The Posies of George Gascoigne Esquire.
Corrected, perfected, and augmented by the Authour. 1575.
¶ IMPRINTED AT London by H. Bynneman for Richard Smith.
These Bookes are to be solde at the Northwest dore of Paules Church.
¶ To the reuerende Diuines, vnto whom these Posies shall happen to be presented, George Gascoigne Esquire (professing armes in the defence of Gods truth) wisheth quiet in conscience, and all consolation in Christ Iesus.
RIght reuerend: I haue thought it my part (before I vvade further in publishing of these Posies) to lay open before your graue iudgementes, asvvell the cause vvhich presently moueth mee to present them, as also the depth and secrets of some conceytes, vvhich (being passed in clovvdes and figuratiue speeches) might percase both be offensiue to your grauitie, and perillous to my credite.
It is verie neare tvvo yeares past, since (I beeing in Hollande in seruice vvith the vertuous Prince of Orenge) the most parte of these Posies vvere imprinted, and novv at my returne, I find that some of them haue not onely bene offensiue for sundrie vvanton speeches and lasciuious phrases, but further I heare that the same haue beene doubtfully construed, and (therefore) scandalous.
My reuerende and vvelbeloued: vvhatsoeuer my youth hath seemed vnto the grauer sort, I vvoulde bee verie loth novve in my middle age to deserue reproch: more loth to touch the credite of any other, and moste loth to haue mine ovvn name become vnto you odious. [Page] For if I shoulde novve at this age seeme as carelesse of reproche, as I vvas in greene youth readie to goe astray, my faultes might quickely grovve double, and myne estimation shoulde bee vvoorthie too remayne but single. I haue learned that although there may bee founde in a Gentleman vvhereby to be reprehended or rebuked, yet ought he not to be vvoorthie of reproofe or condemnation.
All this I set dovvne in preamble, too the ende I maye thereby purchase youre pacience. And as I desyre that you vvyll not condemne mee vvythoute proofe, so am I contented, that if heereafter you finde mee guiltie, youre definitiue, sentence shall then passe publikelye vnder the Seale of Seueritie.
It vvere not reason (righte reuerende) that I shoulde bee ignoraunt hovve generally vvee are all magis proni ad malum quàm ad bonum. Euen so is it requisite that I acknovvledge a generall reformation of maners more necessarie to bee taught, than anye VVhetstone of Vanities is meete (in these dayes) to bee suffered. And therefore as youre grauitie hathe thought requysite that all ydle Bookes or vvanton Pamphlettes shoulde bee forbidden, so might it seeme that I vvere vvoorthie of greate reprehension, if I shoulde bee the Aucthour of euill vvilfully, or a prouoker of vyces vvittingly. And yet some there are vvho haue not spared too reporte that I receyued greate summes of money for the first printing of these Posies, vvhereby (if it vvere true) I mighte seeme not onely a craftie [Page] Broker for the vtteraunce of garishe toyes, but a corrupte Merchaunte for the sale of deceyptfull vvares.
For ansvvere heereof it is moste true (and I call Heauen and Earth too vvitnesse) that I neuer receyued of the Printer, or of anye other, one grote or pennie for the firste Copyes of these Posyes. True it is that I vvas not vnvvillinge the same shoulde bee imprinted: And that not of a vaineglorious desyre too bee thought a pleasaunt Poet, neyther yet of a lyghte minde too bee counted a cunning Louer. For though in youth I vvas often ouerhardie too put my name in Ballaunce of doubtfull iudgementes, yet novve I am become so bashfull that I coulde rather bee content too leese the prayse of my follyes, than too hazarde the misconceyte of the graue and graye headed Iudges. But too confesse a truthe vntoo you right reuerende (vvith vvhome I maye not dissemble in cases vvhiche so generally doe touche all menne) I vvas the rather contented too see them imprinted for these sundrie considerations.
First, for that I haue seene dyuerse Authours, (both learned and vvell learned) vvhich after they haue both reformed their liues, and conuerted their studies, haue not yet disdeyned to reade the Poems vvhich they let passe their pennes in youth. For it seemeth vntoo mee that in all ages Poetrie hath beene not onely permitted, but also it hath beene thought a right good and excellent qualitie.
Next vnto this, I haue alvvayes bene of opinion, that it is not vnpossible eyther in Poemes or in Prose too vvrite both compendiously, and perfectly in our Englishe tongue. And therefore although I chalenge not vnto my selfe the name of an English Poet, yet may the Reader finde oute in my vvrytings, that I haue more faulted in keeping the olde English vvordes (quamuis iam obsoleta) than in borovving of other languages, such Epithetes and Adiectiues as smell of the Ink horne.
Thirdly, as I seeke aduauncement by vertue, so vvas I desirous that there might remaine in publike recorde, some pledge or token of those giftes vvhervvith it hath pleased the Almightie to endue me: To the ende that thereby the vertuous might bee incouraged to employ my penne in some exercise vvhich might tende both to my preferment, and to the profite of my Countrey. For many a man vvhich may like mine outvvarde presence, might yet haue doubted vvhether the qualityes of my minde had bene correspondent to the proportion of my bodie.
Fourthly, bicause I had vvrittē sundry things vvhich coulde not chuse but content the learned and Godlye Reader, therefore I hoped the same should serue as vndoubted proofe, that I had layde aside vanities, and delighted to exercise my penne in morall discourses, at least the one passing (cheeke by cheek) vvith the other, muste of necessitie persuade both the learned, and the light minded, that I coulde asvvell sovve good graine, as graynes or draffe. And I thought not meete (beeing intermingled as they vvere) to cast avvay a vvhole bushell of good seede, for tvvo or three graynes of Darnell [Page] or Cockle.
Lastly, I persuaded my selfe that as in the better sort of the same I shoulde purchase good lyking vvith the honourable aged: So euen in the vvorst sorte, I might yet serue as a myrrour for vnbrydled youth, to auoyde those perilles vvhich I had passed. For little may he do vvhich hath escaped the rock or the sandes, if he cannot vvaft vvith his hande to them that come after him.
These consideration [...] (right reuerend) did first moue me to consent that these Poemes shoulde passe in print. For recapitulation vvhereof, and to ansvvere vnto the obiections that may bee giuen: I say to the first that I neither take example of wanton Ouid, doting Nigidius, nor foolish Samocratius. But I delight to thinke that the reuerend father Theodore Beza, vvhose life is vvorthily become a lanterne to the vvhole vvorlde, did not yet disdaine too suffer the continued publication of such Poemes as he vvrote in youth. And as he termed them at last Poëmata castrata, So shal your reuerend iudgements beholde in this seconde edition, my Poemes gelded from all filthie phrases, corrected in all erronious places, and beautified vvith addition of many moral examples.
To the seconde, although I be sometimes constreyned for the cadence of rimes, or per licentiam Poeticam, to vse an ynkehorne terme, or a straunge vvord: Yet hope I that it shall be apparant I haue rather regarde to make our natiue language commendable in it selfe, than gay vvith the feathers of straunge birdes.
To the thirde reason may be obiected, that if I vvere so desirous to haue my capacitie knovvne, I shoulde [Page] haue done much better to haue trauelled in some notorious peece of vvorke, vvhich might generally haue spred my commendation. The vvhich I confesse. But yet is it true that I must take the Foord as I finde it: Sometimes not as I vvoulde, but as I may And since the ouersight of my youth had brought mee farre behinde hande and indebted vnto the vvorld, I thought good in the meane time to pay as much as I had, vntill it might please God better to inable me. For commonly the greediest creditor is appeased, if he see his debitor vvilling to pay vvhē he hath any thing. And therefore being busied in martiall affayres (vvhereby also I sought some aduauncement) I thought good to notifie vnto the vvorlde before my returne, that I coulde as vvell persuade vvith Penne, as pearce vvith launce or vveapon: So that yet some noble minde might be incouraged both to exercise me in time of peace, and to emploie mee in time of seruice in vvarre.
To the fourth and last considerations, I had alledged of late by a right reuerende father, that although in deede out of euerie floure the industrious Bee may gather honie, yet by proofe the Spider thereout also sucks mischeeuous poyson. VVherevnto I can none othervvise ansvvere, but that he vvho vvill throvv a stone at euerie Dogge vvhich barketh, had neede of a great satchell or pocket. And if the learned iudgements and honest mindes doe both construe my doings aright, and take therein either councell or commoditie, then care I the lesse vvhat the vvicked conceyue of my conceytes. For I esteeme more the prayse of one learned Reader, than I regard the curious carping of ten thousande vnlettered [Page] lettered tattlers.
To conclude (right reuerend) as these considerations did specially moue me at first to consent to the imprinting of these posies, so novve haue I yet a further consideration vvhich moueth mee most earnestly to sue for this second edition or publishing of the same. And that is this. I vnderstande that sundrie vvell disposed mindes haue taken offence at certaine vvanton vvordes and sentences passed in the fable of Ferdinando Ieronimi, and the Ladie Elinora de Valasco, the vvhich in the first edition vvas termed The aduentures of master F. I. And that also thervvith some busie coniectures haue presumed to thinke that the same vvas indeed vvritten to the scandalizing of some vvorthie personages, vvhom they vvoulde seeme therby to knovv. Surely (right reuerend) I smile to see the simplicitie of such, vvho being indeed starke staring blind, vvould yet seeme to see farre into a milstone. And the rather I scorne their rash iudgements, for that in talking vvith .xx. of them one after another, there haue not tvvo agreed in one coniecture. Alas, alas, if I had bene so foolishe as to haue passed in recitall a thing so done in deede, yet all the vvorld might thinke me verie simple if I vvoulde call Iohn, Iohn, or Mary, Mary. But for the better satisfying of all men vniuersally, I doe here protest vnto you (reuerend) euen by the hope of my saluation, that there is no liuing creature touched or to be noted therby. And for the rest you shall find it novv in this second imprinting so turquened and turned, so clensed from all vnclenly vvordes, and so purged from the humor of inhumanitie, as percase you vvoulde not iudge that it vvas the same tale. For although I haue bin heretofore [Page] contented to suffer the publication thereof, only to the ende men might see my Methode and maner of vvriting, yet am I novve thus desirous to set it forth eftsoones, to the ende all men might see the reformation of my minde. And that all suspitions may be suppressed and throughly satisfied, by this mine vnfeined protestation vvhich I make vnto you in that behalfe. Finally, vvere it not that the same is alreadie extant in such sort as hath moued offence, I should rather be cōtent to cancel it vtterly to obliuion, then thus to returne it in a nevv patched cote. And for full proofe of mine earnest zeale in Gods seruice, I require of you (reuerende) most instantly, that if hereby my skill seeme sufficient to vvade in matters of greater importance, you vvill then vouchsafe to employ mee accordingly. Surely you shall finde me no lesse readie to vndertake a vvhole yeares trauaile in anie vvorke vvhich you shall thinke me able to ouercome, than I haue beene vvilling heretofore to spende three houres in penning of an amorous Sonnet. Euen so being desirous that all men generally (and you especially) should conceiue of me as I meane, I haue thus farre troubled your lerned eies vvith this plaine Epistle, vvritten for my purgation, in matters vvhiche (else) might both haue offended you, and giuen great batterie to the ramparts of my poore credite. The God of peace vouchsafe to gouerne and product you, and me, and all his, in quiet of conscience, and strength of spirit. Amen. From my poore house at VValtamstovv in the Forest, this last day of Ianuarie. 1574.
To al yong Gentlemen, and generally to the youth of England, George Gascoigne Esquire by birth, and Souldiour by profession, wisheth increase of knowledge in all vertuous exercises.
GAllant Gentlemen, and lustie youthes of this my natiue Countrey, I haue here (as you see) published in print suche Posies and rymes as I vsed in my youth, the which for the barbarousnesse of the stile may seeme worthlesse, and yet for the doubtfulnesse of some darke places they haue also seemed (heretofore) daūgerous. So that men may iustly both condemne me of rashnesse, and wonder at my simplicitie in suffering or procuring the same to be imprinted.
A yong man well borne, tenderly fostered, and delicately accompanied, shall hardly passe ouer his youth without falling into some snares of the Diuell, and temptations of the flesh. But a man of middle yeares, who hath to his cost experimented the vanities of youth, and to his perill passed them: who hath bought repentance deare, and yet gone through vvith the bargaine: who seeth before his face the tyme past lost, and the rest passing away in post: Such a man had more neede to be well aduised in his doings, and resolute in his determinations. For with more ease and greater fauour may we answere for tenne madde follies committed in grene youth, than one sober ouersight escaped in yeares of discretion. Lycurgus the good princely Philosopher, ordeyned that if an olde man perceiuing a yong man to commit any dishonestie; did not rebuke but suffer him: the aged shoulde be chastised, and the yong man should be absolued.
All this rehearsed and considered, you may (as I say) growe in some doubt, whether I were worse occupied in first deuising, or at last in publishing these toies & pamphlets: and much the rather, for [Page] that it is a thing commonly seene, that (nowe adayes) fewe or no things are so well handled, but they shall bee carped at by curious Readers, nor almost any thing so well ment, but may bee muche misconstrued.
And heerewithall I assure my selfe, that I shall bee generally condemned as a man verie lightly bent, and rather desyrous to continue in the freshe remembraunce of my follyes, than content too cancell them in obliuion by discontinuance: especially since in a house where many yong childrē are, it hath bene thought better pollicie quite to quench out the fire, than to leaue any loofe cole in the imbers, wherewith Babes may play and put the whole edifice in daunger.
But my lustie youthes, and gallant Gentlemen, I had an intent farre contrarie vntoo all these supposes, when I fyrst permitmitted the publication heereof. And bycause the greatest offence that hath beene taken thereat, is, least your mindes might heereby become enuenomed with vanities, therefore vnto you I will addresse my tale, for the better satisfying of common iudgements. And vnto you I will explane, that which being before mistically couered, and commonly misconstrued, might be no lesse perillous in seducing you, than greeuous euidence for to proue mee guiltie of condemnation.
Then to come vnto the matter, there are three sortes of men which (beeing wonderfully offended at this booke) haue founde therein three maner of matters (say they) verie reprehensible. The men are these: curious Carpers, ignorant Readers, and graue Philosophers. The faults they finde are, Iudicare in the Creede: Chalke for Cheese: and the cōmon infection of Loue. Of these three sorts of men and matters, I do but very little esteeme the two first. But I deeply regarde the thirde. For of a verie troth, there are one kinde of people nowadayes which will mislyke any thing, being bred (as I thinke) of the spawne of a Crab or Creuish, which in all streames and waters will swimme eyther sidewayes, or flat backwards: and when they can indeede finde none other fault, will yet thinke Iudicare verie vntowardlye placed in the Creede. Or (beeing a simple Sowter) will finde fault at the shape of the legge: or if they be [Page] not there stopped, they wil not spare to step vp higher, and say, that Apelles paynted Dame Venus verie deformed or euill fauoured.
