THE NINTH DAY.

_Whereon, under the Government of Madame_ ÆMILLIA, _the Argument of

each severall Discourse, is not limitted to any one peculiar subject:

but every one remaineth at liberty, to speak of whatsoever themselves

best pleaseth._

The Induction.

Faire _Aurora_, from whose bright and chearefull lookes, the duskie

darke night flyeth as an utter enemy, had already reached so high

as the eight Heaven, converting it all into an Azure colour, and

the pretty Flowrets beganne to spred open their Leaves: when Madame

_Æmillia_, beeing risen, caused all her female attendants, and

the yong Gentlemen likewise, to be summoned for their personall

appearance. Who being all come, the Queen leading the way, and they

following her Majesticke pace, walked into a little Wood, not farre off

distant from the Palace.

No sooner were they there arrived, but they beheld store of Wilde

Beasts, as Hindes, Hares, Goats, and such like; so safely secured from

the pursuite of Huntsmen (by reason of the violent Pestilence then

reigning) that they stood gazing boldly at them, as dreadlesse of any

danger, or as if they were become tame and Domesticke.

Approaching neerer them, first to one, then unto another, as if they

purposed to play gently with them, they then beganne to skippe and

runne, making them such pastime with their pretty tripping, that they

conceyved great delight in beholding of them.

But when they beheld the Sunne to exalt itselfe, it was thought

convenient to return back again, shrouding themselves under the Trees

spreading armes, their hands full of sweete Flowers and Odorifferous

Hearbes, which they had gathered in their Walking. So that such as

chanced to meete them, could say nothing else: but that death knew not

by what meanes to conquer them, or els they had set down an absolute

determination, to kill him with their Joviall disposition.

In this manner, singing, dancing, or prettily pratling, at length they

arrived at the Palace, where they found all things readily prepared,

and their Servants duly attending for them. After they hadde reposed

themselves awhile, they would not (as yet) sit downe at the Table,

untill they had sung halfe a dozen of Canzonets, some more pleasant

then another, both the women and men together.

Then they fell to washing hands, and the Maister of the Houshold caused

them to sit downe, according as the Queene had appointed, and Dinner

was most sumptuously served in before them. Afterward, when the Tables

were with-drawne, they all tooke handes to dance a Roundelay; which

being done, they plaied on their Instruments a while; and then, such as

so pleased, tooke their rest. But when the accustomed houre was come,

they all repaired to the place of discoursing, where the Queen, looking

on Madam _Philomena_, gave her the honor of beginning the first Novell

for that day: whereto shee dutifully condiscending, began as followeth.

_Madam_ Francesca, _a Widdow of_ Pistoya, _being affected by two_

Florentine _Gentlemen, the one named_ Rinuccio Palermini, _and the

other_ Alessandro Chiarmontesi, _and she bearing no good will to eyther

of them; ingeniously freed her selfe from both their importunate

suites. One of them she caused to lye as dead in a grave, and the other

to fetch him from thence: so neither of them accomplishing what they

were enjoyned, fayled of obtaining his hoped expectation._

The First Novell.

_Approving, that chaste and honest Women, ought rather to deny

importunate suiters, by subtile and ingenious meanes, then fall into

the danger of scandall and slander._

Madame, it can no way discontent mee (seeing it is your most gracious

pleasure) that I should have the honour, to breake the first staffe of

freedome in this faire company (according to the injunction of your

Majesty) for liberty of our own best liking arguments: wherein I dismay

not (if I can speake well enough) but to please you all as well, as any

other that is to follow me. Nor am I so oblivious (worthy Ladies) but

full well I remember, that many times hath bene related in our passed

demonstrations, how mighty and variable the powers of love are: and yet

I cannot be perswaded, that they have all bene so sufficiently spoken

of, but something may bee further added, and the bottome of them never

dived into, although we should sit arguing a whole yeare together. And

because it hath beene alreadie approved, that Lovers have bene led

into divers accidents, not onely inevitable dangers of death, but also

have entred into the verie houses of the dead, thence to convey their

amorous friends: I purpose to acquaint you with a Novell, beside them

which have bene discoursed; whereby you may not onely comprehend the

power of Love, but also the wisedome used by an honest Gentlewoman, to

rid her selfe of two importunate suiters, who loved her against her

owne liking, yet neither of them knowing the others affection.

In the City of _Pistoya_, there dwelt sometime a beautifull

Gentlewoman, being a Widdow, whom two of our _Florentines_ (the one

named _Rinuccio Palermini_, and the other _Alessandro Chiarmontesi_),

having withdrawne themselves to _Pistoya_ desperately affected, the

one ignorant of the others intention, but each carrying his case

closely, as hoping to be possessed of her. This Gentlewoman, named

Madame _Francesca de Lazzari_, being often solicited by their messages,

and troublesomely pestered with their importunities: at last (lesse

advisedly then she intended) shee granted admittance to heare either of

them speake. Which she repenting, and coveting to be rid of them both,

a matter not easie to be done: she wittily devised the onely meanes,

namely, to move such a motion to them, as neither would willingly

undertake, yet within the compasse of possibility; but they failing in

the performance, shee might have the more honest occasion, to bee free

from all further molestation by them, and her politike intention was

thus projected.

On the same day, when she devised this peece of service, a man was

buried in _Pistoya_, and in the Church-yard belonging unto the gray

Friars, who being descended of good and worthie parentage: yet himselfe

was very infamous, and reputed to be the vilest man living, not onely

there in _Pistoya_, but throughout the whole World beside. Moreover,

while he lived, he had such a strange misshapen body, and his face so

ugly deformed, that such as knew him not, would stand gastly affrighted

at the first sight of him. In regarde whereof, shee considered with her

selfe, that the foule deformitie of this loathed fellow, would greatly

avayle in her determination, and consulting with her Chamber-maid, thus

she spake.

Thou knowest (my most true and faithfull servant) what trouble and

affliction of minde I suffer dayly, by the messages and Letters of

the two _Florentines, Rinuccio_ and _Alessandro,_ how hatefull their

importunity is to me, as being utterly unwilling to hear them speake,

or yeeld to any thing which they desire. Wherefore, to free my selfe

from them both together, I have devised (in regard of their great

and liberall offers) to make triall of them in such a matter, as I am

assured they will never performe.

It is not unknowne to thee, that in the Church-yard of the Gray

Friars, and this instant morning, _Scannadio_ (for so was the ugly

fellow named) was buried; of whom, when he was living, as also now

being dead, both men, women, and children, doe yet stand in feare, so

gastly and dreadfull alwayes was his personall appearance to them.

Wherefore, first of all go thou to _Alessandro_, and say to him thus.

My Mistris _Francesca_ hath sent me to you, to tell you, that now the

time is come, wherein you may deserve to enjoy her love, and gaine the

possession of her person, if you will accomplish such a motion as she

maketh to you. For some especiall occasion, wherewith hereafter you

shall bee better acquainted, a neere Kinsman of hers, must needs have

the body of _Scannadio_ (who was buried this morning) brought to her

house. And she, being as much affraid of him now he is dead, as when he

was living, by no meanes would have his body brought thither.

In which respect, as a Token of your unfeigned love to her, and the

latest service you shall ever do for her: shee earnestly entreateth

you, that this night, in the very deadest time thereof, you would go to

the grave, where _Scannadio_ lyeth yet uncovered with earth untill to

morrow, and attyring your selfe in his garments, even as if you were

the man himselfe, so to remaine there untill her kinsman doe come.

Then, without speaking any one word, let him take you foorth of the

grave, & bring you thence (insted of _Scannadio_) to hir house: where

she will give you gentle welcome, and disappoint her Kinsman in his

hope, by making you Lord of her, and all that is hers, as afterward

shall plainly appeare. If he say he will do it, it is as much as I

desire: but if hee trifle and make deniall, then boldly tell him, that

he must refraine all places wheresoever I am, and forbeare to send me

any more Letters, or messages.

Having done so, then repaire to _Rinuccio Palermini_, and say. My

Mistresse _Francesca_ is ready to make acceptance of your love;

provided, that you will do one thing for her sake. Namely, this ensuing

night, in the midst & stillest season thereof, to go to the grave where

_Scannadio_ was this morning buried, & (without making any noise) or

speaking one word, whatsoever you shall heare or see: to take him forth

of the grave, and bring him home to her house, where you shall know

the reason of this strange businesse, and enjoy her freely as your

owne for ever. But if he refuse to do it, then I commaund him, never

hereafter to see me, or move further suite unto mee, by any meanes

whatsoever.

The Chamber-maide went to them both, and delivered the severall

messages from her Mistresse, according as she had given her in charge;

whereunto each of them answered, that they woulde (for her sake) not

onely descend into a Grave, but also into hell, if it were her pleasure.

She returning with this answer unto her Mistresse, _Francesca_ remained

in expectation, what the issue of these fond attemptes in them, would

sort unto. When night was come, and the middle houre thereof already

past, _Alessandro Chiarmontesi_, having put off all other garments

to his doublet and hose, departed secretly from his lodging, walking

towards the Church-yard, where _Scannadio_ lay in his grave: but by the

way as he went, hee became surprized with divers dreadfull conceites

and imaginations, and questioned with himselfe thus.

What a beast am I? What a businesse have I undertaken? And whither am I

going? What do I know, but that the Kinsman unto this Woman, perhappes

understanding mine affection to her, and crediting some such matter,

as is nothing so; hath laide this politicke traine for me, that he

may murther me in the grave? Which (if it should so happen) my life

is lost, and yet the occasion never knowne whereby it was done. Or

what know I, whether some secret enemy of mine (affecting her in like

manner, as I do) have devised this stratagem (out of malice) against

mee, to draw my life in danger, and further his owne good Fortune?

Then, contrary motions, overswaying these suspitions, he questioned his

thoughts in another nature.

Let me (quoth he) admit the case, that none of these surmises are

intended, but her Kinsman (by and in this manner devised) must bring

me into her house: I am not therefore perswaded, that he or they do

covet, to have the body of _Scannadio_, either to carry it thither,

or present it to her, but rather do aime at some other end. May not I

conjecture, that my close murthering is purposed, and this way acted,

as on him that (in his life time) had offended them? The Maid hath

straitly charged me, that whatsoever is said or done unto me, I am not

to speake a word. What if they pul out mine eies, teare out my teeth,

cut off my hands, or do me any other mischiefe: Where am I then? Shall

all these extremities barre me of speaking? On the other side, if I

speake, then I shall be knowne, and so much the sooner (perhaps) be

abused. But admit that I sustaine no injurie at all, as being guilty of

no transgression: yet (perchance) I shall not be carried to her house,

but to some other baser place, and afterward she shall reprove me,

that I did not accomplish what shee commanded, and so all my labour is

utterly lost.

