THE SIXT DAY.

_Governed under the Authority of Madam Eliza, and the Argument of the

Discourses or Novels there to be recounted, doe concerne such persons;

who by some witty words (when any have checkt or taunted them) have

revenged themselves, in a sudden, unexpected and discreet answere,

thereby preventing loss, danger, scorne and disgrace, retorting them on

the busi-headed Questioners._

The Induction.

The Moone having past the heaven, lost her bright splendour, by the

arising of a more powerfull light, and every part of our world began

to looke cleare: when the Queene (being risen) caused all the Company

to be called, walking forth afterward upon the pearled dewe (so farre

as was supposed convenient) in faire and familiar conference together,

according as severally they were disposed, & repetition of divers the

passed Novels, especially those which were most pleasing, and seemed so

by their present commendations. But the Sunne beeing somewhat higher

mounted, gave such a sensible warmth to the ayre, as caused their

returne backe to the Pallace, where the Tables were readily covered

against their comming, strewed with sweet hearbes and odoriferous

flowers, seating themselves at the Tables (before the heat grew more

violent) according as the Queene commanded.

After dinner, they sung divers excellent Canzonnets, and then some went

to sleepe, others played at the Chesse, and some at the Tables: But

_Dioneus_ and Madam _Lauretta_, they sung the love-conflict betweene

_Troylus_ and _Cressida_. Now was the houre come, of repairing to

their former Consistory or meeting place, the Queene having thereto

generally summoned them, and seating themselves (as they were wont

to doe) about the faire fountaine. As the Queene was commanding to

begin the first Novell, an accident suddenly happened, which never had

befalne before: to wit, they heard a great noyse and tumult, among the

houshold servants in the Kitchin. Whereupon, the Queene caused the

Master of the Houshold to be called, demaunding of him, what noyse it

was, and what might be the occasion thereof? He made answere, that

_Lacisca_ and _Tindaro_ were at some words of discontentment, but what

was the occasion thereof, he knew not. Whereupon, the Queene commanded

that they should be sent for, (their anger and violent speeches still

continuing) and being come into her presence, she demaunded the reason

of their discord; and _Tindaro_ offering to make answere, _Lacisca_

(being somewhat more ancient then he, and of a fiercer fiery spirit,

even as if her heart would have leapt out of her mouth) turned her

selfe to him, and with a scornefull frowning countenance, said. See how

this bold, unmannerly and beastly fellow, dare presume to speake in

this place before me: Stand by (saucy impudence) and give your better

leave to answere; then turning to the Queene, thus shee proceeded.

Madam, this idle fellow would maintaine to me, that Signior

_Sicophanto_ marrying with _Madama della Grazza_, had the victory

of her virginity the very first night: and I avouched the contrary,

because shee had been a mother twise before, in very faire adventuring

of her fortune. And he dared to affirme beside, that yong Maides are

so simple, as to loose the flourishing Aprill of their time, in meere

feare of their parents, and great prejudice of their amourous friends.

Onely being abused by infinite promises, that this yeare and that

yeare they shall have husbands, when, both by the lawes of nature and

reason, they are not tyed to tarry so long, but rather ought to lay

hold upon opportunity, when it is fairely and friendly offered, so that

seldome they come maides to marriage. Beside, I have heard, and know

some married wives, that have played divers wanton prancks with their

husbands, yet carried all so demurely and smoothly; that they have

gone free from publique detection. All which this woodcocke will not

credit, thinking me to be so yong a Novice, as if I had been borne but

yesterday.

While _Lacisca_ was delivering these speeches, the Ladies smiled on one

another, not knowing what to say in this case: And although the Queene

(five and or severall times) commaunded her to silence; yet such was

the earnestnes of her spleen, that she gave no attention, but held on

still even untill she had uttered all that she pleased. But after she

had concluded her complaint, the Queene (with a smiling countenance)

turned towards _Dioneus_ saying. This matter seemeth most properly to

belong to you; and therefore I dare repose such trust in you, that when

our Novels (for this day) shall be ended, you will conclude the case

with a definitive sentence. Whereto _Dioneus_ presently thus replyed.

Madam, the verdict is already given, without any further expectation:

and I affirme, that _Lacisca_ hath spoken very sensibly, because shee

is a woman of good apprehension, and _Tindaro_ is but a puny, in

practise and experience, to her.

When _Lacisca_ heard this, she fell into a lowd Laughter, and turning

her selfe to _Tindaro_, sayde: The honour of the day is mine, and thine

owne quarrell hath overthrowne thee in the fielde. Thou that (as yet)

hath scarsely learned to sucke, wouldest thou presume to know so much

as I doe? Couldst thou imagine mee, to be such a trewant in losse of

my time, that I came hither as an ignorant creature? And had not the

Queene (looking verie frowningly on her) strictly enjoyned her to

silence; shee would have continued still in this triumphing humour. But

fearing further chastisement for disobedience, both shee and _Tindaro_

were commanded thence, where was no other allowance all this day, but

onely silence and attention, to such as should be enjoyned speakers.

And then the Queene, somewhat offended at the folly of the former

controversie, commanded Madame _Philomena_, that she should give

beginning to the dayes Novels: which (in dutifull manner) shee

undertooke to doe, and seating her selfe in formall fashion, with

modest and very gracious gesture, thus she began.

_A Knight requested Madam_ Oretta, _to ride behinde him on horse-backe,

and promised, to tell her an excellent Tale by the way. But the Lady

perceiving, that his discourse was idle, and much worse delivered:

entreated him to let her walke on foote againe._

The First Novell.

_Reprehending the folly of such men, as undertake to report discourses,

which are beyond their wit and capacity, and gaine nothing but blame

for their labour._

Gracious Ladies, like as in our faire, cleere, and serene seasons, the

Starres are bright ornaments to the heavens, and the flowry fields

(so long as the spring time lasteth) weare their goodliest Liveries,

the Trees likewise bragging in their best adornings: Even so at

friendly meetings, short, sweet, and sententious words, are the beauty

& ornament of any discourse, savouring of wit and sound judgement,

worthily deserving to be commended. And so much the rather, because

in few and witty words, aptly suting with the time and occasion,

more is delivered then was expected, or sooner answered, then rashly

apprehended: which, as they become men verie highly, yet do they shew

more singular in women.

True it is, what the occasion may be, I know not, either by the

badnesse of our wittes, or the especiall enmitie betweene our

complexions and the celestiall bodies: there are scarsely any, or very

few Women to be found among us, that well knowes how to deliver a word,

when it should and ought to be spoken; or, if a question bee mooved,

understands to suite it with an apt answere, such as conveniently is

required, which is no meane disgrace to us women. But in regard, that

Madame _Pampinea_ hath already spoken sufficiently of this matter, I

meane not to presse it any further: but at this time it shall satisfie

mee, to let you know, how wittily a Ladie made due observation of

opportunitie, in answering of a Knight, whose talke seemed tedious and

offensive to her.

No doubt there are some among you, who either do know, or (at the

least) have heard, that it is no long time since, when there dwelt

a Gentlewoman in our Citie, of excellent grace and good discourse,

with all other rich endowments of Nature remaining in her, as pitty

it were to conceale her name: and therefore let me tell ye, that shee

was called Madame _Oretta_, the Wife to Signior _Geri Spina_. She

being upon some occasion (as now we are) in the Countrey, and passing

from place to place (by way of neighbourly invitations) to visite her

loving Friends and Acquaintance, accompanied with divers Knights and

Gentlewomen, who on the day before had dined and supt at her house,

as now (belike) the selfe-same courtesie was intended to her: walking

along with her company upon the way; and the place for her welcome

beeing further off then she expected: a Knight chanced to overtake

this faire troop, who well knowing Madam _Oretta_, using a kinde and

courteous salutation, spake thus unto her.

Madam, this foot travell may bee offensive to you, and were you so

well pleased as my selfe, I would ease your journey behinde mee on my

Gelding, even so farre as you shall command me: and beside, will shorten

your wearinesse with a Tale worth the hearing. Courteous Sir (replyed

the Lady) I embrace your kinde offer with such acceptation, that I pray

you to performe it; for therein you shall doe me an especiall favour.

The Knight, whose Sword (perhappes) was as unsuteable to his side,

as his wit out of fashion for any readie discourse, having the Lady

mounted behinde him: rode on with a gentle pace, and (according to his

promise) began to tell a Tale, which indeede (of it selfe) deserved

attention, because it was a knowne and commendable History, but yet

delivered so abruptly, with idle repetitions of some particulars three

or foure severall times, mistaking one thing for another, and wandering

erroneously from the essentiall subject, seeming neere an end, and then

beginning againe: that a poore Tale could not possibly be more mangled,

or worse tortured in telling, then this was; for the persons therein

concerned, were so abusively nicke-named, their actions and speeches so

monstrously misshapen,** that nothing could appeare to be more ugly.

Madame _Oretta_, being a Lady of unequalled ingenuitie, admirable in

judgement, and most delicate in her speech, was afflicted in soule,

beyond all measure; overcome with many colde sweates, and passionate

heart-aking qualmes, to see a Foole thus in a Pinne-fold, and unable

to get out, albeit the doore stood wide open to him, whereby shee

became so sicke; that, converting her distaste to a kinde of pleasing

acceptation, merrily thus she spake. Beleeve me Sir, your horse trots

so hard, & travels so uneasily; that I entreate you to let me walke on

foot againe.

The Knight, being (perchance) a better understander, then a Discourser;

perceived by this witty taunt, that his Bowle had run a contrarie bias,

and he as farre out of Tune, as he was from the Towne. So, lingering

the time, untill her company was neerer arrived: hee lefte her with

them, and rode on as his Wisedome could best direct him.

Cistio _a Baker, by a wittie answer which he gave unto_ Messer Geri

Spina, _caused him to acknowledge a very indiscreete motion, which he

had made to the said_ Cistio.

The Second Novell.

_Approving, that a request ought to be civill, before it should be

granted to any one whatsoever._

The words of Madame _Oretta_, were much commended by the men and

women; and the discourse being ended, the Queene gave command to Madam

_Pampinea_, that shee should follow next in order, which made her to

begin in this manner.

