Neverthelesse, as womens wits are alwayes best upon sudden constraints,

looking forth of her window, and espying her Husband preparing to come

up: she threw her selfe on her day Couch, speaking thus (earnestly)

to _Lambertuccio_. Sir, if ever you loved mee, and would have me

faithfully to beleeve it, by the instant safety both of your owne

honour, and my life, doe but as I advise you. Forth draw your Sword,

and, with a stearne countenance, threatning death and destruction: run

downe the staires, and when you are beneath, say. I sweare by my best

fortunes, although I misse of thee now heere, yet I will be sure to

finde thee some where else. And if my Husband offer to stay you, or

moove any question to you: make no other answere, but what you formerly

spake in fury. Beside, so soone as you are mounted on horsebacke,

have no further conference with him, upon any occasion whatsoever; to

prevent all suspition in him, of our future intendments.

_Lambertuccio_ sware many terrible oathes, to observe her directions

in every part, and having drawne forth his Sword, grasping it naked in

his hand, and setting worse lookes one the businesse, then ever nature

gave him, because he had spent so much labour in vaine; he failed not

in a jot of the Ladies injunction. _Beltramo_ having commanded his

horse to safe custody, and meeting _Lambertuccio_ discending downe the

staires, so armed, swearing, and most extreamely storming, wondring

extraordinarily as his threatning words, made offer to imbrace him,

and understand the reason of his distemper. _Lambertuccio_ repulsing

him rudely, and setting foote in the stirrup, mounted on his Gelding,

and spake nothing else but this. I sweare by the fairest of all my

fortunes, although I misse of thee heere: yet I will be sure to find

thee some where else, and so he gallopped mainely away.

When _Beltramo_ was come up into his wives Chamber, hee found her cast

downe upon her Couch, weeping, full of feare, and greatly discomforted;

wherefore he said unto her, What is hee that Signior _Lambertuccio_

is so extreamely offended withall, and threatneth in such implacable

manner? The Lady arising from her Couch, and going neere to the Beds,

because _Lionello_ might the better heare her; returned her Husband

this answere. Husband (quoth she) never was I so dreadfully affrighted

till now; for, a young Gentleman, of whence, or what he is, I know

not, came running into our Castle for rescue, being pursued by Signior

_Lambertuccio_; with a weapon ready drawne in his hand. Ascending up

our stayres, by what fortune, I know not, he found my chamber doore

standing open, finding me also working on my Sampler, and in wonderfull

feare and trembling.

Good Madame (quoth hee) for Gods sake helpe to save my life, or else

I shall be slaine heere in your Chamber. Hearing his pittious cry,

and compassionating his desperate case; I arose from my worke, and

in my demaunding of whence, and what he was, that durst presume so

boldly into my bed-chamber: presently came up Signior _Lambertuccio_

also, in the same uncivill sorte, as before I tolde you, swaggering

and swearing, where is this traiterous villaine? Heereupon, I stept

(somewhat stoutly) to my Chamber doore, and as hee offered to enter,

with a womans courage I resisted him, which made him so much enraged

against mee, that when hee saw mee to debarre his entrance; after many

terrible and vile oathes and vowes, hee ranne downe the stayres againe,

in such like manner as you chaunced to meete him.

Now trust mee deare wife (said _Beltramo_) you behaved your selfe very

well and worthily: for, it would have beene a most notorious scandall

to us, if a man should bee slaine in your bed-chamber: and Signior

_Lambertuccio_ carryed himselfe most dishonestly, to pursue any man so

outragiously, having taken my Castle as his Sanctuary. But alas wife,

what is become of the poore affrighted Gentleman? Introth Sir (quoth

she) I know not, but (somewhere or other) heereabout hee is hidden.

Where art thou honest friend? said plaine meaning _Beltramo_; Come

forth and feare not, for thine enemy is gone.

_Lionello_, who had heard all the fore-passed discourse, which shee had

delivered to her Husband _Beltramo_, came creeping forth amazedly (as

one now very fearefully affrighted indeede) from under the further side

of the bedde, and _Beltramo_ saide to him, What a quarrell was this,

between thee and furious _Lambertuccio_? Not any at all Sir, replyed

_Lionello_, to my knowledge, which verily perswadeth me; that either

he is not well in his wits, or else he mistaketh me for some other;

because, so soone as he saw me on the way, somewhat neere to this your

Castle, he drew forth his Sword, and swearing an horrible oath, said.

Traitor thou art a dead man. Upon these rough words, I stayed not to

question the occasion of mine offending him: but fled from him so fast

as possibly I could; but confesse my selfe (indeede) over-bold, by

presuming into your Ladies bed chamber, which yet (equalled with her

mercie) hath bin the onely meanes at this time, of saving my life.

She hath done like a good Lady, answered _Beltramo_, and I do verie

much commend her for it. But, recollect thy dismayed spirits together,

for I will see thee safely secured hence, afterward, looke to thy

selfe so well as thou canst. Dinner being immediately made ready,

and they having merrily feasted together: he bestowed a good Gelding

on _Lionello_, and rode along with him to _Florence_, where he left

him quietly in his owne lodging. The selfe-same Evening (according

as _Isabella_ had given enstruction) _Lionello_ conferred with

_Lambertuccio_: and such an agreement passed betweene them, that though

some rough speeches were noised abroad, to set the better colour on

the businesse; yet al matters were so cleanly carried, that _Beltramo_

never knew this queint deceitfull policy of his Wife.

Lodovico _discovered to his Mistresse Madame_ Beatrix, _how amorously

he was affected to her. She cunningly sent_ Egano _her Husband into

his garden, in all respects disguised like herselfe, while (friendly)_

Lodovico _conferred with her in the meane while. Afterward,_ Lodovico

_pretending a lascivious allurement of his Mistresse, thereby to wrong

his honest Master, insted of her, beateth_ Egano _soundly in the

Garden._

The Seventh Novell.

_Whereby is declared, that such as keepe many honest seeming servants,

may sometime finde a knave among them, and one that proves to be

over-sawcy with his Master._

This so sodaine dexterity of wit in _Isabella_, related in verie modest

manner by Madame _Pampinea_, was not onely admired by all the company;

but likewise passed with as generall approbation. But yet Madam

_Philomena_ (whom the King had commanded next to succeede) peremptorily

sayde. Worthy Ladies, if I am not deceived; I intend to tell you

another Tale presently; as much to be commended as the last.

You are to understand then, that it is no long while since, when there

dwelt in _Paris_ a _Florentine_ Gentleman, who falling into decay of

his estate, by over-bountifull expences; undertooke the degree of a

Merchant, and thrived so well by his trading, that he grew to great

wealth, having one onely sonne by his wife, named _Lodovico_. This

Sonne, partaking somewhat in his Fathers former height of minde, and

no way inclineable to deale in Merchandize, had no meaning to be a

Shop-man, and therefore accompanied the Gentlemen of _France_, in

sundry services for the King; among whom, by his singular good carriage

and qualities, he happened to be not meanly esteemed. While thus he

continued in the Court, it chanced, that certaine Knights, returning

from _Jerusalem_, having there visited the holy Sepulcher, and comming

into company where _Lodovico_ was: much familiar discourse passed

amongst them, concerning the faire women of _France, England,_ and

other parts of the world where they had bin, and what delicate beauties

they had seene.

One in the company constantly avouched, that of all the Women by

them so generally observed, there was not any comparable to the Wife

of _Egano de Galluzzi_, dwelling in _Bologna_, and her name Madam

_Beatrix_, reputed to be the onely faire woman of the world. Many of

the rest maintained as much, having bin at _Bologna_, and likewise

seene her. _Lodovico_ hearing the woman to be so highly commended,

and never (as yet) feeling any thought of amorous inclination; became

sodainely toucht with an earnest desire of seeing her, and his minde

could entertaine no other matter, but onely of travailing thither to

see her, yea, and to continue there, if occasion so served. The reason

for his journey urged to his Father, was to visit _Jerusalem_, and the

holy Sepulcher, which with much difficulty, at length he obtained his

leave.

Being on his journey towards _Bologna_, by the name of _Anichino_, and

not of _Lodovico_, and being there arrived; upon the day following,

and having understood the place of her abiding: it was his good happe,

to see the Lady at her Window; she appearing in his eye farre more

faire, then all reports had made her to be. Heereupon, his affection

became so enflamed to her, as he vowed, never to depart from _Bologna_,

untill he had obtained her love. And devising by what meanes he might

effect his hopes, he grew perswaded (setting all other attempts aside)

that if he could be entertained into her Husbands service, and undergo

some businesse in the house, time might tutor him to obtaine his

desire. Having given his attendants sufficient allowance, to spare his

company, and take no knowledge of him, selling his Horses also, and

other notices which might discover him: he grew into acquaintance with

the Hoste of the house where he lay, revealing an earnest desire in

himselfe, to serve some Lord or worthy Gentleman, if any were willing to

give him entertainment.

Now beleeve me Sir (answered the Hoste) you seeme worthy to have a good

service indeede, and I know a Noble Gentleman of this Cittie, who is

named _Egano_: he will (without all question) accept your offer, for

hee keepeth many men of verie good deserving, and you shall have my

furtherance therein so much as may be. As he promised, so he performed,

and taking _Anichino_ with him unto _Egano_: so farre he prevailed by

his friendly protestations, and good opinion of the young Gentleman;

that _Anichino_ was (without more ado) accepted into _Eganoes_ service,

then which, nothing could be more pleasing to him. Now had he the

benefit of dayly beholding his hearts Mistresse, and so acceptable

proved his service to _Egano_, that he grew very farre in love with

him: not undertaking any affayres whatsoever, without the advice and

direction of _Anichino_, so that he reposed his most especiall trust in

him, as a man altogether governed by him.

It fortuned upon a day, that _Egano_ being ridden to flye his Hawke at

the River, and _Anichino_ remaining behinde at home, Madame _Beatrix_,

who (as yet) had taken no notice of _Anichinoes_ love to her (albeit

her selfe, observing his fine carriage and commendable qualities, was

highly pleased to have so seeming a servant) called him to play at the

Chesse with her: and _Anichino_, coveting nothing more then to content

her, carried himselfe so dexteriously in the game, that he permitted

hir still to win, which was no little joy to her. When all the

Gentle-women, and other friends there present, as spectators to behold

their play, had taken their farewell, and were departed, leaving them

all alone, yet gaming still: _Anichino_ breathing forth an intire sigh,

Madame _Beatrix_ looking merrily on him, said. Tell me _Anichino_, art

not thou angrie, to see me win? It should appeare so by that solemne

sigh. No truly Madame, answered _Anichino_, a matter of farre greater

moment, then losse of infinite games at the Chesse, was the occasion

why I sighed. I pray thee (replyed the Lady) by the love thou bearest

me, as being my Servant (if any love at all remain in thee towards me)

give me a reason for that harty sigh.