Perplexed with these various contradicting opinions, he was willing

divers times to turne home backe againe: yet such was the violence

of his love, and the power thereof prevailing against all sinister

arguments; as he went to the grave, and removing the boordes covering

it, whereinto he entred; and having despoiled _Scannadio_ of his

garments, cloathed himselfe with them, & so laid him down, having

first covered the grave againe. Not long had hee tarryed there, but he

began to bethinke him, what manner of man _Scannadio_ was, and what

strange reports had bene noised of him, not onely for ransicking dead

mens graves in the night season, but many other abhominable Villanies

committed by him, which so fearfully assaulted him; that his haire

stoode on end, every member of him quaked, and every minute he imagined

_Scannadio_ rising, with intent to strangle him in the grave. But his

fervent affection overcoming all these idle feares, and lying stone

still, as if he had beene the dead man indeede; he remained to see the

end of his hope.

On the contrary side, after midnight was past, _Rinuccio Palermini_

departed from his lodging, to do what hee was enjoyned by his hearts

Mistresse, and as hee went along, divers considerations also ran in

his minde, concerning occasions possible to happen. As, falling into

the hands of Justice, with the body of _Scannadio_ upon his backe, and

being condemned for sacriledge, in robbing graves of the dead; either

to be burned, or otherwise so punished, as might make him hatefull to

his best friends, and meerely a shame to himselfe.

Many other the like conceits molested him, sufficient to alter his

former determination: but affection was much more prevayling in him,

and made him use this consultation. How now _Rinuccio_? Wilt thou dare

to deny the first request, being mooved to thee by a Gentlewoman, whom

thou dearly lovest, and is the onely meanes, whereby to gaine assurance

of her gracious favour? Undoubtedly, were I sure to die in the attempt,

yet I will accomplish my promise. And so he went on with courage to the

grave.

_Alessandro_ hearing his arrivall, and also the removall of the bords,

although he was exceedingly affraid; yet he lay quietly still, and

stirred not, and _Rinuccio_ beeing in the grave, tooke _Alessandro_ by

the feete, haling him forth, and (mounting him uppon his backe) went on

thus loden, towards the house of Madam _Francesca_. As he passed along

the streets, unseene or unmet by any, _Alessandro_ suffered many shrewd

rushings and punches, by turnings at the streets corners, and jolting

against bulkes, poasts, and stalles, which _Rinuccio_ could not avoyd,

in regard the night was so wonderfully darke, as hee could not see

which way he went.

Being come somewhat neere to the Gentlewomans house, and she standing

readie in the Window with her Maide, to see when _Rinuccio_ should

arrive there with _Alessandro_, provided also of an apt excuse, to send

them thence like a couple of Coxcombes; it fortuned, that the Watchmen,

attending there in the same streete, for the apprehension of a banished

man, stolne into the City contrarie to order; hearing the trampling

of _Rinuccioes_ feete, directed their course as they heard the noise,

having their Lanthorne and light closely covered, to see who it should

be, and what he intended, and beating their weapons against the ground,

demanded, Who goes there? _Rinuccio_ knowing their voyces, and that now

was no time for any long deliberation: let fall _Alessandro_, and ran

away as fast as his legs could carry him.

_Alessandro_ being risen againe (although he was cloathed in

_Scannadioes_ Garments, which were long and too bigge for him) fledde

away also as _Rinuccio_ did. All which Madame _Francesca_ easily

discerned by helpe of the Watchmens Lanthorne, and how _Rinuccio_

carried _Alessandro_ on his backe, beeing attired in the Garments of

_Scannadio_: whereat she mervailed not a little, as also the great

boldnesse of them both. But in the midst of her mervailing, she

laughed very heartily, when she saw the one let the other fall, and

both to runne away so manfully. Which accident pleasing her beyond

all comparison, and applauding her good Fortune, to bee so happily

delivered from their daily molestation: she betooke herselfe to hir

Chamber with the Maide, avouching solemnly to her, that (questionlesse)

they both affected her dearely, having undertaken such a straunge

imposition, and verie neere brought it to a finall conclusion.

_Rinuccio_, being sadly discontented, and curssing his hard fortune,

would not yet returne home to his Lodging: but, when the watch was

gone forth of that streete, came backe to the place where he let fall

_Alessandro_, purposing to accomplish the rest of his enterprize.

But not finding the body, and remaining fully perswaded, that the

Watchmen were possessed thereof; hee went away, greeving extreamly. And

_Alessandro_, not knowing now what should become of him: confounded

with the like griefe and sorrow, that all his hope was thus utterly

overthrowne, retired thence unto his owne house, not knowing who was

the Porter which carried him.

The next morning, the grave of _Scannadio_ being found open, & the

body not in it, because _Alessandro_ had thrown it into a deep ditch

neere adjoyning: all the people of _Pistoya_ were possessed with

sundry opinions, some of the more foolish sort verily beleeving, that

the divell had caried away the dead body. Neverthelesse, each of the

Lovers, severally made knowne to Madam _Francesca_, what he had done,

and how disappointed, either excusing himselfe, that though her command

had not bin fully accomplished, yet to continue her favour towards

him. But she, like a wise and discreet Gentlewoman, seeming not to

credit either the one or other: discharged her selfe honestly of them

both, with a cutting answere, That shee would never (afterward) expect

any other service from them, because they had fayled in their first

injunction.

_Madame_ Usimbalda, _Lady Abbesse of a Monastery of Nuns in_ Lombardie,

_arising hastily in the night time without a Candle, to take one of her

Daughter Nunnes in bed with a yong Gentleman, whereof she was enviously

accused, by certaine of her other Sisters: The Abbesse her selfe (being

at the same time in bed with a Priest) imagining to have put on her

head her plaited vayle, put on the Priests breeches. Which when the

poore Nunne perceyved; by causing the Abbesse to see her owne error,

she got her selfe to be absolved, and had the freer liberty afterward,

to be more familiar with her frend, then formerly she had bin._

The Second Novell.

_Whereby is declared, that whosoever is desirous to reprehend sinne in

other men, should first examine himselfe, that he be not guiltie of the

same crime._

By this time, Madame _Philomena_ sate silent, and the wit of

_Francesca_, in freeing her selfe from them whom she could not fancie,

was generally commended: as also on the contrary, the bold presumption

of the two amorous suiters, was reputed not to be love, but meerely

folly. And then the Queene, with a gracious admonition, gave way for

Madam Eliza to follow next; who presently thus began.

Worthy Ladies, Madame _Francesca_ delivered her selfe discreetly from

trouble, as already hath bin related: but a yong Nun, by the helpe and

favour of Fortune, did also free her selfe (in speaking advisedly) from

an inconvenience sodainly falling on her. And as you well know, there

wants none of them, who (like bold Bayards) will be very forward in

checking other mens misdemeanours, when themselves, as my Novell will

approve, deserve more justly to bee corrected. As hapned to a Lady

Abbesse, under whose governement the same young Nunne was, of whom I am

now to speake.

You are then to understand (Gracious Auditors) that in _Lombardie_

there was a goodly Monastery, very famous for Holinesse and Religion,

where, among other sanctified Sisters, there was a yong Gentlewoman,

endued with very singular beautie, being named _Isabella_, who on

a day, when a Kinsman of hers came to see her at the grate, became

enamored of a young Gentleman, being then in his company.

He likewise, beholding her to be so admirably beautifull, & conceyving

by the pretty glances of her eye, that they appeared to bee silent

intelligencers of the hearts meaning, grew also as affectionately

inclined towards her, and this mutuall love continued thus concealed

a long while, but not without great affliction unto them both. In

the end, either of them being circumspect and provident enough, the

Gentleman contrived a meanes, whereby he might secretly visite his

Nunne, wherewith she seemed no way discontented: and this visitation

was not for once or twice, but verie often, and closely concealed to

themselves.

At length it came to passe, that either through their owne indiscreete

carriage, or jelous suspition in some others: it was espied by one of

the Sisters, both the Gentlemans comming and departing, yet unknowne

to him or _Isabella_. The saide Sister, disclosing the same to two or

three more: they agreed together, to reveale it to the Lady Abbesse,

who was named Madame _Usimbalda_, a holy and devout Lady, in common

opinion of all the Nunnes, and whosoever else knew her.

They further concluded (because _Isabella_ should not deny theyr

accusation) to contrive the businesse so cunningly: that the Ladie

Abbesse should come her selfe in person, and take the yong Gentleman in

bed with the Nun. And uppon this determination, they agreed to watch

nightly by turnes, because by no meanes they wold be prevented: so to

surprise poore _Isabella_, who beeing ignorant of their treachery,

suspected nothing. Presuming thus still on this secret felicitie, and

fearing no disaster to befall her: it chaunced (on a night) that the

yong Gentleman being entred into the Nuns Dorter, the Scowts had

descried him, & intended to be revenged on her.

After some part of the night was overpast, they divided themselves into

two bands, one to guard _Isabellaes_ Dorter doore, the other to carry

newes to the Abbesse, and knocking at her Closet doore, saide. Rise

quickely Madame, and use all the hast you may, for we have seene a man

enter our Sister _Isabellaes_ Dorter, and you may take her in bed with

him. The Lady Abbesse, who (the very same night) had the company of a

lusty Priest in bed with her selfe, as oftentimes before she had, and

he being alwayes brought thither in a Chest: hearing these tidings,

and fearing also, lest the Nunnes hastie knocking at her doore, might

cause it to fly open, and so (by their entrance) have her owne shame

discovered: arose very hastily, and thinking she had put on her plaited

vaile, which alwayes she walked with in the night season, and used to

tearme her Psalter; she put the Priests breeches upon her head, and

so went away in all hast with them, supposing them verily to be her

Psalter: but making fast the Closet doore with her keye, because the

Priest should not be discovered.

Away shee went in all haste with the Sisters, who were so forward in

the detection of poore _Isabella_, as they never regarded what manner

of vaile the Lady Abbesse wore on her head. And being come to the

Dorter doore, quickly they lifted it off from the hookes, and being

entred, found the two Lovers sweetly imbracing: but yet so amazed at

this sudden surprisall, as they durst not stirre, nor speake one word.