Worthy Ladies, it exceedeth the power of my capacitie, to censure in

the case whereof I am to speake, by saying, who sinned most, either

Nature, in seating a Noble soule in a vile body, or Fortune, in

bestowing on a body (beautified with a noble soule) a base or wretched

condition of life. As we may observe by _Cistio_, a Citizen of our

owne, and many more beside; for, this _Cistio_ beeing endued with a

singular good spirit, Fortune hath made him no better then a Baker.

And beleeve me Ladies, I could (in this case) lay as much blame on

Nature, as on Fortune; if I did not know Nature to be most absolutely

wise, & that Fortune hath a thousand eyes, albeit fooles have figured

her to bee blinde. But, upon more mature and deliberate consideration,

I finde, that they both (being truly wise and judicious) have dealt

justly, in imitation of our best advised mortals, who being uncertaine

of such inconveniences, as may happen unto them, do bury (for their own

benefit) the very best and choisest things of esteeme, in the most vile

and abject places of their houses, as being subject to least suspition,

and where they may be sure to have them at all times, for supply of any

necessitie whatsoever, because so base a conveyance hath better kept

them, then the very best chamber in the house could have done. Even

so these two great commanders of the world, do many times hide their

most precious Jewels of worth, under the clouds of Arts or professions

of worst estimation, to the end, that fetching them thence when neede

requires, their splendour may appeare to be the more glorious. Nor

was any such matter noted in our homely Baker _Cistio_, by the best

observation of _Messer Geri Spina_, who was spoken of in the late

repeated Novell, as being the husband to Madame _Oretta_; whereby this

accident came to my remembrance, and which (in a short Tale) I will

relate unto you.

Let me then tell ye, that Pope _Boniface_ (with whom the fore-named

_Messer Geri Spina_ was in great regard) having sent divers Gentlemen

of his Court to _Florence_ as Ambassadors, about very serious and

important businesse: they were lodged in the house of _Messer Geri

Spina_, and he employed (with them) in the saide Popes negotiation.

It chanced, that as being the most convenient way for passage, every

morning they walked on foot by the Church of Saint _Marie d'Ughi_,

where _Cistio_ the Baker dwelt, and exercised the trade belonging to

him. Now although Fortune had humbled him to so meane a condition,

yet shee added a blessing of wealth to that contemptible quality, and

(as smiling on him continually) no disasters at any time befell him,

but still he flourished in riches, lived like a jolly Citizen, with

all things fitting for honest entertainment about him, and plenty of

the best Wines (both White and Claret) as _Florence_, or any part

thereabout yeelded.

Our frolicke Baker perceiving, that _Messer Geri Spina_ and the other

Ambassadors, used every morning to passe by his doore, and afterward

to returne backe the same way: seeing the season to be somewhat hot &

soultry, he tooke it as an action of kindnesse and courtesie, to make

them an offer of tasting his white wine. But having respect to his own

meane degree, and the condition of _Messer Geri_; hee thought it farre

unfitting for him, to be so forward in such presumption; but rather

entred into consideration of some such meanes, whereby _Messer Geri_

might bee the inviter of himselfe to taste his Wine. And having put on

him a trusse or thin doublet, of very white and fine Linnen cloath, as

also breeches, and an apron of the same, and a white cap upon his head,

so that he seemed rather to be a Miller, then a Baker: at such times as

_Messer Geri_ and the Ambassadors should daily passe by, hee set before

his doore a new Bucket of faire water, and another small vessell of

_Bologna_ earth (as new and sightly as the other) full of his best and

choisest white Wine, with two small Glasses, looking like silver, they

were so cleare. Downe he sate, with all this provision before him, and

emptying his stomacke twice or thrice, of some clotted flegmes which

seemed to offend it: even as the Gentlemen were passing by, he dranke

one or two rouses of his Wine so heartily, and with such a pleasing

appetite, as might have moved a longing (almost) in a dead man.

_Messer Geri_ well noting his behaviour, and observing the verie same

course in him two mornings together; on the third day (as he was

drinking) he said unto him. Well done _Cistio_, what, is it good, or

no? _Cistio_ starting up, forthwith replyed: Yes Sir, the wine is good

indeed, but how can I make you to beleeve me, except you taste of it?

_Messer Geri_, eyther in regard of the times quality, or by reason of

his paines taken, perhaps more then ordinary, or else, because hee

saw _Cistio_ had drunke so sprightly, was very desirous to taste of

the Wine, and turning unto the Ambassadors, in merriment he saide. My

Lords, me thinks it were not much amisse, if we tooke a taste of this

honest mans Wine, perhaps it is so good, that we shall not neede to

repent our labour.

Heereupon, he went with them to _Cistio_, who had caused an handsome

seate to be fetched forth of his house, whereon he requested them to

sit downe, and having commanded his men to wash cleane the Glasses,

he saide. Fellowes, now get you gone, and leave me to the performance

of this service; for I am no worse a skinker, then a Baker, and tarry

you never so long, you shall not drinke a drop. Having thus spoken,

himselfe washed foure or five small glasses, faire and new, and causing

a Viall of his best wine to be brought him: hee diligently filled it

out to _Messer Geri_ and the Ambassadours, to whom it seemed the very

best Wine, that they had drunke of in a long while before. And having

given _Cistio_ most hearty thankes for his kindnesse, and the Wine his

due commendation: many dayes afterwardes (so long as they continued

there) they found the like courteous entertainment, and with the good

liking of honest _Cistio_.

But when the affayres were fully concluded, for which they were thus

sent to _Florence_, and their parting preparation in due readinesse:

_Messer Geri_ made a very sumptuous Feast for them, inviting thereto

the most part of the honourablest Citizens, and _Cistio_ to be one

amongst them; who (by no meanes) would bee seene in an assembly of such

State and pompe, albeit he was thereto (by the saide _Messer Geri_)

most earnestly entreated.

In regard of which deniall, _Messer Geri_ commaunded one of his

servants, to take a small Bottle, and request _Cistio_ to fill it with

his good Wine; then afterward, to serve it in such sparing manner to

the Table, that each Gentleman might be allowed halfe a glasse-full

at their down-sitting. The Serving-man, who had heard great report

of the Wine, and was halfe offended, because he could never taste

thereof: tooke a great Flaggon Bottle, containing foure or five

Gallons at the least, and comming there-with unto _Cistio_, saide

unto him. _Cistio_, because my Master cannot have your companie among

his friends, he prayes you to fill this Bottle with your best Wine.

_Cistio_ looking uppon the huge Flaggon, replied thus. Honest Fellow,

_Messer Geri_ never sent thee with such a Message to me: which although

the Servingman very stoutly maintained, yet getting no other answer, he

returned backe therewith to his Master.

_Messer Geri_ returned the Servant backe againe unto _Cistio_, saying:

Goe, and assure _Cistio_, that I sent thee to him, and if hee make

thee any more such answeres, then demaund of him, to what place else I

should send thee? Being come againe to _Cistio_, hee avouched that his

Maister had sent him, but _Cistio_ affirming, that hee did not: the

Servant asked, to what place else hee should send him? Marrie (quoth

_Cistio_) unto the River of _Arno_, which runneth by _Florence_, there

thou mayest be sure to fill thy Flaggon. When the Servant had reported

this answer to _Messer Geri_, the eyes of his understanding beganne

to open, and calling to see what Bottle hee had carried with him:

no sooner looked he on the huge Flaggon, but severely reproving the

sawcinesse of his Servant, hee sayde. Now trust mee, _Cistio_ told thee

nothing but trueth, for neither did I send thee with any such dishonest

message, nor had the reason to yeeld or grant it.

Then he sent him with a bottle of more reasonable competencie, which so

soone as _Cistio_ saw: Yea mary my friend, quoth he, now I am sure that

thy Master sent thee to me, and he shall have his desire with all my

hart. So, commaunding the Bottle to be filled, he sent it away by the

Servant, and presently following after him, when he came unto _Messer

Geri_, he spake unto him after this manner. Sir, I would not have you to

imagine, that the huge flaggon (which first came) did any jotte dismay

mee; but rather I conceyved, that the small Viall whereof you tasted

every morning, yet filled many mannerly Glasses together, was fallen

quite out of your remembrance; in plainer tearmes, it beeing no Wine

for Groomes or Peazants, as your selfe affirmed yesterday. And because

I meane to bee a Skinker no longer, by keeping Wine to please any other

pallate but mine owne: I have sent you halfe my store, and heereafter

thinke of mee as you shall please. _Messer Geri_ tooke both his guifte

and speeches in most thankefull manner, accepting him alwayes after,

as his intimate Friend, because he had so graced him before the

Ambassadours.

Madame Nonna de Pulci, _by a sodaine answere, did put to silence a

Byshop of_ Florence, _and the Lord Marshall: having moved a question to

the said Lady, which seemed to come short of honesty._

The Third Novell.

_Wherein is declared, that mockers do sometimes meete with their

matches in mockery, and to their owne shame._

When Madame _Pampinea_ had ended her Discourse, and (by the whole

company) the answere and bounty of _Cistio_, had past with deserved

commendation: it pleased the Queene, that Madame _Lauretta_ should next

succeed: whereupon verie chearefully thus she beganne.

Faire assembly, Madame _Pampinea_ (not long time since) gave beginning,

and Madam _Philomena_ hath also seconded the same argument, concerning

the slender vertue remaining in our sexe, and likewise the beautie of

wittie words, delivered on apt occasion, and in convenient meetings.

Now, because it is needlesse to proceede any further, then what hath

beene already spoken: let mee onely tell you (over and beside) and

commit it to memorie, that the nature of meetings and speeches are

such, as they ought to nippe or touch the hearer, like unto the Sheepes

nibling on the tender grasse, and not as the sullen Dogge byteth. For,

if their biting be answereable to the Dogges, they deserve not to be

termed witty jests or quips, but foule and offensive language: as

plainly appeareth by the words of Madame _Oretta_, and the merry, yet

sensible answer of _Cistio_.

