THE EIGHT DAY.

Whereon all the Discourses, passe under the Rule and Government, of the

Honourable Ladie LAURETTA. And the Argument imposed, is, Concerning

such Wittie deceyvings; as have, or may be put in practise, by Wives to

their Husbands; Husbands to their Wives: Or one man towards another.

The Induction.

Earely on the Sonday Morning, _Aurora_ shewing her selfe bright and

lovely; the Sunnes Golden beames beganne to appeare, on the toppes

of the neere adjoyning Mountaines; so, that Hearbes, Plants, Trees,

and all things else, were verie evidently to be discerned. The Queene

and her Companie, being all come foorth of their Chambers, and having

walked a while abroad, in the goodly greene Meadowes, to taste the

sweetnesse of the fresh and wholesome ayre, they returned backe againe

into the Palace, because it was their dutie so to do.

Afterward, betweene the houres of seaven and eight, they went to heare

Masse, in a faire Chappell neere at hand, and thence returned to their

Lodgings. When they had dined merrily together, they fell to their

wonted singing and dauncing: Which beeing done, such as were so pleased

(by License of the Queene first obtained) went either to their rest,

or such exercises as they tooke most delight in. When midday, and the

heate thereof was well over-past, so that the aire seemed mild and

temperate: according as the Queene had commanded; they were all seated

againe about the Fountaine, with intent to prosecute their former

pastime. And then Madame _Neiphila_, by the charge imposed on her, as

first speaker for this day, beganne as followeth.

Gulfardo _made a match or wager, with the Wife of_ Gasparuolo, _for the

obtaining of her amorous favour, in regard of a summe of money first

to be given her. The money hee borrowed of her Husband, and gave it in

payment to her, as in case of discharging him from her Husbands debt.

After his returne home from_ Geneway, _hee told him in the presence

of his wife, how he had payde the whole summe to her, with charge of

delivering it to her Husband, which she confessed to be true, albeit

greatly against her will._

The First Novell.

_Wherein is declared, that such women as will make sale of their

honestie, are sometimes over-reached in their payment, and justly

served as they should be._

Seeing it is my fortune, Gracious Ladies, that I must give beginning to

this dayes discoursing, by some such Novel which I thinke expedient; as

duty bindeth me, I am therewith well contented. And because the deceits

of Women to men, have beene at large and liberally related; I will tell

you a subtile tricke of a man to a Woman. Not that I blame him for the

deede, or thinke the deceyte not well fitted to the woman: but I speake

it in a contrarie nature, as commending the man, and condemning the

woman very justly, as also to shew, how men can as well beguile those

crafty companions, which least beleeve any such cunning in them, as

they that stand most on their artificiall skill.

Howbeit, to speake more properly, the matter by me to be reported,

deserveth not the reproachfull title of deceite, but rather of a

recompence duly returned: because women ought to be chaste and

honest, & to preserve their honour as their lives, without yeelding

to the contamination thereof, for any occasion whatsoever. And yet

(neverthelesse, in regard of our frailty) many times we proove not so

constant as we should be: yet I am of opinion, that she which selleth

her honestie for money, deserveth justly to be burned. Whereas on the

contrary, she that falleth into the offence, onely through intire

affection (the powerfull lawes of Love beeing above all resistance) in

equity meriteth pardon, especially of a Judge not over-rigorous: as not

long since wee heard from _Philostratus_, in revealing what hapned to

Madam _Phillippa de Prato_, upon the dangerous Edict.

Understand then, my most worthy Auditors, that there lived sometime in

_Millaine_ an _Almaigne_ Soldiour, named _Gulfardo_, of commendable

carriage in his person, and very faithfull to such as he served, a

matter not common among the _Almaignes_. And because he made just

repayment, to every one which lent him monies; he grew to such

especiall credit, and was so familiar with the very best Marchants;

as (manie times) he could not be so ready to borrow, as they were

willing alwaies to lend him. He thus continuing in the Cittie of

_Millaine_, fastened his affection on a verie beautifull Gentlewoman,

named Mistresse _Ambrosia_, Wife unto a rich Merchant, who was called

Signior _Gasparuolo Sagastraccio_, who had good knowledge of him, and

respectively used him. Loving this Gentlewoman with great discretion,

without the least apprehension of her husband: he sent upon a day to

entreate conference with her, for enjoying the fruition of her love,

and she should find him ready to fulfill whatsoever she pleased to

command him, as, at any time he would make good his promise.

The Gentlewoman, after divers of these private solicitings, resolutely

answered, that she was as ready to fulfill the request of _Gulfardo_,

provided, that two especiall considerations might ensue thereon.

First, the faithfull concealing thereof from any person living. Next,

because she knew him to be rich, and she had occasion to use two

hundred Crowns, about businesse of important consequence: he should

freely bestow so many on her, and (ever after) she was to be commanded

by him. _Gulfardo_ perceiving the covetousnesse of this woman, who

(notwithstanding his doting affection) he thought to be intirely honest

to her Husband: became so deepely offended at her vile answere, that

his fervent love converted into as earnest loathing her; determining

constantlie to deceive her, and to make her avaritious motion, the only

means whereby to effect it.

He sent her word, that he was willing to performe her request, or any

farre greater matter for her: in which respect, he onely desired for

to know, when she would be pleased to have him come see her, and to

receive the money of him? No creature hee acquainted with his setled

purpose, but onely a deere friend and kinde companion, who alwayes

used to keepe him company, in the neerest occasions that concerned

him. The Gentlewoman, or rather most disloyall wife, uppon this answer

sent her, was extraordinarily jocond and contented, returning him a

secret Letter, wherein she signified: that _Gasparuolo_ her husband,

had important affaires which called him to _Geneway_: but he should

understand of his departure, and then (with safety) he might come see

her, as also his bringing of the Crownes.

In the meane while, _Gulfardo_ having determined what he would do,

watched a convenient time, when he went unto _Gasparuolo_, and sayde:

Sir, I have some businesse of maine importance, and shall neede to use

but two hundred Crownes onely: I desire you to lend me so many Crownes,

upon such profite as you were wont to take of mee, at other times when

I have made use of you, and I shall not faile you at my day.

_Gasparuolo_ was well contented with the motion, and made no more adoe,

but counted downe the Crownes: departing thence (within few dayes

after) for _Geneway_, according** to his Wives former message; she giving

_Gulfardo_ also intelligence of his absence, that now (with safety) hee

might come see her, and bring the two hundred Crownes with him.

_Gulfardo_, taking his friend in his company, went to visite Mistresse

_Ambrosia_, whom he found in expectation of his arrivall, and the first

thing he did, he counted downe the two hundred Crownes; and delivering

them to her in the presence of his friend, saide: Mistresse _Ambrosia_,

receive these two hundred Crownes, which I desire you to pay unto your

Husband on my behalfe, when he is returned from _Geneway. Ambrosia_,

receyved the two hundred Crownes, not regarding wherefore _Gulfardo_

used these words: because shee verily beleeved, that hee spake in such

manner, because his friend should take no notice, of his giving them

to her, upon any covenant passed betweene them; whereuppon, she sayde.

Sir, I will pay them to my Husband for you; and cause him to give you a

sufficient discharge: but first I will count them over my selfe, to see

whether the summe be just, or no. And having drawne them over upon the

Table, the summe containing truly two hundred Crownes (wherewith she

was most highly contented) she lockt them safe uppe in her Cuppe-boord,

and _Gulfardoes_ Friend being gone (as formerly it was compacted

betweene them) shee came to converse more familiarly with him, having

provided a banquet for him. What passed between them afterward, both

then, and oftentimes beside, before her Husbande returned home, is

a matter out of my element, and rather requires my ignorance then

knowledge.

When _Gasparuolo_ was come from _Geneway, Gulfardo_ observing a

convenient time, when he was sitting at the doore with his Wife; tooke

his Friend with him, and comming to _Gasparuolo_, said. Worthy Sir, the

two hundred Crownes which you lent me, before your journy to _Geneway_,

in regard they could not serve my turne, to compasse the businesse for

which I borrowed them: within a day or two after, in the presence of

this Gentleman my friend, I made repayment of them to your wife, and

therefore I pray you crosse me out of your booke.

_Gasparuolo_ turning to his Wife, demanded; Whether it was so, or no?

She beholding the witnesse standing by, who was also present at her

receyving them: durst not make deniall, but thus answered. Indeede

Husband, I received two hundred Crownes of the Gentleman, and never

remembred, to acquaint you therewith since your comming home: but

hereafter I will be made no more your receiver, except I carried a

quicker memory.

Then saide _Gasparuolo_: Signior _Gulfardo_, I finde you alwaies a most

honest Gentleman, and will be readie at any time, to doe you the like,

or a farre greater kindnesse; depart at your pleasure, and feare not

the crossing of my Booke. So _Gulfardo_ went away merrily contented, and

_Ambrosia_ was served as she justly merited; she paying the price of

her owne leudnesse to her Husband, which she had a more covetous intent

to keepe, questionlesse, not caring how many like lustfull matches shee

coulde make, to be so liberally rewarded, if this had succeeded to her

minde: whereas he shewed himselfe wise and discreete, in paying nothing

for his pleasure, and requiting a covetous queane in her kinde.