The young Nunne _Isabella_, was raised forthwith by the other Sisters,

and according as the Abbesse had commaunded, was brought by them into the

Chapter-house: the young Gentleman remaining still in the Chamber, where

he put on his garments, awaiting to see the issue of this businesse,

and verily intending to act severe revenge on his betrayers, if any

harme were done to _Isabella_, and afterward to take her thence away

with him, as meaning to make her amends by marriage.

The Abbesse being seated in the Chapter house, and all the other Nunnes

then called before her, who minded nothing else but the poore offending

Sister: she began to give her very harsh and vile speeches, as never

any transgressor suffered the like, and as to her who had (if it should

be openly knowne abroad) contaminated by her lewde life and actions,

the sanctity and good renowne of the whole Monastery, and threatned her

with very severe chastisement. Poore _Isabella_, confounded with feare

and shame, as being no way able to excuse her fault, knew not what

answer to make, but standing silent, made her case compassionable to

all the rest, even those hard-hearted Sisters which betrayed her.

And the Abbesse still continuing her harsh speeches, it fortuned,

that _Isabella_, raising her head, which before she dejected into hir

bosome, espied the breeches on her head, with the stockings hanging on

either side of her; the sight whereof did so much encourage her, that

boldly she said. Madam, let a poore offender advise you for to mend

your veile, and afterward say to me what you will.

The Abbesse being very angry; and not understanding what she meant,

frowningly answered. Why how now saucy companion? What vaile are you

prating of? Are you so malapert, to bee chatting already? Is the deed

you have done, to be answered in such immodest manner? _Isabella_ not

a jot danted by her sterne behaviour, once againe said. Good Madam let

me perswade you to sette your vaile right, and then chide me as long

as you will. At these words, all the rest of the Nunnes exalted their

lookes, to behold what vaile the Abbesse wore on her head, wherewith

_Isabella_ should finde such fault, and she her selfe lift up her

hand to feele it: and then they all perceyved plainly, the reason of

_Isabellas_ speeches, and the Abbesse saw her owne error.

Hereupon, when the rest observed, that she had no help to cloud this

palpable shame withall, the tide began to turne, and hir tongue found

another manner of Language, then her former fury to poore _Isabella_,

growing to this conclusion, that it is impossible to resist against

the temptations of the flesh. And therefore she saide: Let all of you

take occasion, according as it offereth it selfe, as both we and our

predecessors have done: to be provident for your selves, take time

while you may, having this sentence alwaies in remembrance, _Si non

caste, tamen caute_.

So, having granted the yong Nunne _Isabella_ free absolution: the Lady

Abbesse returned backe againe to bed to the Priest, and _Isabella_ to

the Gentleman. As for the other Sisters, who (as yet) were without the

benefit of friends; they intended to provide themselves so soone as

they could, being enduced thereto by so good example.

_Master_ Simon _the Physitian, by the perswasions of_ Bruno,

Buffalmaco, _and a third Companion, named_ Nello, _made_ Calandrino

_to beleeve, that he was conceived great with childe. And having

Physicke ministred to him for the disease: they got both good fatte

Capons and money of him, and so cured him, without any other manner of

deliverance._

The Third Novell.

_Discovering the simplicity of some silly witted men, and how easie a

matter it is to abuse and beguile them._

After that Madame _Eliza_ had concluded her Novell, and every one of

the company given thankes to Fortune, for delivering poore _Isabella_

the faire young Nunne, from the bitter reprehensions of the as faulty

Abbesse, as also the malice of her envious Sisters: the Queene gave

command unto _Philostratus_, that he should be the next in order, and

hee (without expecting anie other warning) began in this manner.

Faire Ladies, the paltry Judge of the Marquisate, whereof yesterday I

made relation to you; hindred mee then of another Novell, concerning

silly _Calandrino_, wherewith I purpose now to acquaint you. And

because whatsoever hath already bin spoken of him, tended to no other

end but matter of meriment, hee and his companions duly considered: the

Novel which I shall now report, keepeth within the selfesame compasse,

and aimeth also at your contentment, according to the scope of imposed

variety.

You have already heard what manner of man _Calandrino_ was, and

likewise the rest of his pleasant Companions, who likewise are now

againe to be remembred, because they are actors in our present

discourse. It came so to passe, that an Aunt of _Calandrinoes_ dying,

left him a legacy of two hundred Florines, wherewith he purposed to

purchase some small Farme-house in the countrey, or else to enlarge

the other, whereof he was possessed already. And, as if hee were to

disburse some ten thousand Florines, there was not a Broker in all

_Florence_, but understood what he intended to doe; and all the worst

was, that the strings of his purse could stretch no higher. _Bruno_,

and _Buffalmaco_ (his auncient Confederates) who heard of this good

Fortune befalne him, advised him in such manner as they were wont to

do; allowing it much better for him, to make merrie with the money in

good cheare among them, then to lay it out in paltry Land, whereto

he would not by any meanes listen, but ridde himselfe of them with a

dinners cost, as loath to bee at anie further charge with them.

These merry Laddes meant not to leave him so; but sitting one day in

serious consultation, and a third man in their companie, named _Nello_;

they all three layde their braines in steep, by what means to wash

their mouths well, and _Calandrino_ to bee at the cost thereof.

And having resolved what was to bee done, they met togither the next

morning, even as _Calandrino_ was comming foorth of his house, and

sundering themselves, to avoyd all suspition, yet beeing not farre

distant each from other; _Nello_ first met him, and saide unto him,

Good Morrow _Calandrino_: which he requited backe agayne with the same

salutation. But then _Nello_ standing still, looked him stedfastly in

the face: whereat _Calandrino_ mervailing, sayd: _Nello_, why dost thou

behold me so advisedly? Whereunto _Nello_ answered, saying Hast thou

felt any paine this last night past? Thou lookest nothing so well, as

thou didst yesterday. _Calandrino_ began instantly to wax doubtfull,

and replyed thus. Dost thou see any alteration in my face, whereby to

imagine, I should feele some paine? In good faith _Calandrino_ (quoth

_Nello_) me thinks thy countenance is strangely changed, and surely it

proceedeth from some great cause, and so he departed away from him.

_Calandrino_ being very mistrustfull, scratched his head, yet felte

he no grievance at all; and going still on; _Buffalmaco_ sodainely

encountred him, upon his departure from _Nello_, and after salutations

passing betweene them; in a manner of admiration, demanded what he

ayled.

Truly (quoth _Calandrino_) well enough to mine owne thinking, yet

notwithstanding, I met with _Nello_ but even now; and he told me, that

my countenance was very much altred; Is it possible that I should bee

sicke, and feele no paine or distaste in any part of me? _Buffalmaco_

answered; I am not so skilfull in judgement, as to argue on the Nature

of distemper in the body: but sure I am, that thou hast some daungerous

inward impediment, because thou lookst (almost) like a man more then

halfe dead.

_Calandrino_ began presently to shake, as if hee had had a Feaver

hanging on him, and then came _Bruno_ looking fearefully on him, and

before he would utter any words, seemed greatly to bemoane him, saying

at length. _Calandrino_? Art thou the same man, or no? How wonderfully

art thou changed since last I saw thee, which is no longer then yester

day? I pray thee tell mee, How dooest thou feele thy health?

_Calandrino_ hearing, that they all agreed in one opinion of him;

he beganne verily to perswade himselfe, that some sodaine sicknes,

had seised upon him, which they could discerne, although hee felt no

anguish at all: and therefore, like a man much perplexed in minde,

demanded of them, What he should do? Beleeve mee _Calandrino_ (answered

_Bruno_) if I were worthy to give thee counsell, thou shouldst returne

home presently to thy house, and lay thee downe in thy warme Bedde,

covered with so many cloathes as thou canst well endure. Then to Morrow

morning, send thy Water unto Learned Mayster Doctor the Physitian, who

(as thou knowest) is a man of most singular skill and experience: he

will instruct thee presently what is the best course to be taken, and

we that have ever beene thy loving friends, will not faile thee in any

thing that lieth in our power.

By this time, _Nello_ being come againe unto them, they all returned

home with _Calandrino_ unto his owne house, whereinto he entering very

faintly, hee saide to his Wife: Woman, make my Bed presently ready,

for I feele my selfe to be growne extreamely sicke, and see that thou

layest cloathes enow upon me. Being thus laide in his Bedde, they left

him for that night, and returned to visite him againe the verie next

morning, by which time, he had made a reservation of his Water, and

sent it by a young Damosell unto Maister Doctor, who dwelt then in

the olde market place, at the signe of the Muske Mellone. Then saide

_Bruno_ unto his Companions; Abide you heere to keepe him company, and

I will walke along to the Physitian, to understand what he will say:

and if neede be, I can procure him to come hither with me. _Calandrino_

very kindely accepted his offer, saying withall. Well _Bruno_, thou

shewst thy selfe a friend in the time of necessity, I pray thee know of

him, how the case stands with me, for I feele a very strange alteration

within mee, far beyond all compasse of my conceite.

_Bruno_ being gone to the Physitian, he made such expedition, that he

arrived there before the Damosell, who carried the Water, and informed

Master _Simon_ with the whole tricke intended: wherefore, when the

Damosell was come, and hee had passed his judgement concerning the

water, he said to her.

Maide, go home againe, and tell _Calandrino_, that he must keepe

himselfe very warme: and I my selfe will instantly be with him, to

enstruct him further in the quality of his sicknesse.

The Damosell delivered her message accordingly, and it was not long

before Mayster Doctor _Simon_ came, with _Bruno_ also in his company,

and sitting downe on the beds side by _Calandrino_, hee began to taste

his pulse, and within a small while after, his Wife being come into the

Chamber, he said. Observe me well _Calandrino_, for I speake to thee in

the nature of a true friend; thou hast no other disease, but only thou

art great with child.

So soone as _Calandrino_ heard these words, in dispairing manner he

beganne to rage, and cry out aloud, saying to his wife. Ah thou wicked

woman, this is long of thee, and thou hast done me this mischeefe:

for alwayes thou wilt be upon me, ever railing at mee, and fighting,

untill thou hast gotten me under thee. Say thou divellish creature,

do I not tell thee true? The Woman, being of verie honest and civill

conversation, hearing her husband speake so foolishly: blushing with

shame, and hanging downe her head in bashfull manner; without returning

any answer, went forth of her Chamber.