When he heard himselfe so severely conjured, by the love he bare to

her, and loved none else in the world beside: he gave a farre more

hart-sicke sigh, then before. Then his Lady and Mistresse entreated

him seriously, to let her know the cause of those two deepe sighes:

whereto _Anichino_ thus replyed. Madam, if I should tell you, I stand

greatly in feare of offending you: and when I have told you, I doubt

your discovery thereof to some other. Beleeve me _Anichino_ (quoth she)

therein thou neither canst, or shalt offend me. Moreover, assure thy

selfe, that I will never disclose it to any other, except I may do it

with thy consent. Madame (saide hee) seeing you have protested such a

solemne promise to mee, I will reveale no meane secret unto you.

So, with teares standing in his eyes, he told her what he was; where he

heard the first report of her singular perfections, and instantly became**

enamored of her, as the maine motive of his entring into her service.

Then, most humbly he entreated her, that if it might agree with her

good liking, she would be pleased to commisserate his case; and grace

him with her private favours. Or, if shee might not be so mercifull

to him; that yet she would vouchsafe, to let him live in the lowly

condition as he did, and thinke it a thankefull duty in him, onely to

love her. O singular sweetnesse, naturally living in faire feminine

blood! How justly art thou worthy of praise in the like occasions? Thou

couldst never be wonne by sighes and teares; but hearty imprecations

have alwayes prevailed with thee, making thee apt and easie to amorous

desires. If I had praises answerable to thy great and glorious

deservings, my voice should never faint, nor my pen waxe weary, in the

due and obsequious performance of them.

Madam _Beatrix_, well observing _Anichino_ when he spake, and giving

credit to his so solemne protestations; they were so powerfull in

prevailing with her, that her senses (in the same manner) were

enchanted; and sighes flew as violently from her, as before he had

vented them: which stormy tempest being a little over-blowne, thus

she spake. _Anichino_, my hearts deere affected Friend, live in hope,

for I tell thee truly, never could gifts, promises, nor any Courtings

used to me by Lords, Knights, Gentlemen, or other (although I have

bin solicited by many) winne the lest grace or favour at my hand, no,

nor move me to any affection. But thou, in a minute of time (compared

with their long and tedious suing) hast expressed such a soveraigne

potency in thy sweet words, that thou hast made me more thine, then

mine owne: and beleeve it unfeinedly, I hold thee to be worthy of my

love. Wherefore, with this kisse I freely give it thee, and make thee a

further promise, that before this night shall be fully past, thou shalt

in better manner perceive it. Adventure into my Chamber about the houre

of midnight, I will leave the doore open: thou knowest, on which side

of the bed I use to rest, come thither and feare not: if I sleep, the

least gentle touch of thy hand will wake me, and then thou shalt see

how much I love thee. So, with a kinde kisse or two, the bargaine was

concluded, she licensing his departure for that time, and he staying

in hope of his hearts happinesse, till when, he thought every houre a

yeare.

In the meane while, _Egano_ returned home from Hawking, and so soone

as he had supt (being very weary) he went to bed, and his Ladie

likewise with him, leaving her Chamber doore open, according as she had

promised. At the houre appointed, _Anichino_ came, finding the doore

but easily put too, which (being entred) softly he closed againe, in

the same manner as he found it. Going to the beds side where the Lady

lay, and gently touching her brest with his hand, he found her to be

awake, and perceiving he was come according unto promise, shee caught

his hand fast with hers, and held him very strongly. Then, turning

(as she could) towards _Egano_, she made such meanes, as hee awaked,

whereupon she spake unto him as followeth.

Sir, yesternight I would have had a fewe speeches with you: but, in

regard of your wearinesse and early going to bed, I could not have any

opportunity. Now, this time and place being most convenient, I desire

to bee resolved by you: Among all the men retained into your service;

which of them you do thinke to be the best, most loyall, and worthiest

to enjoy your love? _Egano_ answered thus: Wife, why should you move

such a question to me? Do not you know, that I never had any servant

heeretofore, or ever shall have heereafter, in whom I reposed the like

trust as I have done, and do in _Anichino_? But to what end is this

motion of yours? I will tell you Sir (quoth she) and then be Judge

yourself, whether I have reason to move this question, or no. Mine

opinion every way equalled yours, concerning _Anichino_, & that he

was more just and faithfull to you, then any could be amongest all the

rest: But Husband, like as where the water runneth stillest, the Foord

is deepest, even so, his smooth lookes have beguiled both you and me.

For, no longer agoe, then this verie day, no sooner were you ridden

foorth on Hauking, but he (belike purposely) tarrying at home, watching

such a leysure as best fitted his intent: was not ashamed to solicite

mee, both to abuse your bed, and mine owne spotlesse honor.

Moreover, he prosecuted his impious purpose with such alluring

perswasions: that being a weake woman, and not willing to endure over

many Amorous proofes (onely to acquaint you with his most sawcie

immodestie, and to revenge your selfe uppon him as best you may; your

selfe beeing best able to pronounce him guiltie) I made him promise,

to meete him in our Garden, presently after midde-night, and to finde

mee sitting under the Pine-Tree, never meaning (as I am vertuous) to

be there. But, that you may know the deceite and falshoode of your

Servant, I would have you to put on my Night-gowne, my head Attire,

and Chinne-cloath, and sitting but a short while there underneath the

Pine-Tree: such is his insatiate desire, as he will not faile to come,

and then you may proceede, as you finde occasion.

When _Egano_ heard these Words, sodainely hee started out of Bed,

saying. Doe I foster such a Snake in mine owne bosome? Gramercie Wife

for this politicke promise of thine, and beleeve mee, I meane to follow

it effectually. So, on he put his Ladies Night-gown, her formall head

Attire and Chin-cloth, going presently downe into the Garden, to expect

_Anichinoes_ comming to the Pine-Tree. But before the matter grew to

this issue, let me demand of you faire Ladies, in what a lamentable

condition (as you may imagine) was poore _Anichino_; to bee so strongly

detained by her, heare all his amorous suite discovered, and likely

to draw very heavy afflictions on him? Undoubtedly, he looked for

immediate apprehension by _Egano_, imprisonment and publike punishment

for his so malapert presumption: and had it proved so, she had much

renowned her selfe, and dealt with him but as he had justlie deserved.

But frailtie in our feminine sex is too much prevalent, and makes us

wander from vertuous courses, when we are wel onward in the way to

them. Madam _Beatrix_, whatsoever passed betweene her and _Anichino_, I

know not, but, either to continue this new begunne league for further

time, or, to be revenged on her husbands simplicity, in over-rashlie

giving credit to so smooth a ly; this was her advise to him. _Anichino_

quoth she, Take a good Cudgell in thy hand, then go into the Garden so

farre as the Pine; and there, as if formerly thou hadst solicited mee

unto this secret meeting, only but by way of approving my honestie:

in my name, revile thy master so bitterly as thou canst, bestowing

manie sound blowes on him with thy cudgell; yet urge the shame still (as

it were) to mee, and never leave him, till thou hast beaten him out

of the garden, to teach him keepe his bed another time. Such an apt

Scholler as _Anichino_ was in this kind, needs no tuturing, but a word

is enough to a ready Wit. To the Garden goes he, with a good willow

cudgell in his hand, and comming neere to the Pine-tree, there he found

_Egano_ disguised like to his Lady, who arising from the place where

he sate, went with chearefull gesture to welcome him; but _Anichino_

(in rough and stearne manner) thus spake unto him. Wicked, shamelesse,

and most immodest Woman, Art thou come, according to thine unchaste

and lascivious promise? Couldest thou so easily credite, (though I

tempted thee, to trie the vertue of thy continencie) I would offer such

a damnable wrong to my worthy Master, that so deerely loves me, and

reposeth his especiall confidence in me? Thou art much deceived in me,

and shalt finde, that I hate to be false to him.

So lifting up the Cudgell, he gave him therewith halfe a score good

bastinadoes, laying them on soundly, both on his armes and shoulders:

and _Egano_ feeling the smart of them, durst not speake one Worde, but

fled away from him so fast as hee could, _Anichino_ still following,

and multiplying many other injurious speeches against him, with the

Epithites of Strumpet, lustfull and insatiate Woman. Go thou lewde

beast (quoth he) most unworthy the title of a Lady, or to be Wife unto

so good a natured man, as my Mayster is, to whom I will reveale thy

most ungracious incivility to Morrow, that he may punish thee a little

better then I have done.

_Egano_ being thus well beaten for his Garden walke, got within the

doore, and so went up to his Chamber againe: his Lady there demanding

of him, whether _Anichino_ came according to his promise, or no? Come?

quoth Egano, Yes Wife, he came, but deerely to my cost: for hee verily

taking me for thee, hath beaten me most extreamly, calling me an

hundred Whores and Strumpets, reputing thee to bee the wickedest Woman

living. In good sadnesse _Beatrix_, I wondred not a little at him,

that he would give thee any such vile speeches, with intent to wrong

mee in mine honour. Questionlesse, because hee saw thee to be joviall

spirited, gracious and affable towardes all men; therefore hee intended

to make triall of thine honest carriage. Well Sir (sayde shee) twas

happy that hee tempted mee with words, and let you taste the proofe

of them by deeds: and let him thinke, that I brooke those words as

distastably, as you do or can, his ill deeds. But seeing he is so just,

faithfull, and loyall to you, you may love him the better, and respect

him as you finde occasion.

Whereto _Egano_ thus replyed. Now trust me wife, thou hast said very

well: And drawing hence the argument of his setled perswasion; that he

had the chastest Woman living to his wife, and so just a Servant, as

could not be fellowed: there never was any further discoverie of this

Garden-night accident. Perhaps, Madame _Beatrix_ and _Anichino_ might

subtilly smile thereat in secret, in regard that they knew more then

any other else beside did. But, as for honest meaning _Egano_, hee

never had so much as the verie least mistrust of ill dealing, either

in his Lady, or _Anichino_; whom hee loved and esteemed farre more

respectively uppon this proofe of his honestie towards him, then hee

would or could possibly have done, without a triall so playne and

pregnant.

Arriguccio Berlinghieri, _became immeasurably jelous of his Wife_

Simonida, _who fastened a thred about her great toe, for to serve as a

signall, when her amorous friend should come to visite her._ Arriguccio

_findeth the fallacie, and while he pursueth the amorous friend, shee

causeth her Maide to lye in her bed against his returne: whom he

beateth extreamly, cutting away the lockes of her haire (thinking he

had doone all this violence to his wife_ Simonida:) _and afterward

fetcheth her Mother & Brethren, to shame her before them, and so be

rid of her. But they finding all his speeches to be utterly false; and

reputing him to bee a drunken jealous foole; all the blame and disgrace

falleth on himselfe._

The Eight Novell.