_A lustie youthfull Priest of_ Varlungo, _fell in love with a pretty

woman, named_ Monna Belcolore. _To compasse his amorous desire, hee

lefte his Cloake (as a pledge of further payment) with her. By a

subtile sleight afterward, he made meanes to borrow a Morter of her,

which when hee sent home againe in the presence of her Husband; he

demaunded to have his Cloake sent him, as having left it in pawne for

the Morter. To pacifie her Husband, offended that shee did not lend

the Priest the Morter without a pawne: she sent him backe his Cloake

againe, albeit greatly against her will._

The Second Novell.

_Approving, that no promise is to be kept with such Women as will make

sale of their honesty for coyne. A warning also for men, not to suffer

Priests to be over familiar with their wives._

Both the Gentlemen and Ladies gave equall commendations, of

_Gulfardoes_ queint beguiling the _Millaine_ Gentlewoman _Ambrosia_,

and wishing all other (of her minde) might alwaies be so served. Then

the Queene, smiling on _Pamphilus_, commaunded him to follow next:

whereupon, thus he began.

I can tell you (faire Ladies) a short Novell, against such as are

continually offensive to us, yet we being no way able to offend him;

at least, in the same manner as they do injurie us. And for your better

understanding what and who they be, they are our lusty Priests, who

advance their Standard, and make their publike predications against

our wives, winning such advantage over them, that they can pardon them

both of the sinne and punishment, whensoever they are once subjected

unto theyr perswasions, even as if they brought the Soldane bound and

captived, from _Alexandria_ to _Avignon_. Which imperious power, we

(poore soules) cannot exercise on them, considering, we have neither

heart nor courage, to do our devoire in just revenge on their Mothers,

Sisters, Daughters, and Friends, with the like spirit as they rise in

armes against our wives. And therefore, I meant to tell you a tale of

a Country mans wife, more to make you laugh at the conclusion thereof;

then for any singularity of words or matter: yet this benefite you may

gaine thereby, of an apparant proofe that such Sinamon, amorous and

perswading Priests, are not alwayes to be credited on their words or

promises.

Let me then tell you, that at _Varlungo_, which you know to bee not

farre distant hence, there dwelt an youthfull Priest, lustie, gallant,

and proper of person (especially for Womens service) commonly called

by the name of sweet Sir _Simon_. Now, albeit he was a man of slender

reading, yet notwithstanding, he had store of Latine sentences by

heart; some true, but twice so many maimed and false, Saint-like

shewes, holy speeches, and ghostly admonitions, which hee would preach

under an Oake in the fields, when he had congregated his Parishioners

together. When women lay in childe-bed, hee was their daily comfortable

visitant, and would man them from their houses, when they had any

occasion to walke abroad: carrying alwaies a bottle of holy water about

him, wherewith he would sprinkle them by the way, peeces of hallowed

Candles, and Chrisome Cakes, which pleased women extraordinarily, and

all the Country affoorded not such another frolicke Priest, as this our

nimble and active sweet Sir _Simon_.

Among many other of his feminine Parishioners, all of them being

hansome and comely Women: yet there was one more pleasing in his wanton

eye, then any of the rest, named _Monna Belcolore_, and wife to a

plaine mecanicke man, called _Bentivegna del Mazzo_. And, to speake

uprightly, few Countrey Villages yeelded a Woman, more fresh and lovely

of complexion, although not admirable for beauty, yet sweete Sir

_Simon_ thought her a Saint, and faine would be offering at her shrine.

Divers prety pleasing qualities she had, as sounding the Cymball,

playing artificially on the Timbrill, and singing thereto as it had

beene a Nightingale, dancing also so dexteriously, as happy was the

man that could dance in her company. All which so enflamed sweet Sir

_Simon_, that he lost his wonted sprightly behaviour, walked sullen,

sad and melancholly, as if he had melted all his mettall, because hee

could hardly have a sight of her. But on the Sonday morning, when hee

heard or knew that she was in the Church, hee would tickle it with a

_Kyrie_ and a _Sanctus_, even as if hee contended to shewe his singular

skill in singing, when it had beene as good to heare an Asse bray.

Whereas on the contrary, when she came not to Church, Masse, and all

else were quicklie shaken uppe, as if his devotion waited onely on

her presence. Yet he was so cunning in the carriage of his amorous

businesse, both for her credite and his owne; as _Bentivegna_ her

husband could not perceive it, or any neighbour so much as suspect it.

But, to compasse more familiar acquaintance with _Belcolore_, hee sent

her sundry gifts and presents, day by day, as sometime a bunch of

dainty greene Garlicke, whereof he had plenty growing in his Garden,

which he manured with his owne hands, and better then all the countrey

yeelded; otherwhiles a small basket of Pease or Beanes, and Onyons or

Scallions, as the season served. But when he could come in place where

she was; then he darted amourous wincks and glances at her, with becks,

nods, and blushes, Loves private Ambassadours, which shee (being but

countrey-bred) seeming by outward appearance, not to see, retorted

disdainefully, and forthwith would absent her selfe, so that sweet Sir

_Simon_ laboured still in vaine, and could not compasse what he coveted.

It came to passe within a while after, that on a time, (about

high noone) Sir _Simon_ being walking abroad, chanced to meete

with _Bentivegna_, driving an Asse before him, laden with divers

commodities, and demaunding of him, whither he went, _Bentivegna_, thus

answered. In troth Sir _Simon_, I am going to the City, about some

especiall businesse of mine owne, and I carry these things to Signior

_Bonacorci da Cinestreto_, because he should helpe me before the Judge,

when I shall be called in question concerning my patrimony. Sir _Simon_

looking merrily on him, said. Thou doest well _Bentivegna_, to make a

friend sure before thou need him; goe, take my blessing with thee, and

returne againe with good successe. But if thou meet with _Laguccio_,

or _Naldino_, forget not to tell them, that they must bring me my

shooe-tyes before Sunday. _Bentivegna_ said, hee would discharge his

errand, and so parted from him, driving his Asse on towards _Florence_.

Now began Sir _Simon_ to shrug, and scratch his head, thinking this

to be a fit convenient time, for him to goe visite _Belcolore_, and

to make triall of his fortune: wherefore, setting aside all other

businesse, he stayed no where till he came to the house, whereinto

being entred, he saide: All happinesse be to them that dwell heere.

_Belcolore_ being then above in the Chamber, when she heard his tongue,

replyed. Sweet Sir _Simon_! you are heartely welcome, whether are you

walking, if the question may bee demaunded? Beleeve me dainty Ducke,

answered Sir _Simon_, I am come to sit a while with thee, because I met

thy Husband going to the Citie. By this time, _Belcolore_ was descended

downe the stayres, and having once againe given welcome to Sir _Simon_,

she sate downe by him, cleansing of Colewort seeds from such other

course chaffe, which her Husband had prepared before his departure.

Sir _Simon_ hugging her in his armes, and fetching a vehement sigh,

said. My _Belcolore_, how long shall I pine and languish for thy love?

How now Sir _Simon_? answered she, is this behaviour fitting for an

holy man? Holy-men _Belcolore_, (quoth Sir _Simon_) are made of the

same matter as others be, they have the same affections, and therefore

subject to their infirmities. Santa Maria, answered _Belcolore_, Dare

Priests doe such things as you talke of? Yes _Belcolore_ (quoth he) and

much better then other men can, because they are made for the very best

businesse, in which regard they are restrained from marriage. True

(quoth _Belcolore_) but much more from medling with other mens wives.

Touch not that Text _Belcolore_, replyed Sir _Simon_, it is somewhat

above your capacity: talke of that I come for, namely thy love, my

Ducke, and my Dove. Sir _Simon_ is thine, I pray thee be mine.

_Belcolore_ observing his smirking behaviour, his proper person, pretty

talke, and queint insinuating; felt a motion to female frailty, which

yet she would withstand so long as she could, and not be over-hasty in

her yeelding. Sir _Simon_ promiseth her a new paire of shoes, garters,

ribbands, girdles, or what else she would request. Sir _Simon_ (quoth

she) all these things which you talke of, are fit for women: but if

your love to mee be such as you make choice of, fulfill what I will

motion to you, and then (perhaps) I shall tell you more. Sir _Simons_

heate made him hasty to promise whatsoever she would desire; whereupon,

thus shee replyed. On Saturday, said she, I must goe to _Florence_,

to carry home such yarne as was sent me to spinne, and to amend my

spinning wheele: if you will lend mee ten Florines, wherewith I know

you are alwayes furnished, I shall redeeme from the Usurer my best

petticote,** and my wedding gowne (both well neere lost for lacke of

repaiment) without which I cannot be seene at Church, or in any other

good place else, and then afterward other matters may be accomplished.

Alas sweet _Belcolore_ answered Sir _Simon_, I never beare any such

sum about me, for men of our profession, doe seldome carry any money

at all: but beleeve me on my word, before Saturday come, I will not

faile to bring them hither. Oh Sir (quoth _Belcolore_) you men are

quicke promisers, but slow performers. Doe you thinke to use me, as

poore _Billezza_ was, who trusted to as faire words, and found her

selfe deceived? Now Sir _Simon_, her example in being made scandall to

the world, is a sufficient warning for me: if you be not so provided,

goe and make use of your friend, for I am not otherwise to be moved.