_Calandrino_ continuing still in his angry humour, wringing his hands,

and beating them upon his brest, said: Wretched man that I am, What

shall I do? How shall I be delivered of this child? Which way can it

come from me into the world? I plainly perceyve, that I am none other

then a dead man, and all through the wickednesse of my Wife: heaven

plague her with as many mischiefes, as I am desirous to finde ease.

Were I now in as good health, as heeretofore I have beene, I would rise

out of my bed, and never cease beating her, untill I had broken her

in a thousand peeces. But if Fortune will be so favourable to me, as

to helpe mee out of this dangerous agony: hang me, if ever she get me

under her againe, or make me such an Asse, in having the mastery over

mee, as divers times she hath done.

_Bruno, Buffalmaco_ and _Nello_, hearing these raving speeches of

_Calandrino_, were swolne so bigge with laughter, as if their ribbes

would have burst in sunder; neverthelesse, they abstained so well as

they were able; but Doctor _Simon_ gaped so wide with laughing as one

might easily have pluckt out all his teeth. In the end, because he

could tarry there no longer, but was preparing to depart: _Calandrino_

thanked him for his paines, requesting that hee would be carefull of

him, in aiding him with his best advise and counsell, and he would

not be unmindfull of him. Honest neighbour _Calandrino_, answered the

Phisition, I would not have you to torment your selfe, in such an

impatient and tempestuous manner, because I perceive the time so to

hasten on, as we shall soone perceive (and that within very few dayes

space) your health well restored, and without the sense of much paine;

but indeed it will cost expences. Alas Sir, said _Calandrino_, mak not

any spare of my purse, to procure that I may have safe deliverance.

I have two hundred Florines, lately falne to me by the death of mine

Aunt, wherewith I intended to purchase a Farme in the Countrey: take

them all if need be, onely reserving some few for my lying in Childbed.

And then Master Doctor, Alas, I know not how to behave my selfe, for

I have heard the grievous complaint of women in that case, oppressed

with bitter pangs and throwes; as questionlesse they will bee my death,

except you have the greater care of me.

Be of good cheere neighbour _Calandrino_, replyed Doctor _Simon_,

I will provide an excellent distilled drinke for you, marvellously

pleasing in taste, and of soveraigne vertue, which will resolve

all in three mornings, making you as whole and as sound as a Fish

newly spawned. But you must have an especiall care afterward, being

providently wise, least you fall into the like follies againe.

Concerning the preparation of this precious drinke, halfe a dozen

of Capons, the very fairest and fattest, I must make use of in the

distillation: what other things shall bee imployed beside, you may

deliver forty Florines to one of these your honest friends, to see all

the necessaries bought, and sent me home to my house. Concerning my

businesse, make you no doubt thereof, for I will have all distilled

against to morrow, and then doe you drinke a great Glasse full every

morning, fresh and fasting next your heart. _Calandrino_ was highly

pleased with his words, returning master Doctor infinite thankes, and

referring all to his disposing. And having given forty Florines to

_Bruno_, with other money beside, to buy the halfe dozen of Capons:

he thought himselfe greatly beholding to them all, and protested to

requite their kindenesse.

Master Doctor being gone home to his house, made ready a bottel of

very excellent Hypocrasse, which he sent the next day according to his

promise: and _Bruno_ having bought the Capons, with other junkets, fit

for the turne, the Phisitian and his merry Companions, fed on them

hartely for the givers sake. As for _Calandrino_, he liked his dyet

drinke excellently well, quaffing a large Glassefull off three mornings

together: afterward Master Doctor and the rest came to see him, and

having felt his pulse, the Phisition said. _Calandrino_, thou art now

as sound in health, as any man in all _Florence_ can be: thou needest

not to keepe within doores any longer, but walke abroad boldly, for all

is well and the childe gone.

_Calandrino_ arose like a joyfull man, and walked daily through the

streets, in the performance of such affaires as belonged to him: and

every acquaintance he met withall, he told the condition of his sudden

sickenesse; and what a rare cure Master Doctor _Simon_ had wrought on

him, delivering him (in three dayes space) of a childe, and without

the feeling of any paine. _Bruno, Buffalmaco,_ and _Nello,_ were not a

little jocond, for meeting so well with covetous _Calandrino_: but how

the Wife liked the folly of her Husband, I leave to the judgement of

all good Women.

Francesco Fortarigo, _played away all that he had at_ Buonconvento,

_and likewise the money of_ Francesco Aniolliero, _being his Master.

Then running after him in his shirt, and avouching that hee had robbed

him: he caused him to be taken by Pezants of the Country, clothed

himselfe in his Masters wearing garments, and (mounted on his horse)

rode thence to_ Sienna, _leaving_ Aniolliero _in his shirt, and walked

bare-footed._

The fourth Novell.

_Serving as an admonition to all men, for taking Gamesters and

Drunkards into their service._

The ridiculous words given by _Calandrino_ to his Wife, all the whole

company hartily laughed at: but _Philostratus_ ceassing, Madame

_Neiphila_ (as it pleased the Queene to appoint) began to speake thus.

Vertuous Ladies, if it were not more hard and uneasie for men, to make

good their understanding and vertue, then apparant publication of their

disgrace and folly; many would not labour in vaine, to curbe in their

idle speeches with a bridle, as you have manifestly observed by the

weake wit of _Calandrino_. Who needed no such fantastick circumstance,

to cure the strange disease, which he imagined (by sottish perswasions)

to have: had hee not been so lavish of his tongue, and accused his

Wife of over-mastering him. Which maketh me remember a Novell, quite

contrary to this last related, namely, how one man may strive to

surmount another in malice; yet he to sustaine the greater harme, that

had (at the first) the most advantage of his enemy, as I will presently

declare unto you.

There dwelt in _Sienna_, and not many yeeres since, two young men

of equall age, both of them bearing the name of _Francesco_: but

the one was descended of the _Aniollieri_, and the other likewise

of the _Fortarigi_; so that they were commonly called _Aniolliero_,

and _Fortarigo_, both Gentlemen, and well derived. Now, although

in many other matters, their complexions did differ very much: Yet

notwithstanding, they varied not in one bad qualitie, namely too

great neglect of their Fathers, which caused their more frequent

conversation, as very familiar and respective friends. But _Aniolliero_

(being a very goodly and faire conditioned young Gentleman) apparently

perceiving, that he could not maintaine himselfe at _Sienna_, in such

estate as he liked, and upon the pension allowed him by his Father,

hearing also, that at the Marquisate of _Ancona_, there lived the Popes

Legate, a worthy Cardinall, his much indeared good Lord and friend: he

intended to goe visite him, as hoping to advance his fortunes by him.

Having acquainted his Father with this determination, he concluded

with him, to have that from him in a moment which might supply his

wants for many moneths, because he would be clothed gallantly, and

mounted honourably. And seeking for a servant necessary to attend on

him, it chanced that _Fortarigo_ hearing thereof, came presently to

_Aniolliero_, intreating him in the best manner he could, to let him

waite on him as his serving man, promising both dutifull and diligent

attendance: yet not to demaund any other wages, but onely payment of

his ordinary expences. _Aniolliero_ made him answere, that he durst

not give him entertainment, not in regard of his insufficiency, and

unaptnesse for service: but because he was a great Gamester, and divers

times would be beastly drunke? whereto _Fortarigo_ replyed that hee

would refraine from both those foule vices, and addict all his endeavour

wholly to please him, without just taxation of any grosse errour;

making such solemne vowes and protestations beside, as conquered

_Aniolliero_, and won his consent.

Being entred upon his journey, and arriving in a morning at

_Buonconvento_, there _Aniolliero_ determined to dine, and afterward,

finding the heate to be unfit for travaile; he caused a bed to be

prepared, wherein being laid to rest by the helpe of _Fortarigo_, he

gave him charge, that after the heates violence was overpast, hee

should not faile to call and awake him. While _Aniolliero_ slept

thus in his bed, _Fortarigo_, never remembring his solemne vowes and

promises: went to the Taverne, where having drunke indifferently, and

finding company fit for the purpose, he fell to play at the dice with

them. In a very short while, he had not onely lost his money, but all

the cloathes on his backe likewise, and coveting to recover his losses

againe; naked in his shirt, he went to _Aniollieroes_ Chamber, where

finding him yet soundly sleeping, he tooke all the money he had in his

purse, and then returned backe to play, speeding in the same manner as

hee did before, not having one poore penny left him.

_Aniolliero_ chancing to awake, arose and made him ready, without any

servant to helpe him; then calling for _Fortarigo_, and not hearing any

tydings of him: he began immediately to imagine, that he was become

drunke, and so had falne asleepe in one place or other, as very often

he was wont to doe. Wherefore, determining so to leave him, he caused

the male and Saddle to be set on his horse; & so to furnish himselfe

with a more honest servant at _Corsignano_.

But when hee came to pay his hoste, hee found not any penny left him:

whereupon (as well he might) he grew greatly offended, and raised much

trouble in the house, charged the hoasts people to have robde him, and

threatening to have them sent as prisoners to _Sienna_. Suddenly entred

_Fortarigo_ in his shirt, with intent to have stolne _Aniollieroes_

garments, as formerly hee did the money out of his purse, and seeing

him ready to mount on horsebacke, hee saide.

How now _Aniolliero_? What shall we goe away so soone? I pray you Sir

tarry a little while, for an honest man is comming hither, who hath my

Doublet engaged for eight and thirty shillings; and I am sure that he

will restore it me back for five and thirty, if I could presently pay

him downe the money.

During the speeches, an other entred among them, who assured

_Aniolliero_, that _Fortarigo_ was the Thiefe which robde him of

his money, shewing him also how much hee had lost at the Dice:

Wherewith _Aniolliero_ being much mooved, very angerly reprooved

_Fortarigo_, and, but for feare of the Law, would have offered him

outrage, thretning to have him hangd by the neck, or else condemned

to the Gallies belonging to _Florence_, and so mounted on his horse.

