

the good father embraced his sonne very hard, and weeping for extreme

ioy, said vnto him: “Alas, my sonne, if thy comming be so happie vnto

mee as it is ioyfull, if thy newes be good and prosperous, which thou

bringest: thou doest reuiue thy father half deade, and from lamentable

despaire thou doest replenishe and fill him with suche hope, as one day

shall be the staie of his age, and the recouery of his greatest losses.”

The sonne not able to abide the discourse of his parents affaires, could

not comprehend any thing at that pitiful meting: but stode stil so

astonned, as though he had bin fallen from the clouds. Now during this

time, that the father and the sonne thus welcomed one an other: Gunfort

toke heede to al the countenaunce and gestures of Alerane. There was no

part of the collier’s bodie that he forgat to view: and yet remembring

the voyce of his cosin, and seing a wound that he had in his face, was

sure that it was hee. And then with his armes stretched forth he came to

clepe Alerane about the necke, whom he made to loke redde with his warme

teares, saying: “Ah: Alerane, the present torment now, but in time past,

the pleasaunce rest, of oure race. What eclipse hath so longe obscured

the shining sunne of thy valiaunt prowesse? why haste thou concealed so

longe time, thy place of retire from him, which desired so much thine

aduauncement? Hast thou the harte to see the teares of thy cosin Gunfort

running downe from his eies vppon thy necke, and his armes embracinge

thee with such loue and amitie, as he cannot receiue the like, except he

be something moued by thee, in seing thy louing entertainment? Wilt thou

denie that, which I knowe, by a certaine instinct and naturall

agreement, which is, that thou art Alerane the sonne of the Duke of

Saxone, and so renowmed throughout all Germany? Doest thou pretende

(throughe thine owne misfortune so rooted in thy harte by liuinge in

these wildernesse) to depriue thy sonne of the honor, which the heauens

and his good fortune haue prepared for him? Ah cruel and pitilesse

father, to suffer thy progenie to be buried in the tombe of obliuion,

with eternall reproche. O vnkinde kinsman toward thy kindred, of whom

thou makest so small accompte, that wilt not vouchsafe to speake to thy

cosin Gunfort, that is com hither for thy comfort, and the aduauncement

of thy familie.” Alerane sore ashamed, as well for the remembrance of

his auncient fault, as to see himselfe in so poore estate before the

emperour’s gallants, answered Gunfort, saying: “My Lord and cosin,

I beseech you to beleeue, that want of desire to make my complaint vnto

you, and lacke of curtesie to entertaine you, haue not made me to forget

my dutie towardes you, being as well my neare kinseman, as such one to

whom I haue done wrong and very great iniurie by offending the Emperour.

But you do knowe of what puissance the prickes of conscience bee, and

with what worme she gnaweth the harte of them, which feele themselves

culpable of crime. I am (as you saide) the present missehap of our

house, for the opinion that the Emperour hath conceiued of my folly, and

shal be the rest (if you wil do me so much pleasure to rid me out of

this miserable life) both of you and of the minde of a father iustly

displeased against his doughter, and the quiet of a Prince offended with

his subiecte: for I sweare vnto you by my fayth, that I neuer soe much

desired life, as I nowe do couet death, for that I am assured, that I

being deade, my poore companion and welbeloued wife, shall liue at her

ease, enioyinge the presence and good grace of her father.” “What meane

you so to saye,” answered Gunfort, “the Emperour is so well pleased and

appeased, as he hath sworne vnto mee to receiue you as his sonne in law,

and my Lady your wife as his deare beloued doughter, whom I pray you to

cause to come before vs, or to signifie vnto vs where shee is, that I

may doe reuerence unto her as to my Princesse and soueraigne Ladie.”