Nay _Belcolore_ (quoth he) I hope you will not serve me so, but my

word shall be of better worth with you. Consider the conveniency of

time, wee being so privately here alone: whereas at my returning hither

againe, some hinderance may thwart me, and the like opportunity be

never obtained. Sir, Sir, (said she) you have heard my resolution;

if you will fetche the Florines, doe; otherwise, walke about your

businesse, for I am a woman of my word.

Sir _Simon_ perceiving, that she would not trust him upon bare words,

nor any thing was to be done, without _Salvum me fac_, whereas his

meaning was _Sine custodia_; thus answered. Well _Belcolore_, seeing

you dare not credit my bringing the tenne Florines, according to my

promised day: I will leave you a good pawne, my very best cloake, lyned

quite thorough with rich Silke, and made up in the choysest manner.

_Belcolore_ looking on the Cloake, said. How much may this Cloake bee

worth? How much? quoth Sir _Simon_, upon my word _Belcolore_, it is

of a right fine Flanders Serdge, and not above eight dayes since, I

bought it thus (ready made) of _Lotto_ the Fripperer, and payed for it

sixe and twenty Florines, a pledge then sufficient for your ten. Is it

possible, said shee, that it should cost so much? Well, Sir _Simon_,

deliver it me first, I will lay it up safe for you against Saturday,

when if you fetch it not; I will redeeme mine owne things with it, and

leave you to release it your selfe.

The Cloake is laid up by _Belcolore_, and Sir _Simon_ so forward in his

affection; that (in briefe) he enjoyed what hee came for; and departed

afterward in his light tripping Cassocke, but yet thorow by-Lanes,

and no much frequented places, smelling on a Nosegay, as if hee had

beene at some wedding in the Countrey, and went thus lightly without

his Cloake, for his better ease. As commonly after actions of evill,

Repentance knocketh at the doore of Conscience, and urgeth a guilty

remembrance, with some sence of sorrow: so was it now with sweet Sir

_Simon_, who survaying over all his Vailes of offering Candles, the

validity of his yearely benefits, and all comming nothing neere the

summe of (scarce halfe) sixe and twenty Florines; he began to repent

his deed of darkenesse, although it was acted in the day-time, and

considered with himselfe, by what honest (yet unsuspected meanes) hee

might recover his Cloake againe, before it went to the Broaker, in

redemption of _Belcolores_ pawned apparrell, and yet to send her no

Florines neither.

Having a cunning reaching wit, especially in matters for his owne

advantage, and pretending to have a dinner at his lodging, for a few

of some invited friends: he made use of a neighbours Boy, sending him

to the house of _Belcolore_, with request of lending him her Stone

Morter, to make Greene-sawce in for his guests, because hee had meate

required such sawce. _Belcolore_ suspecting no treachery, sent him the

Stone Morter with the Pestell, and about dinner time, when he knew

_Bentivegna_ to bee at home with his wife, by a spye which was set for

the purpose; hee called the Clearke (usually attending on him) and

said. Take this Morter and Pestell, beare them home to _Belcolore_,

and tell her: Sir _Simon_ sends them home with thankes, they having

sufficiently served his turne, and desire her likewise, to send me my

Cloake, which the Boy left as a pledge for better remembrance, and

because she would not lend it without a pawne.

The Clearke comming to the house of _Belcolore_, found her sitting at

dinner with her Husband, and delivering her the Pestell and Morter,

performed the rest of Sir _Simons_ message. _Belcolore_ hearing the

Cloake demaunded, stept up to make answere: But _Bentivegna_, seeming

(by his lookes) to be much offended, roughly replyed. Why how now wife?

Is not Sir _Simon_ our especiall friend, and cannot be be pleasured

without a pawne? I protest upon my word, I could find in my heart to

smite thee for it. Rise quickely thou wert best, and send him backe his

Cloake; with this warning hereafter, that whatsoever he will have, be

it your poore Asse, or any thing else being ours, let him have it: and

tell him (Master Clearke) he may command it. _Belcolore_ rose grumbling

from the Table, and fetching the Cloake forth of the Chest, which stood

neere at hand in the same roome; shee delivered it to the Clearke,

saying. Tell Sir _Simon_ from me, and boldly say you heard me speake

it: that I made a vow to my selfe, he shall never make use of my Morter

hereafter, to beat any more of his sawcinesse in, let my Husband say

whatsoever he will, I speake the word, and will performe it.

Away went the Clearke home with the Cloake, and told Sir _Simon_ what

she had said, whereto he replyed. If I must make use of her Morter no

more; I will not trust her with the keeping of my Cloake, for feare it

goe to gage indeed.

_Bentivegna_ was a little displeased at his wives words, because hee

thought she spake but in jest; albeit _Belcolore_ was so angry with Sir

_Simon_, that she would not speake to him till vintage time following.

But then Sir _Simon_, what by sharpe threatenings of her soule to be

in danger of hell fire, continuing so long in hatred of a holy Priest,

which words did not a little terrifie her; besides daily presents to

her, of sweet new Wines, roasted Chesse-nuts, Figges and Almonds: all

unkindnesse became converted to former familiarity; the garments were

redeemed; he gave her Sonnets which she would sweetly sing to her

Cimbale, and further friendship increased betweene her and sweet Sir

_Simon._

Calandrino, Bruno, _and_ Buffalmaco, _all of them being Painters by

profession, travelled to the Plaine of_ Mugnone, _to finde the precious

Stone called_ Helitropium. Calandrino _perswaded himselfe to have found

it; returned home to his house heavily loaden with stones. His Wife

rebuking him for his absence, hee groweth into anger, and shrewdly

beateth her. Afterward, when the case is debated among his other

friends_ Bruno _and_ Buffalmaco, _all is found to be meere foolery._

The Third Novell.

_Justly reprehending the simplicity of such men, as are too much

addicted to credulitie, and will give credit to every thing they heare._

_Pamphilus_ having ended his Novell, whereat the Ladies laughed

exceedingly, so that very hardly they could give over: The Queene gave

charge to Madame _Eliza_, that shee should next succeed in order; when,

being scarcely able to refraine from smyling, thus she began.

I know not (Gracious Ladies) whether I can move you to as hearty

laughter, with a briefe Novell of mine owne, as _Pamphilus_ lately did

with his: yet I dare assure you, that it is both true and pleasant, and

I will relate it in the best manner I can.

In our owne Citie, which evermore hath contained all sorts of people,

not long since there dwelt, a Painter, named _Calandrino_, a simple

man; yet as much addicted** to matters of novelty, as any man whatsoever

could be. The most part of his time, he spent in the company of two

other Painters, the one called _Bruno_, and the other _Buffalmaco_,

men of very recreative spirits, and of indifferent good capacity;

often resorting to the said _Calandrino_, because they tooke delight

in his honest simplicity, and pleasant order of behaviour. At the same

time likewise, there dwelt in _Florence_, a yong Gentleman of singular

disposition, to every generous and witty conceite, as the world did

not yeeld a more pleasant companion, he being named _Maso del Saggio_,

who having heard somwhat of _Calandrinos_ sillinesse: determined to

jest with him in merry manner, and to suggest his longing humours after

Novelties, with some conceit of extraordinary nature.

He happening (on a day) to meete him in the Church of Saint _John_,

and seeing him seriously busied, in beholding the rare pictures, and

the curious carved Tabernacle, which (not long before) was placed on

the high Altar in the said Church: considered with himselfe, that he

had now fit place and opportunity, to effect what hee had long time

desired. And having imparted his minde to a very intimate friend, how

he intended to deale with simple _Calandrino_: they went both very

neere him, where he sate all alone, and making shew as if they saw

him not; began to consult between themselves, concerning the rare

properties of precious stones; whereof _Maso_ discoursed as exactly,

as he had beene a most skilfull Lapidarie; to which conference of

theirs, _Calandrino_ lent an attentive eare, in regard it was matter of

singular rarity.

Soone after, _Calandrino_ started up, and perceiving by their loude

speaking, that they talked of nothing which required secret Counsell:

he went into their company (the onely thing which _Maso_ desired) and

holding on still the former Argument; _Calandrino_ would needs request

to know, in what place these precious stones were to be found, which

had such excellent vertues in them? _Maso_ made answere, that the most

of them were to be had in _Berlinzona_, neere to the City of _Bascha_,

which was in the Territory of a Countrey, called _Bengodi_, where the

Vines were bound about with Sawcidges, a Goose was sold for a penny,

and the Goslings freely given in to boote. There was also an high

mountaine, wholly made of _Parmezane_, grated Cheese, whereon dwelt

people, who did nothing else but make _Mocharones_ and _Raviuolies_,

boiling them with broth of Capons, and afterward hurled them all about,

to whosoever can or will catch them. Neere to this mountaine runneth a

faire River, the whole streame being pure white Bastard, none such was

ever sold for any money, and without one drop of water in it.

Now trust me Sir, (said _Calandrino_) that is an excellent Countrey to

dwell in: but I pray you tell me Sir, what doe they with the Capons

after they have boyld them? The _Baschanes_ (quoth _Maso_) eate them

all. Have you Sir, said _Calandrino_, at any time beene in that

Countrey? How? answered _Maso_, doe you demaund if I have beene there?

Yes man, above a thousand times, at the least. How farre Sir, I pray

you (quoth _Calandrino_) is that worthy Countrey, from this our City?

In troth replyed _Maso_, the miles are hardly to be numbred, for the

most part of them we travell when we are nightly in our beddes, and if

a man dreame right; he may be there upon a sudden.