Of this sort I make small accounte, bycause indeede they seeke a knotte in the Rushe, and woulde seeme to see verie farre in a Mylstone.
There are also certaine others, who (hauing no skill at all) will yet be verie busie in reading all that may bee read, and thinke it sufficient if (Parrot like) they can rehearse things without booke: when within booke they vnderstande neyther the meaning of the Authour, nor the sense of the figuratiue speeches, I will forbeare to recyte examples by any of mine owne doings. Since all comparisons are odious, I will not say how much the areignment and diuorce of a Louer (being written in ieast) haue bene mistaken in sad earnest. It shall suffice that the contentions passed in verse long sithence, betwene maister Churchyard and Camell, were (by a blockheaded reader) cōstrued to be indeed a quarell betwene two neighbors. Of whom that one hauing a Camell in keping, and that other hauing charge of the Churchyard, it was supposed they had grown to debate, bicause the Camell came into the Churchyarde. Laugh not at this (lustie yonkers) since the pleasant dittie of the noble Erle of Surrey (beginning thus: In winters iust returne) was also construed to be made indeed by a Shepeherd. VVhat shoulde I stande much in rehersall how the L. Vaux his dittie (beginning thus: I loth that I did loue) was thought by some to be made vpō his death bed? and that the Soulknill of M. Edwards was also written in extremitie of sicknesse? Of a truth (my good gallants) there are such as hauing only lerned to read English, do interpret Latin, Greke, French and Italian phrases or metaphors, euē according to their owne motherly conception and childish skill. The which (bicause they take Chalke for Cheese) shall neuer trouble me, whatsoeuer fault they finde in my doings.
But the third sort (beeing graue Philosophers, and finding iust fault in my doings at the common infection of loue) I must needes alledge suche iuste excuse as may counteruayle their iuste complaynts. For else I shoulde remayne woorthie of a seuere punishment. They wysely considering that wee are all in youth [Page] more apt to delight in harmefull pleasures, then to disgest wholesome and sounde aduice, haue thought meete to forbid the publishing of any ryming tryfles which may serue as whetstones to sharpen youth vnto vanities.
And for this cause, finding by experience also, how the first Copie of these my Posies hath beene verie much inquired for by the yonger sort: and hearing likewise that (in the same) the greater part hath beene written in pursute of amorous enterpryses, they haue iustly conceyued that the continuance thereof hath beene more likely to stirre in all yong Readers a venemous desire of vanitie, than to serue as a common myrrour of greene and youthfull imperfections. VVherevnto I must confesse, that as the industrious Bee may gather honie out of the most stinking weede, so the malicious Spider may also gather poyson out of the fayrest floure that growes.
And yet in all this discourse I see not proued, that either that Gardener is too blame which planteth his Garden full of fragrant floures neyther that planter to be dispraysed: which soweth all his beddes with seedes of wholesome herbes: neyther is that Orchard vnfruitfull, which (vnder show of sundrie weedes) hath medicinable playsters for all infirmities. But if the Chirurgian which should seeke Sorrell to rypen an Vlcer, will take Rewe which may more inflame the Impostume, then is hee more to blame that mistooke his gathering, than the Gardener which planted aright, and presented store and choyse to be taken. Or if the Phisition will gather hote Perceley in stead of cold Endiue, shall he not worthily beare the burthen of his owne blame?
To speake English, it is your vsing (my lustie Gallants) or misvsing of these Posies that may make me praysed or dispraysed for publishing of the same. For if you (where you may learne to auoyd the subtile sandes of wanton desire) will runne vpon the rockes of vnlawfull lust, then great is your folly, and greater will growe my rebuke. If you (where you might gather wholesome hearbes to cure your sundrie infirmities) will spende the whole day in gathering of sweete smelling Posies, much will be the time that you shal mispende, and much more the harme that you shall heape vpon my [Page] heade. Or if you will rather beblister your handes with a Nettle, then comfort your senses by smelling to the pleasant Marioram, then wanton is your pastime, and small will be your profite.
I haue here presented you with three sundrie sortes of Posies: Floures, Hearbes, and VVeedes. In which diuision I haue not ment that onely the floures are to bee smelled vnto, nor that onely the VVeedes are to be reiected. I terme some Floures, bycause being indeed inuented vpon a verie light occasion, they haue yet in them (in my iudgement) some rare inuention and Methode before not commonly vsed. And therefore (beeing more pleasant than profitable) I haue named them Floures.
The seconde (being indeede morall discourses, and reformed inuentions, and therefore more profitable than pleasant) I haue named Hearbes.
The third (being VVeedes) might seeme to some iudgements, neither pleasant nor yet profitable, and therefore meete to bee cast away. But as many weedes are right medicinable, so may you find in this none so vile or stinking, but that it hath in it some vertue if it be rightly handled. Mary you must take heede how you vse thē. For if you delight to put Hemlocke in your fellowes pottage, you may chaunce both to poyson him, and bring your selfe in perill. But if you take example by the harmes of others who haue eaten it before you, then may you chaunce to become so warie, that you will looke aduisedly on all the Perceley that you gather, least amongst the same one braunch of Hemlock might anoy you.
I assure you, my yong blouds, I haue not published the same to the intent that other men hereafter might be infected with my follies forepassed. For though it be a comfort in miserijs habere consortem, yet is it small consolation to a fellon, to haue a Coyner hanged in his companie. And I assure you (although you will think it straunge) that I haue not caused them to bee imprinted for anie vaine delight which I haue (my selfe) therein conceyued. For the most of them being written in my madnesse, might haue yeelded then more delight to my frantike fansie to see them published, than they now do accumulate cares in my minde to set them forth corrected: and a deformed youth had bene more likely to set them to [Page] sale long sithence, than a reformed man can be able now to protect them with simplicitie.
The scope of mine intent, and the marke whereat I shoote is double. I meane grounded vpon two sundrie causes: the one that being indebted vnto the worlde (at the least fiue thousande dayes verie vainly spent) I may yeeld him yet some part of mine account in these Poemes. VVherein as he may finde great diuersitie both in stile and sense, so may the good bee incouraged to set mee on worke at last, though it were noone before I sought seruice. The other reason is, that bicause I haue (to mine owne great detriment) mispent my golden time, I may serue as ensample to the youthfull Gentlemen of England, that they runne not vpon the rocks which haue brought me to shipwracke. Beware therefore, lustie Gallants, howe you smell to these Posies. And learne you to vse the talent which I haue highly abused. Make me your myrrour. And if hereafter you see me recouer mine estate, or reedifie the decayed walls of my youth, then beginne you sooner to builde some foundation which may beautifie your Pallace. If you see me sinke in distresses (notwithstanding that you iudge me quick of capacitie) then lerne you to mainteyne your selues swimming in prosperitie, and eschue betymes the whirlepoole of misgouernment.
Finally, I beseech you, and coniure you, that you rather encourage me to accomplish some worthier trauaile, by seeing these Posies right smelled vnto, than discourage me from attempting other labours, when I shall see these first fruites reiected or misused. I haue corrected them from sundrie faultes. VVhich if they had not brought suspition in the first copie, be you then out of doubt you had neuer bene troubled with these seconde presents, nor persuaded to flourishe wisely with a two edged swoorde in your naked hands. But as I haue ment them well, so I craue of God, that they may both pleasure and profite you for the furtherance of your skill in any commendable enterprise.
From my poore house at VValtamstow in the Forest the second of Ianuarie. 1575
To the Readers generally a generall aduertisement of the Authour.
ALl that is written is written for our instruction, as the holy Apostle witnesseth to the Romaines in his .xv. Chapter. And in his ninth Chapter of his first Epistle to the Corinthians, hee glorieth that hee coulde (as it were) transforme himself into all professions, therby to winne all kinde of men to God: saying that with the Iewes he became a Iew: with them that were vnder the law, he seemed also vnder the lawe: with the feeble, he shewed himselfe feeble. And to conclude, he became all things to all men, to the ende that hee might thereby winne some to saluation. My Schoolemaster which taught me Grammer, woulde alwayes say that some schollers he woonne to studie by strypes, some other by fayre meanes, some by promises, some other by prayses, some by vainglorie, and some by verie shame. But I neuer hard him repent him that euer he had persuaded any scholler to become studious, in what sort soeuer it were that hee woonne him. For whether the braue Gennet be broken with the bitte, or with the snaffle, whither he be brought in awe with a Spurre, or with a wand, all is one if he proue readie and well mouthed.
Thus much I write (gentle Reader) to the ende that myne intent may appeare in publishing of these Posies. VVherein as there are many things morall, so are there also some verses more sauced with wantonnesse than with wisedome. And as there are some ditties which may please and delight the godly and grauer sort, so are there some which may allure the yonger sort vnto fond attempts. But what for that? Hath Terence bene forbidden to be read, bicause his Comedies are rehearsals of many madde prankes played by wanton youthes? No surely.
Paracelsus, and sundrie other Phisitions and Philosophers, declare, that in euerie thing naturall there is to be founde Salt, Oyle, [Page] and Brimstone. And I am of opinion, that in euery thing which is written (the holy scriptures excepted) there are to be founde wisedome, follie, emulation, and detraction. For as I neuer yet saw any thing so clerkly handled, but that therein might be found some imperfections: So coulde I neuer yet reade fable so ridiculous but that therein some morallitie might be gathered. And as the good writer shall be sure of some to bee maliced: so the bad shall neuer escape the byting tongues of slaunderers.
But to returne to my purpose: If in the hardest flint there may be found sparkes of liuely fire, and the most knottie peece of Box, may be wrought to a fayre Doogen hafte: let these fewe suffice to persuade thee, that I haue not procured the publication heereof to any ende, so much as that the youthful sort might therein take example, and the aged recreation.
Nowe if any (misgouerning their owne wittes) doe fortune to vse that for a Spurre, which I had heere appoynted for a Brydle, I can none otherwise lamēt it, but to say that I am not the first which hath bene misiudged. Truely (gentle Reader) I protest that I haue not ment heerein to displease any man, but my desire hath rather bene to cōtent most men: I meane the diuine with godly Hymnes and Psalmes, the sober minde with morall discourses, and the wildest will with sufficient warning. The which if it so fall out, then shall I thinke my selfe right happie. And if it fall out otherwise, I shall yet neuer bee ashamed to become one of their corporation which reape floutes and reprehension for their trauayles.
But bicause these Posies growe to a great bundell, and thereof also the number of louing lynes exceedeth in the Superlatiue, I thought good to aduertise thee, that the most part of them were written for other men. And out of all doubt, if euer I wrote lyne for my selfe in causes of loue, I haue written tenne for other men in layes of lust. For I counte greater difference betweene loue and lust, than there is diuersitie betweene witte and wisedome: and yet witte and I did (in youth) make such a fray, that I feare his cosen wisedome will neuer become freendes with me in my age. VVell, though my folly bee greater than my fortune, yet ouergreat were mine vnconstancie, if (in mine owne behalfe) I shoulde compyle so [Page] many sundrie Songs or Sonets. I haue heard of an honest plaine meaning Citizen, who (being ouercharged with many matters in the lawe, and hearing of a common solicitor of causes in the Citie) came home to comfort his wife, and tolde hir that he had heard of one which dwelt at Billingsgate, that coulde helpe all men. Eu [...]n so (good Reader) I was a great while the man which dwelt at Billingsgate. For in wanton delightes I helped all men, though in sad earnest I neuer furthered my selfe any kinde of way. And by that it proceedeth, that I haue so often chaunged my Posie or worde. For when I did compile any thing at the request of other men, if I had subscribed the same with mine owne vsuall mot or deuise, it might haue bewrayed the same to haue beene of my doing. And I was euer curious in that behalfe, as one that was lothe to bewray the follies of other men. And yet (as you see) I am not verie daungerous to lay my selfe wide open in view of the worlde. I haue also sundrie tymes chaunged mine owne worde or deuise. And no meruaile: For he that wandereth much in those wildernesses, shall seldome continue long in one minde.
VVell, it were follie to bewayle things which are vnpossible to be recouered, sithence Had I wist doth seldome serue as a blasone of good vnderstanding. And therefore I will spende no more wordes in this Preface, but I pray thee to smell vnto these Posies, as Floures to comfort, Herbes to cure, and VVeedes to be auoyded. So haue I ment them, and so I beseech thee Reader to accept them.
Farewell.
T.B. In prayse of Gascogines Posies.
E.C. In prayse of Gascoignes Posies.
M.C. commending the correction of Gascoignes Posies.
R.S. In prayse of Gascoignes Posies.
T. Ch. In prayse of Gascoignes Posies.
G.VV. In prayse of Gascoigne, and his Posies.
P.B. to such as haue heretofore found fault with Gascoignes Posies.
A.VV. In commendation of Gascoigne and his Posies.
I.B. In commendation of Gascoignes Posies.
I.D. In prayse of Gascoigne and his Posies.
The Printer in commendation of Gascoigne and his workes.
M.A. Perugino, a i lettori.
COnciosia la cosa che a'l bono vino, non ci bisogna la ghirlanda nientedi meno, l'opere virtuose meritano sempremai ogni laude, honore, & mercede. Tanto per essersi (nella natura loro, & di se stesse) piaceuole, grate, & piene, d'ogni contento, come per dare stimoli ad altrui d'imitar' i loro vestigij. In tanto Io stimo l'opera presente vn'essempio chiaro & raro della gloria Inghlese. Quando vi si truouano non solamēte Sonetti, Rime, Canzoni, & altre cose infinitamēte piaceuole, ma con cio non vi mancano discorse tragiche, moderne, & pbylosophichae, della Guerra, delli stati, & della vera Sapienza. Tutte procedute d'vn tal Iuchiostro, che Io (sendo forastiero) lo truouo vn' Immitatore di Petrarcha, Amico d'Ariosto, & Parangon di Bocaccio, Aretino, & ogni altro Poéta quanto sia piu famoso & eccellente dell'etá nostra.
I. de B. aux lecteurs.
H.M. In Poemata Gascoigni Carmen.
B.C. In Poemata Gasconi Carmen.
K.D. In eundem, Carmen.
Eiusdem de eodem.
P.VV. In Gascoignum, Carmen.
G.H. pro eodem.
E. H. in poëmata Gascoigni, Carmen.
The opinion of the aucthor himself after all these commendations.
His vltimum vale to Amorous verse.
❧ FLOWERS.
¶ In this diuision are conteyned:
- The Anotamie of a Louer. j.
- The areignemente of a Louer. Fol ij.
- The passions of a Louer. iij.
- The diuorce of a Louer. vij.
- The Lullabie of a louer. viij.
- The lamentation of a Louer. x.
- The lookes of a Louer enamored. xj.