_Whereby appeareth, that an Husband ought to be very well advised, when

he meaneth to discover any wrong offered his wife; except hee himselfe

do rashly run into all the shame and reproach._

It seemed to the whole assembly, that Madam _Beatrix_, dealte somewhat

strangely, in the manner of beguiling her husband; and affirmed also,

that _Anichino_ had great cause of fear, when she held him so strongly

by her beds side, and related all his amorous temptation. But when the

King perceyved, that Madame _Philomena_ sate silent, he turned to Madam

_Neiphila_, willing her to supply the next place; who modestly smiling,

thus began.

Faire Ladies, it were an heavy burthen imposed on me, and a matter

much surmounting my capacity, if I should vainely imagine, to content

you with so pleasing a Novell, as those have already done, by you so

singularly reported: neverthelesse, I must discharge my dutie, and take

my fortune as it fals, albeit I hope to finde you mercifull.

You are to know then, that sometime there lived in our Citie, a

very welthy Merchant, named _Arriguccio Berlinghieri_, who (as many

Merchants have done) fondly imagined, to make himselfe a Gentleman by

marriage. Which that he might the more assuredly do, he took to wife

a Gentlewoman, one much above his degree or element, she being named

_Simonida_. Now, in regard that he delighted (as it is the usuall life

of a Merchant) to be often abroad, and little at home, whereby shee

had small benefit of his company; shee grew very forward in affection

with a young Gentleman, called Signior _Roberto_, who had solicited

hir by many amorous meanes, and (at length) prevailed to win her

favor. Which favour being once obtained; affection gaddes so farre

beyond al discretion, and makes Lovers so heedelesse of their private

conversations: that either they are taken tardy in their folly, or else

subjected to scandalous suspition.

It came to passe, that _Arriguccio_, either by rumour, or some other

more sensible apprehension, had received such intelligence concerning

his Wife _Simonida_, as he grew into extraordinarie jealousie of

her, refraining travaile abroad, as formerly he was wont to doe, and

ceassing from his verie ordinary affayres, addicting all his care

and endeavour, onely to be watchfull of his Wife; so that he never

durst sleepe, untill she were by him in the bed, which was no meane

molestation to her, being thus curbd from her familiar meetings with

_Roberto_. Neverthelesse, having a long while consulted with her

wittes, to find some apte meanes for conversing with him, being thereto

also very earnestlie still solicited by him; you shall heare what

course she undertooke.

Her Chamber being on the streete side, and somewhat juttying over it,

she observed the disposition of her Husband, that every night it was

long before he fell asleepe: but beeing once falne into it, no noyse

whatsoever, could easily wake him. This his solemne and sound sleeping,

emboldned her so farre, as to meete with _Roberto_ at the streete

doore, which (while her Husband slept) softly she would open to him,

and there in private converse with him.

But, because shee would know the certaine houre of his comming, without

the least suspition of any: she hung a thred forth of her Chamber

Window, descending downe, within the compasse of _Robertoes_ reach

in the street, and the other end thereof, guided from the Window to

the bed, being conveyed under the cloathes, and shee being in bed,

she fastned it about her left great Toe, wherewith _Roberto_ was

sufficiently acquainted, and thus enstructed withall; that at his

comming, he should plucke the thred, & if her husband was in his dead

sleep, she would let go the thred, and come downe to him: but if he

slept not, she would hold it strongly, and then his tarrying would

prove but in vaine; there could be no meeting that night.

This devise was highly pleasing both to _Roberto_ and _Simonida_, being

the intelligencer of their often meeting, and many times also advising

the contrary. But in the end, as the quaintest cunning may faile at one

time or another; so it fortuned one night, that _Simonida_ being in a

sound sleepe, and _Arriguccio_ waking, because his drowsie houre was

not as yet come: as he extended forth his legge in the bed, he found

the thred, which feeling in his hand, and perceiving it was tyed to his

wives great toe; it prooved apt tinder to kindle further Jealousie,

and now hee suspected some treachery indeede, and so much the rather

because the thred guided (under the cloathes) from the bed to the

window, and there hanging downe into the streete, as a warning to some

further businesse.

Now was _Arriguccio_ so furiously enflamed, that hee must needes bee

further resolved in this apparant doubt: and because therein hee would

not be deceived, softly he cut the thred from his wives toe, and made

it fast about his owne; to trye what successe would ensue thereon. It

was not long before _Roberto_ came, and according as hee used to doe,

hee pluckt the thred, which _Arriguccio_ felt, but because hee had

not tyed it fast, and _Roberto_ pulling it over-hardly, it fell downe

from the window into his hand, which he understood as his lesson, to

attend her comming, and so hee did. _Arriguccio_ stealing softly out

of bed from his wife, and taking his Sword under his arme, went downe

to the doore, to see who it was, with full intent of further revenge.

Now, albeit he was a Merchant, yet he wanted not courage, and boldnesse

of spirit, and opening the doore without any noyse, onely as his wife

was wont to doe: _Roberto_, there waiting his entrance, perceived by

the doores unfashionable opening, that it was not _Simonida_, but her

Husband, whereupon he betooke himselfe to flight, and _Arriguccio_

fiercely followed him. At the length, _Roberto_ perceiving that flight

avayled him not, because his enemy still pursued him: being armed also

with a Sword, as _Arriguccio_ was; he returned backe upon him, the one

offering to offend, as the other stood upon his defence, and so in the

darke they fought together.

_Simonida_ awaking, even when her Husband went foorth of the Chamber,

and finding the thred to be cut from her toe; conjectured immediately,

that her subtle cunning was discovered, and supposing her Husband in

pursuite of _Roberto_, presently she arose; and, considering what

was likely to ensue thereon, called her Chamber-maide (who was not

ignorant in the businesse) and by perswasions prevailed so with her,

that she lay downe in her place in the bed, upon solemne protestations

and liberall promises, not to make her selfe knowne, but to suffer all

patiently, either blowes, or other ill usage of her Husband, which

shee would recompence in such bountifull sort, as she should have no

occasion to complaine. So, putting out the watch-light, which every

night burned in the Chamber, she departed thence, and sate downe in

a close corner of the house, to see what would be the end of all this

stirre, after her Husbands comming home.

The fight (as you have formerly heard) continuing betweene _Roberto_

and _Arriguccio_, the neighbours hearing of the clashing of their

Swords in the streets; arose out of their beds, and reproved them in

very harsh manner. In which respect _Arriguccio_, fearing to be knowne,

and ignorant also what his adversary was (no harme being as yet done

on either side) permitted him to depart; and extreamely full of anger,

returned backe againe to his house. Being come up into his bed-chamber,

Thus he began; Where is this lewde and wicked woman? what? hast thou

put out the light, because I should not finde thee? that shall not

avayle thee, for I can well enough finde a drab in the darke. So,

groping on to the beds side, and thinking hee had taken hold on his

wife, he grasped the Chamber-maide, so beating her with his fists, and

spurning her with his feet, that all her face was bloody & bruised.

Next, with his knife he cut off a great deal of her haire: giving her

the most villanous speeches as could be devised: swearing, that he

would make her a shame to all the world.

You need make no doubt, but the poore maide wept exceedingly, as she

had good occasion to doe: and albeit many times she desired mercy,

and that hee would not bee so cruell to her: yet notwithstanding, her

voyce was so broken with crying, and his impacience so extreame, that

rage hindered all power of distinguishing, or knowing his wives tongue

from a strangers. Having thus madly beaten her, and cut the lockes off

from her head, thus he spake to her. Wicked woman, and no wife of mine,

be sure I have not done with thee yet; for, although I meane not now

to beate thee any longer: I will goe to thy brethren, and they shall

understand thy dishonest behaviour. Then will I bring them home with

me, and they perceiving how much thou hast abused both their honour

and thine owne; let them deale with thee as they finde occasion, for

thou art no more a companion for me. No sooner had he uttered these

angry words, but hee went forth of the Chamber, bolting it fast on the

outward side, as meaning to keepe her safely inclosed, & out of the

house he went alone by himselfe.

_Simonida_, who had heard all this tempestuous conflict, perceiving

that her Husband had lockt the streete doore after him, and was

gone whether he pleased: unbolted the Chamber doore, lighted a waxe

candle, and went in to see her poore maide, whom she found to be most

pittifully misused. She comforted her as well as she could, brought her

into her owne lodging Chamber, where washing her face and hurts in very

soveraigne waters, and rewarding her liberally with _Arriguccioes_ owne

Gold; she held her selfe to bee sufficiently satisfyed. So, leaving the

maide in her lodging, and returning againe to her owne Chamber: she

made up the bed in such former manner, as if no body had lodged therein

that night. Then hanging up her Lampe fresh fild with oyle, and clearly

lighted, she deckt her selfe in so decent sort, as if she had bin in no

bed all that night.

Then taking sowing worke in her hand, either shirts or bands of her

Husbands; hanging the Lampe by her, and sitting downe at the stayres

head, she fell to worke in very serious manner, as if shee had

undertaken some imposed taske.

On the other side, _Arriguccio_ had travelled so farre from his

house, till he came at last to the dwelling of _Simonidaes_ brethren:

where hee knockt so soundly, that he was quickely heard, and (almost

as speedily) let in. _Simonidaes_ brethren, and her mother also,

hearing of _Arriguccioes_ comming thither so late. Rose from their

beds, and each of them having a Waxe Candle lighted came presently to

him, to understand the cause of this his so unseasonable visitation.

_Arriguccio_, beginning at the originall of the matter, the thred found

tyed about his wives great toe, the fight and houshold conflict after

following: related every circumstance to them. And for the better

proofe of his words, he shewed them the thred it selfe, the lockes

supposed of his wives haire, and adding withall; that they might now

dispose of _Simonida_ as themselves pleased, because she should remaine

no longer in his house.

The brethren to _Simonida_ were exceedingly offended at this relation,

in regard they beleeved it for truth, and in this fury, commanded

Torches to be lighted, preparing to part thence with _Arriguccio_ home

to his house, for the more sharpe reprehension of their Sister. Which

when their mother saw, she followed them weeping, first entreating

one, and then the other, not to be over rash in crediting such a

slander, but rather to consider the truth thereof advisedly: because

the Husband might be angry with his Wife upon some other occasion,

and having outraged her, made this the meanes in excuse of himselfe.