True it is, that if it be spoken by way of answer, and the answerer

biteth doggedly, because himselfe was bitten in the same manner before:

he is the lesse to bee blamed, because hee maketh payment but with

coine of the same stampe. In which respect, an especiall care is to bee

had, how, when, with whom, and where we jest or gibe, whereof very many

proove too unmindfull, as appeared (not long since) by a Prelate of

ours, who met with a byting, no lesse sharpe and bitter, then had first

come from himselfe before, as verie briefely I intend to tell you how.

_Messer Antonio d'Orso_, being Byshoppe of _Florence_, a vertuous,

wise, and reverend Prelate; it fortuned that a Gentleman of

_Catalogna_, named _Messer Diego de la Ratta_, and Lord Marshall to

King _Robert_ of _Naples_, came thither to visite him. Hee being a man

of very comely personage, and a great observer of the choysest beauties

in Court: among all the other _Florentine_ Dames, one proved to bee

most pleasing in his eye, who was a verie faire Woman indeede, and

Neece to the Brother of the saide _Messer Antonio_.

The Husband of this Gentlewoman (albeit descended of a worthie Family)

was, neverthelesse, immeasurably covetous, and a verie vile harsh

natured man. Which the Lord Marshall understanding, made such a madde

composition with him, as to give him five hundred Ducates of Gold, on

condition, that hee would let him lye one night with his wife, not

thinking him so base minded as to give consent. Which in a greedy

avaritious humour he did, and the bargaine being absolutely agreed

on; the Lord Marshall prepared to fit him with a payment, such as it

should be. He caused so many peeces of silver to be cunningly guilded,

as then went for currant mony in _Florence_, and called _Popolines_, &

after he had lyen with the Lady (contrary to her will and knowledge,

her husband had so closely carried the businesse) the money was duely

paid to the cornuted Coxcombe. Afterwards, this impudent shame chanced

to be generally knowne, nothing remaining to the wilfull Wittoll, but

losse of his expected gaine, and scorne in every place where he went.

The Bishop likewise (beeing a discreete and sober man) would seeme to

take no knowledge thereof; but bare out all scoffes with a well setled

countenance.

Within a short while after, the Bishop and the Lord Marshall (alwaies

conversing together) it came to passe, that upon Saint _Johns_ day,

they riding thorow the City, side by side, and viewing the brave

beauties, which of them might best deserve to win the prize; the Byshop

espied a yong married Lady (which our late greevous pestilence bereaved

us of) she being named Madame _Nonna de Pulci_, and Cousine to _Messer

Alexio Rinucci_, a Gentleman well knowne unto us all. A very goodly

beautifull yong woman she was, of delicate language, and singular

spirite, dwelling close by S. _Peters_ gate. This Lady did the Bishop

shew to the Marshall, and when they were come to her, laying his hand

uppon her shoulder, he said. Madam _Nonna_, What thinke you of this

Gallant? Dare you adventure another wager with him?

Such was the apprehension of this witty Lady, that these words seemed

to taxe her honour, or else to contaminate the hearers understanding,

whereof there were great plenty about her, whose judgement might be as

vile, as the speeches were scandalous. Wherefore, never seeking for any

further purgation of her cleare conscience, but onely to retort taunt

for taunt, presently thus she replied. My Lord, if I should make such a

vile adventure, I would looke to bee payde with better money.

These words being heard both by the Bishop and Marshall, they felt

themselves touched to the quicke, the one, as the Factor or Broker, for

so dishonest a businesse, to the Brother of the Bishop; and the other,

as receiving (in his owne person) the shame belonging to his Brother.

So, not so much as looking each on other, or speaking one word together

all the rest of that day, they rode away with blushing cheekes. Whereby

we may collect, that the yong Lady, being so injuriously provoked, did

no more then well became her, to bite their basenesse neerely, that so

abused her openly.

Chichibio, _the Cooke to_ Messer Currado Gianfiliazzi, _by a sodaine

pleasant answer which he made to his Master; converted his anger into

laughter, and thereby escaped the punishment, that_ Messer _meant to

impose on him._

The Fourth Novell.

_Whereby plainly appeareth, that a sodaine witty and merry answer, doth

oftentimes appease the furious choller of an angry man._

Madam _Lauretta_ sitting silent, and the answer of Lady _Nonna_ having

past with generall applause: the Queene commanded Madame _Neiphila_

to follow next in order; who instantly thus began. Although a ready

wit (faire Ladies) doth many times affoord worthy and commendable

speeches, according to the accidents happening to the speaker: yet

notwithstanding, Fortune (being a ready helper divers wayes to the

timorous) doth often tippe the tongue with such a present reply, as the

partie to speake, had not so much leysure as to thinke on, nor yet to

invent; as I purpose to let you perceive, by a prety short Novell.

_Messer Currado Gianfiliazzi_ (as most of you have both seene and

knowen) living alwayes in our Citie, in the estate of a Noble Citizen,

beeing a man bountifull, magnificent, and within the degree of

Knighthoode: continually kept both Hawkes and Hounds, taking no meane

delight in such pleasures as they yeelded, neglecting (for them) farre

more serious imployments, wherewith our present subject presumeth not

to meddle. Upon a day, having kilde with his Faulcon a Crane, neere to

a Village called _Peretola_, and finding her to be both young and fat,

he sent it to his Cooke, a _Venetian_ borne, and named _Chichibio_,

with command to have it prepared for his supper. _Chichibio_, who

resembled no other, then (as he was indeede) a plaine, simple, honest

merry fellow, having drest the Crane as it ought to bee, put it on the

spit, and laide it to the fire.

When it was well neere fully roasted, and gave forth a very delicate

pleasing savour; it fortuned that a young Woman dwelling not far off,

named _Brunetta_, and of whom _Chichibio_ was somewhat enamored,

entred into the Kitchin, and feeling the excellent smell of the Crane,

to please her beyond all savours, that ever she had felt before: she

entreated _Chichibio_ verie earnestly, that hee would bestow a legge

thereof on her. Whereto _Chichibio_ (like a pleasant companion, and

evermore delighting in singing) sung her this answer.

_My_ Brunetta, _faire and feat a,

Why should you say so?

The meate of my Master,

Allowes you for no Taster,

Go from the Kitchin go._

Many other speeches past betweene them in a short while, but in the

end, _Chichibio_, because hee would not have his Mistresse _Brunetta_

angrie with him; cut away one of the Cranes legges from the spit, and

gave it to her to eate. Afterward, when the Fowle was served up to

the Table before _Messer Currado_, who had invited certain strangers

his friends to sup with him, wondering not a little, he called for

_Chichibio_ his Cook; demanding what was become of the Cranes other

legge? Whereto the _Venetian_ (being a lyar by Nature) sodainely

answered: Sir, Cranes have no more but one legge each Bird. _Messer

Currado_, growing verie angry, replyed. Wilt thou tell me, that a

Crane hath no more but one legge? Did I never see a Crane before this?

_Chichibio_ persisting resolutely in his deniall, saide. Beleeve me

Sir, I have told you nothing but the truth, and when you please, I will

make good my wordes, by such Fowles as are living.

Messer _Currado_, in kinde love to the strangers that hee had invited

to supper, gave over any further contestation; onely he said. Seeing

thou assurest me, to let me see thy affirmation for truth, by other

of the same Fowles living (a thing which as yet I never saw, or heard

of) I am content to make proofe thereof to morrow morning, till then

I shall rest satisfied: but, upon my word, if I finde it otherwise,

expect such a sound payment, as thy knavery justly deserveth, to make

thee remember it all thy life time. The contention ceassing for the

night season, Messer _Currado_, who though he had slept well, remained

still discontented in his minde: arose in the morning by breake of

day, and puffing & blowing angerly, called for his horses, commanding

_Chichibio_ to mount on one of them; so riding on towards the River,

where (earely every morning) he had seene plenty of Cranes, he sayde to

his man; We shall see anon Sirra, whether thou or I lyed yesternight.

_Chichibio_ perceiving, that his Masters anger was not (as yet)

asswaged, and now it stood him upon, to make good his lye; not knowing

how he should do it, rode after his Master, fearfully trembling all

the way. Gladly he would have made an escape, but hee could not by any

possible meanes, and on every side he looked about him, now before,

and after behinde, to espy any Cranes standing on both their legges,

which would have bin an ominous sight to him. But being come neere to

the River, he chanced to see (before any of the rest) upon the banke

thereof, about a dozen Cranes in number, each of them standing but upon

one legge, as they use to do when they are sleeping. Whereupon, shewing

them quickly to Messer _Currado_, he said. Now Sir your selfe may see,

whether I told you true yesternight, or no: I am sure a Crane hath but

one thigh, and one leg, as all here present are apparant witnesses, and

I have bin as good as my promise.

Messer _Currado_ looking on the Cranes, and well understanding the

knavery of his man, replyed: Stay but a little while sirra, & I will

shew thee, that a Crane hath two thighes, and two legges. Then riding

somwhat neerer to them, he cryed out aloud, Shough, shough, which

caused them to set downe their other legs, and all fled away, after

they had made a few paces against the winde for their mounting. So

going unto _Chichibio_, he said: How now you lying Knave, hath a Crane

two legs, or no? _Chichibio_ being well-neere at his wits end, not

knowing now what answer hee should make; but even as it came sodainly

into his minde, said: Sir, I perceive you are in the right, and if you

would have done as much yesternight, and had cryed Shough, as here you

did: questionlesse, the Crane would then have set down the other legge,

as these heere did: but if (as they) she had fled away too, by that

meanes you might have lost your Supper.

This sodaine and unexpected witty answere, comming from such a

logger-headed Lout, and so seasonably for his owne safety: was so

pleasing to _Messer Currado_, that he fell into a hearty laughter, and

forgetting all anger, saide. _Chichibio_, thou hast quit thy selfe

well, and to my contentment: albeit I advise thee, to teach mee no

more such trickes heereafter. Thus _Chichibio_, by his sodaine and

merry answer, escaped a sound beating, which (otherwise) his master had

inflicted on him.

Messer Forese da Rabatte, _and Maister_ Giotto, _a Painter by his

profession, comming together from_ Mugello, _scornfully reprehended one

another for their deformity of body._

The Fift Novell.