- The lookes of a Louer forsaken. xvij.
- The recātatiō of a louer. xvij
- Praise of Lady Sands. xviij.
- Praise of the Lady Grey. xx.
- Praise of the Authors mistresse. xx.
- Gascoigns good morow. xxj
- Gascoigns good night. xxiiij
- Gascoigns Deprofundis. xxvj
- Gascoig. memories. xxxiij.
- An Epitaph vpon Captaine Bourcher. xlj.
- A deuise of a Maske. xliij.
- The refusall of a Louer. lv.
- Pryde in Court. lvj.
- Despised things mai liue. 58
- In trust is treason. lix.
- The constancie of a Louer. Fol. lx.
- The frute of Foes. lxj.
- A Louer once warned and twice taken. lxj.
- A Louer encoraged by former examples. lxiij.
- The Historie of Dan Bartholmewe of Bathe. lxv.
- The frutes of VVarre. cxiij.
Faultes escaped in the VVeedes:
Fol. | Line. | Faultes. | Correction. |
204 | 13 | allgiance | allegeaunce |
211 | 17 | like I hope | I like hope |
214 | 24 | contation | contentation |
216 | 28 | merrye | married |
Ibid. | 31 | flattring | flitting |
218 | 4 | had shewed | had to plainely shewed |
Ibid. | 7 | called | calling |
Ibid. | 30 | disdaned | distayned |
220 | 14 | had | and |
222 | 30 | in | of |
223 | 7 | And | So |
224 | 7 | cape | cappe |
Ibid. | 8 | Crowe | Crowne |
229 | 16 | still | foyle |
232 | 34 | braunce | braunche |
235 | 19 | possessed | professed |
238 | 11 | that | other |
240 | 5 | Elaminia | Flaminia |
242 | 11 | and | an |
Ibid. | 30 | zoreactes | Zoroastes |
Ibid. | 20 | doe | did |
249 | 13 | builded | blinded |
Ibid. | 16 | pricke | pricke such |
258 | 5 | gentelman | gentlewoman |
361 | 6 | quibbes | quippes |
271 | 31 | la mano | las manos |
275 | 2 | swell | aswell |
276 | 4 | Fraunces china | Frauncischina |
Ibid. | 8 | occurments | occurrentes |
278 | 6 | that I | I that |
284 | 8 | But | that |
285 | 14 | this | those |
Flowers.
❧ The Anatomye of a Louer.
¶ The arraigment of a Louer.
The passion of a Louer.
¶ A straunge passion of a Louer.
¶ The Diuorce of a Louer.
¶ The Lullabie of a Louer.
The lamentation of a louer.
Certaine verses written to a Gentlewoman whome hee liked very wel, and yet had neuer any oportunity to discouer his affection, being alwayes bridled by ielouse lookes which attended them both, and therefore gessing by hir lokes, that she partly also liked him: he wrote in a booke of nirs as foloweth, being termed with the rest that follow the lokes of a louer enamoured.
VVith these verses you shall iudge the quicke capacitie of the Lady: for she wrote thereunder this short aunswere.
Looke as long as you lyst, but surely if I take you looking, I will looke with you.
¶ And for a further proofe of this Dames quicke vnderstanding, you shall now vnderstande, that sone after this aunswere of hirs, the same Aucthour chansed to be at a supper in hir company, where were also hir brother, hir husband, and an old louer of hirs by whom shee had bene long suspected. Nowe, although there wanted no delicate viandes to content them, yet their chiefe repast was by entreglancing of lokes. For the Aucthour being stong with hotte affection, coulde none otherwyse relieue his passion but by gazing. And the Dame of a curteous enclination deigned (nowe and then) to requite the same with glancing at him. Hir olde louer occupied his eyes with watching: and her brother perceiuing all this coulde not abstaine from winking, whereby hee might putte his Syster in remembraunce, least she shoulde too much forget hir selfe. [Page xiij] But most of all her husbande beholding the first, and being euyll pleased with the seconde, scarce contented with the thirde, and misconstruing the fourth, was constrayned to playe the fifth part in frowarde frowning. This royall banquet thus passed ouer, the Aucthor knowing that after supper they should passe the tyme in propounding of Ryddles, and making of purposes: contriued all this conceipt in a Riddle as followeth. The which was no soner pronoū ced, but shee coulde perfectly perceiue his intent, and draue out one nayle with another, as also enseweth.
His Ryddle.
¶ In all this louelie company vvas not one that coulde and would expound the meaning hereof. At last the Dame hir selfe aunswered on this wise. Syr, quod she, because your darke speach is much to curious for this simple company, I wyl bee so bolde as to quit one question with another. And when you haue aunswered mine, it maye fall out peraduenture, that I shall somewhat the better iudge of yours.
Hir Question.
¶ He held him selfe herevvith contented: and aftervvardes when they vvere better acquainted, he chaunsed once (groping in hir pocket) to find a letter of hir olde louers: and thynking it vvere better to vvincke than vtterlye to put out his eyes, seemed not to vnderstande this first offence: but soone after finding a lemman (the vvhich he thought he savve hir olde lemman put there) he deuised therof thus, and deliuered it vnto hir in vvriting.
The Dame vvithin verie short space dyd aunsvvere it thus.
¶ The lookes of a louer forsaken: written by a gentlewoman who passed by him with hir armes set bragging by hir sides, and lefte it vnfinished as followeth.
VVhiles he sat at the dore of his lodging, deuising these verses aboue rehersed, the same Gentlewoman passed by againe, and cast a longe looke towardes him, whereby he left his former inuention and wrote thus.
Another Sonet written by the same Gentlewoman, vppon the same occasion.
¶ To the same gentlewoman because she challenged the Aucthour for holding downe his head alwaies, and for that hee looked not vppon hir in wonted manner.
❧ The Recantacion of a Louer.
¶ In prayse of Bridges, nowe Lady Sandes.
¶ In prayse of Zouche late the Lady Greye of VVilton whome the auctor found in a homely house.
Gascoignes praise of his mistres.
Gascoignes good morrow.
Gascoygnes good night.
The introduction to the Psalme of Deprofundis.
Gascoignes Deprofundis.
¶ Gascoignes Memories, written vpon this occasion. Hee had (in myddest of his youth) determined to abandone all vaine delightes and to returne vnto Greyes Inne, there to vndertake againe the studdie of the common Lawes. And being required by fiue sundry Gentlemen to write in verse somewhat worthye to bee remembred, before he entered into their fellowshippe, hee compiled these fiue sundrie sortes of metre vppon fiue sundrye theames, whiche they deliuered vnto him, and the first was at request of Frauncis Kinwelmarshe who deliuered him this theame. Audaces fortuna iuuat. And therevppon hee wrote this Sonnette following.
Alexander Neuile deliuered him this theame, Sat cito, si sat bene, wherevpon hee compiled these seuen Sonets in sequence, therin bewraying his owne Nimis cito: and therwith his Vix bene, as foloweth.
Richarde Courtop (the last of the fiue) gaue him this theame, Durum aeneum & miserabile aeuum, and therevpon hee wrote in this wise
¶ A gloze vpon this text, Dominus ijs opus habet.
An Epitaph vpon Captaine Bourcher late slaine in the warres in Zelande, the which hath bene termed the tale of a stone as foloweth.
¶ A deuise of a Marke for the right honorable Viscount Mountacute, written vpon this occasion, when the sayde L. had prepared to solemnize twoo marriages betweene his sonne and heyre, and the Daughter of syr VVilliam Dormer Knight, and betweene the sonne and heyre of syr VVilliam Dormer, and the Daughter of the said L. Mountacute: there were eight Gentlemen (all of blood or alliaunce to the sayd L. Mountacute) which had determined to present a Maske at the daye appointed for the sayd marriages, and so farre they had proceeded therein, that they had alreadye bought furniture of Silkes. &c, and had caused their garmentes to bee cut of the Venetian fashion. Nowe then they began to imagine that (without some speciall demonstration) it would seeme somewhat obscure to haue Venetians presented rather than other countrey men. VVherevpon they entreated the Aucthour to deuise some verses to bee vttered by an Actor wherein might be some discourse conuenient to render a good cause of the Venetians presence. The Aucthour calling to minde that there is a noble house of the Mountacutes in Italie, and therwithall that the L. Mountacute here doth quarter the coate of an auncient English Gentleman called Mounthermer, and hath the inheritaunce of the sayde house, dyd therevpon deuise to bring in a Boye of the age of twelue or .xiiii. yeeres, who should faine that he was a Mounthermer by the fathers side, and a Mountacute by the mothers side, and that his father being slaine at the last warres against the Turke, and he there taken, hee was recouered by the Venetians in their last victorie, and with them sayling towardes Venice, they were driuen by tempest vpon these coastes, and so came to the mariage vpon report as followeth, and the sayde Boye pronounced the deuise in this sort.
After the maske was done, the Actor tooke master Tho. Bro. by the hand an brought him to the Venetians, with these words:
Then the Venetians embraced and receiued the same maister Tho. Browne, and after they had a while whispered with him, he torned to the Bridegroomes and Brides, saying thus.
Then when they had taken their leaues the Actor did make an ende thus.
The refusal of a louer, writen to a gentlewoman who had refused him and chosen a husband (as he thought) much inferior to himselfe, both in knowledge, birth, and parsonage, wherin he bewraieth both their names in clowdes, and how she was won from him with swete gloues, and broken ringes.
¶ Pride in Court vvritten by a Gentlevvoman in Court, vvho (vvhen shee vvas there placed) seemed to disdaine him, contrarie to a former profession.
¶ This question being propounded by a Dame vnto the Aucthour, to witte, why he should write Spreta tamen viuunt, he aunswereth thus.
¶ In trust is Treason, written by a Louer, leaning onelye to his Ladies promises, and finding them to fayle.
The constancie of a louer hath thus sometimes bene briefly declared.
¶ The fruite of foes written to a Gentlewoman, who blamed him for writing his friendly aduise in verse vnto another louer of hyrs.
A Louer often warned, and once againe drouen into fantasticall flames by the chase of company, doth thus bewayle his misfortunes.
The louer encouraged by former examples, determineth to make vertue of necessitie.
The delectable history of sundry aduentures passed by Dan Bartholmew of Bathe,
The Reporter.
Dan Bartholmew his first Triumphe.
Dan Bartholmew his second Triumphe.
Dan Bartholmewes his third Triumphe.
The Reporter.
Dan Bartholmewes Dolorous discourses.
The extremitie of his Passion.
His libell of request exhibited to Care.
His last wyll and Testament.
The Subscription and seale.
His Farewell.
The Reporters conclusion.
Lenuoye.
❧ The fruites of Warre, written vppon this Theame, Dulce Bellum inexpertis, and it was written by peecemeale at sundrye tymes, as the Aucthour had vacaunt leysures from seruice, being begon at Delfe in Hollande, and dyrected to the ryght honourable the Lord Greye of VVylton as appeareth by the Epistle Dedicatory next following.
¶ To the Right honorable and mine especiall good Lorde, The Lorde Greye of VVylton.
MY Singular good Lorde: I am of opinion that long before this time your honour hath throughly perused the booke, which I prepared to bee sent vnto you somewhat before my comming hyther, and therewithall I doe lykewise coniectour that you haue founde therein iust cause to laugh at my follies forepassed. So that I am partly in doubte whether I were more ouerseene in my first deuising, or in my last dyrecting of the same? But as fantasticall humours are common imperfections in greene vnmellowed braines: So hope I yet that your good Lordshippe wyll rather winke at my weakenesse in generallitie, then reproue my rashnesse in perticularitie. And because I would bee glad, to drawe your Lordshippe into forgetfulnesse thereof, by freshe recorde of some more martiall matter, as also for that I would haue your Honour perceaue that in these lyngering broyles, I doe not altogeather passe ouer my time in ydlenesse: I haue therefore thought meete nowe to present you with this Pamphlete written by stelth at such times as we Loytered from seruice. And the sobiect thereof being warre, I could not more conuenientlye addresse the same vnto any Marshiall man, then vnto your good Lordshippe: VVhome I haue heard to be an vniuersall patrone of all Souldiours, and haue found to bee an exceeding fauourour of mee your vnworthy follower. The verse is roughe. And good reason, sithence it treateth of roughe matters, but if the sence be good then haue I hyt the marke which I shote at: Knowing that your Lordshippe can winne Honny out of the Thistle. And such as it is, I dyrect it vnto your Honour. Beseeching the same, to take it in [...] [...]gree, and to perceaue that I am and euer wyll continew.
Dulce bellum inexpertis.
Peroratio.
L'enuoié.
WHo soeuer is desirous to reade this proposicion more at large and cunningly handled, let him but peruse the Prouerbe or adage it self in the first Centurian of the fourth Chyllyade of that famouse Clarke Erasmus Roterodamus: the vvhiche is there also Entituled: Dulce bellum inexpertis.
❧ HEARBES.
¶ In this diuision are conteyned:
- The Comedie called Supposes. Folio. 1.
- The Tragedie called Iocasta. Fol. 73
- The fruite of Reconciliation. 129
- The force of true Frendship. 131
- The force of Loue in Strangers. 132
- The praise of browne beautie. 134
- The Partrich and the Merlyn. 135
- The vertue of Ver. 136
- The complainte of a Dame in absence. 138
- The praise of a Coūtesse. 139
- The affectiō of a louer. 140
- The complainte of a Dame suspected. 141
- A Riddle. 143
- The shield of Loue. 144
- The gloze vpon Dominus ijs opus habet. 145
- Gascoignes counsel to Diue. Fol. 148
- Gascoignes counsel to Wythipole. 151
- Gascoygnes woodmanship. Fol. 156
- Gascoigns gardenings. 160
- Gascoigns iourney into Hollande. 163
SVPPOSES: A Comedie vvritten in the Italian tongue by Ariosto, Englished by George Gascoygne of Grayes Inne Esquire, and there presented. 1566.
- BAlia, the Nurse.
- Polynesta, the yong woman.
- Cleander, the Doctor, suter to Polynesta.
- Pasyphilo, the Parasite.
- Carion, the Doctors man.
- Dulypo, fayned seruant and louer of Polynesta.
- Erostrato, fayned master and suter to Polynesta.
- Dalio & Crapyno seruantes to fayned Erostrato.
- Scenaese, a gentleman stranger.
- Paquetto & Petrucio his seruantes.
- Damon, father to Polinesta.
- Neuola, and two other his seruants.
- Psyteria, an olda hag in his house.
- Phylogano, a Scycilian gentleman, father to Erostrato.
- Lytio, his seruant.
- Ferrarese, an Inkéeper of Ferrara.
The Comedie presented as it were in Ferrara.
The Prologue or argument.