Surely Sir, said _Calandrino_, it is further hence, then to _Abruzzi_?

Yes questionlesse, replyed _Maso_; but, to a willing minde, no travell

seemeth tedious.

_Calandrino_ well noting, that _Maso_ delivered all these speeches,

with a stedfast countenance, no signe of smyling, or any gesture to

urge the least mislike: he gave such credit to them, as to any matter

of apparent and manifest truth, and upon this assured confidence, he

said.

Beleeve me Sir, the journey is over-farre for mee to undertake, but if

it were neerer; I could affoord to goe in your Company; onely to see

how they make these _Macherones_, and to fill my belly with them.

But now wee are in talke Sir, I pray you pardon mee to aske, whether

any such precious stones, as you spake off, are to be found in that

Countrey, or no? Yes indeed, replyed _Maso_, there are two kinds of

them to be found in those Territories, both being of very great vertue.

One kind, are gritty stones, of _Settignano_, and of _Montisca_, by

vertue of which places, when any Mill-stones or Grind-stones are to

bee made, they knede the sand as they use to doe meale, and so make

them of what bignesse they please. In which respect, they have have a

common saying there: that Nature maketh common stones, but _Montisca_

Mill-stones. Such plenty are there of these Mill-stones, so slenderly

here esteemed among us, as Emeralds are with them, whereof they have

whole mountaines, farre greater then our _Montemorello_, which shine

most gloriously at midnight. And how meanly soever we account of their

Mill-stones; yet there they drill them, and enchase them in Rings,

which afterward they send to the great Soldane, and have whatsoever

they will demaund for them.

The other kinde is a most precious Stone indeede, which our best

Lapidaries call the _Helitropium_, the vertue whereof is so admirable;

as whosoever beareth it about him, so long as he keepeth it, it is

impossible for any eye to discerne him, because he walketh meerely

invisible. O Lord Sir (quoth _Calandrino_) these stones are of rare

vertue indeede: but where else may a man finde that _Helitropium_?

Whereto _Maso_ thus answered: That Countrey onely doth not containe

the _Helitropium_; for they be many times found upon our plaine of

_Mugnone_. Of what bignesse Sir (quoth _Calandrino_) is the Stone, and

what coulour? The _Helitropium_, answered _Maso_, is not alwayes of one

quality, because some are bigge, and others lesse; but all are of one

coulour, namely blacke.

_Calandrino_ committing all these things to respective memory, and

pretending to be called thence by some other especiall affaires;

departed from _Maso_, concluding resolvedly with himselfe, to finde

this precious stone, if possibly hee could: yet intending to doe

nothing, untill hee had acquainted _Bruno_ and _Buffalmaco_ therewith,

whom he loved dearly: he went in all hast to seeke them; because,

(without any longer trifling the time) they three might bee the first

men, that should find out this precious stone, spending almost the

whole morning, before they were all three met together. For they were

painting at the Monastery of the Sisters of _Faenza_, where they had

very serious imployment, and followed their businesse diligently:

where having found them, and saluting them in such kinde manner, as

continually he used to doe, thus he began.

Loving friends, if you were pleased to follow mine advise, wee three

will quickely be the richest men in _Florence_; because, by information

from a Gentleman (well deserving to be credited) on the Plaine of

_Mugnone_: there is a precious stone to be found, which whosoever

carrieth it about him, walketh invisible, and is not to be seene by

any one. Let us three be the first men to goe and finde it, before any

other heare thereof, and goe about it, and assure our selves that we

shall finde it, for I know it (by discription) so soone as I see it.

And when wee have it, who can hinder us from bearing it about us. Then

will we goe to the Tables of our Bankers, or money changers, which we

see daily charged with plenty of gold and silver, where we may take so

much as wee list, for they (nor any) are able to descrie us. So, (in

short time) shall wee all be wealthy, never needing to drudge any more,

or paint muddy walles, as hitherto we have done; and, as many of our

poore profession are forced to doe.

_Bruno_ and _Buffalmaco_ hearing this, began to smile, and looking

merrily each on other, they seemed to wonder thereat, and greatly

commended the counsell of _Calandrino. Buffalmaco_ demaunding how the

stone was named. Now it fortuned, that _Calandrino_ (who had but a

grosse and blockish memory) had quite forgot the name of the stone, and

therefore said. What neede have wee of the name, when we know, and are

assured of the stones vertue? Let us make no more adoe, but (setting

aside all other businesse) goe seeke where it is to be found. Well my

friend (answered _Bruno_) you say wee may find it, but how, and by what

meanes?

There are two sorts of them (quoth _Calandrino_) some bigge, others

smaller, but all carry a blacke colour: therefore (in mine opinion) let

us gather all such stones as are blacke, so shall we be sure to finde

it among them, without any further losse of time.

_Buffalmaco_ and _Bruno_, liked and allowed the counsell of

_Calandrino_, which when they had (by severall commendations) given him

assurance of, _Bruno_ saide. I doe not thinke it a convenient time now,

for us to go about so weighty a businesse: for the Sun is yet in the

highest degree, and striketh such a heate on the plaine of _Mugnone_,

as all the stones are extreamly dryed, and the very blackest will

nowe seeme whitest. But in the morning, after the dew is falne, and

before the Sunne shineth forth, every stone retaineth his true colour.

Moreover, there be many Labourers now working on the plaine, about such

businesse as they are severally assigned, who seeing us in so serious

a search:** may imagine what we seeke for, & partake with us in the same

inquisition, by which meanes they may chance to speed before us, and so

wee may lose both our trot and amble. Wherefore, by my consent, if your

opinion jumpe with mine, this is an enterprise onely to be perfourmed

in an early morning, when the blacke stones are to be distinguisht from

the white, and a Festivall day were the best of all other, for then

there will be none to discover us.

_Buffalmaco_ applauded the advice of _Bruno_, and _Calandrino_

did no lesse, concluding all together; that Sunday morning (next

ensuing) should be the time, and then they all three would go seeke

the Stone. But _Calandrino_ was verie earnest with them, that they

shold not reveale it to any living body, because it was tolde him as

an especiall secret: disclosing further to them, what hee had heard

concerning the Countrey of _Bengodi_, maintaining (with solemn oaths

and protestations) that every part thereof was true. Uppon this

agreement, they parted from _Calandrino_, who hardly enjoyed anie rest

at all, either by night or day, so greedie he was to bee possessed of

the stone. On the Sonday morning, hee called up his Companions before

breake of day, and going forth at S. _Galls_ Port, they stayed not,

till they came to the plaine of _Mugnone_, where they searched all

about to finde this strange stone.

_Calandrino_ went stealing before the other two, and verilie perswaded

himselfe, that he was borne to finde the _Helitropium_, and looking

on every side about him, hee rejected all other Stones but the

blacke, whereof first he filled his bosome, and afterwards, both

his Pockets. Then he tooke off his large painting Apron, which he

fastened with his girdle in the manner of a sacke, and that he filled

full of stones likewise. Yet not so satisfied, he spred abroad his

Cloake, which being also full of stones, hee bound it up carefully,

for feare of loosing the very least of them. All which _Buffalmaco_

and _Bruno_ well observing (the day growing on, and hardly they could

reach home by dinner time) according as merrily they had concluded,

and pretending not to see _Calandrino_, albeit he was not farre from

them: What is become of _Calandrino_? saide _Buffalmaco. Bruno_ gazing

strangely every where about him, as if hee were desirous to finde him,

replyed. I saw him not long since, for then he was hard by before us;

questionlesse, he hath given us the slippe, is privilie gone home to

dinner, and making starke fooles of us, hath lefte us to picke up

blacke stones, upon the parching plaines of _Mugnone_. Well (quoth

_Buffalmaco_) this is but the tricke of an hollow-hearted friend, and

not such as he protested himselfe to be, to us. Could any but wee

have bin so sottish, to credit his frivolous perswasions, hoping to

finde any stones of such vertue, and here on the fruitlesse plains of

_Mugnone_? No, no, none but we would have beleeved him.

_Calandrino_ (who was close by them) hearing these wordes, and seeing

the whole manner of their wondering behaviour: became constantly

perswaded, that hee had not onely founde the precious stone; but also

had some store of them about him, by reason he was so neere to them,

and yet they could not see him, therefore he walked before them. Now

was his joy beyond all compasse of expression, and being exceedingly

proud of so happy an adventure: did not meane to speake one word to

them, but (heavily laden as hee was) to steale home faire and softly

before them, which indeede he did, leaving them to follow after, if

they would. _Bruno_ perceiving his intent, said to _Buffalmaco_: What

remaineth now for us to doe? Why should not we go home, as well as hee?

And reason too, replyed _Bruno_, It is in vaine to tarry any longer

heere: but I solemnly protest, _Calandrino_ shall no more make an Asse

of me: and were I now as neere him, as not long since I was, I would

give him such a remembrance on the heele with this Flint stone, as

should sticke by him this moneth, to teach him a lesson for abusing his

friends.