_Whereby may bee observed, that such as will speake contemptibly of

others, ought (first of all) to looke respectively on their owne

imperfections._

So soone as Madame _Neiphila_ sate silent (the Ladies having greatly

commended the pleasant answer of _Chichibio_) _Pamphilus_, by command

from the Queene, spake in this manner. Woorthy Ladies, it commeth to

passe oftentimes, that like as Fortune is observed divers wayes, to

hide under vile and contemptible Arts, the most great and unvalewable

treasures of vertue (as, not long since, was well discoursed unto us

by Madam _Pampinea_:) so in like manner hath appeared; that Nature

hath infused very singular spirits into most misshapen and deformed

bodies of men. As hath beene noted in two of our owne Citizens, of

whom I purpose to speake in fewe words. The one of them was named

_Messer Forese de Rabatte_, a man of little and low person, but yet

deformed in body, with a flat face, like a Terrier or Beagle, as if no

comparison (almost) could bee made more ugly. But notwithstanding all

this deformity, he was so singularly experienced in the Lawes, that all

men held him beyond any equall, or rather reputed him as a Treasury of

civill knowledge.

The other man, being named _Giotto_, had a spirit of so great

excellency, as there was not any particular thing in Nature, the

Mother and Worke-mistresse of all, by continuall motion of the

heavens; but hee by his pen and pensell could perfectly portrait;

shaping them all so truly alike and resemblable, that they were taken

for the reall matters indeede; and, whether they were present or no,

there was hardly any possibility of their distinguishing. So that

many times it happened, that by the variable devises he made, the

visible sence of men became deceived, in crediting those things to be

naturall, which were but meerly painted. By which meanes, hee reduced

that singular Art to light, which long time before had lyen buried,

under the grosse error of some; who, in the mysterie of painting,

delighted more to content the ignorant, then to please the judicious

understanding of the wise, he justly deserving thereby, to be tearmed

one of the _Florentines_ most glorious lights. And so much the rather,

because he performed all his actions, in the true and lowly spirit of

humility: for while he lived, and was a Master in his Art, above all

other Painters: yet he refused any such title, which shined the more

majestically in him, as appeared by such, who knew much lesse then he,

or his Schollers either: yet his knowledge was extreamly coveted among

them.

Now, notwithstanding all this admirable excellency in him: he was not

(thereby) a jot the handsommer man (either in person or countenance)

then was our fore-named Lawyer _Messer Forese_, and therefore my

Novell concerneth them both. Understand then, (faire Assemblie) that

the possessions and inheritances of _Messer Forese_ and _Giotto_, lay

in _Mugello_; wherefore, when Holy-dayes were celebrated by Order

of Court, and in the Sommer time, upon the admittance of so apt a

vacation; _Forese_ rode thither upon a very unsightly Jade, such as a

man can can seldome meet with worse. The like did _Giotto_ the Painter,

as ill fitted every way as the other; and having dispatched their

busines there, they both returned backe towards _Florence_, neither of

them being able to boast, which was the best mounted.

Riding on a faire and softly pace, because their Horses could goe

no faster: and they being well entred into yeeres, it fortuned (as

oftentimes the like befalleth in Sommer) that a sodaine showre of raine

over-tooke them; for avoyding whereof, they made all possible haste

to a poore Countrey-mans Cottage, familiarly knowne to them both.

Having continued there an indifferent while, and the raine unlikely to

cease: to prevent all further protraction of time, and to arrive at

_Florence_ in due season: they borrowed two old cloakes of the poore

man, of over-worn and ragged Country gray, as also two hoodes of the

like Complexion, (because the poore man had no better) which did more

mishape them, then their owne ugly deformity, and made them notoriously

flouted and scorned, by all that met or overtooke them.

After they had ridden some distance of ground, much moyled and bemyred

with their shuffling Jades, flinging the dirt every way about them,

that well they might be termed two filthy companions: the raine gave

over, and the evening looking somwhat cleare, they began to confer

familiarly together. _Messer Forese_, riding a lofty _French_ trot,

everie step being ready to hoise him out of his saddle, hearing

_Giottos_ discreete answers to every ydle question he made (for indeede

he was a very elegant speaker) began to peruse and surveigh him, even

from the foote to the head, as we use to say. And perceiving him to

be so greatly deformed, as no man could be worse, in his opinion:

without any consideration of his owne misshaping as bad, or rather more

unsightly then hee; in a scoffing laughing humour, hee saide. _Giotto_,

doest thou imagine, that a stranger, who had never seene thee before,

and should now happen into our companie, would beleeve thee to bee the

best Painter in the world, as indeede thou art? Presently _Giotto_

(without any further meditation) returned him this answere. Signior

_Forese_, I think he might then beleeve it, when (beholding you) hee

could imagine that you had learned your A. B. C. Which when _Forese_

heard, he knew his owne error, and saw his payment returned in such

Coine, as he sold his Wares for.

_A yong and ingenious Scholler, being unkindly reviled and smitten

by his ignorant Father, and through the procurement of an unlearned

Vicare: afterward attained to be doubly revenged on him._

The Sixth Novell.

_Serving as an advertisement to unlearned Parents, not to bee

over-rash, in censuring on Schollers perfections, through any badde or

unbeseeming perswasions._

The Ladies smiled very heartily, at the ready answer of _Giotto_;

untill the Queene charged Madam _Fiammetta_, that shee should next

succeed in order: whereupon, thus she began. The verie greatest

infelicity that can happen to a man, and most insupportable of all

other, is Ignorance; a word (I say) which hath bin so generall, as under

it is comprehended all imperfections whatsoever. Yet notwithstanding,

whosoever can cull (graine by graine) the defects incident to humane

race; will and must confesse, that wee are not all borne to knowledge:

but onely such, whom the heavens illuminating by their bright radiance

(wherein consisteth the sourse and well-spring of all science) by

little & little, do bestow the influence of their bounty, on such

and so manie as they please, who are to expresse themselves the more

thankfull for such a blessing. And although this grace doth lessen

the misfortune of many, which were over-mighty to bee in all; yet

some there are, who by sawcie presuming on themselves, doe bewray

their ignorance by theyr owne speeches; setting such behaviour on each

matter, and soothing every thing with such gravity, even as if they

would make comparison: or (to speake more properly) durst encounter in

the Listes with great _Salomon_ or _Socrates_. But let us leave them,

and come to the matter of our purposed Novell.

In a certaine Village of _Piccardie_, there lived a Priest or Vicar,

who beeing meerely an ignorant blocke, had yet such a peremptorie

presuming spirite: as, though it was sufficiently discerned, yet hee

beguiled many thereby, untill at last he deceyved himselfe, and with

due chastisement to his folly.

A plaine Husbandman dwelling in the same Village, possessed of much

Land and Living, but verie grosse and dull in understanding; by the

entreaty of divers his Friends and Well-willers, some-thing more

intelligable then himselfe: became incited, or rather provoked, to send

a Sonne of his to the University of _Paris_, to study there as was

fitting for a Scholler. To the end (quoth they) that having but this

Son onely, and Fortunes blessings abounding in store for him: hee might

like wise have the riches of the minde, which are those true treasures

indeede, that _Aristippus_ giveth us advice to be furnished withall.

His Friends perswasions having prevailed, and hee continued at _Paris_

for the space of three yeares: what with the documents he had attayned

to, before his going thither, and by meanes of a happie memory in the

time of his being there, wherewith no young man was more singularly

endued (in so short a while) he attained and performed the greater part

of his Studies.

Now, as oftentimes it commeth to passe, the love of a Father

(surmounting all other affections in man) made the olde Farmer desirous

to see his Sonne: which caused his sending for him with all convenient

speede, and obedience urged his as forward willingnesse thereto. The

good olde man, not a little joyfull to see him in so good condition

and health, and encreased so much in stature since his parting thence:

familiarly told him, that he earnestly desired to know, if his minde

and body had attained to a competent and equall growth, which within

three or foure dayes he would put in practise.

No other helpe had he silly simple man, but Master Vicar must bee

the questioner and poser of his son: wherein the Priest was very

unwilling to meddle, for feare of discovering his owne ignorance, which

passed under better opinion then he deserved. But the Farmer beeing

importunate, and the Vicar many wayes beholding to him, durst not

returne deniall, but undertooke it very formally, as if he had bene an

able man indeede.

But see how Fooles are borne to be fortunate, and where they least

hope, there they find the best successe; the simplicitie of the Father,

must be the meanes for abusing his Schollerly Son, and a skreene to

stand betweene the Priest and his ignorance. Earnest is the olde man to

know, what and how farre his Sonne had profited at Schoole, and by what

note he might best take understanding of his answeres: which jumping

fit with the Vicars vanity, and a warrantable cloake to cover his

knavery; he appoints him but one word onely, namely _Nescio_, wherewith

if he answered to any of his demands, it was an evident token, that

hee understood nothing. As thus they were walking and conferring in

the Church, the Farmer very carefull to remember the word _Nescio_: it

came to passe upon a sodaine, that the young man entred into them, to

the great contentment of his Father, who prayed Master Vicar, to make

approbation of his Sonne, whether he were learned, or no, and how hee

had benefited at the University?

After the time of the daies salutations had past betweene them, the

Vicar being subtle and crafty, as they walked along by one of the

tombs in the Church; pointing with his finger to the Tombe, the Priest

uttered these words to the Scholler.

_Quis hic est sepultus?_

The yong Scholler (by reason it was erected since his departure, and

finding no inscription whereby to informe him) answered, as well hee

might, _Nescio_. Immediately the Father, keeping the word perfectly in

his memorie, grewe verie angerly passionate; and, desiring to heare no

more demaunds: gave him three or foure boxes on the eares; with many

harsh and injurious speeches, tearming him an Asse and Villaine, and

that he had not learned any thing. His Sonne was pacient, and returned

no answer, but plainly perceived, that this was a tricke intended

against him, by the malicious treachery of the Priest, on whom (in

time) he might be revenged.