William was all amased, and almost besides himselfe, hearing this

discourse, and thought hee was either in a dreame or els inchaunted,

till that Alerane called his wife by her proper name, who was so

appalled to hear the word of Adelasia, that her hart was sodainly

attached with terror and feare, when she saw so great a company about

her husband: and then her sonne came to doe his dutie, not as to his

mother onely, but as to the doughter of an Emperour, and the wife of a

Prince of Saxon. She againe embraced and kissed him, although shee was

surprised with feare and shame, and so moued with that sodaine sighte,

as she had much a doe to keepe herselfe from fainting and falling downe

betweene the armes of her sonne, and thought that she had passed the

place where Gunfort was, who going towarde her, after his reuerence and

deutie done, made her vnderstand the charge hee had, and the good will

of the Emperour, which determined to receiue her againe with so good

order and entertainement as might be deuised. Which earnest words made

them to resolue vppon the proufe of fortune, and to credite the promises

that Gunfort made them in the Emperour’s behalfe. Thus they forsoke the

Caue, their Coales and fornaces, to reenter their former delightes and

pleasures. That nighte they lodged at a village not farre from the

foreste, where they tarried certaine dayes, to make apparell for these

straunge Princes, and so wel as they could to adorne and furnish

Adelasia, (who being of the age almost of XXXIV. or XXXV. yeares, yet

manifested some part of the perfection of that deuine beautie, and

modest grauitie, which once made her marueilous and singuler aboue all

them that liued in her dayes.) In the time that this royle company had

furnished and prepared themselues in readinesse, Gunfort sente a

gentleman of that troupe toward the Emperour, to aduertise him of the

successe of their iourney. Wherof he was exceeding ioyful, and attended

for the comming of his children, with purpose to entertaine them in

louing and honourable wise. When all thinges were in readinesse and the

traine of Adelasia in good order, according to the worthines of the

house whereof she came, they rode toward Sauonne, which iourney seemed

to them but a sport, for the pleasure mixte with compassion that eche

man conceiued, in the discourse that Alerane made vpon his misfortunes

and chaunces, as well in his iourneis, as of his abode and continuaunce

in the desarts. Which William calling to remembraunce, praised God, and

yelded him thanckes for that it had pleased him to inspire into his

minde, the forsaking of his parentes, considering that the same onely

fault, was the cause of their restitution, and of his aduauncement and

glorie, being the sonne of such a father, and the neuew of so great a

Monarche. The fame of whose name made all men quake and tremble, and who

then had commaunded all the troupe of the Gentlemen of his Court, to go

and seeke the forlorne louers, so long time lost and vnknowen. To be

short, their entrie into Sauonne, was so royal and triumphant, as if the

Emperor himself would haue receiued the honour of such estate, and

pompe. Which he commaunded to be done as well for the ioy that he had

recouered the thing, which he accompted lost, as to declare and

acknowledge to euery wight, that vertue cannot make herselfe better

knowen: than at that time, when the actions and deedes of great

personages be semblable in raritie and excellencie to their nobilitie.

For a Prince is of greater dignitie and admiration than he commonly

sheweth himselfe, which can neuer enter into the heade of the popular

sort, who waie the affections of other with the balance of their owne

rude and beastly fansies. As the Greeke poet Euripides in his tragedie

of Medea, doth say:

_Ill luck and chaunce thou must of force endure,

Fortune’s fickle stay needs thou must sustaine:

To grudge therat it booteth not at all,

Before it come the witty wise be sure:

By wisedom’s lore, and counsell not in vaine,

To shun and eke auoyde. The whirling ball,

Of fortune’s threates, the sage may well rebound

By good foresight, before it light on ground._

The Emperour then hauing forgotten, or wisely dissembling that which he

could not amende, met his doughter and sonne in lawe at the Palace gate,

with so pleasaunt cheere and ioyfull countenance, as the like long time

before he did not vse. Where Alerane and Adelasia being light of from

their horse, came to kisse his handes (and both vppon their knees) began

to frame an oration for excuse of their fault, and to pray pardon of his

maiestie. The good Prince rauished with ioy, and satisfied with

repentaunce, stopped their mouthes with sweete kisses and hard

embracings. “O happie ill time (said he) and sorowful ioy, which now

bringeth to me a pleasure more great than euer was my heauy displeasure.

From whence commeth this my pleasaunt ioye? O wel deuised flight, by the

which I gaine that (by preseruinge my losse once made and committed)

which I neuer had: if I may say so, considering the ornament of my

house, and quietnesse of my life.” And saying so, hee kissed and

embraced his litle neuewes, and was loth that Adelasia should make

rehersall of other talke but of mirthe and pleasure. “For (said he) it

sufficeth me that I haue ouerpassed and spent the greatest part of my

life in heauinesse, vtterly vnwilling to renewe olde sores and wounds.”

Thus the mariage begon, vnknowen and againste the Emperour’s will, was

consummate and celebrated with great pompe and magnificence, by his owne

commaundement, in the Citie of Sauonne, where he made sir William

knight, with his owne hand. Many goodly factes at the tourney and tilte

were done and atchieued, whereat William almost euery day bare away the

prise and victorie, to the great pleasure of his father and contentacion

of his graundfather, who then made him marques of Monferrat. To the

second sonne of Alerane, he gaue the Marquisat of Sauonne, with all the

appurtenances and iurisdictions adioyning, of whom be descended the

Marqueses of Caretto. The third he made Marques of Saluce, the race of

whom is to this daye of good fame and nobilitie. Of the fourth sonne

sprange out the original of the house of Cera. The fifte was Marques of

Incise, whose name and progeny liueth to this daye. The sixt sonne did

gouerne Pouzon. The seuenth was established Senior of Bosco, vnder the

name and title of Marques. And Alerane was made and constituted ouerseer

of the goods and dominions of his children, and the Emperor’s

Lieutenaunt of his possessions which he had in Liguria. Thus the

emperoure by moderatinge his passion vanquished himselfe, and gaue

example to the posteritie to pursue the offence before it do take roote:

but when the thinge cannot be corrected, to vse modestie and mercie

which maketh kinges to liue in peace, and their Empire in assuraunce.

Hauinge taken order with all his affayres in Italye, hee tooke leaue of

his doughter and children, and retired into Almaine. And Alerane liued

honourably amonges his people, was beloued of his father in lawe, and in

good reputacion and fame, arriued to old yeares, still remembring that

aduersitie oughte not to bring us to dispaire, nor prosperitie to

insolencie or ill behauiour, and contempt of thinges that seeme small

and base, sithe there is nothing vnder the heauens that is stable and

sure. For he that of late was great and made all men to stoupe before

him, is become altogether such a one as though he had never beene, and

the poore humble man aduaunced to that estate, from whence the firste

did fall and was deposed, makinge lawes sometimes for him, vnder whom he

liued a subiect. And behold of what force the prouidence of God is, and

what poise his balance doth containe, and how blame worthy they be that

referre the effectes of that deuine counsel to the inconstant and

mutable reuolucion of fortune that is blinde and vncertaine.