I Suppose you are assembled here, supposing to reape the fruite of my trauayles: and to be playne, I meane presently to presente you vvith a Comedie called Supposes: the verye name vvherof may peraduenture driue into euery of your heades a sundry Suppose, to suppose, the meaning of our supposes. Some percase vvill suppose vve meane to occupie your eares vvith sophisticall handling of subtill Suppositions. Some other vvil suppose vve go about to discipher vnto you some queint conceiptes, vvhich hitherto haue bene onely supposed as it vvere in shadovves: and some I see smyling as though they supposed vve vvould trouble you vvith the vaine suppose of some vvanton Suppose. But vnderstand, this our Suppose is nothing else but a mystaking or imagination of one thing for an other. For you shall see the master supposed for the seruant, the seruant for the master: the freeman for a slaue, and the bondslaue for a freeman: the stranger for a vvell knovven friend, and the familiar for a stranger. But vvhat? I suppose that euen already you suppose me very fonde, that haue so simply disclosed vnto you the subtilties of these our Supposes: vvhere othervvise in deede I suppose you shoulde haue hearde almoste the laste of our Supposes, before you coulde haue supposed anye of them arighte. Let this then suffise.
Supposes.
Actus primus.
Scena. 1.
HEre is no body, come foorth Polynesta, let vs looke about, to be sure least any man heare our talke: for I thinke within the house the tables, the plankes, the beds, the portals, yea and the cupbords them selues haue eares.
You might as well haue sayde, the windowes and the doores: do you not sée howe they harken?
Well you iest faire, but I would aduise you take héede, I haue bidden you a thousande times beware: you will be spied one day talking with Dulippo.
And why should I not talke with Dulippo, as well as with any other, I pray you?
I haue giuen you a wherfore for this why many times: but go too, followe your owne aduise till you ouerwhelme vs all with soden mishappe.
A great mishappe I promise you: marie Gods blessing on their heart that sette suche a brouche on my cappe.
Well, looke well about you: a man would thinke it were inough for you secretly to reioyce, that by my helpe you haue passed so many pleasant nightes togither: and yet by my trouth I do it more than halfe agaynst my will, for I would rather you had setled your fansie in some noble familie yea and it is no small griefe vnto me, that (reiecting the suites of so many nobles and gentlemen) you haue chosen for your darling a poore seruaunt of your fathers, by whome shame and infamie is the best dower you can looke for to attayne.
And I pray you whome may I thanke but gentle nourse? that continually praysing him, what for his personage, his curtesie, and aboue all, the extreme passions of [Page 2] his minde, in fine you would neuer cease till I accepted him, delighted in him, and at length desired him with no lesse affection, than he earst desired me.
I can not denie, but at the beginning I did recommende him vnto you (as in déede I may say that for my selfe I haue a pitiful heart) séeing the depth of his vnbridled affection, and that continually he neuer ceassed to fill mine eares with lamentable complaynts.
Nay rather that he filled your pursse with bribes and rewards, Nourse.
Well you may iudge of Nourse as you liste. In déede I haue thought it alwayes a déede of charitie to helpe the miserable yong men, whose tender youth consumeth with the furious flames of loue. But be you sure if I had thought you would haue passed to the termes you nowe stand in, pitie nor pencion, peny nor pater noster shoulde euer haue made Nurse once to open hir mouth in the cause.
No of honestie, I pray you, who first brought him into my chamber? who first taught him the way to my bed but you? fie Nourse fie, neuer speake of it for shame, you will make me tell a wise tale anone.
And haue I these thanks for my good wil? why then I sée wel I shall be counted the cause of all mishappe.
Nay rather the author of my good happe (gentle Nourse) for I would thou knewest I loue not Dulipo, nor any of so meane estate, but haue bestowed my loue more worthily than thou déemest: but I will say no more at this time.
Then I am glad you haue changed your minde yet.
Nay I neither haue changed, nor will change it.
Then I vnderstande you not, how sayde you?
Mary I say that I loue not Dulipo, nor any suche as he, and yet I neither haue changed nor wil change my minde.
I can not tell, you loue to lye with Dulipo very [Page 3] well: this geare is Gréeke to me: either it hangs not well togither, or I am very dull of vnderstanding: speake plaine I pray you.
I can speake no plainer, I haue sworne to ye contrary.
Howe? make you so deintie to tell it Nourse, least she shoulde reueale it? you haue trusted me as farre as may be, (I may shewe to you) in things that touche your honor if they were knowne: and make you strange to tell me this? I am sure it is but a trifle in comparison of those things wherof heretofore you haue made me priuie.
Well, it is of greater importance than you thinke Nourse: yet would I tell it you vnder condition and promise that you shall not tell it agayne, nor giue any signe or token to be suspected that you know it.
I promise you of my honestie, say on.
Well heare you me then: this yong man whome you haue alwayes taken for Dulipo, is a noble borne Sicilian, his right name Erostrato, sonne to Philogano, one of the worthiest men in that countrey.
How Erostrato? is it not our neighbour, whiche?
Holde thy talking nourse, and harken to me, that I may explane the whole case vnto thée. The man whome to this day you haue supposed to be Dulipo, The first supose & grownd of all the suposes is (as I say) Erostrato, a gentleman that came from Sicilia to studie in this Citie, & euen at his first arriuall met me in the stréet, fel enamored of me, & of suche vehement force were the passions he suffred, that immediatly he cast aside both long gowne and bookes, & determined on me only to apply his study. And to the end he might the more cōmodiously bothe sée me and talke with me, he exchanged both name, habite, clothes and credite with his seruāt Dulipo (whom only he brought with him out of Sicilia) and so with the turning of a hand, of Erostrato a gentleman, he became Dulipo a seruing man, and soone after sought seruice of my father, and obteyned it.
Are you sure of this?
Yea out of doubt: on the other side Dulippo tooke vppon him the name of Erostrato his maister, the habite, the credite, bookes, and all things néedefull to a studente, and in shorte space profited very muche, and is nowe estéemed as you sée.
Are there no other Sicylians héere: nor none that passe this way, which may discouer them?
Very fewe that passe this way, and fewe or none that tarrie héere any time.
This hath béen a straunge aduenture: but I pray you howe hang these thinges togither? that the studente whome you say to be the seruant, and not the maister, is become an earnest suter to you, and requireth you of your father in mariage?
That is a pollicie deuised betwéene them, to put Doctor Dotipole out of conceite: the olde dotarde, he that so instantly dothe lye vpon my father for me. But looke where he comes, as God helpe me it is he, out vpon him, what a luskie yonker is this? yet I had rather be a Noone a thousande times, than be combred with suche a Coystrell.
Daughter you haue reason, but let vs go in before he come any néerer.
Scena. 2.
WEre these dames héere, or did mine eyes dazil?
Nay syr héere were Polynesta and hir nourse.
Was my Polynesta héere? alas I knewe hir not.
He muste haue better eyesight that shoulde marry [Page 5] your Polynesta, or else he may chaunce to ouersée the best poynt in his tables sometimes.
Syr it is no maruell, the ayre is very mistie too day: I my selfe knew hir better by hir apparell than by hir face.
In good fayth and I thanke God I haue mine eye sighte good and perfit, little worse than when I was but twentie yeres olde.
How can it be otherwise? you are but yong.
I am fiftie yeres olde.
He telles ten lesse than he is.
What sayst thou of ten lesse?
I say I woulde haue thoughte you tenne lesse, you looke like one of sixe and thirtie, or seuen and thirtie at the moste.
I am no lesse than I tell.
You are like inough too liue fiftie more: shewe me your hande.
Why is Pasiphilo a Chiromancer?
What is not Pasiphilo? I pray you shewe mée it a little.
Here it is.
O how straight and infracte is this line of life? you will liue to the yéeres of Melchisedech.
Thou wouldest say, Methusalem.
Why is it not all one?
I perceiue you are no very good Bibler Pasiphilo.
Yes sir an excellent good Bibbeler, specially in a bottle: Oh what a mounte of Venus here is? but this lighte serueth not very well, I will beholde it an other day, when the ayre is clearer, and tell you somewhat, peraduenture to your contentation.
You shal do me great pleasure: but tell me, I pray thée Pasiphilo, whome doste thou thinke Polynesta liketh better, Erostrato or me?
Why? you out of doubt: She is a gentlewoman of a noble minde, and maketh greater accompte of the reputation she shall haue in marrying your worship, than that poore scholer, whose birthe and parentage God knoweth, and very fewe else.
Yet he taketh it vpon him brauely in this countrey.
Yea, where no man knoweth the contrarie: but let him braue it, bost his birth, and do what he can, the vertue and knowledge that is within this body of yours, is worth more than all the countrey he came from.
It becommeth not a man to praise him selfe: but in déede I may say, (and say truely,) that my knowledge hath stoode me in better steade at a pinche, than coulde all the goodes in the worlde. I came out of Otranto when the Turkes wonne it, and first I came to Padua, after hither, where by reading, counsailing, and pleading, within twentie yeares. I haue gathered and gayned as good as ten thousande Ducats.
Yea mary, this is the righte knowledge: Philosophie, Poetrie, Logike, and all the rest, are but pickling sciences in comparison to this.
But pyckling in déede, whereof we haue a verse: The trade of Lavve doth fill the boystrous bagges, They svvimme in silke, vvhen others royst in ragges.
O excellent verse, who made it? Virgil?
Virgil? tushe it is written in one of our gloses.
Sure who soeuer wrote it, the morall is excellent, and worthy to be written in letters of golde. But too the purpose: I thinke you shall neuer recouer the wealth that you loste at Otranto.
An other supose.I thinke I haue dubled it, or rather made it foure times as muche: but in déed, I lost mine only sonne there, a childe of fiue yeres olde.
O great pitie.
Yea, I had rather haue lost al the goods in ye world.
Alas, alas: by God and grafts of suche a stocke are very gayson in these dayes.
I know not whether he were slayne, or the Turks toke him and kept him as a bond slaue.
Alas, I could weepe for compassion, but there is no remedy but patience, you shall get many by this yong damsell with the grace of God.
Yea, if I get hir.
Get hir? why doubt you of that?
Why? hir father holds me off with delayes, so that I must needes doubt.
Content your selfe sir, he is a wise man, and desirous to place his Daughter well: he will not be too rashe in hys determination, he will thinke well of the matter: and lette him thinke, for the longer he thinketh, the more good of you shall he thinke: whose welth? whose vertue? whose skill? or whose estimation can he compare to yours in this Citie?
And hast thou not tolde him that I would make his Daughter a dower of two thousand Ducates?
Why, euen now, I came but fr [...]m thence since.
What said he?
Nothing, but that Erostrato had profered the like.
Erostrato? how can he make any dower, and his father yet aliue?
Thinke you I did not tell him so? yes I warrāt you, I forgot nothing that may furder your cause: & doubte you not, Erostrato shal neuer haue hir vnlesse it be in a dreame.
Well gentle Pasiphilo, go thy wayes and tell Damon I require nothing but his daughter: I wil none of his goods: I shal enrich hir of mine owne: & if this dower of two thousand Ducates seem not sufficiēt, I wil make it fiue hundreth more, yea a thousand, or what so euer he wil demaūd rather thē faile: go to Pasiphilo, shew thy selfe frēdly in working this feate for me: spare for no cost, since I haue gone thus farre, I wilbe loth to be out bidden. Go.
Where shall I come to you againe?
At my house.
When?
When thou wilte.
Shall I come at dinner time?
I would byd thée to dinner, but it is a Saincts euen which I haue euer fasted.
Faste till thou famishe.
Harke.
He speaketh of a dead mans faste.
Thou hearest me not.
Nor thou vnderstandest me not.
I dare say thou art angrie I byd the not to dinner: but come if thou wilte, thou shalt take such as thou findest.
What? think you I know not where to dine?
Yes Pasiphilo thou art not to séeke.
No be you sure, there are enowe will pray me.
That I knowe well enough Pasiphilo, but thou canst not be better welcome in any place than to me, I will tarrie for thée.
Well, since you will néedes, I will come.
Dispatche then, and bring no newes but good.
Better than my rewarde by the rood.
Scena. iij.
O Miserable couetous wretche, he findeth an excuse by S. Nicolas fast, bicause I should not dine with him, as though I should dine at his owne dishe: he maketh goodly feasts I promise you, it is no wonder though hée thinke me bounde vnto him for my fare: for ouer and besides that his prouision is as skant as may be, yet there is great difference [Page 9] betwéene his diet and mine. I neuer so much as sippe of the wine that he tasteth, I féede at the bordes ende with browne bread: Marie I reach always to his owne dishe, for there are no more but that only on the table. Yet he thinks that for one such dinner I am bound to do him al the seruice that I can, and thinks me sufficiently rewarded for all my trauell, with one suche festiuall promotion. And yet peraduenture some men thinke I haue great gaines vnder him: but I may say and sweare, that this dosen yéere I haue not gayned so muche in value as the points at my hose (whiche are but thrée with codpéece poynt and al): he thinkes that I may féede vpon his fauour and faire wordes: but if I could not otherwise prouide for one, Pasiphilo were in a wyse case. Pasiphilo hath mo pastures to passe in than one, I warrant you: I am of housholde with this scholer Erostrato, (his riuale) as well as with Domine Cleander: nowe with the one, and then with the other, according as I sée their Caters prouide good chéere at the market: and I finde the meanes so to handle the matter, that I am welcome too bothe. If the one sée me talke with the other, I make him beleeue it is to harken newes in the furtherance of his cause: and thus I become a broker on bothe sides. Well, lette them bothe apply the matter as well as they can, for in déede I will trauell for none of them bothe: yet will I séeme to worke wonders on eche hande. But is not this one of Damons seruants that commeth foorth? it is: of him I shall vnderstand where his master is. Whither goeth this ioyly gallant?
I come to séeke some body that may accompany my Master at dinner, he is alone, and woulde fayne haue good company.
Séeke no further, you coulde neuer haue found one better than me.
I haue no commission to bring so many.
How many? I will come alone.
How canst thou come alone, that hast continually a legion of rauening wolues within thée?
Thou doest (as seruants commonly doe) hate al that loue to visite their maisters.
And why?
Bicause they haue too many téeth as you thinke.
Nay bicause they haue to many tongues.
Tōgues? I pray you what did my tōgue euer hurt you?
I speake but merily with you Pasiphilo, goe in, my maister is ready to dine.
What? dineth he so earely?
He that riseth early, dineth early.
I would I were his man, maister doctor neuer dineth till noone, and how dilicately then God knoweth. I wil he bolde to goe in, for I count my selfe bidden.
You were best so.