Hee threw the stone, and hit him shrewdly on the heele therewith; but

all was one to _Calandrino_, whatsoever they saide, or did, as thus

they still followed after him. And although the blow of the stone was

painfull to him; yet he mended his pace so wel as he was able, in

regard of beeing over-loaden with stones, and gave them not one word

all the way, because he tooke himselfe to bee invisible, and utterly

unseene of them. _Buffalmaco_ taking uppe another Flint-stone, which

was indifferent heavie and sharp, said to _Bruno_. Seest thou this

Flint? Casting it from him, he smote _Calandrino_ just in the backe

therewith, saying. Oh that _Calandrino_ had bin so neere, as I might

have hit him on the backe with the stone. And thus all the way on the

plaine of _Mugnone_, they did nothing else but pelt him with stones,

even so farre as the Port of S. _Gall_, where they threwe downe what

other stones they had gathered, meaning not to molest him any more,

because they had done enough already.

There they stept before him unto the Port, and acquainted the Warders

with the whole matter, who laughing heartily at the jest, the better to

upholde it; would seeme not to see _Calandrino_ in his passage by them,

but suffered him to go on, sore wearied with his burthen, and sweating

extreamly. Without resting himselfe in any place, he came home to his

house, which was neere to the corner of the Milles, Fortune being so

favourable to him in the course of this mockery, that as he passed

along the Rivers side, and afterward through part of the City; he was

neither met nor seen by any, in regard they were all in their houses at

dinner.

_Calandrino_, every minute ready to sinke under his weightie burthen,

entred into his owne house, where (by great ill luck) his wife, being

a comely and very honest woman, and named _Monna Trista_, was standing

aloft on the stayres head. She being somewhat angry for his so long

absence, and seeing him come in grunting and groaning, frowningly said.

I thought that the divell would never let thee come home, all the

whole Citie have dined, and yet wee must remaine without our dinner.

When _Calandrino_ heard this, & perceived that he was not invisible to

his Wife: full of rage and wroth, hee began to raile, saying. Ah thou

wicked woman, where art thou? Thou hast utterly undone me: but (as I

live) I will pay thee soundly for it. Up the staires he ascended into

a small Parlour, where when he hadde spred all his burthen of stones

on the floore: he ran to his wife, catching her by the haire of the

head, and throwing her at his feete; giving her so many spurns and

cruel blowes, as shee was not able to moove either armes or legges,

notwithstanding all her teares, and humble submission.

Now _Buffalmaco_ and _Bruno_, after they had spent an indifferent

while, with the Warders at the Port in laughter; in a faire & gentle

pace, they followed _Calandrino_ home to his house, and being come to

the doore, they heard the harsh bickering betweene him and his Wife,

and seeming as if they were but newly arrived, they called out alowd

to him. _Calandrino_ being in a sweate, stamping and raving still at

his Wife: looking forth of the window, entreated them to ascend up to

him, which they did, counterfetting greevous displeasure against him.

Being come into the roome, which they saw all covered over with stones,

his Wife sitting in a corner, all the haire (well-neere) torne off her

head, her face broken and bleeding, and all her body cruelly beaten; on

the other side, _Calandrino_ standing unbraced and ungirded, strugling

and wallowing, like a man quite out of breath: after a little pausing,

_Bruno_ thus spake.

Why how now _Calandrino_? What may the meaning of this matter be?

What, art thou preparing for building, that thou hast provided such

plenty of stones? How sitteth thy poore wife? How hast thou misused

her? Are these the behaviours of a wise or honest man? _Calandrino_,

utterly over-spent with travaile, and carrying such an huge burthen

of stones, as also the toylesome beating of his Wife, (but much more

impatient and offended, for that high good Fortune, which he imagined

to have lost:) could not collect his spirits together, to answer them

one ready word, wherefore hee sate fretting like a mad man. Whereupon,

_Buffalmaco_ thus began to him. _Calandrino_, if thou be angry with any

other, yet thou shouldest not have made such a mockery of us, as thou

hast done: in leaving us (like a couple of coxcombes) to the plaine of

_Mugnone_, whether thou leddest us with thee, to seeke a precious stone

called _Helitropium_. And couldst thou steale home, never bidding us so

much as farewell? How can we but take it in very evill part, that thou

shouldest so abuse two honest neighbours? Well, assure thy selfe, this

is the last time that ever thou shalt serve us so.

_Calandrino_ (by this time) being somewhat better come to himselfe,

with an humble protestation of courtesie, returned them this answer.

Alas my good friends, be not you offended, the case is farre otherwise

then you immagine. Poore unfortunate man that I am, I found the rare

precious stone that you speake of: and marke me well, if I do not tell

you the truth of all. When you asked one another (the first time) what

was become of me; I was hard by you: at the most, within the distance

of two yards length; and perceiving that you saw mee not, (being still

so neere, and alwaies before you:) I went on, smiling to my selfe, to

heare you brabble and rage against me.

So, proceeding on in his discourse, he recounted every accident as

it hapned, both what they had saide and did unto him, concerning

the severall blowes, with the two Flint-stones, the one hurting him

greevously in the heele, and the other paining him as extreamly in the

backe, with their speeches used then, and his laughter, notwithstanding

hee felt the harme of them both, yet beeing proud that he did so

invisibly beguile them. Nay more (quoth he) I cannot forbeare to tell

you, that when I passed thorow the Port, I saw you standing with the

Warders; yet, by vertue of that excellent Stone, undiscovered of

you all. Beside, going along the streets, I met many of my Gossips,

friends, and familiar acquaintance, such as used daylie to converse

with me, and drinking together in every Tavern: yet not one of them

spake to me, neyther used any courtesie or salutation; which (indeede)

I did the more freely forgive them, because they were not able to see

me.

In the end of all, when I was come home into mine owne house, this

divellish and accursed woman, being aloft uppon my stayres head, by

much misfortune chanced to see me; in regard (as it is not unknowne

to you) that women cause all things to lose their vertue. In which

respect, I that could have stild my selfe the onely happy man in

_Florence_, am now made most miserable. And therefore did I justly

beate her, so long as she was able to stand against mee, and I know no

reason to the contrary, why I should not yet teare her in a thousand

peeces: for I may well curse the day of our mariage, to hinder and

bereave me of such an invisible blessednesse.

_Buffalmaco_ and _Bruno_ hearing this, made shew of verie much

mervailing thereat, and many times maintained what _Calandrino_ had

said; being well neere ready to burst with laughter; considering, how

confidently he stood upon it, that he had found the wonderfull stone,

and lost it by his wives speaking onely to him. But when they saw him

rise in fury once more, with intent to beat her againe: then they stept

betweene them; affirming, That the woman had no way offended in this

case, but rather he himself: who knowing that women cause all things

to lose their vertue, had not therefore expresly commanded her, not to

be seene in his presence all that day, untill he had made full proofe

of the stones vertue. And questionles, the consideration of a matter

so availeable and important, was quite taken from him, because such

an especiall happinesse, should not belong to him only; but (in part)

to his friends, whom he had acquainted therewith, drew them to the

plaine with him in companie, where they tooke as much paines in search

of the stone, as possibly he did, or could; and yet (dishonestly) he

would deceive them, and beare it away covetously, for his owne private

benefit.

After many other, as wise and wholesome perswasions, which he

constantly credited, because they spake them, they reconciled him to

his wife, and she to him: but not without some difficulty in him; who

falling into wonderfull greefe and melancholy, for losse of such an

admirable precious stone, was in danger to have dyed, within lesse then

a month after.

_The Provost belonging to the Cathedrall Church of_ Fiesola, _fell in

love with a Gentlewoman, being a widdow, and named_ Piccarda, _who

hated him as much as he loved her. He imagining, that he lay with her:

by the Gentlewomans Bretheren, and the Byshop under whom he served, was

taken in bed with her Mayde, an ugly, foule, deformed Slut._

The Fourth Novell.

_Wherein is declared, how love oftentimes is so powerfull in aged men,

and driveth them to such doating, that it redoundeth to their great

disgrace and punishment._

Ladie _Eliza_ having concluded her Novell, not without infinite

commendations of the whole company: the Queen turning her lookes to

Madame _Æmillia_, gave her such an expresse signe, as she must needs

follow next after Madame _Eliza_, whereupon she began in this manner.

Vertuous Ladies, I very well remember (by divers Novels formerly

related) that sufficient hath beene sayde, concerning Priests and

Religious persons, and all other carrying shaven Crownes, in their

luxurious appetites and desires. But because no one can at any time say

so much, as thereto no more may be added: beside them alreadie spoken

of, I will tel you another concerning the Provost of a Cathedrall Church,

who would needes (in despight of all the world) love a Gentlewoman

whether she would or no: and therefore, in due chastisement both

unto his age and folly, she gave him such entertainment as he justly

deserved.

It is not unknowne unto you all, that the Cittie of _Fiesola_, the

mountaine whereof we may very easily hither discerne, hath bene (in

times past) a very great and most ancient City: although at this day it

is well-neere all ruined: yet neverthelesse, it alwaies was, and yet

is a Byshops See, albeit not of the wealthiest. In the same Citie, and

no long while since, neere unto the Cathedrall Church, there dwelt a

Gentlewoman, being a Widdow, and commonlie there stiled by the name of

Madame _Piccarda_, whose house and inheritance was but small, wherewith

yet she lived very contentedly (having no wandering eye, or wanton

desires) and no company but her two Brethren, Gentlemen of especiall

honest and gracious disposition.

This Gentlewoman, being yet in the flourishing condition of her time,

did ordinarily resort to the Cathedrall Church, in holie zeale, and

religious devotion; where the Provost of the place, became so enamored

of her, as nothing (but the sight of her) yeelded him any contentment.