_Fortarigo_ making shew to the standers by, as if _Aniolliero_ menaced

some other body, and not him, said. Come _Aniolliero_, I pray thee

let us leave this frivilous prating, for (indeede) it is not worth a

Button, and minde a matter of more importance: my Doublet will bee had

againe for five and thirty shillings, if the money may bee tendered

downe at this very instant, whereas if we deferre it till to morrow,

perhaps hee will then have the whole eight and thirty which he lent

me, and he doth me this pleasure, because I am ready (at another time)

to affoord him the like courtesie; why then should we loose three

shillings, when they may so easily be saved.

_Aniolliero_ hearing him speake in such confused manner, and perceiving

also, that they which stood gazing by, beleeved (as by their lookes

appeared) that _Fortarigo_ had not played away his Masters mony at

the Dice, but rather that he had some stocke of _Fortarigoes_ in his

custody; angerly answered; Thou sawcy companion, what have I to doe

with thy Doublet? I would thou wert hangd, not only for playing away

my money, but also by delaying thus my journey, and yet boldly thou

standest out-facing mee, as if I were no better then thy fellow.

_Fortarigo_ held on still his former behaviour, without using any

respect or reverence to _Aniolliero_, as if all the accusations did

not concerne him, but saying, Why should wee not take the advantage

of three shillings profit? Thinkest thou, that I am not able to doe

as much for thee? why, lay out so much money for my sake, and make no

more haste then needs we must, because we have day-light enough to

bring us (before night) to _Torreniero_. Come, draw thy purse, and pay

the money, for upon mine honest word, I may enquire throughout all

_Sienna_, and yet not find such another Doublet as this of mine is. To

say then, that I should leave it, where it now lyeth pawned, and for

eight and thirty shillings, when it is richly more worth then fifty, I

am sure to suffer a double endammagement thereby.

You may well imagine, that _Aniolliero_ was now enraged beyond all

patience, to see himselfe both robde of his money, and overborne

with presumptuous language: wherefore, without making any more

replications, he gave the spurre to his horse, and rode away towards

_Torreniero_. Now fell _Fortarigo_ into a more knavish intention

against _Aniolliero_, and being very speedy in running, followed apace

after him in his shirt, crying out still aloude to him all the way, to

let him have his Doublet againe. _Aniolliero_ riding on very fast, to

free his eares from this idle importunity, it fortuned that _Fortarigo_

espied divers countrey Pezants, labouring in the fields about their

businesse, and by whom _Aniolliero_ (of necessity) must passe: To them

he cryed out so loude as he could; Stay the Thiefe, Stop the Thiefe, he

rides away so fast, having robde me.

They being provided, some with Prongges, Pitchforkes and Spades, and

others with the like weapons fit for Husbandry, stept into the way

before _Aniolliero_: and beleeving undoubtedly, that he had robde

the man which pursued him in his shirt, stayed and apprehended him.

Whatsoever _Aniolliero_ could doe or say, prevailed not any thing with

the unmannerly Clownes, but when _Fortarigo_ was arrived among them, he

braved _Aniolliero_ most impudently, saying.

What reason have I to spoile thy life (thou traiterous Villaine) to

rob and spoyle thy Master thus on the high way? Then turning to the

Countrey Boores: How much deare friends (quoth he) am I beholding to

you for this unexpected kindnesse? You behold in what manner he left me

in my Lodging, having first playd away all my money at the Dice, and

then deceiving me of my horse and garments also: but had not you (by

great good lucke) thus holpe mee to stay him; a poore Gentleman had bin

undone for ever, and I should never have found him againe.

_Aniolliero_ avouched the truth of his wrong received, but the base

peazants, giving credite onely to _Fortarigoes_ lying exclamations:

tooke him from his horse, despoyled him of all his wearing apparrell,

even to the very Bootes from off his Legges: suffered him to ride away

from him in that manner, and _Aniolliero_ left so in his shirt, to

dance a bare-foote Galliard after him, either towards _Sienna_, or any

place else.

Thus _Aniolliero_, purposing to visite his Cousin the Cardinal like

a Gallant, and at the Marquisate of _Ancona_, returned backe poorly

in his shirt unto _Buonconvento_, and durst not (for shame) repaire

to _Sienna_. In the end, he borrowed money on the other horse which

_Fortarigo_ rode on, and remained there in the Inne, whence riding to

_Corsignano_, where he had divers Kinsmen and Friends, he continued

there so long with them, till he was better furnished from his Father.

Thus you may perceive, that the cunning Villanies of _Fortarigo_,

hindred the honest intended enterprise of _Aniolliero_, howbeit in fit

time and place, nothing afterward was left unpunished.

Calandrino _became extraordinarily enamoured of a young Damosell,

named_ Nicholetta. Bruno _prepared a Charme or writing for him,

avouching constantly to him, that so soone as he touched the Damosell

therewith, she should follow him whithersoever hee would have her. She

being gone to an appointed place with him, hee was found there by his

wife, and dealt withall according to his deserving._

The fift Novell.

_In just reprehension of those vaine-headed fooles, that are led and

governed by idle perswasions._

Because the Novell reported by Madame _Neiphila_ was so soone

concluded, without much laughter, or commendation of the whole Company:

the Queene turned hir selfe towards Madam _Fiammetta_, enjoyning her to

succeed in apt order; & she being as ready as sodainly commanded, began

as followeth. Most gentle Ladies, I am perswaded of your opinion in

judgement with mine, that there is not any thing, which can bee spoken

pleasingly, except it be conveniently suited with apt time and place:

in which respect, when Ladies and Gentlewomen are bent to discoursing,

the due election of them both are necessarily required. And therefore I

am not unmindfull, that our meeting heere (ayming at nothing more, then

to out-weare the time with our generall contentment) should tye us to

the course of our pleasure and recreation, to the same conveniency of

time and place, not sparing, though some have bin nominated oftentimes

in our passed arguments; yet, if occasion serve, and the nature of

variety be well considered, wee may speake of the selfsame persons

againe.

Now, notwithstanding the actions of _Calandrino_ have been

indifferently canvazed among us; yet, remembring what _Philostratus_

not long since saide, That they intended to nothing more then matter of

mirth: I presume the boldlier, to report another Novell of him, beside

them already past. And, were I willing to conceale the truth, and

cloath it in more circumstantiall manner: I could make use of contrary

names, and paint it in a poeticall fiction, perhaps more probable,

though not so pleasing. But because wandring from the truth of things,

doth much diminish (in relation) the delight of the hearers: I will

build boldly on my fore-alledged reason, and tel you truly how it

hapned.

_Niccholao Cornocchini_ was once a Citizen of ours, and a man of great

wealth; who, among other his rich possessions in _Camerata_, builded

there a very goodly house, which being perfected ready for painting:

he compounded with _Bruno_ and _Buffalmaco_, who because** their worke

required more helpe then their owne, they drew _Nello_ and _Calandrino_

into their association, and began to proceed in their businesse. And

because there was a Chamber or two, having olde moveables in them, as

Bedding, Tables, and other Houshold stuffe beside, which were in the

custody of an old Woman that kepte the house, without the helpe of any

other servants else, a Son unto the saide _Niccholao_, beeing named

_Phillippo_, resorted thither divers times, with one or other prety

Damosell in his company (in regard he was unmarried) where he would

abide a day or two with her, & then convey her home againe.

At one time among the rest, it chanced that he brought a Damosell

thither named _Nicholetta_, who was maintained by a wily companion,

called _Magione_, in a dwelling which hee had at _Camaldoli_, and

(indeed) no honester then she should be. She was a very beautifull

young woman, wearing garments of great value, and (according to her

quality) well spoken, and of commendable carriage. Comming forth of

her Chamber one day, covered with a White veyle, because her haire

hung loose about her, which shee went to wash at a Well in the middle

Court, bathing there also her face and hands: _Calandrino_ going (by

chance) to the same Well for water, gave her a secret salutation.

She kindly returning the like courtesie to him, began to observe him

advisedly: more, because he looked like a man newly come thither, then

any handsomnesse she perceyved in him.

_Calandrino_ threw wanton glances at her, and seeing she was both

faire and lovely, began to finde some occasion of tarrying, so that

he returned not with water to his other associates, yet neither

knowing her, or daring to deliver one word. She, who was not to

learn her lesson in alluring, noting what affectionate regards (with

bashfulnesse) he gave her: answered him more boldly with the like; but

meerly in scorning manner, breathing forth divers dissembled sighs

among them: so that _Calandrino_ became foolishly inveigled with her

love, and would not depart out of the Court, untill _Phillippo_,

standing above in his Chamber window called her thence.

When _Calandrino_ was returned backe to his businesse, he could do

nothing else, but shake the head, sigh, puffe, and blowe, which being

observed by _Bruno_ (who alwayes fitted him according to his folly, as

making a meer mockery of his very best behaviour) sodainly he said. Why

how now _Calandrino_? Sigh, puff, and blow man? What may be the reason

of these unwonted qualities? _Calandrino_ immediately answered, saying:

My friendly Companion _Bruno_, if I had one to lend me a little helpe,

I should very quickely become well enough. How? quoth _Bruno_, doth

any thing offend thee, and wilt thou not reveale it to thy friends?

Deare _Bruno_, said _Calandrino_, there is a proper handsome woman here

in the house, the goodliest creature that every any eye beheld, much

fairer then the Queen of Fairies her selfe, who is so deeply falne in

love with mee, as thou wouldst thinke it no lesse then a wonder; and

yet I never sawe her before, till yet while when I was sent to fetch

water. A very strange case, answered _Bruno_, take heede _Calandrino_,

that shee bee not the lovely friend to _Phillippo_, our yong Master,

for then it may prove a dangerous matter.

_Calandrino_ stood scratching his head an indifferent while, and then

sodainly replyed thus. Now trust me _Bruno_, it is to bee doubted,

because he called her at his Window, and she immediatly went up to his

Chamber. But what doe I care if it be so? Have not the Gods themselves

bene beguiled of their Wenches, who were better men then ever

_Phillippo_ can be, and shall I stand in feare of him? _Bruno_ replied:

Be patient _Calandrino_, I will enquire what Woman she is, and if she

be not the wife or friend to our young master _Phillippo_, with faire

perswasions I can over-rule the matter, because shee is a familiar

acquaintance of mine. But how shall wee doe, that _Buffalmaco_ may not

know heereof? I can never speake to her, if hee be in my company. For

_Buffalmaco_ (quoth _Calandrino_) I have no feare of all, but rather

of _Nello_, because he is a neer Kinsman to my wife, and he is able to

undo me quite, if once it should come to his hearing. Thou saist well,

replyed _Bruno_, therefore the matter hath neede to be very cleanly

carried.