Hard hap had I when I first began this vnfortunate enterprise: for I supposed the readiest medicine to my miserable affects had bene to change name, clothes, & credite with my seruant, & to place my selfe in Damons seruice: thinking that as sheuering colde by glowing fire, thurst by drinke, hunger by pleasant repasts, and a thousande suche like passions finde remedie by their contraries, so my rest lesse desire might haue founde quiet by continuall contemplation. But alas, I find that only loue is vnsaciable: for as the flie playeth with the flame till at last she is cause of hir owne decay, so the louer that thinketh with kissing and colling to content his vnbrideled apetite, is cōmonly seene the only cause of his owne consumption. Two yeeres are nowe past since (vnder the colour of Damons seruice) I haue bene a sworne seruant to Cupid: of whom I haue receiued as much fauour & grace as euer man founde in his seruice. I haue free libertie at al times to behold my desired, to talke with hir, to embrace hir, yea (be it spoken in secrete) to lie with hir. I reape the fruites of my desire: yet as my ioyes abounde, euen so [Page 11] my paines encrease. I fare like the couetous man, that hauing all the world at will, is neuer yet content: the more I haue, the more I desire. Alas, what wretched estate haue I brought my selfe vnto, if in the ende of all my farre fetches, she be giuen by hir father to this olde doting doctor, this buzard, this bribing villaine, that by so many meanes seeketh to obtain hir at hir fathers hāds? I know she loueth me best of all others, but what may that preuaile when perforce she shalbe cōstrained to marie another? Alas, the pleasant tast of my sugred ioyes doth yet remaine so perfect in my remē brance, that the least soppe of sorow séemeth more soure thā gal in my mouth. If I had neuer knowen delight, with better contentatiō might I haue passed these dreadful dolours. And if this olde Mumpsimus (whom the pockes consume) should win hir, then may I say, farewell the pleasant talke, the kind embracings, yea farewel the sight of my Polynestat for he like a ielouse wretch will pen hir vp, that I thinke the birdes of the aire shall not winne the sighte of hir. I hoped to haue caste a blocke in his waie, by the meanes that my seruaunt (who is supposed to be Erostrato, and with my habite and credite is wel estéemed) should proffer himself a suter, at the least to counteruaile the doctors proffers. But my maister knowing the wealth of the one, and doubting the state of the other, is determined to be fed no longer with faire wordes, but to accept the doctor, (whom he right well knoweth) for his sonne in law. Wel, my seruant promised me yesterday to deuise yet againe some newe conspiracie to driue maister doctor out of conceite, and to laye a snare that the foxe himselfe might be caughte in: what it is, I knowe not, nor I saw him not since he went about it: I will goe sée if he be within, that at least if he helpe me not, be maye yet prolong my life for this once. But here commeth his lackie: ho Iack pack, where is Erostrato?
Scena. iiij.
ERostrato? mary he is in his skinne.
Ah hooreson boy, I say, howe shall I finde Erostrato?
Finde him? howe meane you, by the wéeke or by the yéere?
You cracke halter, if I catche you by the eares, I shall make you answere me directly.
In déede?
Tarry me a little.
In faith sir I haue no leisure.
Shall we trie who can runne fastest?
Your legges be longer than mine, you should haue giuen me the aduauntage.
Go to, tell me where is Erostrato?
I left him in the stréete, where he gaue me this Casket, (this basket I would haue sayde) and had me beare it to Dalio, and returne to him at the Dukes Palace.
If thou sée him, tell him I must needes speake with him immediatly: or abide awhyle, I will go seeke him my selfe, rather than he suspected by going to his house.
Actus. ij.
Scena. j.
I Thinke if I had as many eyes as Argus, I coulde not haue sought a man more narrowly in euery stréete and euery by lane, there are not many Gentlemen, scholers, [Page 13] nor Marchauntes in the Citie of Ferara, but I haue mette with them, excepte him: peraduenture hée is come home an other way: but looke where he commeth at the last.
In good time haue I spied my good maister.
For the loue of God call me Dulipo (not master,) maintayne the credite that thou haste hitherto kepte, and let me alone.
Yet sir let me sometimes do my duetie vnto you, especially where no body heareth.
Yea, but so long the Parat vseth to crie knappe in sporte, that at the last she calleth hir maister knaue in earnest: so long you will vse to call me master, that at the last we shall be heard. What newes?
Good.
In déede?
Yea excellent, we haue as good as won the wager.
Oh, how happie were I if this were true?
Heare you me, yesternight in the euening I walked out, and founde Pasiphilo, and with small entreating I had him home to supper, where by suche meanes as I vsed, he became my great friend, and tolde me the whole order of our aduersaries determination: yea and what Damon doth intende to do also, and hath promised me that frō time to time, what he can espie he will bring me word of it.
I can not tel whether you know him or no, he is not to trust vnto, a very flattering and a lying knaue.
I know him very well, he can not deceiue me: and this that he hath told me I know must néedes be true.
And what was it in effect?
That Damon had purposed to giue his daughter in mariage to this doctor, vpō the dower that he hath profered.Another supose.
Are these your good newes? your excellent newes?
Stay a whyle, you will vnderstande me before you heare me.
Well, say on.
I answered to that, I was ready to make hir the lyke dower.
Well sayde.
Abide, you heare not the worst yet.
O God, is there any worsse behinde?
Worsse? why what assurance coulde you suppose that I might make without some speciall consent from Philogano my father?
Nay you can tell, you are better scholer than I.
In deede you haue lost your time: for the books that you tosse now a dayes, treate of smal science.
Leaue thy iesting, and procéede.
I sayd further, that I receyued letters lately from my father, whereby I vnderstoode that he woulde be héere very shortly to performe all that I had profered: therefore I required him to request Damon on my behalf, that he would stay his promise to the doctor for a fourtnight or more.
This is somewhat yet, for by this meanes I shal be sure to linger and liue in hope one fourtnight longer: but, at the fourthnights ende when Philogano commeth not, how shall I then do? yea and though he came, howe may I any way hope of his consent, when he shall sée, that to follow this amorous enterprise, I haue set aside all studie, all remembraunce of my duetie, and all dread of shame. Alas, alas, I may go hang my selfe.
Comforte your selfe man, and trust in me: there is a slaue for euery sore, and doubt you not, to this mischéefe we shall finde a remedie.
O friend reuiue me, that hitherto since I first attempted this matter haue bene continually dying.
Well harken a while then: this morning I tooke my horse and rode into the fieldes to solace my self, and as I passed the foorde beyonde S. Anthonies gate, I met at the foote of the hill a gentleman riding with two or thrée men: and as me thought by his habite and his lookes, he should be [Page 15] none of the wisest. He saluted me, and I him: I asked him from whence he came, and whither he would? he answered that he had come from Venice, then from Padua, nowe was going to Ferrara, and so to his countrey, whiche is Scienna: As soone as I knewe him to be a Scenese, sodenly lifting vp mine eyes, (as it were with an admiration) I sayd vnto him, are you a Scenese, and come to Farrara? why not, sayde he: quoth I (, halfe and more with a trembling voyce) know you the daunger that should ensue if you be knowne in Ferrara to be a Scenese? he more than halfe amased, desired me earnestly to tell him what I ment.
I vnderstande not wherto this tendeth.
I beléeue you: but harken to me.
Go too then.
I answered him in this sorte: Gentleman, bycause I haue heretofore founde very curteous entertaynement in your countrey, (béeing a studēt there,) I accompt my self as it were bounde to a Scenese: and therefore if I knewe of any mishappe towards any of that countrey, God forbid but I should disclose it: and I maruell that you knewe not of the iniurie that your countreymen offered this other day to the Embassadours of Counte Hercules.
What tales he telleth me: what appertayne these to me?
If you will harken a whyle, you shall finde them no tales, but that they appertayne to you more than you thinke for.
Foorth.
I tolde him further, these Ambassadoures of Counte Hercules had dyuers Mules, Waggons, and Charettes, ladē with diuers costly iewels, gorgeous furniture, & other things which they caried as presents, (passing that way) to the king of Naples: the which were not only stayd in Sciene by the officers whom you cal Customers, but serched, ransacked, tossed & turned, & in the end exacted for tribute, as [Page 16] if they had bene the goods of a meane marchaunt.
Whither the diuell wil he? is it possible that this geare appertaine any thing to my cause? I finde neither head nor foote in it.
O how impaciēt you are: I pray you stay a while.
Go to yet a while then.
I procéeded, that vpon these causes the Duke sent his Chauncelor to declare the case vnto the Senate there, of whome he had the moste vncurteous answere that euer was heard: whervpon he was so enraged with all of that countrey, that for reuenge he had sworne to spoyle as many of them as euer should come to Ferara, and to sende them home in their dublet and their hose.
And I pray thée how couldest thou vpon the sudden deuise or imagine suche a lye? and to what purpose?
You shall heare by and by a thing as fitte for our purpose, as any could haue happened.
I would fayne heare you conclude.
You would fayne leape ouer the stile, before you come at the hedge: I woulde you had heard me, and séene the gestures that I enforced to make him beléeue this.
I beléeue you, for I knowe you can counterfet wel.
Further I sayde, the duke had charged vpon great penalties, that the Inholders and vitlers shoulde bring worde dayly of as many Sceneses as came to their houses. The gentleman béeing (as I gessed at the first) a mā of smal sapientia, when he heard these newes, would haue turned his horse an other way.
By likelyhoode he was not very wise when hée would beleeue that of his countrey, which if it had bene true euery man must néedes haue knowen it.
Why not? when he had not béene in his countrey for a moneth paste, and I tolde him this had hapned within these seuen dayes.
Belike he was of small experience.
I thinke, of as litle as may be: but beste of all for our purpose, and good aduenture it was, that I mette with such an one. Now harken I pray you.
Make an ende I pray thée.
He, as I say, when he hard these words, would haue turned the bridle: and I fayning a countenance as though I were somewhat pensiue and carefull for him, paused a while, & after with a great sighe saide to him: Gentleman, for the curtesie that (as I said) I haue found in your countrey, & bicause your affaires shall be the better dispatched, I will finde the meanes to lodge you in my house, and you shal say to euery mā, that you are a Sicilian of Cathanea, your name Philogano, father to me that am in déede of that countrey and citie, called here Erostrato. And I (to pleasure you) will (during your abode here) do you reuerence as you were my father.
Out vpon me, what a grosse hedded foole am I? now I perceiue whereto this tale tendeth.
Well, and how like you of it?
Indifferently, but one thing I doubt.
What is that?
Marie, that when he hath bene here twoo or thrée dayes, he shal heare of euery man that there is no such thing betwene the Duke and the Towne of Sciene.
As for that let me alone, I doe entertaine and will entertaine him so well, that within these two or thrée daies I will disclose vnto him all the whole matter, and doubte not but to bring him in for performance of as muche as I haue promised to Damon: for what hurte can it be to him, when he shall binde a strange name and not his owne?
What, thinke you he will be entreated to stande bounde for a dower of two thousand Ducates by the yéere?
Yea why not, (if it were ten thousande) as long as he is not in déede the man that is bound?
Well, if it be so, what shall we be the néerer to our [Page 18] purpose?
Why? when we haue done as muche as we can, how can we doe any more?
And where haue you left him?
At the Inne, bicause of his horses: he and his men shall lie in my house.
Why brought you him not with you?
I thought better to vse your aduise first.
Well, goe take him home, make him all the chéere you can, spare for no cost, I will alowe it.
Content, looke where he commeth.
Is this he? goe méete him, by my trouthe he lookes euen lyke a good soule, he that fisheth for him, mighte bée sure to catche a cods heade: I will rest here a while to discipher him.
Scena. ij.
HE that trauaileth in this worlde passeth by many perilles.
An other supose.You saye true sir, if the boate had bene a little more laden this morning at the ferrie, wée had bene all drowned, for I thinke, there are none of vs that could haue swomme.
I speake not of that.
O you meane the foule waye that we had since wée came from this Padua, I promise you, I was afraide twice or thrice, that your mule would haue lien fast in the mire.
Iesu, what a blockehead thou art, I speake of the perill we are in presently since we came into this citie.
A great peril I promise you, that we were no sooner [Page 19] ariued, but you founde a frende that brought you from the Inne, and lodged you in his owne house.
Yea marie, God rewarde the gentle yong man that we mette, for else we had bene in a wise case by this time.A dottish supose. But haue done with these tales, and take you héede, & you also sirra, take héede that none of you saie we be Sceneses, and remember that you call me Philogano of Cathanca.
Sure I shal neuer remember these outlādish words, I could well remember Haccanea.
I say, Cathanea, and not Haecanea, with a vengeance.
Let another name it then when néede is, for I shall neuer remember it.
Then holde thy peace, and take héede thou name not Scene.
Howe say you, if I faine my selfe dum as I did once in the house of Crisobolus?
Doe as thou thinkest best: but looke where commeth the gentleman whom we are so much bounde vnto.
Welcome, my deare father Philogano.
Gramercie my good sonne Erostrato.
That is well saide, be mindefull of your toung, for these Ferareses be as craftie as the Deuill of hell.
No, no, be you sure we will doe as you haue bidden vs.
For if you should name Scene they would spoile you immediatly, and turne you out of the towne, with more shame, than I woulde shoulde befall you for a thousande Crownes.
I warant you, I was giuing thē warning as I came to you, and I doubt not but they will take good héede.
Yea and trust not the seruauntes of my housholde to far, for they are Ferareses all, and neuer knew my father, nor came neuer in Sicilia: this is my house, will it please you to goe in? I will follow.
Scena. iij.
THis geare hath had no euill beginning, if it continue so and fall to happie ende. But is not this the silly Doctor with the side bonet, the doting foole, that dare presume to become a suter to such a péerlesse Paragone? O how couetousnesse doth blind the common sort of men. Damon more desirous of the dower, than mindfull of his gentle & gallant daughter, hath determined to make him his Sonne in law, who for his age may be his father in law: and hath greater respect to the abundance of goods, than to his owne naturall childe. He beareth well in minde to fill his owne purse, but he litle remembreth that his daughters purse shalbe continually emptie, vnlesse Maister Doctour fill it with double ducke egges. Alas: I iest and haue no ioy, I will stand here aside and laugh a litle at this lobcocke.
Scena. iiij.
MAister, what the Diuel meane you to goe séeke guestes at this time of the day? the Maiors officers haue dined ere this time, which are alway the last in the market.
I come to séeke Pasiphilo, to the ende he may dine with mée.
As though sixe mouthes and the cat for the seuenth, bée not sufficient to eate an harlotrie shotterell, a pennieworth of cheese, and halfe a score spurlings: this is all the dainties you haue dressed for you and your familie.
Ah gréedie gut, art thou afearde thou shalt want?
I am afearde in déede, it is not the first time I haue founde it so.
Shall I make some sporte with this gallant? what shall I say to him?
Thou arte afearde belike that he will eate thée and the rest.
Nay, rather that he will eate your mule, both heare and hyde.
Heare and hyde? and why not flesh and all?
Bicause she hath none. If she had any flesh, I thinke you had eaten hir your selfe by this time.
She may thanke you then, for your good attendāce.
