spirit and greatnesse of heart (some will have it courage and
magnanimity of minde), that are affrighted at the character of a foole,
and silly poore soule; I speake not of strumpets, or of such as are
willing to brand themselves with the impurity of uncleannesse, and dare
out of impudency or cunning tell their husbands to their faces they will
go where they list, and do what they please, but of such that under that
impregnable target of honestie are yet so impatient at every
distemperature, that they dare answer taunt for taunt: yea, like
viragoes indeed, offer the first blow, though a horrible confusion
follow, what would you have answered this lord? or with what fire-works
would you have made your approches unto him? I will not tarry for your
answere, lest I pull the old house in peeces, and so, though I scape the
timber, I may be crushed with the rubbish; but I will now anticipate (or
prevent) all objections by telling you what faire Grisel said; and if
there bee hope of reformation, insert it as a caution to divert you from
your naturall fiercenes.
When shee had heard him out, though to the griefe of her soule, she
conceived the murther of her childe, and that the apprehension renewed
the sorrow of her daughters losse; yet would she give no way to such
distemperature, that either hee should have cause to suspect her
patience, or shee herselfe the temptation of disquiet, and therefore
thus replied:—My lord, I have many times told you, that my soule
rejoiceth in nothing but in your reposednes, for you are the lord of me
and this infant; and though I could bee contented to shew myselfe a
mother in his education, and bring him now and then unto you as the
pledge of our loves, yet are you the commander of my vowes, and I will
rectifie all disordered appetites by the rule of your pleasure. Take him
then, a Gods name, and if hee be marked for death, it is but the common
brand of all creatures; nay, if the mother may be a sacrifice of
propitiation to appease your disquiet, never was lamb so meek, nor
holocaust so willing to bee offred. For, what may bee comprehended under
the titles of father, kinred, children, friends, life, pleasure,
honours, and contentment, are all comprised under your love, and the
society of a husband. Do with mee, then, what you please: the body shall
serve your turne while it lives, and the soule attend you after death.
Here was an answer to pacifie the tyrants of Sicilie, and put a man
quite out of his tract of proving such a wife! Yet the Marquesse onely
made use of it to rejoice in the assurance of her goodness, and went the
rather forward in his dangerous course of temptation.
[Illustration]
CHAP. VII.
The Marquesse, resolute to prove his wife further, sendeth for his son,
and disposeth of him as he had done of his daughter.
As this patient and wonderfull lady was one day sporting with her
infant, like an untimely tempest (spoiling the beauty of some new rooted
plants) did this messenger of death interpose himselfe betweene her
recreation, making the hollow demand of her sonne worse than the noise
of a schrich-owle over a sick mans bed: yet (as if there were a
conscience in disquieting her greatnes, or if you will, her goodnes) he
came forward with preambles and apologies, insinuating, with craving
pardon, the authority of a lord, the duty of a servant, the terrour of
death, the circumstance of obedience, and all other enforcements which
might either excuse a messenger, or make the message of it selfe without
blame. What should I enlarge a discourse of terrour? it is a curtesie to
conclude a mischiefe with quicknes. Hee was not so sudden in his demand,
as shee was ready in her dispatch, for she presently blest the child,
kissed it, crossed it, adorned it, and delivered it to the executioner:
onely with the same enforcement shee pleaded, as shee had spoken of in
the behalfe of her daughter, not to see it perish for lack of a buriall,
or devoured for want of a grave.
In this manner, and with this report, hee returned to his lord, who had
still more cause of amazement, and lesse reason to trouble such a
creature, had not his wilfulnes put him forward to make an end of his
businesse, and taught him still variety of trying this gold in the fire.
But for the time hee sent likewise this childe to his sister, the
Duchesse of Bologna (yet some will have her but Countesse of Paniche),
who, understanding her brothers minde, brought up both these children in
such a fashion, that though no man knew whose children they were, yet
they imagined whose they might bee; that is, the son and daughter of
some prince, or other potentate, willing to have his children brought up
to the best purpose, and befitting their birth and honour.