Within a short while after, the Suffragane of those parts (under whom

the Priest was but a Deputy, holding the benefice of him, with no great

charge to his conscience) being abroad in his visitation, sent word to

the Vicar, that he intended to preach there on the next Sunday, and hee

to prepare in a readinesse, _Bonum & Commodum_, because hee would have

nothing else to his dinner. Heereat Master Vicar was greatly amazed,

because he had never heard such words before, neither could hee finde

them in all his _Breviarie_. Hereupon, he went to the yong scholler,

whom he had so lately before abused, and crying him mercy, with many

impudent and shallow excuses, desired him to reveale the meaning of

those words, and what he should understand by _Bonum & Commodum_.

The Scholler (with a sober and modest countenance) made answere; That

he had bin over-much abused, which (neverthelesse) he tooke not so

impaciently, but hee had already both forgot and forgiven it, with

promise of comfort in this his extraordinary distraction, and greefe of

minde. When he had perused the Suffraganes Letter, well observing the

blushlesse ignorance of the Priest: seeming (by outward appearance) to

take it strangely, he cryed out alowd, saying; In the name of Vertue,

what may be this mans meaning? How? (quoth the Priest) What manner

of demand do you make? Alas, replyed the Scholler, you have but one

poore Asse, which I know you love deerely, and yet you must stew his

genitories very daintily, for your Patron will have no other meat to

his dinner. The genitories of mine Asse, answered the Priest? Passion

of me, who then shall carrie my Corne to the Mill? There is no remedie,

sayde the Scholler, for he hath so set it downe for an absolute

resolution.

After that the Priest had considered thereon a while by himselfe,

remembring the yearely revennewes, which clearely hee put up into

his purse, to be ten times of farre greater worth then his Asse: he

concluded to have him gelded, what danger soever should ensue thereon,

preparing them in readinesse against his comming. So soone as the

Suffragan was there arrived, heavily hee complained to him for his

Asse: which kinde of Language he not understanding, knew not what

he meant, nor how he should answer. But beeing (by the Scholler)

acquainted with the whole History, he laughed heartily at the Priests

ignorant folly, wishing that all such bold Bayards (from time to time)

might be so served. Likewise, that all ignorant Priests, Vicars, and

other Grashoppers of Townes or Villages, who sometimes have onely seene

_Partes orationis quod sunt_, not to stand over-much on their owne

sufficiency, grounded soly upon their Grammar; but to beware whom they

jest withall, without medling with Schollers, who take not injuries as

dullards doe, least they prove infamous by their disputations.

Madam Phillippa, _being accused by her Husband_ Rinaldo de Pugliese,

_because he tooke her in Adulterie, with a yong Gentleman named_

Lazarino de Guazzagliotori: _caused her to bee cited before the Judge.

From whom she delivered her selfe, by a sodaine, witty and pleasant

answer, and moderated a severe strict Statute, formerly made against

women._

The Seventh Novell.

_Wherein is declared, of what worth it is to confesse a trueth, with a

facetious and witty excuse._

After that Madame _Fiammetta_ had given over speaking, and all the

Auditory had sufficiently applauded the Schollers honest revenge, the

Queene enjoyned _Philostratus_, to proceede on next with his Novell,

which caused him to begin thus. Beleeve me Ladies, it is an excellent

& most commendable thing, to speak well, and to all purposes: but I

hold it a matter of much greater worth, to know how to do it, and

when necessity doth most require it. Which a Gentlewoman (of whom I

am now to speake) was so well enstructed in, as not onely it yeelded

the hearers mirthfull contentment, but likewise delivered her from the

danger of death, as (in few words) you shall heare related.

In the Citie of _Prato_, there was an Edict or Statute, no lesse

blameworthy (to speake uprightly) then most severe and cruell, which

(without making any distinction) gave strict command; That everie Woman

should be burned with fire, whose husband found her in the acte of

Adultery, with any secret or familiar friend, as one deserving to bee

thus abandoned, like such as prostituted their bodies to publike sale

or hire. During the continuance of this sharpe Edict, it fortuned that

a Gentlewoman, who was named _Phillippa_, was found in her Chamber

one night, in the armes of a yong Gentleman of the same City, named

_Lazarino de Guazzagliotori_, and by her owne husband, called _Rinaldo

de Pugliese_, shee loving the young Gallant, as her owne life, because

hee was most compleate in all perfections, and every way as deerely

addicted to her.

This sight was so irkesome to _Rinaldo_, that, being overcom with

extreame rage, hee could hardly containe from running on them, with a

violent intent to kill them both: but feare of his owne life caused his

forbearance, meaning to be revenged by some better way. Such was the

heate of his spleene and fury, as, setting aside all respect of his

owne shame: he would needs prosecute the rigour of the deadly Edict,

which he held lawfull for him to do, although it extended to the death

of his Wife. Heereupon, having witnesses sufficient, to approove the

guiltinesse of her offence: a day being appointed (without desiring any

other counsell) he went in person to accuse her, and required justice

against her.

The Gentlewoman, who was of an high and undauntable spirite, as all

such are, who have fixed their affection resolvedly, and love uppon

a grounded deliberation: concluded, quite against the counsell and

opinion of her Parents, Kindred, and Friends; to appeare in the Court,

as desiring rather to dye, by confessing the trueth with a manly

courage, then by denying it, and her love unto so worthy a person

as he was, in whole arms she chanced to be taken; to live basely in

exile with shame, as an eternall scandall to her race. So, before the

Potestate, shee made her apparance, worthily accompanied both with men

and women, all advising her to deny the acte: but she, not minding them

or their perswasions, looking on the Judge with a constant countenance,

and a voyce of setled resolve, craved to know of him, what hee

demaunded of her?

The Potestate well noting her brave carriage, her singular beautie and

praise-worthy parts, her words apparantly witnessing the heighth of

her minde: beganne to take compassion on her, and doubted, least shee

would confesse some such matter, as should enforce him to pronounce the

sentence of death against her. But she boldly scorning all delayes,

or any further protraction of time; demanded again, what was her

accusation? Madame, answered the Potestate, I am sorry to tel you,

what needs I must, your husband (whom you see present heere) is the

complainant against you, avouching, that he tooke you in the act of

adultery with another man: and therefore he requireth, that, according

to the rigour of the Statute heere in force with us, I should pronounce

sentence against you, and (consequently) the infliction of death.

Which I cannot do, if you confesse not the fact, and therefore be well

advised, how you answer me, and tell me the truth, if it be as your

Husband accuseth you, or no.

The Lady, without any dismay or dread at all, pleasantly thus replied.

My Lord, true it is, that _Rinaldo_ is my Husband, and that he found

me, on the night named, betweene the Armes of _Lazarino_, where many

times heeretofore he hath embraced mee, according to the mutuall love

re-plighted together, which I deny not, nor ever will. But you know

well enough, and I am certaine of it, that the Lawes enacted in any

Countrey, ought to be common, and made with consent of them whom they

concerne, which in this Edict of yours is quite contrarie. For it is

rigorous against none, but poore women onely, who are able to yeeld

much better content and satisfaction generally, then remaineth in the

power of men to do. And moreover, when this Law was made, there was not

any woman that gave consent to it, neither were they called to like or

allow thereof: in which respect, it may deservedly be termed, an unjust

Law. And if you will, in prejudice of my bodie, and of your owne soule,

be the executioner of so unlawfull an Edict, it consisteth in your

power to do as you please.

But before you proceede to pronounce any sentence, may it please you

to favour me with one small request, namely, that you would demand of

my Husband, if at all times, and whensoever he tooke delight in my

company, I ever made any curiosity, or came to him unwillingly. Whereto

_Rinaldo_, without tarrying for the Potestate to moove the question,

sodainly answered; that (undoubtedly) his wife at all times, and oftner

then he could request it, was never sparing of her kindnesse, or put

him off with any deniall. Then the Lady, continuing on her former

speeches, thus replyed. Let me then demand of you my Lord, being our

Potestate and Judge, if it be so, by my Husbands owne free confession,

that he hath alwaies had his pleasure of me, without the least refusall

in me, or contradiction; what should I doe with the over-plus remaining

in mine owne power, and whereof he had no need? Would you have mee cast

it away to the Dogges? Was it not more fitting for me, to pleasure

therewith a worthy Gentleman, who was even at deaths doore for my love,

then (my husbands surfetting, and having no neede of me) to let him lye

languishing, and dye?

Never was heard such an examination before, and to come from a woman of

such worth, the most part of the honourable _Pratosians_ (both Lords

and Ladies) being there present, who hearing her urge such a necessary

question, cryed out all aloud together with one voice (after they had

laughed their fill) that the Lady had saide well, and no more then she

might. So that, before they departed thence, by comfortable advice

proceeding from the Potestate: the Edict (being reputed overcruell) was

modified, and interpreted to concerne them onely, who offered injurie

to their Husbands for money. By which meanes, _Rinaldo_ standing as one

confounded, for such a foolish and unadvised enterprize, departed from

the Auditorie: and the Ladie, not a little joyfull to bee thus freed

and delivered from the fire, returned home with victorie to her owne

house.

Fresco da Celatico, _counselled and advised his Neece_ Cesca: _That if

such as deserved to be looked on, were offensive to her eyes, as she

had often told him; she should forbeare to looke on any._

The Eighth Novell.

_In just scorne of such unsightly and ill-pleasing surly Sluts, who

imagine none to be faire or well-favoured, but themselves._

All the while as _Philostratus_ was re-counting his Novell; it seemed,

that the Ladies (who heard it) found themselves much mooved thereat, as

by the wanton blood monting up into their cheekes, it plainly appeared.

But in the end, looking on each other with strange behaviour, they

could not forbeare smiling: which the Queene interrupting by a command

of attention, turning to Madame _Æmillia_, willed her to follow next.

When she, puffing and blowing, as if she had bene newly awaked from

sleepe, began in this manner.

Faire Beauties; My thoughts having wandred a great distance hence, and

further then I can easily collect them together againe; in obedience

yet to our Queene, I shall report a much shorter Novell, then otherwise

(perhappes) I should have done, if my minde had beene a little neerer

home. I shall tell you the grosse fault of a foolish Damosell, well

corrected by a witty reprehension of her Uncle; if shee had bin endued

but with so much sence, as to have understood it.