Nay she may thanke you for your small allowance.
In faith now let me alone.
Holde thy peace drunken knaue, and espie me Pasiphilo.
Since I can doe no better, I will set such a staunce betwéene him and Pasiphilo, that all this towne shall not make them friendes.
Could you not haue sent to séeke him, but you must come your selfe? surely you come for some other purpose, for if you would haue had Pasiphilo to dinner, I warant you he would haue taried here an houre since.
Holde thy peace, here is one of Damons seruaunts,An other supose. of him I shall vnderstand where he is: good fellow art not thou one of Damons seruaunts?
Yes sir, at your knamandement.
Gramercie, tell me then, hath Pasiphilo bene there this day or no?
Yes sir, and I thinke he be there still, ah, ah, ah.
What laughest thou?
At a thing, that euery man may not laugh at.
What?
Talke, that Pasiphilo had with my master this day.
What talke I pray thée?
I may not tell it.
Doth it concerne me?
Nay I will say nothing.
Tell me.
I can say no more.
I woulde but knowe if it concerne mée, I pray thée tell mée.
I would tell you, if I were sure you would not tell it againe.
Beleue me I will kepe it close: Carion giue vs leaue a litle, goe aside.
If my maister shoulde know that it came by me, I were better die a thousand deaths.
He shall neuer know it, say on.
Yea, but what assurance shall I haue?
I lay thée my faith and honestie in paune.
A pretie paune, the fulkers will not lend you a farthing on it.
Yea, but amongst honest mē it is more worth than golde.
Yea marie sir, but where be they? but will you néedes haue me tell it vnto you?
Yea I pray thée if it any thing appertaine to me.
Yes it is of you, and I would gladly tell it you, bicause I would not haue suche a man of worship so scorned by a villaine ribaulde.
I pray thée tell me then.
I will tell you so that you will sweare neuer to tell it to Pasiphilo, to my maister, nor to any other bodie.
Surely it is some toye deuised to get some money of him.
I thinke I haue a booke here.
If he knew him as well as I, he woulde neuer goe aboute it, for he may as soone get one of his téeth from his [Page 23] iawes with a paire of pinchers, as a pennie out of his purse with such a conceite.
Here is a letter wil serue the turne: I sweare to thée by the contents hereof neuer to disclose it to any man.
I will tell you, I am sorie to see how Pasiphilo doth abuse you, perswading you that alwayes he laboureth for you, where in déede, he lieth on my maister continually, as it were with tooth and naile for a straunger, a scholer, borne in Sicilia they call him Roscus or arskisse, he hathe a madde name I can neuer hit vpon it.
And thou recknest it as madly: is it not Erostrato?
That same I should neuer haue remembred it: and the villany speaketh al the euill of you that can be deuised.
To whom?
To my maister, yea and to Polynesta hirselfe sometimes.
Is it possible, Ah slaue, and what saith he?
More euill than I can imagine: that you are the miserablest and most nigardly man that euer was.
Sayeth Pasiphilo so by me?
And that as often as he commeth to your house, he is like to die for hunger, you fare so well.
That the Deuill take him else.
And that you are the testiest man, & moste diuers to please in the whole worlde, so that he cannot please you vnlesse he should euen kill himselfe with continuall paine.
O deuilish tong.
Furthermore, that you cough continually and spit, so that a dogge cannot abide it.
I neuer spitte nor coughe more than thus, vho, vho, and that but since I caughte this murre, but who is frée from it?
You saye true sir, yet further he sayth, your arme holes stincke, your féete worse than they, and your breathe worst of all.
If I quite him not for this geare.
And that you are bursten in the cods.
O villaine, he lieth, and if I were not in the stréete thou shouldest sée them.
And he saith, that you desire this yong gentle woman, as much for other mens pleasure as for your owne.
What meaneth he by that?
Peraduenture that by hir beautie, you woulde entice many yong men to your house.
Yong men? to what purpose?
Nay, gesse you that.
Is it possible that Pasiphilo speaketh thus of me?
Yea, and much more.
And doth Damon beléeue him?
Yea, more than you would thinke: in such sort, that long ere this, he woulde haue giuen you a flat repulse, but Pasiphilo intreated him to continue you a suter for his aduantage.
How for his aduantage?
Marie, that during your sute he might still haue some rewarde for his great paines.
He shall haue a rope, and yet that is more than he deserueth: I had thought to haue giuen him these hose when I had worne them a litle nearer, but he shall haue a. &c.
In good faith sir, they were but loste on him. Will you any thing else with me sir?
Nay, I haue heard to much of thée already.
Then I will take my leaue of you.
Farewell, but tell me, may I not know thy name?
Sir, they call me Foule fall you.
An ill fauored name by my trouthe: arte thou this countrey man?
No sir, I was borne by a castle mē cal Scabbe catch you: fare you well sir.
Farewel. Oh God how haue I bene abused? what a [Page 25] spokesman? what a messanger had I prouided?
Why sir, will you tarie for Pasiphilo till we die for hunger?
Trouble me not, that the Deuill take you both.
These newes what so euer they be, like him not.
Art thou so hungrie yet? I pray to God thou be neuer satisfied.
By the masse no more I shal as long as I am your seruaunt.
Goe with mischaunce.
Yea, and a mischiefe to you, and to al such couetous wretches.
Actus. iij.
Scena. j.
BY that time we come to the house, I truste that of these xx. egges in the basket we shall find but very few whole. But it is a folly to talke to him. What the deuill, wilt thou neuer lay that sticke out of thy hande? he fighteth with the dogges, beateth the beares, at euery thing in the streate he findeth occasion to tarie: if he spie a slipstring by the waye such another as himself, a Page, a Lackie or a dwarfe, the deuill of hell cannot holde him in chaynes, but he will be doing with him: I cannot goe two steppes, but I muste looke backe for my yonker: goe to halter sicke, if you breake one egge I may chance breake, &c.
What will you breake? your nose in mine &c?
Ah beast.
If I be a beast, yet I am no horned beast.
Is it euen so? is the winde in that doore? If I were vnloden I would tel you whether I be a horned beast or no.
You are alway laden either with wine or with ale.
Ah spitefull boy, shall I suffer him?
Ah cowardely beast, darest thou strike and say neuer a woorde?
Well, my maister shall know of this géere, either he shall redresse it, or he shall lose one of vs.
Erostra. & Du. ex improuiso.Tel him the worst thou canst by me.
What noise, what a rule is this?
Marie sir, he striketh mée bicause I tell him of his swearing.
The villaine lieth deadly, he reuiles me bicause I bid him make hast.
Holla: no more of this. Dalio, doe you make in a readinesse those Pigeons, stock Doues, and also the breast of Veale: and let your vessell be as cleare as glasse against I returne, that I may tell you which I will haue roasted, & which boyled. Crapine, say downe that basket and followe me. Oh that I coulde tell where to finde Pasiphilo, but looke where he commeth that can tell me of him.
Dulipo is espied by Erostrato.What haue you done with Philogano your father?
I haue left him within, I would faine speake with Pasiphilo, can you tell me where he is?
He dined this day with my maister, but whether he went from thence I know not, what would you with him?
I woulde haue him goe tell Damon that Philogano my father is come and ready to make assurance of as much as he wil require. Now shall I teach maister doctor a schole point, he trauaileth to none other end but to catche Cornua, and he shall haue them, for as old as he is, and as many subtilties as he hath learned in the law, he can not goe beyond me one ace.
O déere friend, goe thy wayes séeke Pasiphilo, finde him out, and conclude somewhat to our contentation.
But where shall I finde him?
At the feasts if there be any, or else in the market with the poulters or the fishmongers.
What should he doe with them?
Mary he watcheth whose Caters bie the best meat. If any bie a fat Capon, a good breast of Veale, fresh Samon or any suche good dishe, he followeth to the house, and either with some newes, or some stale iest he will be sure to make himselfe a geast.
In faith, and I will séeke there for him.
Then muste you néedes finde him, and when you haue done I will make you laughe.
Whereat?
At certaine sport I made to day with master doctor.
And why not now?
No it asketh further leysure, I pray thée dispatche, and finde out Pasiphilo that honest man.
Scena. ij.
THis amorous cause that hāgeth in cōtrouersie betwene Domine doctor & me, may be compared to thē that play at primero: of whō some one peraduēture shal léese a great sum of money before he win one stake, & at last halfe in anger shal set vp his rest: win it: & after that another, another, & another, till at last he draw the most part of the money to his heape: ye other by litle & litle stil diminishing his rest, til at last he be come as néere the brinke, as earst ye other was: yet again peraduēture fortune smiling on him, he shal as it were by péece meale, pull out the guts of his fellows bags, & bring him barer than he himselfe was tofore, & so in play continue stil, (fortune fauoring now this way, now yt way) til at last the one of thē is left with as many crosses as God hath brethren. O howe often haue I thoughte my selfe sure of the vpper hande herein? but I triumphed before the victorie. And then how ofte againe haue I thoughte the fielde loste? Thus haue I béene tossed nowe ouer, nowe vnder, [Page 28] euen as fortune list to whirle the whéele, neither sure to winne nor certayne to loose the wager. And this practise that nowe my seruaunte hath deuised, although hitherto it hath not succeeded amisse, yet can I not count my selfe assured of it: for I feare still that one mischance or other wyll come and turne it topsie turuie. But looke where my mayster commeth.
Scena. iij.
DVlipo.
Here sir.
Go in and bid Neuola and his fellowes come hither that I may tell them what they shall goe about, and go you into my studie: there vpon the shelfe you shall find a roule of writings which Iohn of the Deane made to my Father, when he solde him the Grange ferme, endorced with bothe their names: bring it hither to me.
It shall be done sir.
Go, I wil prepare other maner of writings for you thā you are aware of. O fooles that trust any mā but themselues now adaies: oh spiteful fortune, thou doest me wrong I thinke, that from the depth of Hell pitte thou haste sente mée this seruaunt to be the subuersion of me and all mine. Come hither sirs,The seruants come in. and heare what I shal say vnto you: go into my studie, where you shall finde Dulipo, step to him all at once, take him and (with a corde that I haue laide on the table for the nonce) bind him hande and foote, carie him into the dungeon vnder the stayres, make faste the dore & bring me the key, it hangeth by vpon a pin on the wall. Dispatche and doe this geare as priuily as you can: and thou Neuola come hither to me againe with spéede.
Well I shall.
Alas how shall I be reuenged of this extreme despite? if I punishe my seruant according to his diuelishe deserts, I shall heape further cares vpon mine owne head: for to suche detestable offences no punishment can séeme sufficient, but onely death, and in such cases it is not lawful for a man to be his owne caruer. The lawes are ordeyned, and officers appoynted to minister iustice for the redresse of wrongs: and if to the potestates I complayne me, I shall publishe mine owne reproche to the worlde. Yea, what should it preuayle me to vse all the puinishments that can be deuised? the thing once done can not be vndone. My daughter is defloured, and I vtterly dishonested: how can I then wype that blot off my browe? and on whome shall I séeke reuenge? Alas, alas I my selfe haue bene the cause of all these cares, and haue deserued to beare the punishment of all these mishappes. Alas, I should not haue committed my dearest darling in custodie to so carelesse a creasure as this olde Nurse: for we see by common proofe, that these olde women be either péeuishe, or pitifull: either easily enclined to euill, or quickly corrupted with bribes and rewards. O wife, my good wife (that nowe lyest colde in the graue) now may I well bewayle the wante of thée, and mourning nowe may I bemone that I misse thée: if thou hadst liued (suche was thy gouernement of the least things) that thou wouldest prudently haue prouided for the preseruation of this pearle. A costly iewell may I well accompte hir, that hath béen my chéefe comforte in youth, and is nowe become the corosiue of mine age. O Polynesta, full euill hast thou requited the clemencie of thy carefull father: and yet to excuse thée giltlesse before God, and to condemne thée giltie before the worlde, I can count none other but my wretched selfe the caytife and causer of all my cares. For of al the dueties that are requisite in humane lyfe, onely obedience is by the parents to be required of the childe: where on ye other [Page 30] side the parents are bound, first to beget them, then to bring thē foorth, after to nourish them, to preserue them from bodily perils in the cradle, from daunger of soule by godly education, to matche them in consort enclined to vertue, too banish them all ydle and wanton companie, to allow them sufficiente for their sustentation, to cut off excesse the open gate of sinne, seldome or neuer to smile on them vnlesse it be to their encouragement in vertue, and finally, to prouide them mariages in time cōuenient, lest (neglected of vs) they learne to sette either to much or to litle by thēselues. Fiue yeares are past since I might haue maried hir, when by cō tinuall excuses I haue prolonged it to my owne perdition. Alas, I shoulde haue considered, she is a collop of my owne flesh: what shold I think to make hir a princesse? Alas alas, a poore kingdome haue I now caught to endowe hir with: It is too true, that of all sorowes this is the head source and chiefe fountaine of all furies: the goods of the world are incertain, the gaines to be reioyced at, and the losse not greatly to be lamented: only the children cast away, cutteth the parents throate with the knife of inward care, which knife will kill me surely, I make none other accompte.
Scena. iiij.
SIr, we haue done as you hadde vs, and here is the key.
Well, go then Neuola and séeke master Casteling the iayler, he dwelleth by S. Antonies gate, desire him too lend me a paire of the fetters he vseth for his prisoners, and come againe quickly.
Well sir.
Heare you, if he aske what I would do with them, say you cā not tell, and tell neither him nor any other, what [Page 31] is become of Dulipo.
I warant you sir. Fye vpon the Deuill,An other suppose. it is a thing almost vnpossible for a man nowe a dayes to handle money, but the mettal will sticke on his fingers: I maruelled alway at this fellowe of mine Dulipo, that of the wages he receiued, he could maintaine himselfe so brauely apparelled, but nowe I perceiue the cause, he had the disbursing and receit of all my masters affaires, the keys of the granair, Dulippo here, Dulippo there, fauoure with my maister, in fauoure with his daughter, what woulde you more, he was Magister factotum: he was as fine as the Crusadoe, and wée silly wretches as course as canuas: wel, behold what it is come to in the ende, he had bin better to haue done lesse.Pasi. subito & improuiso venit.
Thou saist true Neuola, he hath done to much in déed.
From whence commest thou in the deuils name?
Out of the same house thou camest from, but not out of the same dore.
We had thought thou hadst bene gone long since.
When I arose from the table, I felte a rumbling in my belly, whiche made me runne to the stable, and there I fell on sléepe vppon the strawe, and haue line there euer since: And thou whether goest thou?
My master hath sent me on an errand in great hast.
Whether I pray thée?
Nay I may not tell: Farewell.