The ordering of this businesse in this sort made the Marquesse once
againe settle himselfe in Saluss, where he kept open house to all
comers, and was proud of nothing so much as the honour of his wife, and
the love of his people: for although he had thus tried her patience and
constancy, giving her more than sufficient cause of anguish and
perturbation, yet coulde he not finde fault, or had the least
demonstration of offence, but still she loved him more and more, and was
so observingly dutifull and cautelous of displeasure, that many times he
grew enamored of that he might command, and seemed passionate in the
distractions of over-joy. Nor could the length of time make this love
wearisome, for all they had lived thus a dozen years together; onely
shee got the hand of him in the opinion of the people, who by this
beganne to whisper against his unkindnes, that had married so vertuous a
woman, and bereaved her of two children; so that if they were slaine, it
was a murther, if otherwise, it was unkindnesse. For though shee were
poore Janicolas daughter by birth, yet she might come from heaven for
her vertue, and was sure to go thither for her piety. Notwithstanding
these breakings out, which came often to the eares of his honour, such
was her moderation and his government, that they only whisperd the same
on her behalfe, and contented themselves with the expectation of future
good, as they had the fruition of present happinesse, not meddling with
the same further, than in the commiseration of her, and still
acknowledging their duty to him; so that although hee knew shee might
this way understand his former reasons of taking away her children, that
it was but a devise, and that there were some other motives, which
procured this unkindnes, yet was he still obstinate to exercise her
patience, and conceit beat out another plot of offence on the anvill of
a loving, yet most hardned heart.
CHAP. IX.
The Marquesse, to try his lady further, made her beleeve hee would marry
another wife.
Some dozen years were passed since the Marquesse of Saluss had sent his
daughter to Bologna, to his sister (as you have heard), who was by this
time growne to that beautie, comelinesse, and perfection, that her fame
busied all Europe; and the lady Grisel, her mother, was made acquainted
with her excellency, whereupon, he very strangely sent to Rome, by a
messenger of trust, for counterfeit letters to marrie [t]his paragon,
and to bee dispensed from his first wife. Which was so effectually
dispatched, that the messenger soone returned with the approbation of
his request, and hee himselfe had many allegations in readinesse to
excuse the matter, intimating the good of the countrie, and the
continual desire of his people for the alteration; which, although it
was far from probability, because they pitied their ladies distresse,
and rather repined against their lords inconstancy, yet it served his
turne for the time, and he thereupon erected the frame of this second
marriage. By this time is the faire Grisel acquainted with the
businesse, and troubled at the misfortune; but having many times plaied
the wanton with affliction, she resettled herself to endure whatsoever
should be imposed; so that when she came to the proofe, indeed, nothing
affronted her constancy nor humbled her lower then her own vertue had
taught her the way.
In the mean while, the Marquesse had under hand sent to the Count of
Paniche and his sister, to bring him his children with all the pompe and
glory they could prepare, with caution not to discover their names, and
to be at a day appointed at Saluss: so that it passed for current all
over the country that a lady, a yong, brave, and gallant lady, of great
lineage, and greater worth, of high renown and mighty affinity, was
comming into Saluss to be espoused to the Marquesse, and that they were
already come out of Bologna de Grace, a whole dayes journey forward,
with such a troope and company that it was a shew of magnificence, and a
spectacle of delight. For amongst the rest there was a young lord, not
fully eight yeere old, whose bravery and gallantnesse drewe all mens
eyes with admiration toward him, had not the lady divided the gazing,
and shared with their opinion. For, besides her riches and outward
ornaments, her youth (as not fully thirteene) and upright comelinesse,
her bewty and gracious behauiour, she was of extraordinary stature, and
majestike presence.