Which fond affection of his, was forwarded with such an audacious and

bold carriage, as hee dared to acquaint her with his love, requiring

her enterchange of affection, and the like opinion of him, as he had of

her. True it is, that he was very farre entred into yeares, but yong

and lustie in his own proud conceite, presuming strangely beyond his

capacity, and thinking as well of his abilitie, as the youthfullest

gallant in the World could doe. Whereas (in verie deede) his person was

utterly displeasing, his behaviour immodest and scandalous, and his

usuall Language, favouring of such sensualitie, as, very fewe or none

cared for his company. And if any Woman seemed respective of him, it

was in regard of his outside and profession, and more for feare, then

the least affection, and alwayes as welcome to them, as the head-ake.

His fond and foolish carriage still continuing to this Gentlewoman;

she being wise and vertuously advised, spake thus unto him. Holy Sir,

if you love me according as you protest, & manifest by your outward

behaviour: I am the more to thanke you for it, being bound in dutie

to love you likewise. But if your Love have any harshe or unsavourie

taste, which mine is no way able to endure, neyther dare entertaine in

anie kinde whatsoever: you must and shall hold mee excused, because I

am made of no such temper. You are my ghostly and spirituall Father, an

Holy Priest. Moreover, yeares have made you honorably aged; all which

severall weighty considerations, ought to confirme you in continency

& chastity. Remember withall (good sir) that I am but a child to you

in years, & were I bent to any wanton appetites, you shold justly

correct me by fatherly counsell, such as most beautifieth your sacred

profession. Beside, I am a Widdow, and you are not ignorant, how

requisite a thing honestie is in widdowes. Wherefore, pardon mee (Holy

Father:) for, in such manner as you make the motion: I desire you not

to love mee, because I neither can or will at any time so affect you.

The Provoste gaining no other grace at this time, would not so give

over for this first repulse, but pursuing her still with unbeseeming

importunity; many private meanes he used to her by Letters, tokens,

and insinuating ambassages; yea, whensoever shee came to the Church,

he never ceased his wearisome solicitings. Whereat she growing greatly

offended, and perceyving no likelyhood of his desisting; became so

tyred with his tedious suite, that she considered with her selfe,

how she might dispatch him as he deserved, because she saw no other

remedy. Yet shee would not attempte anie thing in this case, without

acquainting her Bretheren first therewith. And having tolde them, how

much shee was importuned by the Provost, and also what course she meant

to take (wherein they both counselled and encouraged her:) within a few

daies after, shee went to Church as she was wont to do; where so soone

as the Provost espyed her: forthwith he came to her, and according to

his continued course, he fell into his amorous courting. She looking

upon him with a smiling countenance, and walking aside with him out

of any hearing: after he had spent many impertinent speeches, shee

(venting foorth manie a vehement sighe) at length returned him this

answer.

Reverend Father, I have often heard it saide: That there is not any

Fort or Castle, how strongly munited soever it bee; but by continuall

assayling, at length (of necessity) it must and will be surprized.

Which comparison, I may full well allude to my selfe. For, you having

so long time solicited me, one while with affable language, then againe

with tokens and entisements, of such prevailing power: as have broken

the verie barricado of my former deliberation, and yeelded mee uppe as

your prisoner, to be commanded at your pleasure, for now I am onely

devoted yours.

Well may you (Gentle Ladies) imagine, that this answere was not a

little welcome to the Provost; who, shrugging with conceyte of joy,

presently thus replyed. I thanke you Madame _Piccarda_, and to tell

you true, I held it almost as a miracle, that you could stand upon

such long resistance, considering, it never so fortuned to mee with

anie other. And I have many times saide to my selfe, that if women

were made of silver, they hardly could be worth a pennie, because

there can scarsely one be found of so good allay, as to endure the

test and essay. But let us breake off this frivolous conference, and

resolve upon a conclusion; How, when and where we may safely meete

together. Worthy Sir, answered _Piccarda_, your selfe may appoint the

time whensoever you please, because I have no Husband, to whom I should

render any account of my absence, or presence: but I am not provided of

any place.

A pretty while the Provoste stood musing, and at last saide. A place

Madame? where can be more privacie, then in your owne house? Alas

Sir (quoth she) you know that I have two Gentlemen my brethren who

continually are with me, & other of their friends beside: My house also

is not great, wherefore it is impossible to be there, except you could

be like a dumbe man, without speaking one word, or making the very

least noyse; beside, to remaine in darkenesse, as if you were blinde,

and who can be able to endure all these? And yet (without these) there

is no adventuring, albeit they never come into my Chamber: but their

lodging is so close to mine, as there cannot any word be spoken, be it

never so low or in whispering manner, but they heare it very easily.

Madame said the Provoste, for one or two nights, I can make hard shift.

Why Sir (quoth she) the matter onely remaineth in you, for if you be

silent and suffering, as already you have heard, there is no feare at

all of safty. Let me alone Madame, replyed the Provoste, I will bee

governed by your directions: but, in any case, let us begin this night.

With all my heart, saide shee. So appointing him how and when hee

should come; hee parted from her, and shee returned home to her house.

Heere I am to tell you, that this Gentlewoman had a servant, in the

nature of an old maide, not indued with any well featured face, but

instead thereof, she had the ugliest and most counterfeit countenance,

as hardly could be seene a worse. She had a wrie mouth, huge great

lippes, foule teeth, great and blacke, a monstrous stinking breath, her

eyes bleared, and alwayes running, the complexion of her face betweene

greene and yellow, as if shee had not spent the Summer season in the

Citie, but in the parching Countrey under a hedge; and beside all

these excellent parts, shee was crooke backt, poult footed, and went

like a lame Mare in Fetters. Her name was _Ciuta_, but in regard of

her flat nose, lying as low as a Beagles, shee was called _Ciutazza_.

Now, notwithstanding all this deformity in her, yet she had a singuler

opinion of her selfe, as commonly all such foule Sluts have: in regard

whereof, Madame _Piccarda_ calling her aside, Thus began.

_Ciutazza_, if thou wilt doe for me one nights service, I shall bestow

on thee a faire new Smocke. When _Ciutazza_ heard her speake of a

new Smocke, instantly she answered. Madame, if you please to bestow

a new Smocke on me, were it to runne thorow the fire for you, or any

businesse of farre greater danger, you onely have the power to command

me, and I will doe it. I will not (said _Piccarda_) urge thee to any

dangerous action, but onely to lodge in my bed this night with a man,

and give him courteous entertainement, who shall reward thee liberally

for it. But have an especiall care that thou speake not one word, for

feare thou shouldst be heard by my Brethren, who (as thou knowest)

lodge so neere by: doe this, and then demaund thy Smocke of me. Madame

(quoth _Ciutazza_) if it were to lye with sixe men, rather then one; if

you say the word, it shall be done.

When night was come, the Provoste also came according to appointment,

even when the two brethren were in their lodging, where they easily

heard his entrance, as _Piccarda_ (being present with them) had

informed them. In went the Provoste without any candle, or making the

least noise to be heard, & being in _Piccardaes_ Chamber, went to

bed: _Ciutazza_ tarrying not long from him, but (as her Mistresse had

instructed her) she went to bed likewise, not speaking any word at

all, and the Provoste, imagining to have her there, whom he so highly

affected, fell to imbracing and kissing _Ciutazza_, who was as forward

in the same manner to him, and there for a while I intend to leave them.

When _Piccarda_ had performed this hot piece of businesse, she referred

the effecting of the remainder to her Brethren, in such sort as it was

compacted betweene them. Faire and softly went the two brethren forth

of their Chamber, and going to the Market place, Fortune was more

favourable to them then they could wish, in accomplishing the issue

of their intent. For the heat being somwhat tedious, the Lord Bishop

was walking abroad very late, with purpose to visit the Brethren at

the Widdowes house, because he tooke great delight in their company,

as being good Schollers, and endued with other singular parts beside.

Meeting with them in the open Market place, he acquainted them with his

determination; whereof they were not a little joyfull, it jumping so

justly with their intent.

Being come to the Widdowes house, they passed through a small nether

Court, where lights stood ready to welcome him thither; and entring

into a goodly Hall, there was store of good wine and banquetting, which

the Bishop accepted in very thankefull manner: and courteous complement

being overpassed, one of the Brethren, thus spake. My good Lord, seeing

it hath pleased you to honour our poore Widdowed Sisters house with

your presence, for which wee shall thanke you while we live: We would

intreate one favour more of you, onely but to see a sight which we will

shew you. The Lord Bishop was well contented with the motion: so the

Brethren conducting him by the hand, brought him into their Sisters

Chamber, where the the Provoste was in bed with _Ciutazza_, both

soundly sleeping, but enfolded in his armes, as wearied (belike) with

their former wantonning, and whereof his age had but little need.

The Courtaines being close drawne about the bed, although the season

was exceeding hot, they having lighted Torches in their hands; drew

open the Curtaines, and shewed the Bishop his Provoste, close snugging

betweene the armes of _Ciutazza_. Upon a sudden the Provoste awaked,

and seeing so great a light, as also so many people about him: shame

and feare so daunted him, that hee shrunke downe into the bed, and hid

his head. But the Bishop being displeased at a sight so unseemely, made

him to discover his head againe, to see whom he was in bed withall. Now

the poore Provoste perceiving the Gentlewomans deceite, and the proper

hansome person so sweetly embracing him: it made him so confounded with

shame, as he had not the power to utter one word: but having put on his

cloathes by the Bishops command, hee sent him (under sufficient guard)

to his Pallace, to suffer due chastisement for his sinne committed; and

afterward he desired to know, by what meanes hee became so favoured of

_Ciutazza_, the whole Historie whereof, the two brethren related at

large to him.