An honest man, named _Fresco da Celatico_, had a good fulsom wench to

his Neece, who for her folly and squemishnes, was generally called

_Cesca_, or nice _Francesca_. And althogh she had stature sufficient,

yet none of the handsomest, & a good hard favourd countenance, nothing

nere such Angelical beauties as we have seen: yet she was endued with

such height of minde, and so proud an opinion of her selfe, that it

appeared as a custome bred in hir, or rather a gift bestowed on hir

by nature (though none of the best) to blame and despise both men and

women, yea whosoever she lookt on; without any consideration of her

self, she being as unsightly, ill shaped, and ugly faced, as a worse

was very hardly to be found.

Nothing could be done at any time, to yeilde her liking or content:

moreover, she was so waspish, nice, & squemish, that when she cam into

the royall Court of _France_, it was hatefull & contemptible to hir.

Whensoever she went through the streets, every thing stunke and was

noisome to her; so that she never did any thing but stop her nose; as

if all men or women she met withall; and whatsoever else she lookt on,

were stinking and offensive. But let us leave all further relation

of her ill conditions, being every way (indeed) so bad, and hardly

becomming any sensible body, that we cannot condemne them so much as we

should.

It chanced upon a day, that shee comming home to the house where her

Uncle dwelt, declared her wonted scurvy and scornfull behaviour;

swelling, puffing, and pouting extreamly, in which humour she sat downe

by her Uncle, who desiring to know what had displeased her, said. Why

how now _Francesca_? what may the meaning of this bee? This being a

solemne festivall day, what is the reason of your so soone returning

home? She coily biting the lip, and brideling her head, as if she had

bene some mans best Gelding, sprucely thus replyed.

Indeede you say true Uncle, I am come home verie earely, because, since

the day of my birth, I never saw a City so pestered with unhandsome

people, both men and women, and worse this high Holyday then ever I

did observe before. I walked thorow some store of streetes, and I

could not see one proper man: and as for the women, they are the most

misshapen and ugly creatures, that, if God had made me such an one,

I should be sorry that ever I was borne. And being no longer able to

endure such unpleasing sights; you will not thinke (Uncle) in what an

anger I am come home. _Fresco_, to whome these stinking qualities of

his Neece seemed so unsufferable, that hee could not (with patience)

endure them any longer, thus short and quickely answered. _Francesca_,

if all people of our Citie (both men and women) be so odious in thy

eyes, and offensive to thy nose, as thou hast often reported to me: bee

advised then by my counsell. Stay still at home, and look upon none but

thy selfe onely, and then thou shalt be sure that they cannot displease

thee. But she, being as empty of wit as a pith-lesse Cane, and yet

thought her judgement to exceed _Salomons_, could not understand the

lest part of hir Uncles meaning, but stood as senselesse as a sheepe.

Onely she replyed, that she would resort to some other parts of the

country, which if shee found as weakly furnished of handsome people, as

heere shee did, shee would conceive better of her selfe, then ever she

had done before.

Signior Guido Cavalcante, _with a sodaine and witty answer, reprehended

the rash folly of certaine Florentine Gentlemen, that thought to scorne

and flout him._

The Ninth Novell.

_Notably discovering the great difference that is betweene learning and

ignorance, upon judicious apprehension._

When the Queene perceived, that Madame _Æmillia_ was discharged of her

Novell, and none remained now to speake next, but onely her selfe, his

priviledge alwayes remembred, to whom it belonged to be the last, she

began in this manner.

Faire Company, you have this day disappointed me of two Novells at the

least, whereof I had intended to make use. Neverthelesse, you shall

not imagine mee so unfurnished, but that I have left one in store;

the conclusion whereof, may minister such instruction, as will not

bee reputed for ydle and impertinent: but rather of such materiall

consequence, as better hath not this day past among us.

Understand then (most faire Ladies) that in former times long since

past, our Cittie had many excellent and commendable customes in it;

whereof (in these unhappy dayes of ours) we cannot say that poore

one remaineth, such hath beene the too much encrease of Wealth and

Covetousnesse, the onely supplanters of all good qualities whatsoever.

Among which lawdable and friendly observations, there was one well

deserving note, namely, that in divers places of _Florence_, men of the

best houses in every quarter, had a sociable and neighbourly assemblie

together, creating their company to consist of a certaine number, such

as were able to supply their expences as this day one, and to morrow

another: and thus in a kinde of friendly course, each daily furnished

the Table, for the rest of the company. Oftentimes, they did honour to

divers Gentlemen and strangers, upon their arrivall in our Citty, by

inviting them into their assembly, and many of our worthiest Citizens

beside; so that it grew to a customary use, and one especially day in

the yeare appointed, in memory of this so loving a meeting, when they

would ride (triumphally as it were) on horsebacke thorow the Cittie,

sometimes performing Tilts, Tourneyes, and other Martiall exercises,

but they were reserved for Feastivall dayes.

Among which company, there was one called, _Signior Betto Bruneleschi_,

who was earnestly desirous, to procure _Signior Guido Cavalcante de

Cavalcanti_, to make one in this their friendly society. And not

without great reason: for, over and beside his being one of the best

Logitians as those times could not yeeld a better: He was also a most

absolute naturall Philosopher (which worthy qualities were little

esteemed among these honest meeters) a very friendly Gentleman,

singularly well spoken, and whatsoever else was commendable in any man,

was no way wanting in him, being wealthy withall, and able to returne

equall honors, where he found them to be duly deserved, as no man

therein could go beyond him. But _Signior Betto_, notwithstanding his

long continued importunitie, could not draw him into their assembly,

which made him and the rest of his company conceive, that the solitude

of _Guido_, retiring himselfe alwaies from familiar conversing with

men: provoked him to many curious speculations: and because he retained

some part of the _Epicurean_ Opinion, their vulgare judgement passed on

him, that his speculations tended to no other end, but onely to finde

out that which was never done.

It chanced upon a day, that _Signior Guido_ departing from the Church

of Saint _Michaell d'Horta_, and passing along by the _Adamari_, so

farre as to Saint _Johns_ Church, which evermore was his customarie

Walke: many goodly Marble Tombes were then about the saide Church,

as now adayes are at Saint _Reparata_, and divers more beside. He

entring among the Collumbes of Porphiry, and the other Sepulchers being

there, because the doore of the Church was shut: _Signior Betto_ & his

companie, came riding from S. _Reparata_, & espying _Signior Guido_

among the graves and tombes, said. Come, let us go make some jests

to anger him. So putting the spurs to their horses, they rode apace

towards him: and being upon him before he perceived them, one of them

said. _Guido_ thou refusest to be one of our society, & seekest for

that which never was: when thou hast found it, tell us, what wilt thou

do with it?

_Guido_ seeing himselfe round engirt with them, sodainly thus replyed:

Gentlemen, you may use mee in your owne house as you please. And

setting his hand on one of the Tombes (which was some-what great) he

tooke his rising, and leapt quite over it on the further side, as being

of an agile and sprightly body, and being thus freed from them, he went

away to his owne lodging. They stoode all like men amazed, strangely

looking one upon another, and began afterward to murmure among

themselves: That _Guido_ was a man without any understanding, and the

answer which he had made unto them, was to no purpose, neither savoured

of any discretion, but meerely came from an empty brain because they

had no more to do in the place where now they were, then any of the

other Citizens, and Signior _Guido_ (himselfe) as little as any of

them; whereto Signior _Betto_ thus replyed.

Alas Gentlemen, it is you your selves that are void of understanding:

for, if you had but observed the answer which he made unto us: hee did

honestly, and (in verie few words) not onely notably expresse his owne

wisedome, but also deservedly reprehend us. Because, if wee observe

things as we ought to doe, Graves and Tombes are the houses of the

dead, ordained and prepared to be their latest dwellings. He tolde us

moreover, that although we have heere (in this life) other habitations

and abidings; yet these (or the like) must at last be our houses. To

let us know, and all other foolish, indiscreete, and unlearned men,

that we are worse then dead men, in comparison of him, and other men

equall to him in skill and learning. And therefore, while wee are heere

among these Graves and Monuments, it may well be said, that we are not

farre from our owne houses, or how soone we shall be possessors of

them, in regard of the frailty attending on us.

Then every one could presently say, that Signior _Guido_ had spoken

nothing but the truth, and were much ashamed of their owne folly, and

shallow estimation which they had made of _Guido_, desiring never more

after to meddle with him so grossely, and thanking Signior _Betto_, for

so well reforming their ignorance, by his much better apprehension.

_Fryer_ Onyon, _promised certaine honest people of the Countrey, to

shew them a Feather of the same Phoenix, that was with_ Noah _in his

Arke. In sted whereof, he found Coales, which he avouched to be those

very coals, wherewith the same Phoenix was roasted._

The Tenth Novell.

_Wherein may be observed, what palpable abuses do many times passe,

under the counterfeit Cloake of Religion._

When all of them had delivered their Novels, _Dioneus_ knowing that

it remained in him to relate the last for this day: without attending

for any solemne command (after he had imposed silence on them, that

could not sufficiently commend the witty reprehension of _Guido_)

thus he began. Wise and worthy Ladies, although by the priviledge you

have granted, it is lawfull for me to speake any thing best pleasing

to my self: yet notwithstanding, it is not any part of my meaning, to

varrie from the matter and method, whereof you have spoken to very

good purpose. And therefore, following your footsteppes, I entend to

tell you, how craftily, and with a Rampiar sodainly raised in his owne

defence: a Religious Frier of Saint _Anthonies_ Order, shunned a shame,

which two wily companions had prepared for him. Nor let it offend

you, if I run into more large discourse, then this day hath bene used

by any, for the apter compleating of my Novell: because, if you well

observe it, the Sun is as yet in the middest of heaven, and therefore

you may the better forbeare me.