As though I néede any further instructions: O God what newes I heard euē now, as I lay in the stable: O good Erostrato and pore Cleander, An other suppose. that haue so earnestly strouen for this damsel, happie is he that can get hir I promise you, he shall be sure of mo than one at a clap that catcheth hir, eyther Adam or Eue within hir belie. Oh God, how men may be deceiued in a woman? who wold haue beléeued the contrary but that she had bin a virgin? aske the neighbours and you shall heare very good report of hir: marke hir behauiors & you would haue iudged hir very maydenly: seldome séene [Page 32] abroade but in plac [...] of prayer, and there very deuout, and no gaser at outwarde sightes, no blaser of hir beautie aboue in the windowes, no stale at the doore for the bypassers: you would haue thought hir a holy yong woman. But muche good doe it Domine Doctor, hee shall be sure to lacke no CORNE in a deare yere, whatsoeuer he haue with hir else: I beshrewe me if I let the mariage any way. But is not this the old scabbed queane that I heard disclosing all this géere to hir master, as I stoode in the stable ere nowe? it is shée. Whither goeth Psiteria?
Scena. v.
TO a Gossip of myne héereby.
What? to tattle of the goodly stirre that thou keptst concerning Polynesta.
No no: but how knew you of that géere?
You tolde me.
I? when did I tell you?
Euen now when you tolde it to Damon, I both sawe you and heard you, though you saw not me: a good parte I promise you, to accuse the poore wenche, kill the olde man with care, ouer and besides the daunger you haue brought Dulipo and the Nursse vnto, and many moe, fie, fie.
In déed I was to blame, but not so much as you think.
And how not so muche? did I not heare you tell?
Yes, But I will tell you how it came to passe: I haue knowen for a great while, that this Dulipo and Polynesta haue lyen togither, and all by the meanes of the nurse: yet I held my peace, and neuer tolde it. Now this other day the Nursse sell on scolding with me, and twyce or thryce called me drunken olde whore, and suche names that it was too badde: and I called hir baude, and tolde hir that I [Page 33] knew well enoughe howe often she had brought Dulipo to Polynestas bed: yet all this while I thought not that anye body had heard me, but it befell cleane contrarye: for my maister was on the other side of the wall, and heard all our talke, where vpon he sent for me, and forced me to confesse all that you heard.
And why wouldest thou tell him? I woulde not for. &c.
Well, if I had thought my maister would haue taken it so, he should rather haue killed me.
Why? how could he take it?
Alas, it pitieth me to sée the poore yong woman how she wéepes, wailes, and teares hir heare: not esteming hir owne life halfe so deare as she doth poore Dulipos: and hir father, he wéepes on the other side, that it would pearce an hart of stone with pitie: but I must be gone.
Go that the gunne pouder consume thée olde trotte.
Actus. iiij.
Scena. j.
WHat shall I doe? Alas what remedie shall I finde for my ruefull estate? what escape, or what excuse may I now deuise to shifte ouer our subtile supposes? for though to this day I haue vsurped the name of my maister, and that without checke or controll of any man, now shal I be openly discyphred, and that in the sight of euery man: now shal it openly be knowen, whether I be Erostrato the gentleman, or Dulipo the seruaunt. We haue hitherto played our parts in abusing others: but nowe commeth the man that wil not be abused, the right Philogano the right father of the right Erostrato: going to seke Pasiphilo, and hearing that he was at the water gate, beholde I espied my fellowe Litio, and [Page 34] by and by my olde maister Philogano setting forth his first step on land: I to fuge and away hither as fast as I could to bring word to the right Erostrato, of his right father Philogano, that to so sodaine a mishap some subtile shift might be vpō the sodaine deuised. But what can be imagined to serue the turne, although we had monethes respite to beate oure braines about it, since we are commōly knowen, at the least supposed in this towne, he for Dulipo, a slaue & seruant to Damon, & I for Erostrato a gentleman & a student? But beholde, runne Crapine to yonder olde woman before she get within the doores, & desire hir to call out Dulipo: but heare you? if she aske who would speake with him, saye thy selfe and none other.
Scena. ij.
HOnest woman, you gossip, thou rotten whore, hearest thou not olde witche?
A rope stretche your yong bones, either you muste liue to be as old as I, or be hanged while you are yong.
I pray thée loke if Dulipo be within.
Yes that he is I warrant him.
Desire him then to come hither and speake a word with me, he shall not tarie.
Content your selfe, he is otherwise occupied.
Yet tell him so gentle girle.
I tell you he is busie.
Why is it such a matter to tell him so, thou crooked Crone?
A rope stretche you marie.
A pockes eate you marie.
Thou wilt be hanged I warāt thée, if thou liue to it.
And thou wilt be burnt I warant thée, if the canker consume thée not.
If I come néere you hempstring, I will teache you to sing solfa.
Come on, and if I get a stone I will scare crowes with you.
Goe with a mischiefe, I thinke thou be some deuill that woulde tempte me.
Crapine: heare you? come away, let hir goe with a vengeance, why come you not? Alas loke where my maister Philogano commeth: what shall I doe? where shall I hide me? he shall not sée me in these clothes, nor before I haue spoken with the right Erostrato.
Scena. iij.
HOnest man it is euen so: be you sure there is no loue to be compared like the loue of the parents towards their children. It is not long since I thought that a very waightie matter shoulde not haue made me come out of Sicilia, and yet now I haue taken this tedious toyle and trauaile vpon me, only to sée my sonne, and to haue him home with me.
By my faith sir, it hath ben a great trauaile in dede, and to much for one of your age.
Yea be you sure: I came in companie with certaine gentlemen of my countrey, who had affaires to dispatche as far as to Aneona, from thence by water too Rauenna, and from Rauenna hither, continually against the tide.
Yea & I think yt you had but homly lodging by yt way.
The worst yt euer man had: but that was nothing to the stirre that ye serchers kept with me when I came aborde ye ship: Iesus how often they vntrussed my male, & ransaked [Page 36] a litle capcase that I had, tossed & turned al that was within it, serched my bosome, yea my breeches, yt I assure you I thought they would haue flayed me to searche betwene the fell and the fleshe for fardings.
Sure I haue heard no lesse, and that the marchants bobbe them somtimes, but they play the knaues still.
Yea be you well assured, suche an office is the inheritance of a knaue, and an honest man will not meddle with it.
Wel, this passage shal seme pleasant vnto you whē you shall finde your childe in health and well: but I praye you sir why did you not rather send for him into Sicilia, than to come your selfe, specially since you had none other businesse? peraduenture you had rather endanger your selfe by this noysome iourney, than hazard to drawe him from his studie.
Nay, that was not the matter, for I had rather haue him giue ouer his studie altogither and come home.
Why? if you minded not to make him learned, to what ende did you send him hither at the first?
I will tell you: when he was at home he did as most yong men doe, he played many mad prankes and did many things that liked me not very well: and I thinking, that by that time he had sene the worlde, he would learne to know himselfe better, exhorted him to studie, and put in his electiō what place he would go to. At the last he came hither, and I thinke he was scarce here so sone as I felt the want of him, in suche sorte, as from that day to this I haue passed fewe nightes without teares. I haue written to him very often that he shoulde come home, but continually he refused stil, beseching me to continue his studie, wherein he doubted not (as he said) but to profite greatly.
In dede he is very much commended of al men, and specially of the best reputed studentes.
I am glad he hath not lost his time, but I care not [Page 45] greatly for so much knowledge. I would not be without the sighte of hym againe so long, for all the learning in the worlde. I am olde nowe, and if God shoulde call mée in his absence, I promise you I thinke it woulde driue me into disperation.
It is commendable in a man to loue his childrē but to be so tender ouer them is more womanlike?
Well, I confesse it is my faulte: and yet I will tell you another cause of my comming hither, more waightie than this. Diuers of my countrey haue bene here since hée came hither, by whome I haue sente vnto him, and some of thē haue bene thrice, some foure or fiue times at his house, and yet could neuer speake with him. I feare he applies his studie so, that he will not léese the minute of an houre from his booke. What, alas, he might yet talke with his countrymen for a while: he is a yong man, tenderly brought vp, and if he fare thus cōtinually night & day at his booke, it may be enough to driue him into a frenesie.
In dede, enough were as good as a feast. Loe you sir here is your sonne Erostratoes house, I will knocke.
Yea, I pray you knocke.
They heare not.
Knocke againe,
I thinke they be on slepe.
If this gate were your Grandefathers soule, you coulde not knocke more softly, let me come: ho, ho, is there any body within?
Scena. iiij.
WHat deuill of hell is there? I thinke hée will breake the gates in péeces.
Marie sir, we had thoughte you had béene on sléepe within, and therefore we thought best to wake you: what doth Erostrato?
He is not within.
Open the dore good fellow I pray thée.
If you thinke to lodge here, you are deceiued I tell you, for here are guestes enowe already.
A good fellow, and much for thy maister honesty by our Ladie: and what guestes I pray thée?
Another suppose.Here is Philogano my maisters father, lately come out of Sicilia.
Thou speakest truer thā thou arte aware of, he will be, by that time thou hast opened the dore: open I pray thée hartily.
It is a small matter for me to open the dore, but here is no lodging for you, I tell you plaine, the house is full.
Of whome?
I tolde you: here is Philogano my maisters father come from Cathanea.
And when came he?
He came thrée houres since, or more, he alighted at the Aungell, and left his horses there: afterwarde my maister brought him hither.
Good fellow, I thinke thou hast good sport to mocke mée.
Nay, I thinke you haue good sporet to make me tary here, as though I haue nothing else to doe: I am matched with an vnrulye mate in the kitchin. I will goe looke to him another while.
I thinke he be drunken.
Sure he semes so: sée you not how redde he is about the gilles?
Abide fellow, what Philogano is it whome thou talkest of?
An honest gentlemā, father to Erostrato my maister.
And where is he?
Here within.
May we sée him?
I thinke you may if you be not blind.
Go to, go tel him here is one wold speake with him.
Mary that I will willingly doe.
I can not tell what I shoulde say to this géere. Litio, what thinkest thou of it?
I cannot tell you what I shoulde say sir, the worlde is large and long,Another suppose. there maye be moe Philoganos and moe Erostratos than one, yea and moe Ferraras, moe Sicilias, and moe Cathaneas: peraduenture this is not that Ferrara whiche you sent your sonne vnto.
Peraduenture thou arte a foole, and he was another that answered vs euen now. But be you sure honest man, that you mistake not the house?
Nay, then god helpe, thinke you I knowe not Erostratos house? yes, and himselfe also: I sawe him here no longer since thā yesterday. But here cōmes one that wil tell vs tydings of him, I like his countenaunce better than the others that answered at the windowe erewhile.
Scena. v.
WOuld you speake with me sir?
Yea sir, I would faine knowe whence you are.
Sir I am a Sicilian, at your commaundement.
What part of Sicilia?
Of Cathanea.
What shall I call your name?
My name is Philogano.
What trade doe you occupie?
Marchandise.
What marchandise brought you hither?
None, I [...]ame onely to see a sonne that I haue here whom I sawe not these two yeares.
What call they your sonne?
Erostrato.
Is Erostrato your sonne?
Yea verily.
And are you Philogano?
The same.
And a marchant of Cathanea?
What néede I tell you so often? I will not tell you a lye.
Yes, you haue told me a false lie, and thou arte a vilaine and no better.
Sir, you offer me great wrong with these iniurious wordes.
Nay, I will doe more than I haue yet proffered to doe, for I will proue thée a lyer, and a knaue to take vpon thée that thou art not.
A stoute suppose.Sir I am Philogano of Cathanea, out of all doubte, if I were not I would be loth to tell you so.
Oh, sée the boldnesse of this brute beast, what a brasen face he setteth on it?
Well, you may beleue me if you liste: what wonder you?
I wonder at thy impudencie, for thou, nor nature that framed thée, can euer counterfaite thee to be me, ribauld villaine, and lying wretch that thou arte.
A pleasant suppose.Shall I suffer a knaue to abuse my maisters father thus? hence villaine, hence, or I will sheath this good fawchiō in your paūch: if my maister Erostrato find you prating here on this fashiō to his father, I wold not be in your coate for mo conney skins thā I gat these twelue monethes: come you in againe sir, and let this Curre barke here till he burst.
Scena. vj.
LItio, how likest thou this géere?
Sir, I like it as euill as may be: but haue you not often heard tell of the falsehood of Ferara, and now may you sée, it falleth out accordingly.
Friend, you do not well to slaunder the Citie, these men are no Ferrareses you may know by their tong.
Well, there is neuer a barrell better herring, béetwene you both: but in déed your officers are most to blame, that suffer such faultes to escape vnpunished.
What knowe the officers of this? thinke you they know of euery fault?
Nay, I thinke they will knowe as little as may bée, specially when they haue no gaines, by it, but they ought to haue their eares as open to heare of such offēces, as the Ingates be to receiue guests.
Holde thy peace foole.
By the masse I am a fearde that we shall be proued fooles both two.
Well, what shall we doe?
I would thinke best we should go séeke Erostrato him selfe.
I will waite vpon you willingly, and either at the schooles, or at the conuocations, we shall find him.
By our Lady I am wery, I will run no longer about to seke him, I am sure hither he will come at the last.
Sure,A true suppose. my mind giues me that we shall find a new Erostrato ere it be long.
Looke where he is, whether runnes he? stay you awhile, I will goe tell him that you are here: Erostrato, Erostraro, ho Erostrato, I would speake with you.
Scena. vij.
NOwe can I hide me no longer. Alas what shall I doe: I will set a good face on, to beare out the matter.
O Erostrato, Philogano your father is come out of Sicilia.
Tell me that I knowe not, I haue bene with him and séene him alredy.
Is it possible? and it séemeth by him that you know not of his comming.
Why, haue you spoken with him? when saw you him I pray you?
Loke you where he standes, why go you not too him? Looke you Philogano, beholde your deare son Erostrato.
Erostrato? this is not Erostrato: thys séemeth rather to be Dulipo, and it is Dulipo in déede.
Why, doubte you of that?
What saith this honest man?
Mary sir, in deede you are so honorably [...]ladde, it is no maruell if you loke bigge.
To whome speaketh he?
What, God helpe, do you not know me?
As farre as I remember Sir, I neuer sawe you before.
Harke Litio, h [...]e is good géere, this honest man will not know me.
A shamelesse suppose.Gentleman, you take your markes amisse.
Did I not tell you of the falsehood of Ferrara master? Dulipo hath learned to play the knaue indifferently well since he came hither.
Peace I say.
Friend, my name is not Dulipo, aske you thorough out this towne of great and small, they know me: aske this honest man that is with you, if you wyll not beléeue me.
In déede, I neuer knewe him otherwise called than Erostrato: and so they call him, as many as knowe him.
Master, nowe you may sée the falsehood of these fellowes: this honest man your hoste, is of counsaile with him,A needelesse suppose. and would face vs down that it is Erostrato: beware of these mates.