When the Bishop had heard all the discourse, highly he commended the

wisedome of the Gentlewoman, and worthy assistance of her brethren,

who contemning to soile their hands in the blood of a Priest, rather

sought to shame him as hee deserved. The Bishop enjoyned him a pennance

of repentance for forty dayes after, but love and disdaine made him

weepe nine and forty: Moreover, it was a long while after, before he

durst be seene abroad. But when he came to walke the streets, the Boyes

would point their fingers at him, saying. Behold the Provoste that

lay with _Ciutazza_: Which was such a wearisome life to him, that he

became (well neere) distracted in his wits. In this manner the honest

Gentlewoman discharged her dutie, and rid her selfe of the Provosts

importunity: _Ciutazza_ had a merry night of it, and a new Smocke also

for her labour.

_Three pleasant Companions, plaide a merry pranke with a Judge

(belonging to the Marquesate of_ Ancona) _at_ Florence, _at such time

as he sate on the Bench, and hearing criminall causes._

The Fift Novell.

_Giving admonition, that for the mannaging of publique affaires, no

other persons are or ought to be appointed, but such as be honest, and

meet to sit on the seate of Authority._

No sooner had Madam _Æmillia_ finished her Novell, wherein, the

excellent wisedome of _Piccarda_, for so worthily punishing the

luxurious old Provoste, had generall commendations of the whole

Assembly: but the Queene, looking on _Philostratus_, said. I command

you next to supply the place: whereto he made answere, that hee was

both ready and willing, and then thus began. Honourable Ladies, the

merry Gentleman, so lately remembred by Madame _Eliza_, being named

_Maso del Saggio_; causeth me to passe over an intended Tale, which I

had resolved on when it came to my turne: to report another concerning

him, and two men more, his friendly Companions, which although it may

appeare to you somewhat unpleasing, in regard of a little grosse and

unmannerly behavior: yet it will move merriment without any offence,

and that is the maine reason why I relate it.

It is not unknowne to you, partly by intelligence from our reverend

predecessours, as also some understanding of your owne, that many time

have resorted to our City of _Florence_, Potestates and Officers,

belonging to the Marquesate of _Anconia_; who commonly were men of

lowe spirit, and their lives so wretched and penurious, as they rather

deserved to be tearmed Misers, then men. And in regard of this their

naturall covetousnesse and misery, the Judges would bring also in

their company, such Scribes or Notaries, as being paralelde with their

Masters: they all seemed like Swaines come from the Plough, or bred up

in some Coblers quality, rather then Schollers, or Students of Law.

At one time (above all the rest) among other Potestates and Judges,

there came an especiall man, as pickt out of purpose, who was named

_Messer Niccolao da San Lepidio_, who (at the first beholding) looked

rather like a Tinker, then any Officer in authority. This hansome

man (among the rest) was deputed to heare criminall causes. And, as

often it happeneth, that Citizens, although no businesse inviteth

them to Judiciall Courts, yet they still resort thither, sometimes

accidentally: So it fortuned, that _Maso del Saggio_, being one morning

in search of an especiall friend, went to the Court-house, and being

there, observed in what manner _Messer Niccolao_ was seated; who

looking like some strange Fowle, lately come forth of a farre Countrey;

he began to survay him the more seriously, even from the head to the

foot, as we use to say.

And albeit he saw his Gowne furred with Miniver, as also the hood about

his necke, a Penne and Inkehorne hanging at his girdle, and one skirt

of his Garment longer then the other, with more misshapen sights about

him, farre unfitting for a man of so civill profession: yet he spyed

one errour extraordinary, the most notable (in his opinion) that ever

he had seene before. Namely, a paultry paire of Breeches, wickedly

made, and worse worne, hanging downe so lowe as halfe his legge,

even as he sate upon the Bench, yet cut so sparingly of the Cloath,

that they gaped wide open before, as a wheele-barrow might have full

entrance allowed it. This strange sight was so pleasing to him; as

leaving off further search of his friend, and scorning to have such a

spectacle alone by himselfe: hee went upon another Inquisition; Namely,

for two other merry Lads like himselfe, the one being called _Ribi_,

and the other _Matteuzzo_, men of the same mirth-full disposition as he

was, and therefore the fitter for his Company.

After he had met with them, these were his salutations: My honest

Boyes, if ever you did me any kindnesse, declare it more effectually

now, in accompanying me to the Court-house, where you shall behold

such a singular spectacle, as (I am sure) you never yet saw the

like. Forthwith they went along altogether, and being come to the

Court-house, he shewed them the Judges hansome paire of Breeches,

hanging down in such base and beastly manner; that (being as yet farre

off from the Bench) their hearts did ake with extreamity of laughter.

But when they came neere to the seat whereon _Messer Niccolao_ sate,

they plainely perceived, that it was very easie to be crept under, and

withall, that the board whereon he set his feet, was rotten and broken,

so that it was no difficult matter, to reach it, and pull it downe as

a man pleased, and let him fall bare Breecht to the ground. Cheare up

your spirits (my hearts) quoth _Maso_, and if your longing be like to

mine; we will have yonder Breeches a good deale lower, for I see how it

may be easily done.

Laying their heads together, plotting and contriving severall wayes,

which might be the likelyest to compasse their intent: each of them had

his peculiar appointment, to undertake the businesse without fayling,

and it was to be performed the next morning. At the houre assigned,

they met there againe, and finding the Court well filled with people,

the Plaintiffes and Defendants earnestly pleading: _Matteuzzo_ (before

any body could descry him) was cunningly crept under the Bench, and

lay close by the board whereon the Judge placed his feete. Then stept

in _Maso_ on the right hand of _Messer Niccolao_, and tooke fast hold

on his Gowne before; the like did _Ribi_ on the left hand, in all

respects answerable to the other. Oh my Lord Judge (cryed _Maso_ out

aloud) I humbly intreat you for charities sake, before this pilfering

knave escape away from hence; that I may have Justice against him, for

stealing my drawing-over stockeings, which he stoutly denyeth, yet mine

owne eyes beheld the deed, it being now not above fifteene dayes since,

when first I bought them for mine owne use.

Worthy Lord Judge (cryed _Ribi_, on the other side) doe not beleeve

what he saith, for he is a paltry lying fellow, and because hee knew I

came hither to make my complaint for a Male or Cloakebag which he stole

from me: hee urgeth this occasion for a paire of drawing Stockeings,

which he delivered me with his owne hands. If your Lordship will not

credit me, I can produce as witnesses, _Trecco_ the Shoemaker, with

_Monna Grassa_ the Souse-seller, and he that sweepes the Church of

_Santa Maria a Verzaia_, who saw him when he came posting hither.

_Maso_ haling and tugging the Judge by the sleeve, would not suffer him

to heare _Ribi_, but cryed out still for Justice against him, as he did

the like on the contrary side.

During the time of this their clamourous contending, the Judge being

very willing to heare either party: _Matteuzzo_, upon a signe received

from the other, which was a word in _Masoes_ pleading, laide holde

on the broken boord, as also on the Judges low-hanging Breech,

plucking at them both so strongly, that they fell downe immediately,

the Breeches being onely tyed but with one Poynt before. He hearing

the boards breaking underneath him, and such maine pulling at his

Breeches; strove (as he sate) to make them fast before, but the Poynt

being broken, and _Maso_ crying in his eare on the one side, as _Ribi_

did the like in the other; hee was at his wits end to defend himselfe.

My Lord (quoth _Maso_) you may bee ashamed that you doe me not

Justice, why will you not heare mee, but wholly lend your eare to mine

Adversary? My Lord (said _Ribi_) never was Libell preferd into this

Court, of such a paltry trifling matter, and therefore I must, and will

have Justice.

By this time the Judge was dismounted from the Bench, and stood on

the ground, with his slovenly Breeches hanging about his heeles;

_Matteuzzo_ being cunningly stolne away, and undiscovered by anybody.

_Ribi_, thinking he had shamed the Judge sufficiently, went away,

protesting, that he would declare his cause in the hearing of a

wiser Judge. And _Maso_ forbearing to tugge his Gowne any longer, in

his departing, said. Fare you well Sir, you are not worthy to be a

Magistrate, if you have no more regard of your honour and honesty, but

will put off poore mens suites at your pleasure. So both went severall

wayes, and soone were gone out of publike view.

The worshipfull Judge _Messer Niccolao_ stood all this while on the

ground; and, in presence of all the beholders, trussed up his Breeches,

as if hee were new risen out of his bed: when better bethinking

himselfe on the matters indifference, he called for the two men, who

contended for the drawing stockings and the Cloake-bag; but no one

could tell what was become of them. Whereupon, he rapt out a kinde

of Judges oath, saying: I will know whether it be Law or no heere in

_Florence_, to make a Judge sit bare Breecht on the Bench of Justice,

and in the hearing of criminall Causes; whereat the chiefe Potestate,

and all the standers by laughed heartily.