Now let me tell you, the Woman was well enough knowne to _Bruno_, as

also her quality of life, which _Phillippo_ had acquainted him withall,

and the reason of her resorting thither. Wherefore, _Calandrino_ going

forth of the roome where they wrought, onely to gaine another sight

of _Nicholetta, Bruno_ revealed the whole history to _Buffalmaco_ and

_Nello_; they all concluding together, how this amorous fit of the

foole was to be followed. And when _Calandrino_ was returned backe

againe; in whispering manner _Bruno_ said to him. Hast thou once more

seene her? Yes, yes _Bruno_, answered _Calandrino_: Alas, she hath

slaine me with her very eye, and I am no better then a dead man. Be

patient said _Bruno_, I will goe and see whether she be the same woman

which I take her for, or no: and if it prove so, then never feare, but

refer the businesse unto me.

_Bruno_ descending downe the staires, found _Phillippo_ and

_Nicholetta_ in conference together, and stepping unto them, discoursed

at large, what manner of man _Calandrino_ was, and how farre he was

falne in love with her: so that they made a merry conclusion, what

should be performed in this case, onely to make a pastime of his hot

begun love. And being come backe againe to _Calandrino_, he saide. It

is the same woman whereof I told thee, and therefore wee must worke

wisely in the businesse: for if _Phillippo_ perceive any thing, all the

water in _Arno_ will hardly serve to quench his fury. But what wouldst

thou have me say to her on thy behalfe, if I compasse the meanes to

speake with her? First of all (quoth _Calandrino_) and in the prime

place, tell her, that I wish infinite bushels of those blessings, which

makes Maides Mothers, and begetteth children. Next, that I am onely

hers, in any service she will command me. Dooest thou understand me what

I say? Sufficiently answered _Bruno_, leave all to me.

When supper time was come, that they gave over working, and were

descended downe into the Court: there they found _Phillippo_ and

_Nicholetta_ readily attending to expect some beginning of amorous

behaviour, and _Calandrino_ glanced such leering lookes at her,

coughing and spetting with hummes and haes, yea in such close and

secret manner, that a starke blinde sight might verie easily have

perceyved it.

She also on the other side, returned him such queint and cunning

carriage, as enflamed him farre more furiously, even as if hee were

ready to leape out of himselfe. In the meane while, _Phillippo,

Buffalmaco_ and the rest that were there present, seeming as if they

were seriouslie consulting together, and perceived nothing of his

fantastick behavior, according as _Bruno_ had appointed, could scarse

refraine from extremity of laughter, they noted such antick trickes in

_Calandrino_.

Having spent an indifferent space in this foppish folly, the houre of

parting came, but not without wonderfull affliction to _Calandrino_;

and as they were going towards _Florence, Bruno_ saide closely to

_Calandrino_. I dare assure thee, that thou hast made her to consume

and melt, even like ice against the warme Sunne. On my word, if thou

wouldst bring thy Gitterne, and sit downe by us, singing some few

amorous songs of thine owne making, when we are beneath about our

businesse in the Court: shee would presently leape out of the Window,

as being unable to tarry from thee.

I like thy counsell well _Bruno_, answered _Calandrino_; but shall I

bring my Gitterne thither indeed? Yes, in any case, replied _Bruno_,

for Musicke is a matter of mighty prevailing. Ah _Bruno_ (quoth

_Calandrino_) thou wouldst not credit me in the morning, when I tolde

thee, how the very sight of my person had wounded her: I perceived it

at the very first looke of her owne, for shee had no power to conceale

it. Who but my selfe could so soone have enflamed her affection, and

being a woman of such worth and beauty as shee is? There are infinite

proper handsome fellowes, that daily haunt the company of dainty

Damosels, yet are so shallow in the affayres of love, as they are not

able to win one wench of a thousand, no, not with all the wit they

have, such is their extreame follie and ill fortune.

Then pausing a while, and sodainely rapping out a Lovers Oath or

two, thus he proceeded. My dearest _Bruno_, thou shalt see how I can

tickle my Gitterne, and what good sport will ensue thereon. If thou

dost observe me with judgement, why man, I am not so old as I seeme

to be, and she could perceive it at the very first view; yea, and she

shall finde it so too, when we have leysure to consult upon further

occasions: I finde my selfe in such a free and frolicke jocunditie of

spirit, that I will make her to follow me, even as a fond woman doth

after her child.

But beware, saide _Bruno_, that thou do not gripe her over-hard, and in

kissing, bee carefull of biting, because the teeth stand in thy head

like the pegges of a Lute, yet make a comely shew in thy faire wide

mouth, thy cheekes looking like two of our artificiall Roses, swelling

amiably, when thy jawes are well fild with meat. _Calandrino_ hearing

these hansome commendations, thought himselfe a man of action already,

going, singing, and frisking before his companie so lively, as if he

had not bin in his skin.

On the morrow, carrying his Gitterne thither with him, to the no

little delight of his companions, hee both played and sung a whole

Bed-role of Songs, not addicting himselfe to any worke all the day: but

loitering fantastically, one while he gazed out at the window, then

ran to the gate, and oftentimes downe into the Court, onely to have

a sight of his Mistresse. She also (as cunningly) encountred all his

follies, by such directions as _Bruno_ gave her, and many more beside

of her owne devising, to quicken him still with new occasions; _Bruno_

plaid the Ambassador betweene them, in delivering the messages from

_Calandrino_, and then returning her answers to him. Sometimes when she

was absent thence (which often hapned as occasions called her) then he

would write letters in her name, & bring them, as if they were sent by

her, to give him hope of what hee desired, but because she was then

among her kindred, yet she could not be unmindfull of him.

In this manner, _Bruno_ and _Buffalmaco_ (who had the managing of this

amorous businesse) made a meere Gregory of poore _Calandrino_, causing

him somtimes to send her, one while a pretty peece of Ivory, then a

faire wrought purse, and a costly paire of knives, with other such like

friendly tokens: bringing him backe againe, as in requitall of them,

counterfetted Rings of no valew, Bugles and bables, which he esteemed

as matters of great moment. Moreover, at divers close and sodain

meetings, they made him pay for many dinners & suppers, amounting to

indifferent charges, onely to be carefull** in the furtherance of his

love-suit, and to conceale it from his wife.

Having worne out three or foure months space in this fond and frivolous

manner, without any other successe then as hath bene declared; and

_Calandrino_ perceiving, that the works undertaken by him and his

fellowes, grew very neere uppon the finishing, which would barre him

of any longer resorting thither: hee began to solicite _Bruno_ more

importunately, then all the while before he hadde done. In regard

whereof, _Nicholetta_ being one day come thither, & _Bruno_ having

conferred both with her and _Phillippo_, with full determination what

was to be done, he began with _Calandrino_, saying. My honest Neighbour

and Friend, this Woman hath made a thousand promises, to graunt what

thou art so desirous to have, and I plainly perceive that she hath

no such meaning, but meerely plaies with both our noses. In which

respect, seeing she is so perfidious, and will not perfourme one of all

her faithfull-made promises: if thou wilt content to have it so, she

shall be compelled to do it whether she will or no. Yea marry _Bruno_,

answered _Calandrino_, that were an excellent course indeede, if it

could be done, and with expedition.

_Bruno_ stood musing awhile to himselfe, as if he had some strange

stratagem in his braine, & afterward said. Hast thou so much corage

_Calandrino_, as but to handle a peece of written parchment, which I

will give thee? Yes, that I have answered _Calandrino_, I hope that

needed not to be doubted. Well then, saide _Bruno_, procure that I

may have a piece of Virgin Parchment brought mee, with a living Bat

or Reremouse; three graines of Incense, and an hallowed Candle, then

leave me to effect what shall content thee. _Calandrino_ watched all the

next night following, with such preparation as he could make, onely

to catch a Bat; which being taken at the last, he broght it alive to

_Bruno_ (with all the other materials appointed) who taking him alone

into a backer Chamber, there hee wrote divers follies on the Parchment,

in the shape of strange and unusuall Charracters, which he delivered

to _Calandrino_, saying: Be bold _Calandrino_, and build constantly

uppon my wordes, that if thou canst but touch her with this sacred

Charractred charme, she will immediately follow thee, and fulfil

whatsoever thou pleasest to command hir. Wherefore, if _Phillippo_ do

this day walke any whither abroad from this house, presume to salute

her, in any manner whatsoever it be, & touching her with the written

lines, go presently to the barn of hay, which thou perceivest so neere

adjoyning, the onely convenient place that can be, because few or none

resort thither. She shall (in despight of her blood) follow thee; and

when thou hast her there, I leave thee then to thy valiant victory.

_Calandrino_ stood on tiptoe, like a man newly molded by Fortune, and

warranted _Bruno_ to fulfil all effectually.

_Nello_, whom _Calandrino_ most of all feared and mistrusted, had a

hand as deepe as any of the rest in this deceite, and was as forward

also to have it performed, by _Brunoes_ direction, hee went unto

_Florence_, where being in company with _Calandrinoes_ Wife, thus hee

began.

Cousine, thine unkinde usage by thine husband, is not unknown to me,

how he did beate thee (beyond the compasse of all reason) when he

brought home stones from the plain of _Mugnone_; in which regard, I

am very desirous to have thee revenged on him: which if thou wilt not

do; never repute me heereafter for thy Kinsman and Friend. He is falne

in love with a Woman of the common gender, one that is to be hired

for money: he hath his private meetings with her, and the place is

partly knowne to me, as by a secret appointment (made very lately) I am

credibly given to understand; wherefore walke presently along with me,

and thou shalt take him in the heat of his knavery.

All the while as these words were uttering to her, shee could not

dissemble her inward impatience, but starting up as halfe franticke

with fury, she said. O notorious villaine! Darest thou abuse thine

honest wife so basely? I sweare by blessed Saint _Bridget_, thou shalt

be paid with coyne of thine owne stampe. So casting a light wearing

Cloake about her, and taking a yong woman in her company; shee went

away with _Nello_ in no meane haste. _Bruno_ seeing her comming a farre

off, said to _Phillippo_: You Sir, you know what is to be done, act

your part according to your appointment. _Phillippo_ went immediately

into the roome, where _Calandrino_ and his other Consorts were at

worke, and said to them. Honest friends, I have certaine occasions

which command mine instant being at _Florence_: worke hard while I am

absent, and I will not be unthankefull for it. Away hee departed from

them, and hid himselfe in a convenient place, where he could not be

descryed, yet see whatsoever _Calandrino_ did: who when he imagined

_Phillippo_ to be farre enough off, descended downe into the Court,

where he found _Nicholetta_ sitting alone, and going towards her, began

to enter into discoursing with her.