These things thus disposed and handsomely carried, the Marquesse tooke
an opportunity thus to speak to the disconsolate Grisel before all his
people. In times past, I confesse, you deserved my love, and
notwithstanding the disparity betweene us, I thought it well bestowed
upon you; nay, I cannot now impute any ill desert unto you:
notwithstanding, for some reasons to myselfe best knowne, of which I
have made the holy father acquainted, I am resolved to take another
wife; who, as you heare, is on the way hitherward already: wherefore I
would advise you to retire to your fathers cotage, till you heare
further from me.
Alas! my lord, replied the sweet soule, I ever disputed the matter with
reason, that there was no equality betweene so great magnificence and my
humiliation, and in the greatest assurance of my prosperity, reputed my
selfe a vassaile and handmaid, proud of nothing but my owne readinesse
to be at your command, and your willingnes to employ mee in your
affaires; so that, I take God to my witnes, I scarce trusted my selfe
with the name of a wife, when I was in the best assurance. Therefore, I
must acknowledge what you have heretofore vouchsafed as a part of great
bounty, and the very fruits of your generousnes. As for returning to my
poore fathers house, I am most willing; and there, as you please, like a
forlorne widow will spend the rest of my dayes; yet remember I was your
wife, espoused orderly, and you have had children by mee, so that if I
there dye, I must yet dye the widow of such a lord, and for honors sake
be so reputed. As for your new spouse, God grant her many daies of
comfort, and you many yeeres of joy, that you may live in reciprocall
delight one with another, and intertaine no worse contentment than poore
Grisel accustomed. As for my dowry I brought, I brought only my selfe,
and will have no more back againe, which was faith, love, reverence,
poverty and virginity; for, as I came naked from my fathers house, I am
contented to return so againe. Your jewels are in the wardrobe, and even
the ring you married me withal, in the chamber: of this I weare, I shall
quickly be disrobed, and if there be any further misery appointed, my
patience can endure it, if your pleasure impose it; onely in recompence
of my virginitie, I request a poore smocke to hide that wombe from
public overlooking that was once so private to so great a prince; and
because it was the bed of your infants, let it not bee the scorne of
your people, but give mee leave thus to goe out of the palace, that
hereafter times may wonder how quietly a woman yeelded to so great a
change. Nay, let no man shed a teare, I must bee more naked than so; for
though the wife of a Marquesse while I lived, and the widow when I died,
yet am I not too good for a grave, but in despight of pride must return
to dust and ashes.
Did I say before, they began to weep? I can assure you, when she had
done, they roared out-right; yea, the Marquesse himselfe shed so many
teares that he was faine to retire, and commanded the smock she had
begged to be sent unto her, that shee might prosecute the enterprise,
and he determine his businesse, as he had constantly projected.
CHAP. VIII.
How the patient Grisel was disrobed of her apparell, and restored all
she had (except one poore smocke) to the Marquesse.
Before I proceed any further in this wonderfull discovery, I am sure two
things will bee objected against mee: first, the impossibility of the
story; secondly, the absurdity of the example. For the story I answer,
that therefore it was thus published and connected together, for the
rarity of the businesse, and the sweetnes of the successe, nor is it any
way stranger than many Roman passages, and Grecian discourses. For the
application, it is both necessary and befitting; for whereas in the
condition of women, amongst many other, there bee two especiall errours
against the modesty of their sex, and quietnes of their husbands,
videlicet, superiority and desire of liberty (I name not irregular
behaviour, household inconveniences, and domesticks strife), this one
example (as Hercules did the serpents) strangles them both in the
cradle, and though it cannot prevent, yet will it exprobrate the fault.