Morever she said, that she could not chuse but wonder greatly, how this

matter should thus come to passe; because she had good knowledge of

her daughter, during the whole course of her education, faultlesse and

blamelesse in every degree; with many other good words of her beside,

as proceeding from naturall affection of a mother.

Being come to the house of _Arriguccio_, entring in, and ascending up

the stayres: they heard _Simonida_ sweetly singing at her working; but

pausing, upon hearing their rude trampling, shee demaunded, who was

there. One of the angry brethren presently answered: Lewde woman as

thou art, thou shalt know soone enough who is heere: Our blessed Lady

be with us (quoth _Simonida_) and sweet Saint Frances helpe to defend

me, who dare use such unseemely speeches? Starting up and meeting them

on the staire head: Kinde brethren, (said she) is it you? What, and

my loving mother too? For sweet Saint Charities sake, what may be the

reason of your comming hither in this manner. Shee being set downe

againe to her worke, so neatly apparelled, without any signe of outrage

offered her, her face unblemished, her haire comely ordered, and

differing wholly from the former speeches of her Husband: the Brethren

marvelled thereat not a little; and asswaging somewhat the impetuous

torrent of their rage; began to demaund in coole blood, (as it were)

from what ground her Husbands complaints proceeded, and threatning her

roughly, if she would not confesse the truth intirely to them.

Ave Maria (quoth _Simonida_, crossing her selfe) Alas deare Brethren,

I know not what you say, or meane, nor wherein my Husband should bee

offended, or make any complaint at all of me. _Arriguccio_ hearing

this, looked on her like a man that had lost his Senses: for well he

remembred, how many cruell blowes he had given her on the face, beside

scratches of his nailes, and spurnes of his feet, as also the cutting

of her haire, the the least shew of all which misusage, was not now

to be seene. Her brethren likewise briefly told her, the whole effect

of her Husbands speeches, shewing her the thred, and in what cruell

manner he sware hee did beate her. _Simonida_, turning then to her

Husband, and seeming as confounded with amazement, said. How is this

Husband? what doe I heare? would you have me supposed (to your owne

shame and disgrace) to be a bad woman, and your selfe a cruell curst

man, when (on either side) there is no such matter? When were you this

night heere in the house with mee? Or when should you beate mee, and I

not feele nor know it. Beleeve me (sweete heart) all these are meerely

miracles to me.

Now was _Arriguccio_ ten times more mad in his minde, then before,

saying. Divell, and no woman, did wee not this night goe both together

to bed? Did not I cut this thred from thy great toe, tyed it to mine,

and found the craftie compact betweene thee and thy Minnion? Did not

I follow and fight with him in the streets? Came I not backe againe,

and beate thee as a Strumpet should be? And are not these the locks of

haire, which I my selfe did cut from thy head?

Alas Sir (quoth she) where have you been? doe you know what you say?

you did not lodge in this house this night, neither did I see you all

the whole day and night, till now.

But leaving this, and come to the matter now in question, because I

have no other testimony then mine owne words. You say, that you did

beate me, and cut those lockes of haire from my head. Alas Sir, why

should you slander your selfe? In all your life time you did never

strike me. And to approve the truth of my speeches, doe you your selfe,

and all else heere present, looke on me advisedly, if any signe of blow

or beating is to be seene on me. Nor were it an easie matter for you

to doe either to smite, or so much as lay your hand (in anger) on me,

it would cost dearer then you thinke for. And whereas you say, that

you did cut those lockes of haire from my head; it is more then either

I know, or felt, nor are they in colour like to mine: but, because my

Mother and brethren shall be my witnesses therein, and whether you did

it without my knowledge; you shall all see, if they be cut, or no. So,

taking off her head attyre, she displayed her hayre over her shoulders,

which had suffered no violence, neither seemed to bee so much as

uncivilly or rudely handled.

When the mother and brethren saw this, they began to murmure against

_Arriguccio_, saying, What thinke you of this Sir? you tell us of

strange matters which you have done, and all proving false, we wonder

how you can make good the rest. _Arriguccio_ looked wilde, and

confusedly, striving still to maintaine his accusation: but seeing

every thing to bee flatly against him, he durst not attempt to speake

one word. _Simonida_ tooke advantage of this distraction in him, and

turning to her brethren, saide. I see now the marke whereat he aymeth,

to make me doe what I never meante: Namely, that I should acquaint you

with his vile qualities, and what a wretched life I leade with him,

which seeing hee will needes have me to reveale; beare with me if I doe

it upon compulsion.

Mother and Brethren, I am verily perswaded, that those accidents which

he disclosed to you, hath doubtlesse (in the same manner) happened to

him, and you shall heare how. Very true it is, that this seeming honest

man, to whom (in a lucklesse houre) you married me, stileth himselfe

by the name of a Merchant, coveting to be so accounted and credited,

as holy in outward appearance, as a Religious Monke, and as demure in

lookes, as the modestest Maide: like a notorious common drunkard, is a

Taverne hunter, where making his luxurius matches, one while with one

Whore, then againe with another; hee causeth mee every night to sit

tarrying for him, even in the same sort as you found me: sometimes till

midnight, and otherwhiles till broad day light in the morning.

And questionlesse, being in his wounted drunken humour, hee hath lyen

with one of his sweet Consorts, about whose toe he found the thred, and

finding her as false to him, as he hath alwayes been to me: Did not

onely beat her, but also cut the haire from her head. And having not

yet recovered his sences, is verily perswaded, and cannot be altered

from it; but that hee performed all this villany to me. And if you doe

but advisedly observe his countenance, he appeareth yet to be more then

halfe drunke.

But whatsoever he hath said concerning me, I make no account at all

thereof, because he spake it in his drunkennesse, and as freely as I

forgive him, even so (good Mother and kinde Brethren) let mee entreate

you to do the like.

When the Mother had heard these words, and confidently beleeved her

Daughter: she began to torment her selfe with anger, saying. By the

faith of my body Daughter, this unkindnesse is not be endured, but

rather let the dogge be hanged, that his qualities may be knowne, he

being utterly unworthy, to have so good a woman to his wife, as thou

art. What could he have done more, if he had taken thee in the open

streete, and in company of some wanton Gallants? In an unfortunate

houre wast thou married to him, base jealous Coxecombe as he is, and it

is quite against sense, or reason, that thou shouldest be subject to

his fooleries. What was hee, but a Merchant of Eale-skinnes or Orenges;

bred in some paltry countrey village; taken from Hogge-rubbing; clothed

in Sheepes-Sattin, with Clownish Startops, Leather stockings, and

Caddies garters: His whole habite not worth three shillings: And yet he

must have a faire Gentlewoman to his Wife, of honest fame, riches and

reputation; when, comparing his pedegree with hers, hee is farre unfit

to wipe her shooes.

Oh my deare Sonnes, I would you had followed my counsell, and permitted

her to match in the honourable family of _Count Guido_, which was much

mooved, and seriously pursued. But you would needs bestow her on this

goodly Jewell; who, although shee is one of the choysest beauties

in Florence, chaste, honest and truely vertuous: Is not ashamed at

midnight, to proclaime her for a common whore, as if we had no better

knowledge of her. But by the blessed mother of Saint _John_, if you

would be ruled by mine advise; our law should make him dearely smart

for it.

Alas my sonnes, did I not tell you at home in our owne house, that his

words were no way likely to prove true? Have not your eyes observed his

unmannerly behaviour to your Sister? If I were as you are, hearing what

he hath said, and noting his drunken carriage beside; I should never

give over, as long as he had any life left in him. And were I a man,

as I am a woman; none other then my selfe should revenge her wrongs,

making him a publike spectacle to all drabbing drunkards.

When the brethren had heard and observed all these occurrences; in

most bitter manner they railed on _Arriguccio_, bestowing some good

bastinadoes on him beside, concluding thus with him in the end. Quoth

one of them, Wee will pardon this shamefull abusing of our Sister,

because thou art a notorious drunkard: but looke to it (on perill of

thy life) that we have no more such newes hereafter; for, beleeve it

unfainedly, if any such impudent rumours happen to our eares, or so

much as a flying fame thereof; thou shalt surely be paide for both

faults together.

So home againe went they, and _Arriguccio_ stood like one that had

neither life or motion, not knowing (whether what he had done) was

true, or no, or if he dreamed all this while, and so (without uttering

any word) he left his Wife, and went quietly to bed. Thus by her

wisdome, she did not onely prevent an imminent perill: but also made a

free and open passage, to further contentment with her amourous friend,

yet dreadlesse of any distaste or suspition in her Husband.

Lydia, _a Lady of great beauty, birth, and honor, being wife to_

Nicostratus, _Governour of_ Argos, _falling in love with a Gentleman,

named_ Pyrrhus; _was requested by him (as a true testimony of her

unfeigned affection) to performe three severall actions of her selfe.

She did accomplish them all, and imbraced and kissed_ Pyrrhus _in the

presence of_ Nicostratus; _by perswading him, that whatsoever he saw,

was meerely false._

The Ninth Novell.

_Wherein is declared, that great Lords may sometime be deceived by

their Wives, as well as men of meaner condition._

The Novell delivered, by Madame _Neiphila_ seemed so pleasing to all

the Ladies; as they could not refraine from hearty laughter, beside

much liberality of speech. Albeit the King did oftentimes urge silence,

and commanded _Pamphilus_ to follow next. So, when attention was

admitted, _Pamphilus_ began in this order. I am of opinion, faire

Ladies, that there is not any matter, how uneasie or doubtfull soever

it may seeme to be; but the man or woman that affecteth fervently,

dare boldly attempt, and effectually accomplish. And this perswasion

of mine, although it hath beene sufficiently approved, by many of our

passed Novels: Yet notwithstanding, I shall make it much apparent to

you, by a present discourse of mine owne. Wherein I have occasion to

speake of a Lady, to whom Fortune was more favourable, then either

reason or judgement, could give direction. In which regard, I would

not advise any of you, to entertaine so high an imagination of minde,

as to tracke her footsteps of whom I am now to speake: because Fortune

containeth not alwayes one and the same disposition, neither can all

mens eyes be blinded after one manner. And so proceed we to our Tale.

In _Argos_, a most ancient Citie of _Achaya_, much more renowned by

her precedent Kings, then wealth, or any other great matter of worth:

there lived as Lieutenant or Governour thereof, a Noble Lord, named

_Nicostratus_, on whom (albeit hee was well stept into yeares) Fortune

bestowed in a marriage a great Lady, no lesse bold of spirit, then

choisely beautifull. _Nicostratus_, abounding in treasure and wealthy

possessions, kept a goodly trains of Servants, Horses, Houndes, Hawkes,

and what else not, as having an extraordinary felicity in all kinds of

game, as singular exercises to maintaine his health.