She knowing what remained to bee done on her behalfe, drew somewhat

neere him, and shewed her selfe more familiar then formerly she had

done: by which favourable meanes, he touched her with the charmed

Parchment, which was no sooner done; but without using any other kinde

of language, hee went to the hay-Barne, whither _Nicholetta_ followed

him, and both being entred, he closed the Barne doore, and then stood

gazing on her, as if hee had never seene her before. Standing still as

in a study, or bethinking himselfe what he should say: she began to

use affable gesture to him, and taking him by the hand, made shew as

if shee meant to kisse him, which yet she refrained, though he (rather

then his life) would gladly have had it. Why how now deare _Calandrino_

(quoth she) jewell of my joy, comfort of my heart, how many times have

I longed for thy sweet Company? And enjoying it now, according to mine

owne desire, dost thou stand like a Statue, or man _alla morte_? The

rare tunes of the Gitterne, but (much more) the melodious accents of

thy voyce, excelling _Orpheus_ or _Amphion_, so ravished my soule, as I

know not how to expresse the depth of mine affection; and yet hast thou

brought me hither, onely to looke babies in mine eyes, and not so much

as speake one kinde word to me?

_Bruno_ and _Buffalmaco_, having hid themselves close behinde

_Phillippo_, they both heard and saw all this amourous conflict, and

as _Calandrino_ was quickning his courage, and wiping his mouth, with

intent to kisse her: his wife and _Nello_ entred into the Barne, which

caused _Nicholetta_ to get her gone presently, sheltring her self where

_Phillippo_ lay scouting. But the enraged woman ranne furiously upon

poore daunted _Calandrino_, making such a pitiful massacre with her

nailes, and tearing the haire from his head, as hee meerely looked

like an infected Anatomy. Fowle loathsome dog (quoth she) must you be

at your minions, and leave mee hunger-starved at home? An olde knave

with (almost) never a good tooth in thy head, and yet art thou neighing

after young wenches? hast thou not worke enough at home, but must bee

gadding in to other mens grounds? Are these the fruites of wandring

abroad?

_Calandrino_ being in this pittifull perplexity, stood like one neither

alive nor dead, nor daring to use any resistance against her; but fell

on his knees before his Wife, holding up his hands for mercy, and

entreating her (for charities sake) not to torment him any more: for

he had committed no harme at all, and the Gentlewoman was his Masters

Wife, who came with no such intent thither, as shee fondly imagined.

Wife, or wife not (quoth she) I would have none to meddle with my

Husband, but I that have the most right to him.

_Bruno_ and _Buffalmaco_, who had laughed all this while heartily at

this pastime, with _Phillippo_ and _Nicholetta_; came running in haste

to know the reason of this loude noise, and after they had pacified

the woman with gentle perswasions: they advised _Calandrino_ to walke

with his Wife to _Florence_, and returne no more to worke there againe,

least _Phillippo_ hearing what had hapned, should be revenged on him

with some outrage. Thus poore _Calandrino_ miserably misused and

beaten, went home to _Florence_ with his Wife, scoulded and raild at

all the way, beside his other molestations** (day and night) afterward:

his Companions, _Phillippo_ and _Nicholetta_, making themselves merry

at his mis-fortune.

_Two yong Gentlemen, the one named_ Panuccio, _and the other_ Adriano,

_lodged one night in a poore Inne, where one of them went to bed to the

Hostes Daughter, and the other (by mistaking his way in the darke) to

the Hostes wife. He which lay with the daughter, happened afterward to

the Hostes bed, and told him what he had done, as thinking he spake to

his owne companyon. Discontentment growing betweene them, the Mother

perceiving her errour, went to bed to her daughter, and with discreete

language, made a generall pacification._

The Sixt Novell.

_Wherein is manifested, that an offence committed ignorantly, and by

mistaking; ought to be covered with good advise, and civill discretion._

_Calandrino_, whose mishaps had so many times made the whole assembly

merry, and this last passing among them with indifferent commendations:

upon a generall silence commanded, the Queene gave order to

_Pamphilus_, that hee should follow next, as indeed he did, beginning

thus. Praise-worthy Ladies, the name of _Nicholetta_, so fondly affected

by _Calandrino_, putteth mee in minde of a Novell, concerning another

_Nicholetta_, of whom I purpose to speake: to the ende you may observe

how by a sudden wary fore-sight, a discreet woman compassed the meanes

to avoyde a notorious scandall.

On the plaine of _Mugnone_, neere to _Florence_, dwelt (not long since)

an honest meane man, who kept a poore Inne or Ostery for travellers,

where they might have some slender entertainement for their money. As

he was but a poore man, so his house affoorded but very small receit

of guests, not lodging any but on necessity, and such as he had some

knowledge of. This honest poore hoste had a woman (sufficiently faire)

to his wife, by whom hee had also two children, the one a comely young

maiden, aged about fifteene yeares, and the other a sonne, not fully

(as yet) a yeare old, and sucking on the mothers brest.

A comely youthfull Gentleman of our City, became amorously affected to

the Damosell, resorting thither divers times as hee travelled on the

way, to expresse how much he did respect her. And she accounting her

fortune none of the meanest, to bee beloved by so youthfull a Gallant,

declared such vertuous and modest demeanour, as might deserve his best

opinion of her: so that their love grew to an equall simpathy, and

mutuall contentment of them both, in expectation of further effects; he

being named _Panuccio_, and she _Nicholetta_.

The heate of affection thus encreasing day by day, _Panuccio_ grew

exceedingly desirous to enjoy the fruits of his long continued liking,

and divers devises mustred in his braine, how he might compasse one

nights lodging in her fathers house, whereof hee knew every part and

parcell, as not doubting to effect what hee desired, yet undiscovered

by any, but the maide her selfe.

According as his intention aymed, so he longed to put it in execution,

and having imparted his mind to an honest loyall friend, named

_Adriano_, who was acquainted with the course of his love: hyring

two horses, and having Portmantues behind them, filled with matters

of no moment, they departed from _Florence_, as if they had some

great journey to ride. Having spent the day time where themselves

best pleased, darke night being entred, they arrived on the plaine of

_Mugnone_, where, as if they were come from the parts of _Romanio_,

they rode directly to this poore Inne, and knocking at the doore, the

honest Hoste (being familiar and friendly to all commers) opened the

doore, when _Panuccio_ spake in this manner to him. Good man, we must

request one nights lodging with you, for we thought to have reached

so farre as _Florence_, but dark night preventing us, you see at what

a late houre wee are come hither. Signior _Panuccio_, answered the

hoste, it is not unknowne to you, how unfitting my poore house is, for

entertaining such guests as you are: Neverthelesse, seeing you are

overtaken by so unseasonable an houre, and no other place is neere for

your receite; I will gladly lodge you so well as I can.

When they were dismounted from their horses, and entred into the simple

Inne: having taken order for feeding their horses, they accepted such

provision, as the place and time afforded, requesting the Hoste to

suppe with them. Now I am to tell you, that there was but one small

Chamber in the house, wherein stood three beds, as best the Hoste had

devised to place them, two of them standing by the walles side, and

the third fronting them both, but with such close and narrow passage,

as very hardly could one step betweene them. The best of these three

beds was appointed for the Gentlemen, and therein theyd lay them down

to rest, but sleepe they could not, albeit they dissembled it very

formally. In the second Bed was _Nicholetta_ the daughter, lodged by

her selfe, and the father and mother in the third, and because she was

to give the child sucke in the night time, the Cradle (wherein it lay)

stood close by their beds side, because the childes crying or any other

occasion concerning it, should not disquiet the Gentlemen.

_Panuccio_ having subtily observed all this, and in what manner they

went to bed; after such a space of time, as he imagined them to be

all fast asleepe, he arose very softly, and stealing to the bed of

_Nicholetta_, lay downe gently by her. And albeit she seemed somewhat

afraid at the first, yet when she perceived who it was, shee rather

bad him welcome, then shewed her selfe any way discontented. Now while

_Panuccio_ continued thus with the maide, it fortuned that a Cat threw

down somewhat in the house, the noise whereof awaked the wife, and

fearing greater harme, then (indeed) had hapned, she arose without a

Candle, and went groping in the darke, towards the place where shee

heard the noyse. _Adriano_, who had no other meaning but well, found

occasion also to rise, about some naturall necessity, and making his

passage in the darke, stumbled on the childes Cradle (in the way) where

the woman had set it, and being unable to passe by, without removing

it from the place: tooke and set it by his owne beds side, and having

done the businesse for which he rose, returned to his bed againe, never

remembring to set the Cradle where first he found it.

The Wife having found the thing throwne downe being of no value or

moment, cared not for lighting any candle; but rating the Cat, returned

backe, feeling for the bed where her Husband lay, but finding not the

Cradle there, she said to her selfe. What a foolish woman am I, that

cannot well tell my selfe what I doe? Instead of my Husbands bed, I am

going to both my guests.

So, stepping on a little further, she found the childes Cradle, and

laid her selfe downe by _Adriano_, thinking shee had gone right to her

Husband. _Adriano_ being not yet falne asleepe, feeling the hostesse

in bed with him: tooke advantage of so faire an occasion offered, and

what he did, is no businesse of mine, (as I heard) neither found the

woman any fault. Matters comming to passe in this strange manner, and

_Panuccio_ fearing, lest sleepe seazing on him, he might disgrace the

maides reputation: taking his kinde farewell of her, with many kisses

and sweet imbraces: returned againe to his owne Bed, but meeting with

the Cradle in his way, and thinking it stood by the hostes Bed, (as

truely it did so at the first) went backe from the Cradle, and stept

into the hostes Bed indeed, who awaked upon his very entrance, albeit

he slept very soundly before.