First concerning superiority. I hope the instances of scripture are not
made canonicall to no purpose, and out of reason and naturall
inforcement: what a filthinesse is it to a generous spirit, to have a
woman so presumptuous as to take an account of her husband’s actions and
businesse? Wherein many times they are so peremptory, that I have seene
them enter the rooms of privacy, where secret businesses of strangers
have been imparted, and were to be discussed, nor hath this been done
with a lovely insinuation, or cunning excuse of longing, or willingness
to be instructed, or other pretty inducements to permission, but with a
high commanding voice, and impudent assurances of their owne worth: yea,
I have knowne them breake open letters before they came to their
husbands’ overlooking, and have wondred even at souldiers themselves,
that would give way to such indecency. Againe, to be counter-checked in
this wilfulnes, what clamours have beene raised! what tumults and
discomforts occasioned! that instead of awful obedience and delightsome
affability, they have burst out into outragiousnes, commanded teares of
mischeife, and threatned suspicious revenges. But let them soile
themselves in the filthinesse of this humour never so much. I say
plainely, that though their husbands were fooles by nature, yet is it
not befitting for a wife to discover the same, or over-rule in forren
affaires, I meane matters which concerne them not: for there is no great
man so weake but hath councell and supportation of inferior officers,
nor mean man so sottish but hath friends or servants in the dispatch of
his businesse. Secondly, concerning the desire of liberty: oh, hellish
device of the divell, and fearefull custome both of France and England!
I hope he that knowes the fashions of the East, of Muscovy, Spain,
Italy, and the Mores, understands that no married wife goes abroad but
to honorable purposes; and it is an introduction to death to salute any
stranger, or be seene in private conference. For, in true understanding,
what businesse should any man have with my wife three houres together in
private? or why, without my leave, and that upon good grounds, should
shee wander in publike? I speake not to overthrow noble societies,
generous entertainment, familiar invitations, curteous behaviour,
charitable welcomes, honest recreations, or peradventure, the imparting
of private businesse; but meerly against foppish wantonesse, idle talke,
suspicious meetings, damnable play-hunting, disorderly gaming,
unbefitting exercises, and in a word, all such things as tend to
obscenity and wickednes; in which (say what women can), if there be not
a moderation by nature, there must be an inforcement by judgement; and
that woman that will not be ruled by good councell must be over-ruled by
better example,—of which, this now in hand (of Lady Grisel) is a mirror,
and transparent chrystall to manifest true vertue, and wifely duty
indeed; and so I come to the wonder of her obedience.
After the Marquesse was resolved to the last act of her tryall, and had
sent her the smocke shee demanded, amongst all the lords, knights,
ladies, and other company, she presently disrobed her selfe, and went,
so accompanied, from the palace to her father’s cottage, who, as you
have heard (for divers reasons), was only kept from want, but never
advanced out of the same.
The company could not choose but weepe and deplore the alteration of
fortune; she could not choose but smile, that her vertue was predominant
over passion: they exclaimed against the cruelty of her lord, she
disclaimed the least invective against him: they wondred at so great
vertue and patience, she resolved them they were exercises befitting a
modest woman: they followed her with true love and desire to doe her
good, she thanked them with a true heart, and request to desist from any
further deploring of her estate.
By this time they approached the house, and the poore old man, Janicola,
acquainted with the hurli-burly, came out to see what the matter was.
And finding it was his daughter in her smocke, and in so honourable a
company, bemoaning her distresse, he quickly left them all unspoke unto,
and ran in for those poore robes, which were formerly left in the house;
with which hee quickly arayed her, and told her before them all, that
now shee was in her right element, and, kissing her, bad her welcom. The
company was as much astonished at his moderation as at her constancie,
wondring how nature could bee so restrained from passion, and that any
woman had such grace to be so gracious; in which amaze, not without some
reprehension of fortune, and their lord’s cruelty, they left her to the
poverty of the cell, and returned themselves to the glory of the palace,
where they recounted to the Marquesse the strangenesse of the businesse,
and the manner of the accidents, and shee continued in her first
moderation and indefatigable patience, the poore father onely laughing
to scorne the miseries and sodaine mutabilitie of humane condition, and
comforting his daughter in her well-begun courses of modesty and
reposednesse.