Among his other Servants and Followers, there was a yong Gentleman,

gracefull of person, excellent in speech, and every way as active

as no man could be more: his name _Pyrrhus_, highly affected of

_Nicostratus_, and more intimately trusted then all the rest. Such

seemed the perfections of this _Pyrrhus_, that _Lydia_ (for so was

the Lady named) began to affect him very earnestly, and in such sort,

as day or night shee could take no rest, but devised all meanes to

compasse her harts desire. Now, whether he observed this inclination of

her towards him, or else would take no notice thereof, it could not be

discerned by any outward apprehension: which moved the more impatiency

in her, & drove her hopes to dispairing passions. Wherein to finde some

comfort and ease, she called an ancient Gentlewoman of her Chamber, in

whom shee reposed especiall confidence, and thus she spake to her.

_Lesca_, The good turnes and favours thou hast received from me, should

make thee faithfull and obedient to me: and therefore set a locke

uppon thy lippes, for revealing to any one whatsoever, such matters as

now I shall impart to thee; except it be to him that I command thee.

Thou perceivest _Lesca_, how youthfull I am, apt to all sprightly

recreations, rich, and abounding in all that a woman can wish to

have, in regard of Fortunes common & ordinary favours: yet I have one

especiall cause of complaint: namely, the inequality of my Mariage, my

Husband being over-ancient for me; in which regard, my youth finds it

selfe too highly wronged, being defeated of those duties and delights,

which women (farre inferiour to me) are continuallie cloyed withall,

and I am utterly deprived of. I am subject to the same desires they

are, and deserve to taste the benefit of them, in as ample manner, as

they do or can.

Hitherto I have lived with the losse of time, which yet (in some

measure) may be releeved and recompenced: For, though Fortune were mine

enemy in Mariage, by such a disproportion of our conditions: yet she

may befriend in another nature, and kindely redeeme the injury done me.

Wherefore _Lesca_, to be as compleate in this case, as I am in all the

rest beside; I have resolved upon a private Friend, and one more worthy

then any other; Namely, my Servant _Pyrrhus_, whose youth carieth some

correspondency with mine; and so constantly have I setled my love

to him, as I am not well, but when I thinke on him, or see him: and

(indeede) shall dye, except the sooner I may enjoy him. And therefore,

if my life and well-fare be respected by thee, let him understand the

integrity of mine affection, by such good means as thou findest it most

expedient to be done: entreating him from me, that I may have some

conference with him, when he shall thereto be solicited by me.

The Chamber-Gentlewoman _Lesca_, willingly undertooke the Ladies

Embassie; and so soone as opportunity did favor her: having withdrawne

_Pyrrhus_ into an apt and commodious place, shee delivered the Message

to him, in the best manner she could devise. Which _Pyrrhus_ hearing,

did not a little wonder thereat, never having noted any such matter;

and therefore sodainly conceyved, that the Lady did this onely to

try him; whereupon, somewhat roundly and roughly, hee returned this

answere. _Lesca_, I am not so simple, as to credite any such Message

to be sent from my Lady, and therefore be better advised of thy words.

But admit that it should come from her, yet I cannot be perswaded, that

her soule consented to such harsh Language, far differing from a forme

so full of beauty**. And yet admit againe, that her hart and tongue herein

were relatives: My Lord and Master hath so farre honoured mee, and so

much beyond the least part of merite in mee: as I will rather dye, then

any way offer to disgrace him: And therefore I charge thee, never more

to move mee in this matter.

_Lesca_, not a jot danted at his stearne words, presently she saide.

_Pyrrhus_, Both in this and all other Messages my Lady shall command

me, I will speake to thee whensoever shee pleaseth, receive what

discontent thou canst thereby; or make presumption of what doubts

thou maist devise. But as I found thee a senselesse fellow, dull,

and not shaped to any understanding, so I leave thee: And in that

anger parted from him, carrying backe the same answer to her Lady.

She no sooner heard it, but instantly shee wished her selfe to be

dead; and within some few dayes after, she conferred againe with her

Chamber-woman, saying. _Lesca_, thou knowest well enough, that the Oxe

falleth not at the first blow of the Axe, neither is the victory won,

upon a silly and shallow adventure: Wherefore, I thinke it convenient,

that once more thou shouldst make another tryall of him, who (in

prejudice to me) standeth so strictly on his loyalty, and choosing

such an houre as seemeth most commodious, soundly possesse him with my

tormenting passions. Bestirre thy Wittes, and tippe thy tongue with a

Womans eloquence, to effect what I so earnestly desire: because, by

languishing in this love-sicke affliction, it well bee the danger of my

death, and some severe detriment to him, to be the occasion of so great

a losse.

_Lesca_, comforted her Lady, so much as lay in her power to doe, and

having sought for _Pyrrhus_, whom she found at good leysure; and, in

a pleasing humour, thus she beganne. _Pyrrhus_, some few dayes since I

tolde thee, in what extreame Agonies thy Lady and mine was, onely in

regarde of her love to thee: and now againe I come once more, to give

thee further assurance thereof: Wherefore, beleeve it unfeignedly,

that if thy obstinacie continue still, in like manner as the other day

it did, expect very shortly to heare the tydings of her death.

It is my part therefore, to entreat thee, to comfort her long

languishing desires: but if thou persist in thy harsh opinion, in stead

of reputing thee a wise and fortunate yong man, I shall confesse thee

to bee an ignoraunt Asse. What a glorie is it to thee, to be affected

of so faire and worthy a Lady, beyond all men else whatsoever? Next to

this, tell me, how highly maist thou confesse thy selfe beholding to

Fortune, if thou but duly consider, how shee hath elected thee as sole

soveraigne of her hopes, which is a crowne of honour to thy youth, and

a sufficient refuge against all wants and necessities? Where is any to

thy knowledge like thy selfe, that can make such advantage of his time,

as thou maist do, if thou wert wise? Where canst thou find any one to

go beyond thee in Armes, Horses, sumptuous garments, and Gold, as will

be heaped on thee, if _Lydia_ may be the Lady of thy love? Open then

thine understanding to my words, returne into thine owne soule, and bee

wise for thy selfe.

Remember (_Pyrrhus_) that Fortune presents her selfe but once before

any one, with cheerefull lookes, and her lappe wide open of richest

favours, where if choice be not quickely made, before she folde it

up, and turn her backe: let no complaint afterward be made of her,

if the Fellow that had so faire an offer, proove to be miserable,

wretched, and a Beggar, only thorow his owne negligence. Beside, what

else hath formerly bin saide, there is now no such neede of loyaltie

in servants to their Ladies, as should be among deare Friends and

Kindred: but servants ought rather (as best they may) be such to their

Masters, as they are to them. Doest thou imagine, that if thou hadst

a faire Wife, Mother, Daughter, or Sister, pleasing in the eye of our

_Nicostratus_; he would stand on such nice tearmes of duty or Loyaltie,

as now thou doest to his Ladie? Thou wert a verie foole to rest so

perswaded. Assure thy selfe, that if entreaties and faire meanes might

not prevaile, force, and compulsion (whatsoever ensued thereon) woulde

winne the masterie. Let us then use them, and the commodities unto them

belonging, as they would us and ours. Use the benefit of thy Fortune,

& beware of abusing her favour. She yet smiles on thee; but take heede

least she turne her backe, it will then be over-late to repent thy

folly. And if my Ladie die through thy disdaine, be assured, that thou

canst not escape with life, beside open shame and disgrace for ever.

_Pyrrhus_, who had often considered on _Lescaes_ first message,

concluded with himselfe; that if any more she moved the same matter:

hee would returne her another kinde of answere, wholly yeelding to

content his Lady; provided, that he might remaine assured, concerning

the intyre truth of the motion, and that it was not urged onely to

trie him, wherefore, thus he replyed. _Lesca_, do not imagine mee so

ignorant, as not to know the certaintie of all thy former allegations,

confessing them as freely as thou doest, or canst. But yet let mee

tell thee withall, that I knowe my Lord to be wise and judicious, and

having committed all his affaires to my care and trust: never blame mee

to misdoubt; least my Ladie (by his counsell and advice) make thee the

messenger of this motion, thereby to call my Fidelitie in question.

To cleare which doubt, and for my further assurance of her well meaning

toward me; if she will undertake the performance of three such things

as I must needes require in this case: I am afterward her owne, in any

service she can command me. The first of them, is, that in the presence

of my Lord and Master, she kill his faire Faulcon, which so dearly hee

affecteth. The second, to send me a locke or tuft of his beard, being

puld away with her owne hand. The third and last, with the same hand

also, to pluck out one of his best and soundest teeth, and send it

mee as her loves true token. When I finde all these three effectually

performed, I am wholly hers, & not before.

These three strict impositions, seemed to _Lesca_, and her Ladie

likewise, almost beyond the compasse of all possibility. Nevertheles

Love, being a powerfull Oratour in perswading, as also adventurous even

on the most difficult dangers; gave her courage to undertake them all:

sending _Lesca_ backe againe to him, with full assurance, of these

more then _Herculean_ labours. Moreover, her selfe did intend to adde

a fourth taske, in regard of his strong opinion concerning the great

Wisedome of his Lord and Maister. After she had effected all the other

three, she would not permit him to kisse her, but before his Lords

face: which yet should be accomplished in such sort, as _Nicostratus_

himselfe should not beleeve it, although apparantly he saw it. Well,

(quoth _Pyrrhus_) when all these wonders are performed, assure my

Ladie, that I am truelie hers.

Within a short while after, _Nicostratus_ made a solemne Feastivall

(according as yearely he used to doe) in honour of his birth day,

inviting many Lords and Ladies thereto. On which rejoycing day, so

soone as dinner was ended, and the Tables withdrawne: _Lydia_ came

into the great Hall, where the Feast was solemnly kept; very rich and

costly apparrelled; and there, in presence of _Pyrrhus_, and the whole

assemblie, going to the Perch whereon the Faulcone sate, wherein her

Husband tooke no little delight, and having untyed her, as if shee

meant to beare her on her Fist: tooke her by the Jesses, and beating

her against the wal, killed her. _Nicostratus_ beholding this, called

out aloud unto her, saying. Alas Madame! what have you done? She making

him no answere, but turning to the Lords and Ladies, which had dined

there, spake in this manner.