_Panuccio_ supposing that he was laid downe by his loving friend

_Adriano_, merrily said to the Hoste. I protest to thee, as I am a

Gentleman, _Nicholetta_ is a dainty delicate wench, and worthy to be

a very good mans wife: this night shee hath given mee the sweetest

entertainement, as the best Prince in the world can wish no better,

and I have kist her most kindly for it. The Hoste hearing these newes,

which seemed very unwelcome to him, said first to himself: What make

such a devill heere in my Bedde? Afterward being more rashly angry,

then well advised, hee said to _Panuccio_. Canst thou makes vaunt of

such a mounstrous villany? Or thinkest thou, that heaven hath not due

vengeance in store, to requite all wicked deeds of darkenesse? If all

should sleepe, yet I have courage sufficient to right my wrong, and yet

as olde as I am thou shalt be sure to finde it.

Our amorous _Panuccio_ being none of the wisest young men in the world,

perceiving his errour; sought not to amend it, (as well he might have

done) with some queint straine of wit, carried in quicke and cleanly

manner, but angerly answered. What shall I find that thou darst doe to

me? am I any way afraid of thy threatnings? The Hostes imagining she

was in bed with her Husband, said to _Adriano_: Harke Husband, I thinke

our Guests are quarrelling together, I hope they will doe no harme to

one another. _Adriano_ laughing outright, answered. Let them alone, and

become friends againe as they fell out: perhaps they dranke too much

yesternight.

The woman perceiving that it was her husband that quarrelled, and

distinguishing the voyce of _Adriano_ from his: knew presently where

shee was, and with whom; wherefore having wit at will, and desirous

to cloude an error unadvisedly committed, and with no willing consent

of her selfe: without returning any more words, presently she rose,

and taking the Cradle with the child in it, removed it thence to her

daughters bed side, although shee had no light to helpe her, and

afterward went to bed to her, where (as if she were but newly awaked)

she called her Husband, to understand what angry speeches had past

betweene him and _Panuccio_. The Hoste replyed, saying. Didst thou not

heare him wife, brag & boast, how he hath lyen this night with our

daughter _Nicholetta_? Husband (quoth she) he is no honest Gentleman;

if hee should say so, and beleeve me it is a manifest lye, for I am in

bed with her my selfe, and never yet closed mine eyes together, since

the first houre I laid me downe: it is unmannerly done of him to speake

it, and you are little lesse then a logger-head, if you doe beleeve

it. This proceedeth from your bibbing and swilling yesternight, which

(as it seemeth) maketh you to walke about the roome in your sleepe,

dreaming of wonders in the night season: it were no great sinne if you

brake your necks, to teach you keepe a fairer quarter; and how commeth

it to passe, that Signior _Panuccio_ could not keepe himselfe in his

owne bed?

_Adriano_ (on the other side) perceiving how wisely the woman excused

her owne shame and her daughters; to backe her in a businesse so

cunningly begun, he called to _Panuccio_, saying. Have not I tolde

thee an hundred times, that thou art not fit to lye any where; out of

thine owne lodging? What a shame is this base imperfection to thee, by

rising and walking thus in the night-time, according as thy dreames

doe wantonly delude thee, and cause thee to forsake thy bed, telling

nothing but lies and fables, yet avouching them for manifest truthes?

Assuredly this will procure no meane perill unto thee: Come hither, and

keepe in thine owne bedde for meere shame.

When the honest meaning Host heard, what his own Wife and _Adriano_ had

confirmed: he was verily perswaded, that _Panuccio_ spake in a dreame

all this while: And to make it the more constantly apparant, _Panuccio_

(being now growne wiser by others example) lay talking and blundring

to himselfe, even as if dreames or perturbations of the minde did much

molest him, with strange distractions in franticke manner. Which the

Hoste perceiving, and compassionating his case, as one man should do

anothers: he tooke him by the shoulders, jogging and hunching him,

saying. Awake Signior _Panuccio_, and get you gone hence to your owne

bed.

_Panuccio_, yawning and stretching out his limbes, with unusuall

groanes and respirations, such as (better) could bee hardly dissembled:

seemed to wake as out of a traunce, and calling his friend _Adriano_,

said.

_Adriano_, is it day, that thou dost waken me? It may be day or night

replyed _Adriano_, for both (in these fits) are alike to thee. Arise

man for shame, and come to thine lodging. Then faining to be much

troubled and sleepie, he arose from the hoast, and went to _Adrianoes_

bed.

When it was day, and all in the house risen, the hoast began to smile

at _Panuccio_, mocking him with his idle dreaming and talking in the

night.

So, falling from one merry matter to another, yet without any mislike

at all: the Gentlemen, having their horses prepared, and their

Portmantues fastened behind, drinking to their hoast, mounted on

horsebacke, and they roade away towards _Florence_, no lesse contented

with the manner of occasions happened, then the effects they sorted

to. Afterward, other courses were taken, for the continuance of this

begun pleasure with _Nicholetta_, who made her mother beleeve, that

_Panuccio_ did nothing else but dreame. And the mother her selfe

remembring how kindely _Adriano_ had used her (a fortune not expected

by her before:) was more then halfe of the minde, that she did then

dreame also, while she was waking.

Talano de Molese _dreamed, That a Wolfe rent and tore his wives face

and throate. Which dreame he told to her, with advise to keep her selfe

out of danger; which she refusing to doe, received what followed._

The Seventh Novell.

_Whereby (with some indifferent reason) it is concluded, that Dreames

do not alwayes fall out to be leasings._

By the conclusion of _Pamphilus_ his Novel, wherein the womans ready

wit, at a time of such necessity, carried deserved commendations: the

Queen gave command to Madam _Pampinea_, that she should next begin with

hers, and so she did, in this manner. In some discourses (gracious

Ladies) already past among us, the truth of apparitions in dreames

hath partly bin approved, whereof very many have made a mockery.

Neverthelesse, whatsoever hath heeretofore bin sayde, I purpose to

acquaint you with a very short Novell, of a strange accident happening

unto a neighbour of mine, in not crediting a Dreame which her Husband

told her.

I cannot tell, whether you knew _Talano de Molese_, or no, a man of

much honour, who tooke to wife a yong Gentlewoman, named _Margarita_,

as beautifull as the best: but yet so peevish, scornefull, and

fantasticall, that she disdained any good advice given her; neyther

could any thing be done, to cause her contentment; which absurd humours

were highly displeasing to her husband: but in regard he knew not how

to helpe it, constrainedly he did endure it. It came to passe, that

_Talano_ being with his wife, at a summer-house of his owne in the

country, he dreamed one night, that he saw his Wife walking in a faire

wood, which adjoyned neere unto his house, and while she thus continued

there, he seemed to see issue foorth from a corner of the said Wood, a

great and furious Wolfe, which leaping sodainly on her, caught her by

the face and throate, drawing her downe to the earth, and offering to

drag her thence. But he crying out for helpe, recovered her from the

Wolfe, yet having her face and throat very pitifully rent and torne.

In regard of this terrifying dreame, when _Talano_ was risen in the

morning, and sate conversing with his wife, he spake thus unto hir.

Woman, although thy froward wilfull Nature be such, as hath not

permitted me one pleasing day with thee, since first we becam man and

wife, but rather my life hath bene most tedious to me, as fearing still

some mischeefe should happen to thee: yet let mee now in loving manner

advise thee, to follow my counsell, and (this day) not to walke abroad

out of this house. She demanded a reason for this advice of his. He

related to her every particular of his dreame, adding with all these

speeches.

True it is Wife (quoth he) that little credit should bee given to

dreames: neverthelesse, when they deliver advertisement of harmes

to ensue, there is nothing lost by shunning and avoiding them. She

fleering in his face, and shaking her head at him, replyed. Such harmes

as thou wishest, such thou dreamest of. Thou pretendest much pittie

and care of me, but all to no other end: but what mischeefes thou

dreamest happening unto mee, so wouldest thou see them effected on me.

Wherefore, I will well enough looke to my selfe, both this day, and at

all times else: because thou shalt never make thy selfe merry, with any

such misfortune as thou wishest unto me.

Well Wife, answered _Talano_, I knew well enough before, what thou

wouldst say: An unsound head is soone scratcht with the very gentlest

Combe: but beleeve as thou pleasest. As for my selfe, I speake with a

true and honest meaning soule, and once againe I do advise thee, to

keepe within our doores all this day: at least wife beware, that thou

walke not into our wood, bee it but in regard of my dreame. Well sir

(quoth she scoffingly) once you shall say, I followed your counsell:

but within her selfe she fell to this murmuring. Now I perceive my

husbands cunning colouring, & why I must not walke this day into our

wood: he hath made a compact with some common Queane, closely to have

her company there, and is afraide least I shold take them tardy. Belike

he would have me feed among blinde folke, and I were worthy to bee

thought a starke foole, if I should not prevent a manifest trechery,

being intended against me. Go thither therefore I will, and tarry there

all the whole day long; but I will meet with him in his merchandize,

and see the Pink wherein he adventures.

After this her secret consultation, her husband was no sooner gone

forth at one doore, but shee did the like at another, yet so secretly

as possibly she could devise to doe, and (without any delaying) she

went to the Wood, wherein she hid her selfe very closely, among the

thickest of the bushes, yet could discerne every way about her, if

any body should offer to passe by her. While shee kept her selfe in

this concealment, suspecting other mysterious matters, as her idle

imagination had tutord her, rather then the danger of any Wolfe; out of

a brakie thicket by her, sodainly rushed a huge & dreadfull Wolfe, as

having found her by the sent, mounting uppe, and grasping her throat in

his mouth, before she saw him, or could call to heaven for mercy.

Being thus seised of her, he carried her as lightly away, as if shee

had bin no heavier then a Lambe, she being (by no meanes) able to cry,

because he held her so fast by the throate, and hindred any helping

of her selfe. As the Wolfe carried her thus from thence, he had quite

strangled her, if certaine Shepheards had not met him, who with their

outcries and exclaimes at the Wolfe, caused him to let her fall, and

hast away to save his owne life. Notwithstanding the harme done to her

throat and face, the shepheards knew her, and caried her home to her

house, where she remained a long while after, carefully attended by

Physitians and Chirurgians.

Now, although they were very expert and cunning men all, yet could

they not so perfectly cure her, but both her throate, and part of

her face were so blemished, that whereas she seemed a rare creature

before, she was now deformed and much unsightly. In regard of which

strange alteration, being ashamed to shew her selfe in any place, where

formerly she had bene seene: she spent her time in sorrow and mourning,

repenting her insolent and scornfull carriage, as also her rash running

forth into danger, upon a foolish and jealous surmise, beleeving her

husbands dreames the better for ever after.