_Certoldo_, as (perhaps) you know, or have heard, is a Village in

the Vale of _Elsa_, and under the authority and commaund of our

_Florence_, which although it be but small: yet (in former times) it

hath bin inhabited with Gentlemen, and people of especiall respect. A

religious Friar of S. _Anthonies_ Order, named Friar _Onyon_, had long

time used to resort thither, to receive the benevolent almes, which

those charitably affected people in simplicity gave him, & chiefly at

divers daies of the year, when their bounty and devotion would extend

themselves more largely then at other seasons. And so much the rather,

because they thought him to be a good Pastor of holy life in outward

appearance, & carried a name of much greater matter, then remained

in the man indeed; beside, that part of the country yeilded far more

plentifull abundance of Onyons, then all other in _Tuscany_ elsewhere,

a kinde of foode greatly affected by those Friars, as men alwaies

of hungry & good appetite. This Friar _Onyon_ was a man of little

stature, red haire, a chearfull countenance, and the world afforded

not a more crafty companion, then he. Moreover, albeit he had very

little knowledge or learning, yet he was so prompt, ready & voluble of

speech, uttering often he knew not what himselfe: that such as were

not wel acquainted with his qualities, supposed him to be a singular

Rhetoritian, excelling _Cicero_ or _Quintilian_ themselves; & he was

a gossip, friend, or deerely affected, by every one dwelling in those

parts. According to his wonted custome, one time he went thither in

the month of August, and on a Sunday morning, when all the dwellers

thereabout, were present to heare Masse, and in the chiefest Church

above all the rest: when the Friar saw time convenient for his purpose,

he advanced himselfe, and began to speake in this manner.

Gentlemen and Gentlewomen, you know you have kept a commendable custom,

in sending yeerly to the poore brethren of our Lord Baron S. _Anthony_,

both of your Corne and other provision, some more, some lesse, all

according to their power, means, and devotion, to the end that

blessed S. _Anthony_ should be the more carefull of your oxen, sheep,

asses, swine, pigs, and other cattle. Moreover, you have used to pay

(especially such as have their names registred in our Fraternity) those

duties which annually you send unto us. For the collection whereof,

I am sent by my Superior, namely our L. Abbot, & therefore (with Gods

blessing) you may come after noone hither, when you shal heare the Bels

of the Church ring: then will I make a predication to you; you shall

kisse the Crosse, and beside, because I know you al to be most devout

servants to our Lord Baron S. _Anthony_, in especiall grace and favor,

I will shew you a most holy and goodly Relique, which I my selfe (long

since) brought from the holy Land beyond the seas. If you desire to

know what it is, let me tell you, that it is one of the Feathers of the

same _Phoenix_, which was in the Arke with the Patriarch _Noah_. And

having thus spoken, he became silent, returning backe to heare Masse.

While hee delivered these and the like speeches, among the other people

then in the church, there were two shrewde and crafty Companions; the

one, named _John de Bragoniero_, and the other, _Biagio Pizzino_. These

subtile Fellowes, after they had heard the report of Fryer _Onyons_

Relique: althogh they were his intimate friends, and came thither

in his company; yet they concluded betweene themselves, to shew him

a tricke of Legierdumaine, and to steale the Feather from him. When

they had intelligence of Friar _Onyons_ dining that day at the Castle,

with a worthy Friend of his: no sooner was he set at the Table, but

away went they in all haste, to the Inne where the Fryar frequented,

with this determination, that _Biagio_ should hold conference with the

Friars boy, while his fellow ransackt the Wallet, to finde the Feather,

and carry it away with him, for a future observation, what the Friar

would say unto the people, when he found the losse of the Feather, and

could not performe his promise to them.

The Fryars Boy, whom some called _Guccio Balena_, some _Guccio

Imbrata_, and others _Guccio Porco_, was such a knavish Lad, and had so

many bad qualities, as _Lippo Topo_ the cunning Painter, or the most

curious Poeticall wit, had not any ability to describe them. Friar

_Onyon_ himself did often observe his behaviour, and would make this

report among his Friends. My Boy (quoth he) hath nine rare qualities

in him, and such they are, as if _Salomon, Aristotle,_ or _Seneca_ had

onely but one of them: it were sufficient to torment and trouble all

their vertue, all their senses, & all their sanctity. Consider then,

what manner of man he is like to be, having nine such rarities, yet

voide of all vertue, wit, or goodnes. And when it was demaunded of

Friar _Onyon_, what these nine rare conditions were: hee having them

all readie by heart, and in rime, thus answered:

_Boyes I have knowne, and seene,

And heard of many:_

But,

_For Lying, Loytring, Lazinesse,

For Facing, Filching, Filthinesse;

For Carelesse, Gracelesse, all Unthriftinesse,

My Boy excelleth any._

Now, over and beside all these admirable qualities, hee hath manie

more such singularities, which (in favour towards him) I am faine to

conceale. But that which I smile most at in him, is that he would have

a Wife in every place where he commeth, yea, and a good house to boot

too: for, in regard his beard beginneth to shew it selfe, rising thicke

in haire, blacke and amiable, he is verily perswaded, that all Women

will fall in love with him; and if they refuse to follow him, he will

in all hast run after them. But truly, he is a notable servant to mee,

for I cannot speake with any one, and in never so great secrecy, but he

will be sure to heare his part; and when any question is demanded of

me, he standes in such awe and feare of my displeasure: that he will

bee sure to make the first answer, yea or no, according as he thinketh

most convenient.

Now, to proceede where we left, Friar _Onyon_ having left this

serviceable youth at his lodging, to see that no bodie should

meddle with his commodities, especially his Wallet, because of the

sacred things therein contained: _Guccio Imbrata_, who as earnestly

affected to be in the Kitchin, as Birds to hop from branch to branch,

especially, when anie of the Chamber-maides were there, espyed one of

the Hostesses Female attendants, a grosse fat Trugge, low of stature,

ill faced, and worse formed, with a paire of brests like two bumbards,

smelling loathsomely of grease and sweate; downe shee descended into

the Kitchin, like a Kite upon a peece of Carion. This Boy, or Knave,

chuse whither you will style him, having carelesly left Fryar _Onyons_

Chamber doore open, and all the holy things so much to be neglected,

although it was then the moneth of August, when heate is in the highest

predominance, yet hee would needs sit downe by the fire, and began to

conferre with this amiable creature, who was called by the name of

_Nuta_.

Being set close by her, he told her, that he was a Gentleman by

Atturniship, and that he had more millions of Crownes, then all his

life time would serve him to spend; beside those which he payed

away dayly, as having no convenient imployment for them. Moreover,

he knew how to speake, and do such things, as were beyond wonder or

admiration. And, never remembring his olde tatterd Friars Cowle,

which was so snottie and greazie, that good store of kitchin stuffe

might have beene boiled out of it; as also a foule slovenly Trusse

or halfedoublet, all baudied with bowsing, fat greazie lubberly

sweating, and other drudgeries in the Convent Kitchin, where he was an

Officer in the meanest credite. So that to describe this sweet youth

in his lively colours, both for naturall perfections of body, and

artificiall composure of his Garments; never came the fowlest silks out

of _Tartaria_ or _India_, more ugly or unsightly to bee lookt upon.

And for a further addition to his neate knavery, his breeches were so

rent betweene his legges, his shooes and stockings had bin at such a

mercilesse massacre: that the gallantest _Commandador_ of _Castile_

(though he had never so lately bin releast out of slavery) could have

wisht for better garments, then he; or make larger promises, then he

did to his _Nuta_. Protesting to entitle her as his onely, to free her

from the Inne and Chamber thraldomes, if she would live with him, be

his Love, partaker of his present possessions, and so to succeed in his

future Fortunes. All which bravadoes, though they were belcht foorth

with admirable insinuations: yet they converted into smoke, as all such

braggadochio behaviours do, and he was as wise at the ending, as when

he began.

Our former named two craftie Companions, seeing _Guccio Porco_ so

seriously employed about _Nuta_, was there-with not a little contented,

because their intended labour was now more then halfe ended. And

perceiving no contradiction to crosse their proceeding, into Friar

_Onyons_ chamber entred they, finding it ready open for their purpose:

where the first thing that came into their hand in search, was the

wallet. When they had opened it, they found a small Cabinet, wrapped in

a great many foldings of rich Taffata; and having unfolded it, a fine

formall Key was hanging thereat: wherewith having unlockt the Cabinet,

they found a faire Feather of a Parrots taile, which they supposed to

bee the verie same, that he meant to shew the people of _Certaldo_.

And truly (in those dayes) it was no hard matter to make them beleeve

anything, because the idle vanities of _Ægypt_ and those remoter parts,

had not (as yet) bin seene in _Tuscany_, as since then they have bin in

great abundance, to the utter ruine (almost) of _Italy_.

And although they might then be knowne to very few, yet the inhabitants

of the Country generally, understoode little or nothing at all of

them. For there, the pure simplicitie of their ancient predecessours

still continuing; they had not seene any Parrots, or so much as heard

any speech of them. Wherefore the two crafty consorts, not a little

joyfull of finding the Feather, tooke it thence with them, and because**

they would not leave the Cabinet empty, espying Char-coales lying in a

corner of the Chamber, they filled it with them, wrapping it up againe

in the Taffata, and in as demure manner as they found it. So, away came

they with the Feather, neither seene or suspected by any one, intending

now to heare what Friar _Onyon_ would say, uppon the losse of his

precious Relique, and finding the Coales there placed insted thereof.

The simple men and women of the country, who had bin at morning Masse

in the Church, and heard what a wonderfull Feather they should see

in the after noone; returned in all hast to their houses, where one

telling this newes to another, and gossip with gossip consulting

thereon; they made the shorter dinner, and afterward flocked in maine

troopes to the Castle, contending who shold first get entrance, such

was their devotion to see the holy feather. Friar _Onyon_ having

dined, and reposed a little after his wine, he arose from the table to

the window, where beholding what multitudes came to see the feather,

he assured himselfe of good store of mony. Hereupon, he sent to his

Boy _Guccio Imbrata_, that uppon the Bels ringing, he should come and

bring the wallet to him. Which (with much ado) he did, so soone as

his quarrell was ended in the kitchin, with the amiable Chamber-maid

_Nuta_, away then he went with his holy commodities: where he was no

sooner arrived, but because his belly was readie to burst with drinking

water, he sent him to the Church to ring the bels, which not onely

would warme the cold water in his belly, but likewise make him run as

gaunt as a Grey-hound.