Ill should I take revenge on a King, that had offended me, if I had not

so much heart, as to wreake my spleene on a paltry Hawke. Understand

then, worthy Lords and Ladies, that this Faulcone hath long time

robbed me of those delights, which men (in meere equitie) ought to

have with their wives: because continually, so soone as breake of day

hath appeared, my Husband, starting out of bed, makes himselfe readie,

presently to Horsse, and with this Faulcon on his Fist, rides abroad

to his recreation in the Fields. And I, in such forsaken sort as you

see, am left all alone in my bed, discontented and despised: often

vowing to my selfe, to bee thus revenged as now I am, being with-held

from it by no other occasion, but onely want of a fit and apt time, to

do it in the presence of such persons, as might bee just Judges of my

wrongs, and as I conceive you all to be.

The Lords and Ladies hearing these words, and beleeving this deed

of hers to be done no otherwise, but out of her entire affection to

_Nicostratus_, according as her speeches sounded: compassionately

turning towards him (who was exceedingly displeased) and all smiling,

said. Now in good sadnesse Sir; Madame _Lydia_ hath done well, in

acting her just revenge upon the Hawke, that bereft her of her Husbands

kinde companie; then which nothing is more precious to a loving wife,

and a hell it is to live without it. And _Lydia_, being sodainly

withdrawne into her chamber; with much other friendly and familiar

talke, they converted the anger of _Nicostratus_ into mirth and smiling.

_Pyrrhus_, who had diligently observed the whole cariage of this

businesse, saide to himselfe. My Ladie hath begun well, and proceeding

on with no worse successe, will (no doubt) bring her love to an happy

conclusion. As for the Lady her selfe, she having thus kild the

Hawke, it was no long while after, but being in the Chamber with her

husband, and they conversing familiarly together: she began to jest

with him, & hee in the like manner with her, tickling and toying each

the other, till at the length she played with his beard, and now she

found occasion aptly serving, to effect the second taske imposed by

_Pyrrhus_. So, taking fast hold on a small tuft of his beard, she gave

a sodaine snatch, and plucked it away quite from his chin. Whereat

_Nicostratus_ beeing angerly moved, she (to appease his distaste)

pleasantly thus spake. How now my Lord? Why do you looke so frowningly?

What? Are you angry for a few loose haires of your beard? How then

should I take it, when you plucke mee by the haire of my head, and yet

I am not a jot discontented, because I know you do it but in jesting

manner? These friendly speeches cut off all further contention, and

she kepte charily the tuft of her Husbands beard, which (the verie

selfe-same day) shee sent to _Pyrrhus_ her hearts chosen friend.

But now concerning the third matter to be adventured, it drove her

to a much more serious consideration, then those two which shee had

already so well and exactly performed. Notwithstanding, like a Ladie of

unconquerable spirit, and (in whom) Love enlarged his power more and

more: she sodainly conceited, what course was best to bee kept in this

case, forming her attempt in this manner. Upon _Nicostratus_ wayted

two young Gentlemen, as Pages of his Chamber, whose Fathers had given

them to his service, to learne the manners of honourable Courtship, and

those qualities necessarily required in Gentlemen. One of them, when

_Nicostratus_ sate downe to dinner or supper, stood in Office of his

Carver, delivering him all the meats whereon he fed. The other (as

Taster) attended on his Cup, and he dranke no other drinke, but what

hee brought him, and they both were highly pleasing unto him.

On a day, _Lydia_ called these two youths aside; and, among some other

speeches, which served but as an induction to her intended policy; she

perswaded them, that their mouths yeelded an unsavoury & ill-pleasing

smell, whereof their Lord seemed to take dislike. Wherefore she advised

them, that at such times as they attended on him in their severall

places: they should (so much as possibly they could) withdraw their

heads aside from him, because their breath might not be noyous unto

him. But withall, to have an especiall care, of not disclosing to

any one, what she had told them; because (out of meere love) she

had acquainted them therewith: which very constantly they beleeved,

and followed the same direction as she had advised, being loath to

displease, where service bound them to obey. Choosing a time fitting

for her purpose, when _Nicostratus_ was in private conference with her,

thus she began. Sir, you observe not the behaviour of your two pages,

when they wait on you at the Table? Yes but I do wife (quoth he) how

squemishly they turn their heads aside from me, and it hath often bin

in my minde, to understand a reason why they do so.

Seating herselfe by him, as if shee had some weighty matter to tell

him; she proceeded in this manner. Alas my Lord, you shall not need

to question them, because I can sufficiently resolve you therein:

which (neverthelesse) I have long concealed, because I would not be

offensive to you. But in regard, it is now manifestly apparant, that

others have tasted, what (I immagined) none but my selfe did, I will

no longer hide it from you. Assuredly Sir, there is a most strange and

unwonted ill-savour, continually issuing from your mouth, smelling most

noysomely, and I wonder what should be the occasion. In former times,

I never felt any such foule breathing to come from you: and you, who

do daily converse with so many worthy persons, should seeke meanes to

be rid of so great an annoyance. You say verie true wife (answered

_Nicostratus_) and I protest to you on my Credite, I feele no such ill

smell, neither know what should cause it, except I have some corrupted

tooth in my mouth. Perhaps Sir (quoth she) it may be so, and yet you

feele not the savour which others do, yea, very offensively.

So, walking with her to a Window, he opened wide his mouth, the which

nicely shee surveyed on either side, and, turning her head from him,

as seeming unable to endure the savour: starting, and shrieking out

alowd, she said. Santa Maria! What a sight is this? Alas my good Lord,

How could you abide this, and for so long a while? Heere is a tooth on

this side, which (so farre as I can perceive) is not onely hollow and

corrupted: but also wholly putrified and rotten, and if it continue

still in your head, beleeve it for a truth, that it will infect and

spoile all the rest neere it. I would therefore counsell you, to let

it be pluckt out, before it breede your further danger. I like your

counsell well _Lydia_, replyed _Nicostratus_, and presently intend

to follow it; Let therefore my Barber be sent for, and, without any

longer delay, he shall plucke it forth instantly.

How Sir? (quoth she,) your Barber? Uppon mine Honour, there shall come

no Barber heere. Why Sir, it is such a rotten Tooth, and standeth so

fairely for my hand: that, without helpe or advice of any Barber, let

mee alone for plucking it forth, without putting you to any paine at

all. Moreover, let me tell you Sir, those Tooth-drawers are so rude and

cruell, in performing such Offices, as my heart cannot endure, that you

should come within compasse of their currish courtesie, neither shall

you Sir, if you will be ruled by me. If I should faile in the manner of

their facilitie, yet love & duty hath enstructed me, to forbeare your

least paining, which no unmannerly Barber will do.

Having thus spoken, and he well contented with her kinde offer, the

instruments were brought, which are used in such occasions, all being

commanded forth of the Chamber, but onely _Lesca_, who evermore kept

still in her company. So, locking fast the doore, and _Nicostratus_

being seated, as she thought fittest for her purpose, she put the

Tanacles into his mouth, catching fast hold on one of his soundest

teeth: which, notwithstanding his loud crying, _Lesca_ held him so

strongly, that forth she pluckt it, and hid it, having another tooth

readie made hot & bloody, very much corrupted and rotten, which she

helde in the Tanacles, and shewed to him, who was well-neere halfe dead

with anguish. See Sir (quoth she) was this Tooth to be suffered in your

head, and to yeeld so foule a smell as it did? He verily beleeving what

she said, albeit hee had endured extreame paine, and still complained

on her harsh and violent pulling it out: rejoyced yet, that he was now

ridde of it, and she comforting him on the one side, and the anguish

asswaging him on the other, he departed forth of the Chamber.

In the mean while, by _Lesca_ she sent the sound tooth to _Pyrrhus_,

who (wondering not a little at her so many strange attempts; which hee

urged so much the rather, as thinking their performance impossible,

and, in meere loyall duty to his Lord) seeing them all three to be

notably effected; he made no further doubt of her intire love towardes

him, but sent her assurance likewise, of his readinesse and serviceable

diligence, whensoever she would command him.

Now, after the passage of all these adventures, hardly to bee

undertaken by any other Woman: yet she held them insufficient for

his security, in the grounded perswasion of her love to him, except

shee performed another of her owne, and according as shee had boldly

promised. Houres do now seeme dayes, and dayes multiplicitie of

yeeres, till the kisse may be given, and receyved in the presence of

_Nicostratus_, yet hee himselfe to avouch the contrary.

Madam _Lydia_ (upon a pretended sicknesse) keepeth her chamber, and

as women can hardly be exceeded in dissimulation: so, shee wanted no

wit, to seeme exquisitely cunning, in all the outwarde apparances of

sicknesse. One day after dinner, shee being visited by _Nicostratus_,

and none attending on him but _Pyrrhus_ onely: she earnestly entreated,

that as a mitigation, to some inward afflictions which she felt, they

would helpe to guide her into the Garden.

Most gladly was her motion graunted, and _Nicostratus_ gently taking

her by one arme, and _Pyrrhus_ by the other, so they conducted her into

the Garden, seating her in a faire floury Grasse-plot, with her backe

leaning to a Peare-tree. Having sitten there an indifferent while,

and _Pyrrhus_, being formerly enstructed, in the directions which she

had given him, thus shee spake, some-what faintly. _Pyrrhus_, I have

a kinde of longing desire upon a sodaine, to taste of these Peares:

Wherefore, climbe up into the Tree, and cast me downe one or two; which

instantly hee did. Being aloft in the Tree, and throwing downe some of

the best and ripest Peares; at length (according to his premeditated

Lesson) looking downe, he said.

Forbeare my Lord, Do you not see, in how weake and feeble condition my

Ladie is, being shaken with so violent a sicknesse? And you Madam, how

kinde and loving soever you are to my Lord, Are you so little carefull

of your health, being but now come forth of your sicke Chamber, to be

ruffled and tumbled in such rough manner? Though such dalliances are

not amisse in you both; being fitter for the private Chamber, then

an open garden, and in the presence of a servant: yet time and place

should alwaies bee respectively considered, for the avoiding of ill

example, and better testimonie of your owne Wisedomes, which ever

should be like your selves. But if so soone, and even in the heate of

a yet turbulent sickenesse, your equall love can admit these kisses

and embraces: your private Lodginges were much more convenient, where

no Servants eye can see such Wantonnesse, nor you be reproved of

indiscretion, for being too publique in your Familiaritie.

Madame _Lydia_, sodainely starting, and turning unto her Husband,

sayde. What doth _Pyrrhus_ prate? Is he well in his wittes? Or is

he franticke? No Madame, replyed _Pyrrhus_, I am not franticke. Are

you so fond as to thinke that I do not see your folly? _Nicostratus_

wondering at his Words, presently answered. Now trust me _Pyrrhus_,

I think thou dreamest. No my Lord, replyed _Pyrrhus_, I dreame not a

jot, neither do you, or my Ladie: but if this Tree could affoord the

like kindnesse to me, as you do to her, there would not a Peare bee

left uppon it. How now _Pyrrhus_? (quoth _Lydia_) this language goeth

beyond our understanding, it seemeth thou knowest not what thou saist.