Not long after approched the Countesse of Paniche, or, if you will,
Duchesse of Bologna, with her glorious company and beautifull lady,
sending word before hand that she would be at Saluss such a day:
whereupon the Marquesse sent a troope to welcome her, and prepared the
court for her intertainment; the bruit of which yet had not so equall a
passage, but divers contrarious opinions thus bandied themselves; some
absolutely condemnied the inconstancie of the lord, others deplored the
misfortune of the lady, some repined to see a man so cruell against so
great worthinesse, others exemplified her praises to all eternitie; some
were transported with the gallant youth and comelinesse of this new
bewtifull virgine, others presumed to parallell the faire Grisel, but
that shee had stepped a little before her in yeeres; some harped upon
her great nobilitie and high lineage, others compared the former wife’s
vertue and true wisdome; some excused their lord, by the love to his
countrey, others excused the lady by the nature of the adversitie,
untill the approach of the faire virgine and the young noble man in her
company extinguished all former conceits, and set them to a new worke,
concerning this spectacle, wherein the young lady and her brave brother
had such pre-eminence. Nor knewe the Earle of Paniche himselfe, or any
of the company on either side, that they were his owne children by
Grisel, but meerly strangers, and designed for this new mariage. So the
great Marquesse made good semblance, and with his accustomed
courtlinesse welcomed them all to the palace.
The very next morning (or, if you will, the day before), he sent a
messenger for Grisel to come unto him in the very same manner as shee
was; who protracted no time, but presently attended her lord: at her
approach he was somewhat appalled, but yet setting (as wee say) the best
foot forward, hee thus proceeded:
The lady, Grisel, with whom I must marrie, will bee here to-morrow by
this time, and the feast is prepared accordingly: now, because there is
none so well acquainted with the secrets of my palace, and disposition
of my selfe as you, I would have you, for all this base attire, addresse
your wisdome to the ordering of the businesse, appointing such officers
as is befitting, and disposing the roomes according to the degrees and
estate of the persons. Let the lady have the priviledge of the mariage
chamber, and the young lord the pleasure of the gallery: let the rest be
lodged in the courts, and the better sort upon the sides of the garden:
let the viands be plentifull, and the ceremonies maintained: let the
showes bee sumptuous, and the pastimes as it becommeth; in a word, let
nothing be wanting, which may set forth my honour, and delight the
people.
My lord, saith shee, I ever told you I took pleasure in nothing but your
contentment, and whatsoever might consort to your delight, therein
consisted my joy and happinesse: therefore, make no question of my
diligence and duty in this, or any other thing which it shal please you
to impose upon me. And so like a poore servant shee presently addressed
herselfe to the businesse of the house, performing all things with such
a quicknes and grace that each one wondred at her goodnesse and faire
demeanour, and many murmured to see her put to such a triall. But the
day of entertainement is now comme, and when the faire lady approached,
her very presence had almost extinguished the impression of Grisels
worthinesse; for some inconstant humourists gave way to the alteration,
not blaming the Marquesse for such a change. But when the strangers were
made acquainted with the fortune of Grisel, and saw her faire demeanour,
they could not but esteeme her a woman of great vertue and honour, being
more amased at her patience then at the mutability of mans conditions;
till at last shee approached the lady, and taking her by the hand, used
this speech.
Lady, if it were not his pleasure, that may command to bid you welcome,
yet me thinks there is a kinde of over-ruling grace from nature in you,
that must exact a respect unto you. And as for you, yong lord, I can say
no more, but if I might have my desires satisfied in this world, they
should be imploied to wish you well, and to endeavour all things for
your entertainement indeed. To the rest I afford what is befitting,
desiring them, that if any deficiency abate their expectation, they
would impute it either to my ignorance, or negligence; for it is the
pleasure of him, in whose will is all my pleasure, that in all
sufficiency you should have regard and suppliment. And so shee conducted
them to their severall chambers, where they reposed themselves awhile,
till the time of dinner invited them to repast. When all things were
prepared, and the solemnity of placing the guests finished, the
Marquesse sent for Grisel, and rising on his feet, took her by the hand
before them all, erecting his body, and elating his voice in this
manner: You see the lady is heere I meane to marry, and the company
gloriously prepared to witnes the same; are you therefore contented that
I shall thus dispose of my selfe, and do quietly yeeld to the
alteration?