When all the people were assembled in the Church together, Friar

_Onyon_ (never distrusting any injurie offered him, or that his close

commodities had bin medled withall) began his predication, uttering a

thousand lies to fit his purpose. And when he came to shew the feather

of the Phoenix (having first in great devotion finisht the confession)

he caused two goodly torches to be lighted, & ducking downe his head

three severall times, before hee would so much as touch the Taffata, he

opened it with much reverence. So soone as the Cabinet came to be seen,

off went his Hood, lowly he bowed downe his body, and uttering especial

praises of the Phoenix, and sacred properties of the wonderfull

Relique, the Cover of the Cabinet being lifted uppe, he saw the same

to bee full of Coales. He could not suspect his Villaine boy to do

this deede, for he knew him not to be endued with so much wit, onely

hee curst him for keeping it no better, and curst himselfe also, for

reposing trust in such a careles knave, knowing him to be slothfull,

disobedient, negligent, and void of all honest understanding or grace.

Sodainly (without blushing) lest his losse should be discerned, he

lifted his lookes and hands to heaven, speaking out so loude, as every

one might easily heare him, thus: O thou omnipotent providence, for

ever let thy power be praised. Then making fast the Cabinet againe, and

turning himselfe to the people, with lookes expressing admiration, he

proceeded in this manner.

Lords, Ladies, and you the rest of my worthy Auditors: You are to

understand, that I (being then very young) was sent by my Superiour,

into those parts, where the Sun appeareth at his first rising. And

I had received charge by expresse command, that I should seeke for

(so much as consisted in my power to do) the especiall vertues and

priviledges belonging to Porcellane, which although the boyling

thereof bee worth but little, yet it is very profitable to any but

us. In regard whereof, being upon my journey, and departing from

_Venice_, passing along the _Borgo de Grecia_, I proceeded thence (on

horseback) through the Realme of _Garbo_, so to _Baldacca_, till I came

to _Parione_; from whence, not without great extremity of thirst, I

arrived in _Sardignia_.

But why do I trouble you with the repetition of so many countries?

I coasted on still, after I had past Saint _Georges Arme_, into

_Trussia_, and then into _Bussia_, which are Countries much inhabited,

and with great people. From thence I went into the _Land of Lying_,

where I found store of the Brethren of our Religion, and many other

beside, who shunned all paine and labour, onely for the love of God,

and cared as little, for the paines and travailes which others tooke,

except some benefit arised thereby to them; nor spend they any money

in this Country, but such as is without stampe. Thence I went into the

Land of _Abruzzi_, where the men and women goe in Galoches over the

Mountaines, and make them garments of their Swines guts. Not farre from

thence, I found people, that carried bread in their staves, and wine

in Satchels, when parting from them, I arrived among the Mountaines of

_Bacchus_, where all the waters run downe with a deepe fall, and in

short time, I went on so far, that I found my selfe to be in _India

Pastinaca_; where I swear to you by the holy habit which I weare on my

body, that I saw Serpents flye, things incredible, and such as were

never seene before.

But because I would be loth to lye, so soone as I departed thence, I

met with _Maso de Saggio_, who was a great Merchant there, and whom I

found cracking Nuts, and selling Cockles by retale. Neverthelesse, al

this while I could not finde what I sought for, and therefore I was

to passe from hence by water, if I intended to travaile thither, and

so in returning back, I came into the _Holy Land_, where coole fresh

bread is sold for fourepence, and the hot is given away for nothing.

There I found the venerable Father (blame me not I beseech you) the

most woorthie Patriarch of _Jerusalem_, who for the reverence due to

the habite I weare, and love to our Lord Baron Saint _Anthony_, would

have me to see al the holy Reliques, which he had there under his

charge: whereof there were so many, as if I should recount them all to

you, I never could come to a conclusion. But yet, not to leave you

discomforted, I will relate some few of them to you.

First of all, he shewed me the finger of the holy Ghost, so whole and

perfect, as ever it was. Next, the nose of the Cherubin, which appeared

to Saint _Frances_; with the payring of the naile of a Seraphin; and

one of the ribbes of _Verbum caro_, fastened to one of the Windowes,

covered with the holy garments of the Catholique Faith. Then he tooke

me into a darke Chappel, where he shewed me divers beames of the

Starre that appeared to the three Kings in the East. Also a Violl of

Saint _Michaels_ sweate, when he combatted with the divell: And the

jaw-bone of dead _Lazarus_, with many other precious things beside.

And because I was liberall to him, giving him two of the Plaines of

_Monte Morello_, in the Vulgare Edition, and some of the Chapters _del

Caprezio_, which he had long laboured in search of; he bestowed on me

some of his Reliques.

First, he gave me one of the eye-teeth of _Santa Crux_; and a little

Violl, filled with some part of the sound of those Belles, which hung

in the sumptuous Temple of _Salomon_. Next, he gave mee the Feather

of the Phoenix, which was with _Noah_ in the Arke, as before I told

you. And one of the Woodden Pattens, which the good Saint _Gerrard de

Magnavilla_ used to weare in his travailes, and which I gave (not long

since) to _Gerrardo di Bousy_ at _Florence_, where it is respected with

much devotion. Moreover, he gave me a few of those Coales, wherewith the

Phoenix of _Noah_ was roasted; all which things I brought away thence

with me. Now, most true it is, that my Superiour would never suffer mee

to shew them any where, untill he was faithfully certified, whether

they were the same precious Reliques, or no. But perceyving by sundrie

Myracles which they have wrought, and Letters of sufficient credence

receyved from the reverend Patriarch, that all is true, he hath

graunted me permission to shew them, and because I wold not trust any

one with matters of such moment, I my selfe brought them hither with me.

Now I must tell you, that the Feather of the same Phoenix, I conveyed

into a small Cabinet or Casket, because it should not be bent or

broken. And the Coales wherewith the said Phoenix was roasted, I put

into another Casket, in all respects so like to the former, that many

times I have taken one for another. As now at this instant it hath bin

my fortune: for, imagining that I brought the Casket with the feather,

I mistooke my self, & brought the other with the coales. Wherein

doubtles I have not offended, because I am certaine, that we of our

Order do not any thing, but it is ordred by divine direction, and our

blessed Patron the Lorde Baron Saint _Anthony_. And so much the rather,

because about a senight hence, the Feast of Saint _Anthony_ is to bee

solemnized, against the preparation whereof, and to kindle your zeale

with the greater fervencie: he put the Casket with the Coales into

my hand, meaning, to let you see the Feather, at some more fitting

season. And therefore my blessed Sonnes and Daughters, put off your

Bonnets, and come hither with devotion to looke upon them. But first

let me tell you, whosoever is marked by any of these Coales, with the

signe of the Crosse: he or she shall live all this yeare happily, and no

fire whatsoever shall come neere to touch or hurt them. So, singing a

solemne Antheme in the praise of S. _Anthony_, he unveyled the Casket,

and shewed the Coales openly.

The simple multitude, having (with great admiration and reverence)

a long while beheld them, they thronged in crouds to Fryar _Onyon_,

giving him farre greater offerings, then before they had, and

entreating him to marke them each after other. Whereupon, he taking

the coales in his hand, began to marke their garments of white, and

the veyles on the Womens heads, with Crosses of no meane extendure:

affirming to them, that the more the Coales wasted with making those

great crosses, the more they still encreased in the Casket, as often

before hee had made triall.

In this manner, having crossed all the _Certaldanes_ (to his great

benefit) and their abuse: he smiled at his sodaine and dexterious

devise, in mockery of them, who thought to have made a scorne of him,

by dispossessing him of the Feather. For _Bragoniero_ and _Pizzino_,

being present at his Learned predication, and having heard what

a cunning shift he found, to come off cleanly, without the least

detection, and all delivered with such admirable protestations: they

were faine to forsake the Church, least they should have burst with

laughing.

But when all the people were parted and gone, they met Friar _Onyon_

at his Inne, where closely they discovered to him, what they had done,

delivering him his Feather againe: which the yeare following, did yeeld

him as much money, as now the Coales had done.

* * * * *

This Novell affoorded equall pleasing to the whole companie, Friar

_Onyons_ Sermon being much commended, but especially his long

Pilgrimage, and the Reliques he had both seene, and brought home

with him. Afterward, the Queene perceiving, that her reigne had now

the full expiration, graciously she arose, and taking the Crowne

from off her owne head, placed on the head of _Dioneus_, saying. It

is high time _Dioneus_, that you should taste part of the charge &

paine, which poore women have felt and undergone in their soveraigntie

and government: wherefore, be you our King, and rule us with such

awefull authority, that the ending of your dominion may yeelde us all

contentment. _Dioneus_ being thus invested with the Crowne, returned

this answer.

I make no doubt (bright Beauties) but you many times have seene as

good, or a better King among the Chesse-men, then I am. But yet of a

certainty, if you would be obedient to me, as you ought in dutie unto

a true King: I should grant you a liberall freedome of that, wherein

you take the most delight, and without which, our choisest desires can

never be compleate. Neverthelesse, I meane, that my government shall be

according to mine owne minde. So, causing the Master of the Houshold to

be called for, as all the rest were wont to do for conference with him:

he gave him direction, for al things fitting the time of his Regiment,

and then turning to the Ladies, thus he proceeded.

Honest Ladies, we have alreadie discoursed of variable devises, and

so many severall manners of humane industry, concerning the busines

wherewith _Licisca_ came to acquaint us: that her very words, have

ministred me matter, sufficient for our morrowes conference, or else I

stand in doubt, that I could not have devised a more convenient Theame

for us to talke on. She (as you have all heard) saide, that shee had

not anie neighbour, who came a true Virgin to her Husband, and added

moreover, that she knew some others, who had beguiled their Husbandes,

in very cunning and crafty manner. But setting aside the first part,

concerning the proofe of children, I conceive the second to bee more

apte for our intended argument. In which respect, my will is (seeing

_Licisca_ hath given us so good an occasion) that our discoursing to

morrow,** may onely concerne such slye cunning and deceits, as women have

heeretofore used, for satisfying their owne appetites, and beguiling

their Husbands, without their knowledge, or suspition, and cleanly

escaping with them, or no.