Beleeve me husband, if I were as well as ever I have bin, I would climb

this tree, to see those idle wonders which hee talketh of: for, while

he continueth thus above, it appeareth, hee can finde no other prattle,

albeit he taketh his marke amisse.

Heereupon, he commanded _Pyrrhus_ to come downe, and being on the

ground: Now _Pyrrhus_ (quoth he) tell me what thou saydst. _Pyrrhus_,

pretending an alteration into much amazement, straungely looking about

him, saide; I know not verie well (my Lord) what answere I should make

you, fearing least my sight hath bin abused by error: for when I was

aloft in that Tree, it seemed manifestly to me: that you embraced my

Lady (though somewhat rudely, in regard of her perillous sicknesse,

yet lovingly) and as youthfully as in your yonger daies, with infinite

kisses, and wanton dalliances, such as (indeede) deserved a far more

private place in my poore opinion. But in my descending downe, mee

thought you gave over that amorous familiaritie, and I found you seated

as I left you. Now trust mee _Pyrrhus_, answered _Nicostratus_, Thy

tongue and wit have very strangely wandred, both from reason and all

reall apprehension: because we never stirred from hence, since thou

didst climbe up into the Tree, neither mooved otherwise, then as now

thou seest us. Alas my Lord (saide _Pyrrhus_) I humbly crave pardon for

my presumption, in reprooving you for medling with your owne: which

shall make me hereafter better advised, in any thing what soever I heare

or see.

Mervaile and amazement, encreased in _Nicostratus_ far greater then

before, hearing him to avouch still so constantly what he had seene,

no contradiction being able to alter him, which made him rashly sweare

and say. I will see my selfe, whether this Peare-tree bee enchanted,

or no: and such wonders to be seene when a man is up in it, as thou

wouldst have us to beleeve. And being mounted up so hy, that they were

safe from his sodaine comming on them, _Lydia_ had soone forgotten her

sicknes, and the promised kisse cost her above twenty more, beside

verie kinde and hearty embraces, as lovingly respected and entertained

by _Pyrrhus_. Which _Nicostratus_ beholding aloft in the tree; cryed

out to her, saying. Wicked woman, What doest thou meane? And thou

villain _Pyrrhus_, Darst thou abuse thy Lord, who hath reposed so much

trust in thee? So, descending in haste downe againe, yet crying so to

them still: _Lydia_ replyed, Alas my Lord, Why do you raile and rave in

such sort? So, hee found her seated as before, and _Pyrrhus_ waiting

with dutifull reverence, even as when he climbed up the Tree: but yet

he thought his sight not deceyved, for all their demure and formall

behaviour, which made him walke up and downe, extreamely fuming and

fretting unto himselfe, and which in some milder manner to qualifie,

_Pyrrhus_ spake thus to him.

I deny not (my good Lord) but freely confesse, that even as your selfe,

so I, being above in the Tree, had my sight most falsely deluded: which

is so apparantly confirmed by you, and in the same sort, as there

needeth no doubt of both our beguiling; in one and the same suspitious

nature. In which case to be the more assuredly resolved, nothing can

be questioned, but whether your beleefe do so farre misleade you, as

to thinke, that my Ladie (who hath alwayes bene most wise, loyall,

and vertuous,) would so shamefullie wrong you: yea, and to performe

it before your face, wherein I dare gadge my life to the contrary.

Concerning my selfe, it is not fit for mee, to argue or contest in

mine owne commendation: you that have ever knowne the sincerity of my

service, are best able to speake in my behalfe: and rather wold I be

drawne in peeces with foure wilde horses, then bee such an injurious

slave to my Lord and Master.

Now then, it can be no otherwise, but we must needs rest certainely

perswaded, that the guile and offence of this false appearance, was

occasioned by thee onely. For all the world could not make me otherwise

beleeve, but that I saw you kisse and most kindely imbrace my Lady:

if your owne eyes had not credited the like behaviour in me to her,

of which sinne, I never conceived so much as a thought. The Lady (on

the other side) seeming to be very angerly incensed, starting faintly

upon her feet, yet supporting her selfe by the tree, said. It appeareth

Sir, that you have entertained a goodly opinion of me as, if I were so

lewde and lasciviously disposed, or addicted to the very least desire

of wantonnesse: that I would bee so forgetfull of mine owne honour, as

to adventure it in your sight, and with a servant of my house? Oh Sir,

such women as are so familiarly affected, need learne no wit of men in

amourous matters; their private Chambers shall be better trusted, then

an open blabing and tell-tale Garden.

_Nicostratus_, who verily beleeved what they had both said, and that

neither of them would adventure such familiarity before his face:

would talke no more of the matter, but rather studyed of the rarity of

such a miracle, not seene, but in the height of the tree, and changing

againe upon the descent. But _Lydia_, containing still her collourable

kinde of impatience, and angerly frowning upon _Nicostratus_, stearnely

saide. If I may have my will, this villanous and deceiving tree, shall

never more shame me, or any other woman: and therefore _Pyrrhus_, runne

for an Axe, and by felling it to the ground, in an instant, revenge

both thy wrong and mine. Doest not thou serve a worthy Lord? And have

not I a wise Husband, who, without any consideration, will suffer the

eye of his understanding to be so dazeled, with a foolish imagination

beyond all possibility? For, although his eyes did apprehend such a

folly, and it seemed to be a truth indeed: yet, in the depth of setled

judgement, all the world should not perswade him, that it was so.

_Pyrrhus_ had quickely brought the Axe, and hewing downe the tree, so

soone as the Lady saw it fall; turning her selfe to _Nicostratus_, she

said. Now that I have seene mine honour and honesties enemy laid along;

mine anger is past, and Husband, I freely pardon you: intreating you

heartily henceforward, not to presume or imagine, that my love eyther

is, or can bee altred from you.

Thus the mocked and derided _Nicostratus_, returned in againe with his

Lady and _Pyrrhus_; where perhaps (although the Peare-tree was cut

downe) they could find as cunning meanes to over-reach him.

_Two Citizens of_ Siena, _the one named_ Tingoccio Mini, _& the other_

Meucio di Tora, _affected both one woman, called_ Monna Mita, _to whom

the one of them was a Gossip. The Gossip dyed, and appeared afterward

to his companion, according as he had formerly promised him to doe, and

tolde him what strange wonders he had seene in the other world._

The Tenth Novell.

_Wherein such men are covertly reprehended, who make no care or

conscience at all of those things that should preserve them from sinne._

Now there remained none but the King himselfe, last of all to recount

his Novell; who, after hee heard the Ladies complaints indifferently

pacified, for the rash felling downe of such a precious Peare-tree;

thus he began. Faire Ladies, it is a case more then manifest, that

every King, who will be accounted just and upright: should first of

all, and rather then any other, observe those Lawes which he himselfe

hath made; otherwise he ought to be reputed as a servant, worthy of

punishment, and no King. Into which fault and reprehension, I your

King, shall well neere be constrained to fall; for yesterday I enacted

a Law, upon the forme of our discoursing, with full intent, that this

day I would not use any part of my priviledge; but being subject (as

you all are) to the same Law, I should speake of that argument, which

already you have done.

Wherein, you have not onely performed more then I could wish, upon a

subject so sutable to my minde: but in every Novell, such variety of

excellent matter, such singular illustrations, and delicate eloquence

hath flowne from you all; as I am utterly unable to invent any thing

(notwithstanding the most curious search of my braine) apt or fit

for the purpose, to paragon the meanest of them already related.

And therefore seeing I must needs sinne in the Law established by

my selfe; I tender my submission, as worthy of punishment, or what

amends else you please to enjoyne mee. Now, as returned to my wonted

priviledge, I say, that the Novell recounted by Madame _Eliza_, of the

Fryar Godfather and his Gossip _Agnesia_, as also the sottishnesse

of the _Senese_ her Husband, hath wrought in me (worthy Ladies) to

such effect; as, forbearing to speake any more of these wily prancks,

which witty wives exercise on their simple Husbands; I am to tell you

a pretty short Tale; which, though there is matter enough in it, not

worthy the crediting, yet partly it will bee pleasing to heare.

Sometime there lived in _Sienna_ two popular men; the one being named

_Tingoccio Mini_ and the other _Meucio de Tora_; Men simple, and of

no understanding, both of them dwelling in _Porta Salaia_. These two

men lived in such familiar conversation together, and expressed such

cordiall affection each to other, as they seldome walked asunder; but

(as honest men use to doe) frequented Churches and Sermons, oftentimes

hearing, both what miseries and beatitudes were in the world to come,

according to the merits of their soules that were departed out of this

life, and found their equall repaiment in the other. The manifold

repetition of these matters, made them very earnestly desirous to know,

by what meanes they might have tydings from thence, for their further

confirmation. And finding all their endeavours utterly frustrated, they

made a solemne vow and promise (each to other under oath) that hee

which first dyed of them two, should returne backe againe (so soone

as possibly he could) to the other remaining alive, and tell him such

tydings as hee desired to heare.

After the promise was thus faithfully made, and they still keeping

company, as they were wont to doe: It fortuned, that _Tingoccio_ became

Gossip to one, named _Ambrosito Anselmino_, dwelling in _Camporeggio_,

who by his wife, called _Monna Mita_, had a sweet and lovely Sonne.

_Tingoccio_ often resorting thither, and consorted with his companion

_Meucio_; the she-Gossip, being a woman worthy the loving, faire and

comely of her person: _Tingoccio_, notwithstanding the Gossipship

betweene them, had more then a moneths minde to his Godchilds Mother.

_Meucio_ also fell sicke of the same disease, because shee seemed

pleasing in his eye, and _Tingoccio_ gave her no meane commendations;

yet, carefully they concealed their love to themselves, but not for one

& the same occasion. Because _Tingoccio_ kept it closely from _Meucio_,

lest he should hold it disgracefull in him, to beare amourous affection

to his Gossip, and thought it unfitting to bee knowne. But _Meucio_

had no such meaning, for hee knew well enough that _Tingoccio_ loved

her, and therefore conceived in his minde, that if he discovered any

such matter to him: He will (quoth he) be jealous of me, and being

her Gossip, which admitteth his conference with her when himselfe

pleaseth; he may easily make her to distaste me, and therefore I must

rest contented as I am.