Within fewe dayes after, he was informed by some of his especiall

Friends, that this had never happened to him, but onely to testifie,

how understanding the _Florentines_ are, in their ancient constitutions

and customes, to embrace, love and honour, honest, discreet worthy

Judges and Magistrates; Whereas on the contrary, they as much condemne

miserable knaves, fooles, and dolts, who never merit to have any better

entertainment. Wherefore, it would be best for him, to make no more

enquiry after the parties; lest a worse inconvenience should happen to

him.

Bruno _and_ Buffalmaco, _did steale a young Brawne from_ Calandrino,

_and for his recovery thereof, they used a kinde of pretended

conjuration, with Pilles made of Ginger and strong Malmesey. But

instead of this application, they gave him two Pilles of a Dogges

Dates, or Dowsets, confected in Alloes, which he received each after

the other; by meanes whereof they made him beleeve, that hee had robde

himselfe. And for feare they should report this theft to his wife; they

made him to goe buy another Brawne._

The Sixt Novell.

_Wherein is declared, how easily a plaine and simple man may be made a

foole, when he dealeth with crafty companions._

_Philostratus_ had no sooner concluded his Novell, and the whole

Assembly laughed heartily thereat: but the Queen gave command to Madame

_Philomena_, that shee should follow next in order; whereupon thus shee

began. Worthy Ladies, as _Philostratus_, by calling to memorie the name

of _Maso del Saggio_, hath contented you with another merry Novell

concerning him: in the same manner must I intreat you, to remember once

againe _Calandrino_ and his subtle Consorts, by a pretty tale which I

meane to tell you; how, and in what manner they were revenged on him,

for going to seeke the invisible Stone.

Needlesse were any fresh relation to you, what manner of people those

three men were, _Calandrino, Bruno,_ and _Buffalmaco,_ because already

you have had sufficient understanding of them. And therefore, as an

induction to my discourse, I must tell you, that _Calandrino_ had

a small Country-house, in a Village some-what neere to _Florence_,

which came to him by the marriage of his Wife. Among other Cattle and

Poultry, which he kept there in store, hee had a young Boare readie

fatted for Brawne, whereof yearly he used to kill one for his owne

provision; and alwaies in the month of December, he and his wife

resorted to their village house, to have a Brawne both killed and

salted.

It came to passe at this time concerning my Tale, that the Woman being

somewhat crazie and sickly, by her Husbands unkinde usage, whereof you

heard so lately; _Calandrino_ went alone to the killing of his Boare,

which comming to the hearing of _Bruno_ and _Buffalmaco_, and that the

Woman could by no meanes be there: to passe away the time a little in

merriment, they went to a friendlie Companion of theirs, an honest

joviall Priest, dwelling not farre off from _Calandrinoes_ Countrey

house.

The same morning as the Boare was kilde, they all three went thither,

and _Calandrino_ seeing them in the Priests companie: bad them all

heartily welcome; and to acquaint them with his good Husbandry, hee

shewed them his house, and the Boare where it hung. They perceyving

it to be faire and fat, knowing also, that _Calandrino_ intended to

salt it for his owne store, _Bruno_ saide unto him: Thou art an Asse

_Calandrino_, sell thy Brawne, and let us make merrie with the money:

then let thy wife know no otherwise, but that it was stolne from thee,

by those theeves which continually haunt country houses, especially in

such scattering Villages.

Oh mine honest friends, answered _Calandrino_, your counsell is not

to be followed, neither is my wife so easie to be perswaded: this were

the readiest way to make your house a hell, and she to become the

Master-Divell: therefore talke no further, for flatly I will not doe

it. Albeit they laboured him very earnestly, yet all proved not to anie

purpose: onely he desired them to suppe with him, but in so colde a

manner, as they denyed him, and parted thence from him. As they walked

on the way, _Bruno_ saide to _Buffalmaco_. Shall we three (this night)

rob him of his Brawne? Yea marry (quoth _Buffalmaco_) how is it to be

done? I have (saide _Bruno_) alreadie found the meanes to effect it,

if he take it not from the place where last we saw it. Let us doe it

then (answered _Buffalmaco_) why should we not do it? Sir Domine heere

and we, will make good cheare with it among our selves. The nimble

Priest was as forward as the best; and the match being fully agreed

on, _Bruno_ thus spake. My delicate Sir Domine, Art and cunning must

be our maine helps: for thou knowest _Buffalmaco_, what a covetous

wretch _Calandrino_ is, glad and readie to drink alwaies on other mens

expences: let us go take him with us to the Tavern, where the Priest

(for his owne honour and reputation) shall offer to make paiment of the

whole reckoning, without receiving a farthing of his, whereof he will

not be a little joyfull, so shall we bring to passe the rest of the

businesse, because there is no body in the house, but onely himselfe:

for he is best at ease without company.

As _Bruno_ had propounded, so was it accordingly performed, & when

_Calandrino_ perceyved, that the Priest would suffer none to pay, but

himselfe, he dranke the more freely; and when there was no neede at

all, tooke his Cuppes couragiously, one after another. Two or three

houres of the night were spent, before they parted from the Taverne,

_Calandrino_ going directly home to his house, and instantly to bed,

without any other supper, imagining that he had made fast his doore,

which (indeede) he left wide open: sleeping soundly, without suspition

of any harme intended unto him. _Buffalmaco_ and _Bruno_ went and supt

with the Priest, and so soone as supper was ended, they tooke certaine

Engines, for their better entering into _Calandrinoes_ house, and so

went on to effect theyr purpose. Finding the doore standing readie

open, they entered in, tooke the Brawne, carried it with them to the

Priests house, and afterward went all to bed.

When _Calandrino_ had well slept after his Wine, he arose in the

morning, and being descended downe the staires, finding the street

doore wide open, he looked for the Brawne, but it was gone. Enquiring

of the neighbours dwelling neere about him, hee could heare no tydings

of his Brawne, but became the wofullest man in the world, telling every

one that his Brawne was stolne. _Bruno_ and _Buffalmaco_ being risen in

the morning, they went to visite _Calandrino_, to heare how he tooke

the losse of his Brawne: and hee no sooner had a sight of them, but

he called them to him; and with the teares running downe his cheekes,

sayde: Ah my deare friendes, I am robde of my Brawne. _Bruno_ stepping

closely to him, sayde in his eare: It is wonderfull, that once in thy

life time thou canst bee wise. How? answered _Calandrino_, I speake to

you in good earnest. Speake so still in earnest (replied _Bruno_) and

cry it out so loud as thou canst, then let who list beleeve it to be

true.

_Calandrino_ stampt and fretted exceedingly, saying: As I am a true

man to God, my Prince, and Countrey, I tell thee truly, that my Brawne

is stolne. Say so still I bid thee (answered _Bruno_) and let all the

world beleeve thee, if they list to do so, for I will not. Wouldst

thou, (quoth _Calandrino_) have me damne my selfe to the divell? I see

thou dost not credit what I say: but would I were hanged by the necke,

if it be not true, that my Brawne is stolne. How can it possible be,

replyed _Bruno_? Did not I see it in thy house yesternight? Wouldst

thou have me beleeve, that it is flowne away? Although it is not flowne

away (quoth _Calandrino_) yet I am certain, that it is stolne away: for

which I am weary of my life, because I dare not go home to mine owne

house, in regard my wife will never beleeve it; and yet if she should

credite it, we are sure to have no peace for a twelvemonths space.

_Bruno_, seeming as if he were more then halfe sorrowfull, yet

supporting still his former jesting humour, saide: Now trust mee

_Calandrino_, if it be so; they that did it are much too blame.

If it be so? answered _Calandrino_, Belike thou wouldst have mee

blaspheme Heaven, and all the Saints therein: I tell thee once againe

_Bruno_, that this last night my Brawne was stolne. Be patient good

_Calandrino_, replyed _Buffalmaco_, and if thy Brawne be stolne from

thee, there are means enow to get it againe. Meanes enow to get it

againe? said _Calandrino_, I would faine heare one likely one, and let

all the rest go by. I am sure _Calandrino_, answered _Buffalmaco_, thou

art verily perswaded, that no Theefe came from _India_, to steale thy

Brawne from thee: in which respect, it must needes then be some of thy

Neighbours: whom if thou couldst lovingly assemble together, I knowe

an experiment to be made with Bread and Cheese, whereby the party that

hath it, will quickly be discovered.

I have heard (quoth _Bruno_) of such an experiment, and helde it to

be infallible; but it extendeth onely unto persons of Gentilitie,

whereof there are but few dwelling heere about, and in the case of

stealing a Brawne, it is doubtfull to invite them, neither can there

be any certainty of their comming. I confesse what you say, aunswered

_Buffalmaco_, to be very true: but then in this matter, so nerely

concerning us to be done, and for a deare Friend, what is your advice?

I would have Pilles made of Ginger, compounded with your best and

strongest _Malmesey_,** then let the ordinary sort of people be invited

(for such onely are most to be mistrusted) and they will not faile to

come, because they are utterly ignorant of our intention. Besides, the

Pilles may as well bee hallowed and consecrated, as bread and cheese on

the like occasion. Indeede you say true (replyed _Buffalmaco_) but what

is the opinion of _Calandrino_? Is he willing to have this tryall made,

or no? Yes, by all meanes, answered _Calandrino_, for gladly I would

know who hath stolne my Brawne, and your good words have (more then

halfe) comforted me already in this case.