Their love continuing on still in this kinde, _Tingoccio_ prooved

so fortunate in the businesse, that having better meanes then his

companion, and more prevayling courses, when, where, and how to Court

his Mistresse, which seemed to forward him effectually. All which

_Meucio_ plainely perceived, and though it was tedious and wearisome

to him, yet hoping to finde some successe at length: he would not

take notice of any thing, as fearing to infringe the amity betweene

him and _Tingoccio_, and so his hope to be quite supplanted. Thus the

one triumphing in his loves happinesse, and the other hoping for his

felicity to come; a lingaring sickenesse seazed on _Tingoccio_, which

brought him to so low a condition, as at the length he dyed.

About some three or foure nights after, _Meucio_ being fast asleepe

in his bed, the ghoste of _Tingoccio_ appeared to him, and called so

loude, that _Meucio_ awaking, demanded who called him? I am thy friend

_Tingoccio_, replied the ghoste, who according to my former promise

made, am come again in vision to thee, to tell thee tidings out of the

nether world. _Meucio_ was a while somewhat amazed; but, recollecting

his more manly spirits together, boldly he said. My brother and friend,

thou art heartily welcome: but I thought thou hadst beene utterly lost.

Those things (quoth _Tingoccio_) are lost, which cannot be recovered

againe, and if I were lost, how could I then be heere with thee? Alas

_Tingoccio_, replyed _Meucio_, my meaning is not so: but I would be

resolved, whether thou art among the damned soules, in the painefull

fire of hell torments, or no? No (quoth _Tingoccio_) I am not sent

thither, but for divers sinnes by mee committed I am to suffer very

great and grievous paines. Then _Meucio_ demaunded particularly, the

punishments inflicted there, for the severall sinnes committed heere:

Wherein _Tingoccio_ fully resolved him. And upon further question, what

hee would have to be done for him here, made answere, That _Meucio_

should cause Masses, Prayers and Almes deeds to be performed for him,

which (he said) were very helpefull to the soules abiding there, and

_Meucio_ promised to see them done.

As the ghost was offering to depart, _Meucio_ remembred _Tingoccioes_

Gossip _Monna Mita_, and raysing himselfe higher upon his pillowe,

said. My memorie informeth me, friend _Tingoccio_, of your kinde Gossip

_Monna Mita_, with whom (when you remained in this life) I knew you to

be very familiar: let me intreat you then to tell me, what punishment

is inflicted on you there, for that wanton sinne committed heere? Oh

Brother _Meucio_, answered _Tingoccio_, so soone as my soule was landed

there, one came immediately to me, who seemed to know all mine offences

readily by heart, and forthwith commanded, that I should depart thence

into a certaine place, where I must weepe for my sinnes in very

grievous paines. There I found more of my companions, condemned to

the same punishment as I was, and being among them, I called to minde

some wanton dalliances, which had passed betweene my Gossip and me,

and expecting therefore farre greater afflictions, then as yet I felt

(although I was in a huge fire, and exceedingly hot) yet with conceite

of feare, I quaked and trembled wondrously.

One of my other Consorts being by me, and perceiving in what an

extreame agony I was; presently said unto me. My friend, what hast

thou done more, then any of us here condemned with thee, that thou

tremblest and quakest, being in so hot a fire? Oh my friend (quoth I)

I am in feare of a greater judgement then this, for a grievous offence

by mee heretofore committed while I lived. Then hee demaunded of mee

what offence it was, whereto thus I answered. It was my chance in the

other world, to be Godfather at a childs Christning, and afterward I

grew so affectionate to the childs mother, as (indeed) I kissed her

twice or thrise. My companyon laughing at me in mocking manner, replyed

thus. Goe like an Asse as thou art, and be no more afraid hereafter,

for here is no punishment inflicted, in any kinde whatsoever, for such

offences of frailty committed, especially with Gossips, as I my selfe

can witnesse.

Now day drew on, and the Cockes began to crow, a dreadfull hearing

to walking spirits, when _Tingoccio_ said to _Meucio_. Farewell my

friendly companion, for I may tarry no longer with thee, and instantly

hee vanished away. _Meucio_ having heard this confession of his friend,

and verily beleeving it for a truth, that no punishment was to be

inflicted in the future world, for offences of frailty in this life,

and chiefly with Gossips: began to condemne his owne folly, having bin

a Gossip to many wives, yet modesty restrained him from such familiar

offending. And therefore being sorry for this grosse ignorance, hee

made a vowe to be wiser hereafter. And if Fryar _Reynard_ had been

acquainted with this kind of shrift (as doubtlesse he was, though his

Gossip _Agnesia_ knew it not) he needed no such Syllogismes, as he

put in practise, when he converted her to his lustfull knavery, in

the comparison of kinred by him moved, concerning her husband, the

childe and himselfe. But, these are the best fruits of such Fryerly

Confessions, to compasse the issue of their inordinate appetites; yet

clouded with the cloake of Religion, which hath beene the overthrow of

too many.

* * * * *

By this time the gentle blast of _Zephirus_ began to blow, because the

Sunne grew neere his setting, wherewith the King concluded his Novell,

and none remaining more to be thus imployed: taking the Crowne from off

his owne head, he placed it on Madame _Laurettaes_, saying, Madame, I

Crowne you with your owne Crowne, as Queene of our Company. You shall

henceforth command as Lady and Mistresse, in such occasions as shall

be to your liking, and for the contentment of us all; With which words

he set him downe. And Madame _Lauretta_ being now created Queene, shee

caused the Master of the houshold to bee called, to whom she gave

command, that the Tables should be prepared in the pleasant vally, but

at a more convenient houre, then formerly had beene, because they might

(with better ease) returne backe to the Pallace. Then shee tooke order

likewise, for all such other necessary matters, as should bee required

in the time of her Regiment: and then turning her selfe to the whole

Company, she began in this manner.

It was the Will of _Dioneus_ yesternight, that our discourses for this

day, should concerne the deceits of wives to their Husbands. And were

it not to avoyde taxation, of a spleenitive desire to be revenged,

like the dog being bitten, biteth againe: I could command our to

morrows conference, to touch mens treacheries towards their wives. But

because I am free from any such fiery humour, let it be your generall

consideration, to speake of such queint beguylings, as have heretofore

past, either of the woman to the man, the man to the woman, or of one

man to another: and I am of opinion, that they will yeeld us no lesse

delight, then those related (this day) have done. When she had thus

spoken, she rose; granting them all liberty, to goe recreate themselves

untill Supper time.

The Ladies being thus at their owne disposing, some of them bared their

legges and feete, to wash them in the coole current. Others, not so

minded, walked on the greene grasse, and under the goodly spreading

trees. _Dioneus_ and Madame _Fiammetta_, they sate singing together,

the love-warre betweene _Arcit_ and _Palemon_. And thus with diversity

of disports, in choice delight and much contentment, all were imployed,

till Supper drew neere. When the houre was come, and the Tables covered

by the Ponds side: we need not question their dyet and dainties,

infinite Birds sweetly singing about them, as no musicke in the world

could be more pleasing; beside calme windes, fanning their faces from

the neighbouring hilles (free from flyes, or the least annoyance) made

a delicate addition to their pleasure.

No sooner were the Tables withdrawne, and all risen: but they fetcht a

few turnings about the vally, because the Sunne was not (as yet) quite

set. Then in the coole evening, according to the Queenes appointment:

in a soft and gentle pace, they walked homeward: devising on a thousand

occasions, as well those which the dayes discourses had yeelded, as

others of their owne inventing beside. It was almost darke night,

before they arrived at the Pallace; where, with variety of choice

Wines, and abounding plenty of rare Banquetting, they out-wore the

little toile and wearinesse, which the long walke had charged them

withall. Afterward, according to their wonted order, the Instruments

being brought and played on, they fell to dancing about the faire

Fountaine; _Tindaro_ intruding (now and then) the sound of his Bagpipe,

to make the musicke seeme more melodious. But in the end, the Queene

commanded Madame _Philomena_ to sing; whereupon the Instruments being

tuned fit for the purpose, thus she began.

The Song.

The Chorus Sung by the whole Company.

_Wearisome is my life to me,

Because I cannot once againe returne;

Unto the place which made me first to mourne._

_Nothing I know, yet feele a powerfull fire,

Burning within my brest,

Through deepe desire;

To be once more where first I felt unrest,

Which cannot be exprest.

O my sole good! O my best happinesse!

Why am I thus restrainde?

Is there no comfort in this wretchednesse?

Then let me live content, to be thus painde.

Wearisome is my life to me, &c._

_I cannot tell what was that rare delight,

Which first enflamde my soule,

And gave command in spight,

That I should find no ease by day or night,

But still live in controule.

I see, I heare, and feele a kinde of blisse,

Yet find no forme at all:

Other in their desire, finde blessednesse,

But I have none, nor thinke I ever shall.

Wearisome is my life to me, &c._

_Tell me if I may hope in following dayes,

To have but one poore sight,

Of those bright Sunny rayes,

Dazeling my sence, did o'recome me quite,

Bequeath'd to wandring wayes.

If I be posted off and may not prove.

To have the smallest grace:

Or but to know, that this proceeds from love,

Why should I live despisde in every place?

Wearisome is my life to me, &c._

_Me thinkes milde favour whispers in mine eare,

And bids me not despaire;

There will a time appeare

To quell and quite confound consuming care,

And joy surmount proud feare.

In hope that gracious time will come at length,

To cheare my long dismay:

My spirits reassume your former strength,

And never dread to see that joyfull day.

Wearisome is my life to me,

Because I cannot once againe returne;

Unto the place which made me first to mourne._

This Song gave occasion to the whole Company, to imagine, that some new

and pleasing apprehension of Love, constrained Madame _Philomena_ to

sing in this manner. And because (by the discourse thereof) it plainely

appeared, that shee had felt more then shee saw, shee was so much the

more happy, and the like was wished by all the rest. Wherefore, after

the Song was ended; the Queene remembring, that the next day following

was Friday, turning her selfe graciously to them all, thus she spake.

You know noble Ladies, and you likewise most noble Gentlemen, that to

morrow is the day consecrated to the Passion of our blessed Lord and

Saviour, which (if you have not forgotten it, as easily you cannot)

we devoutly celebrated, Madame _Neiphila_ being then Queene, ceasing

from all our pleasant discoursing, as we did the like on the Saturday

following, sanctifying the sacred Sabboth, in due regard of it selfe.

Wherefore, being desirous to imitate precedent good example, which

in worthy manner shee began to us all: I hold it very decent and

necessary, that we should asttaine to morrow, and the day ensuing, from

recounting any of our pleasant Novels, reducing to our memories, what

was done (as on those dayes) for the salvation of our soules. This holy

and Religious motion made by the Queene, was commendably allowed by

all the assembly, and therefore, humbly taking their leave of her, and

an indifferent part of the night being already spent; severally they

betooke themselves to their Chambers.

_The end of the Seaventh day._