Friende, thou doest me wrong to suspect me, for sure I neuer hearde hym otherwise called than Erostrato.
What name could you heare me called by, but by my right name? But I am wise enough to stand prating here with this old man, I thinke he be mad.
Ah runnagate, ah villaine traitour, doest thou vse thy master thus? what hast thou done with my son villain?
Doth this dogge barke here still? and will you suffer him master thus to reuile you?
Come in, come in, what wilt thou do with thys pestil?
I will rap the olde cackabed on the costerd.
Away with it, & you sirra, lay downe these stones: come in at dore euery one of you, beare with him for his age, I passe not of his euill wordes.
Scena. viij.
ALas, who shall relieue my miserable estate? to whome shall I complaine? since he whome I brought vp of a childe, yea and cherished him as if he had bene mine owne, doth nowe vtterly denie to knowe me: and you whome I toke for an honest man, and he that should haue broughte me to the sighte of my sonne, are compacte with this false wretch, and woulde face me downe that he is Erostrato. An other suppose. Alas, you might haue some compassion of mine age, to the miserie I am now in, and that I am a stranger desolate of all comforte in this countrey: or at the least, you shoulde haue [Page 52] feared the vengeaunce of God the supreme iudge (whiche knoweth the secrets of all harts) in hearing this false witnesse with him, whome heauen and earth doe knowe to be Dulipo and not Erostrato.
If there be many such witnesses in this coūtrey, men may go about to proue what they wil in cōtrouersies here.
Well sir, you may iudge of me as it pleaseth you: & how the matter commeth to passe I know not, but truly, euer since he came first hither, I haue knowen him by the name of Erostrato the sonne of Philogano a Cathanese: nowe whether he be so in déede, or whether he be Dulipo, (as you alledge) let that be proued by them that knewe him before he came hether. But I protest before God, that whiche I haue said, is neither a matter compact with him, nor any other, but euen as I haue hard him called & reputed of al mē.
Out and alas, he whom I sent hither with my son to be his seruaunt,A shrewde suppose. and to giue attendance on him, hath eyther cut his throate, or by some euill meanes made him away: and hath not onely taken his garmentes, his bookes, his money, and that whiche he brought out of Sicilia with him, but vsurpeth his name also, and turneth to his owne commoditie the bills of exchaunge that I haue alwayes allowed for my sonnes expences. Oh miserable Philogano, oh vnhappie old man: oh eternall God, is there no iudge? no officer? no higher powers whom I may complaine vnto for redresse of these wrongs?
Yes sir, we haue potestates, we haue Iudges, and aboue al, we haue a most iuste prince: doubt you not, but you shall haue iustice if your cause be iust.
Bring me then to the Iudges, to the potestates, or to whome you thinke best: for I will disclose a packe of the greatest knauerie, a fardell of the fowlest falsehoode that euer was heard of.
Sir, he that wil goe to the lawe, must be sure of foure things: first, a right and a iust cause: then a righteous aduocate [Page 53] to pleade: nexte, fauour coram Iudice: and aboue all, a good purse to procure it.
I haue not heard, that the law hath any respect to fauour: what you meane by it I cannot tell.
Haue you no regard to his wordes, he is but a foole.
I pray you sir, let him tell me what is fauour.
Fauour cal I, to haue a friend néere about the iudge, who may so sollicite thy cause, as if it be right, spéedie sentence may ensue without any delayes: if it be not good, then to prolong it, till at the last, thine aduersarie being wearie, shalbe glad to compound with thée.
Of thus much (although I neuer heard thus muche in this coūtrey before) doubt you not Philogano, I will bring you to an aduocate that shall spéede you accordingly.
Then shall I giue my selfe, as it were a pray to the Lawyers, whose insatiable iawes I am not able to féede, although I had here all the goods and landes which I possesse in mine own countrey: much lesse being a straunger in this miserie. I know their cautels of old: at the first time I come they wil so extoll my cause, as though it were already won: but within a seuēnight or ten daies, if I do not continually féede them as the crow doth hir brattes, twētie times in an houre, they will begin to waxe colde, and to finde cauils in my cause, saying, that at the firste I did not well instructe them, till at the last, they will not onely drawe the stuffing out of my purse, but the marrow out of my bones.
Yea sir, but this man that I tell you of, is halfe a Saincte.
And the other halfe a Deuill, I hold a pennie.
Well sayd Litio, in déede I haue but smal confidence in their smothe lookes.
Well sir, I thinke this whom I meane, is no suche manner of man: but if he were,An other suppose. there is such hatred and euil wil betwene him & this gentlemā (whether he be Erostrato or Dulipo, what so euer he be) that I warrant you, he will [Page 54] doe whatsoeuer he can do for you, were it but to spite him.
Why? what hatred is betwixt them?
They are both in loue and suters to one gentlewoman, the daughter of a welthie man in this citie.
Why? is the villeine become of such estimatiō that he dare presume to be a suter to any gentlewomā of a good familie?
Yea sir out of all doubt.
How call you his aduersarie?
Cleander, one of the excellentest doctors in our citie.
For Gods loue let vs goe to him.
Goe we then.
Actus. v.
Scena. 1.
WHat a mishappe was this? that before I could méete with Erostrato, I haue light euen ful in the lap of Philogano: where I was cōstrained to denie my name, to denie my master, & to faine that I knew him not, to contend with him, & to reuile him, in such sort, that hap what hap can, I cā neuer hap well in fauour with him againe. Therefore if I could come to speake with ye right Erostrato, I will renounce vnto him both habite and credite, and away as fast as I can trudge into some strange countrey, where I may neuer see Philogano againe. Alas, he that of a litle childe hath brought me vp vnto this day,Another suppose. and nourished me as if I had bene his owne: & in déede (to confesse the trouth) I haue no father to trust vnto but him. But looke where Pasiphilo commeth, the fittest man in the world to goe on me message to Erostrato.
Scena. ij.
TWo good newes haue I heard to day alreadie: one that Erostrato prepared a great feast this night: the other, that [Page 55] he séeketh for me. And I to ease him of his trauaile, least he shoulde runne vp and downe séeking me, and bicause no man loueth better thā I to haue an erand where good chéere is, come in post hast euen home to his owne house: and loke where he is.
Pasiphilo, thou muste doe one thing for me if thou loue me.
If I loue you not, who loues you? commaunde me.
Go then a litle there, to Damons house, aske for Dulipo, and tell him.
Wot you what? I cannot speake with him, he is in prison.
In prison? how commeth that to passe? where is he in prison?
In a vile dungeon there within his masters house.
Canst thou tell wherefore?
Be you content to know he is in prison, I haue told you to muche.
If euer you will doe any thing for me, tell me.
I pray you desire me not, what were you the better if you knew?
More than thou thinkest Pasiphilo by God.
Well, and yet it standes me vpon more than you thinke, to kéepe it secrete.
Why Pasiphilo, is this the trust I haue had in you? are these the faire promises you haue awayes made me?
By the masse I would I had fasted this night with maister doctor, rather than haue come hither.
Wel Pasiphilo, eyther tel me, or at few woordes neuer thinke to be welcome to this house from henceforthe.
Nay, yet I had rather léese all the Gentlemen in this towne. But if I tell you any thing that displease you, blame no body but your selfe now.
There is nothing cā greue me more thā Dulipoes mishappe, no not mine owne: and therfore I am sure thou [Page 56] canst tell me no worsse tidings.
Another plain and homely suppose.Well, since you would néedes haue it, I wil tell you: he was taken a bed with your beloued Polynesta.
Alas, and doth Damon knowe it?
An olde trotte in the house disclosed it to him, whervpon he tooke bothe Dulipo and the Nurse which hath bene the broker of all this bargayne, and clapte them bothe in a cage, where I thinke they shall haue sorowe soppes too their swéete meates.
Pasiphilo, go thy wayes into the kitchin, commaund the cooke to boyle and roast what liketh thee best, I make thée supra visour of this supper.
By the masse if you should haue studied this seuennight, you could not haue appointed me an office to please me better. You shall sée what dishes I will deuise.
Scena. iij.
I Was glad to rid him out of the way, least he shoulde sée me burst out of these swelling teares, which hitherto with great payne I haue prisoned in my brest, & least he shoulde heare the Eccho of my doubled sighes, whiche bounce from the botome of my heuy heart. O cursed I, O cruell fortune, that so many dispersed griefes as were sufficient to subuert a legion of Louers, hast sodenly assembled within my carefull carkase to treat this fearfull heart in sunder with desperation. Thou that hast kepte my master all his youthe within the realme of Sicilia, reseruing the wind and waues in a temperate calme (as it were at his commaunde) nowe to conuey his aged limmes hither, neither sooner nor later: but euen in the worst time that may be. If at any time before thou haddest conducted him, this enterprise had bene cut off without care in the beginning: and if neuer so little longer thou hadst lingred his iorney, this happie day might [Page 49] then haue fully finished our drifts & deuises. But alas, thou hast brought him euen in the very worst time, to plunge vs al in the pit of perdition. Neither art thou content to entā gle me alone in thy ruinous ropes, but thou must also catch the right Erostrato in thy crooked clawes, to reward vs both with open shame & rebuke. Two yéeres hast thou kept secrete our subtill Supposes, euen this day to discipher them with a sorowfull successe. What shall I do? Alas what shift shall I make? it is too late now to imagine any further deceite, for euery minute séemeth an houre til I find some succour for the miserable captiue Erostrato. Wel, since there is no other remedie, I wil go to my master Philogano, & to him will I tell the whole truth of the matter, that at the least he may prouide in time, before his sonne féele the smart of some sharpe reuenge and punishment. This is the best, and thus wil I do. Yet I know, that for mine owne parte I shal do bitter penance for my faults forepassed: but suche is the good will and duetie that I beare to Erostrato, as euen with the losse of my life I must not sticke to aduenture any thing which may turne to his commoditie. But what shall I do? shal I go séeke my master about the towne, or shall I tarrie his returne hither? If I méete him in the stréetes, he wil crie out vpon me, neither will he harken to any thing that I shall say, till he haue gathered all the people wondring about me, as it were at an Owle. Therefore I were better to abide here, and yet if he tarrie long I will goe séeke him, rather than prolong the time to Erostratos perill.
Scena. iiij.
YEa dresse them, but lay them not to the fire, till they will be ready to sit downe. This géere goeth in order: but if I had not gone in, there had fallen a foule faulte.
And what fault I pray thée?
Marie, Dalio would haue layd the shoulder of mutton and the Capon bothe to the fire at once like a foole: he did not consider, that the one woulde haue more roasting than the other.
Alas, I would this were the greatest fault.
Why? and either the one should haue bene burned before the other had bene roasted, or else he muste haue drawne them off the spitte: and they would haue bene serued to the boorde either colde or rawe.
Thou hast reason Pasiphilo.
Now sir, if it please you I will goe into the towne and buye oranges, oliues, and caphers, for without suche sauce the supper were more than halfe lost.
Erostrato exit.There are within already, doubt you not, there shal lacke nothing that is necessarie.
Since I told him these newes of Dulipo, he is cleane beside himself: he hath so many hammers in his head, that his braynes are ready to burst:A knauishe suppose. and let them breake, so I may suppe with him to night, what care I? But is not this Dominus noster Cleandrus that commeth before? well sayde, by my truth we will teache maister Doctor to weare a cornerd cappe of a new fashion. By God Polynesta shal be his, he shall haue hir out of doubt, for I haue tolde Erostrato such newes of hir, that he will none of hir.
Scena. v.
YEa, but howe will ye proue that he is not Erostrato, hauing such presumptiōs to the cōtrarie? or how shall it be thought that you are Philogano, when an other taketh vpon him this same name, and for proofe bringeth him for a witnesse, which hath bene euer reputed here for Erostrato?
I will tel you sir, let me be kept here fast in prison, & [Page 51] at my charges let there be some man sent into Sicilia, that may bring hither with him two or thrée of the honestest mē in Cathanea, and by them let it be proued if I or this other be Philogano, and whether he be Erostrato or Dulipo my seruant: & if you finde me contrarie, let me suffer death for it.
I will go salute master Doctour.
It will aske great labour & great expences to proue it this way, but it is the best remedie that I can see.
God saue you sir.
And reward you as you haue deserued.
Then shall he giue me your fauour continually.
He shall giue you a halter, knaue and villein that thou arte.
I knowe I am a knaue, but no villein. I am your seruaunt.
I neither take thée for my seruāt, nor for my friend.
Why? wherein haue I offended you sir?
Hence to the gallowes knaue.
What softe and faire sir, I pray you, I praesequar, you are mine elder.
I will be euen with you, be you sure, honest man.
Why sir? I neuer offended you.
Well, I will teach you: out of my sight knaue.
What? I am no dogge, I would you wist.
Pratest thou yet villein? I will make thée.
What will you make me? I sée wel the more a man doth suffer you, the worsse you are.
Ah villein, if it were not for this gentleman, I wold tell you what I.
Villein? nay I am as honest a man as you.
Thou liest in thy throate knaue.
O sir, stay your wisedome.
What will you fight? marie come on.
Well knaue, I will méete with you another time, goe your way.
Euen when you list sir, I will be your man.
And if I be not euen with thee, call me out.
Nay by the Masse, all is one, I care not, for I haue nothing: if I had either landes or goods, peraduenture you would pull me into the lawe.
Sir, I perceiue your pacience is moued.
This villaine: but let him goe, I will see him punished as he hath deserued. Now to the matter, how said you?
Lawyers are neuer weary to get money.This fellow hath disquieted you sir, peraduenture you would be loth to be troubled any further.
Not a whit, say on, & let him go with a vengeance.
I say, let them send at my charge to Cathanea.
Yea I remember that wel, & it is the surest way as this case requireth: but tel me, how is he your seruant? and how come you by him? enforme me fully in the matter.
I will tell you sir: when the Turkes won Otranto.
Oh, you put me in remembrance of my mishappes.
How sir?
For I was driuen among the rest out of the towne (it is my natiue countrey) and there I lost more than euer I shall recouer againe while I liue.
Alas, a pitifull case by S. Anne.
Well, procéede.
At that time (as I saide) there were certaine of our countrey that scoured those costes vpon the seas, with a good barke; well appointed for the purpose, and had espiall of a Turkey vessell that came laden from thence with great aboundance of riches.
A gentle suppose.And peraduenture most of mine.
So they boarded them, & in the end ouercame them, & brought the goods to Palermo, [...] whence they came, and amōgst other things that they had, was this villeine my seruaunt, a boy at that time, I thinke not past fiue yéeres olde.
Alas, I lost one of that same age there.
And I beyng there, and liking the Childes fauour [Page 61] well, proffered them foure and twentie ducates for him, and had him.
What? was the childe a Turke? or had the Turkes brought him from Otranto?
They saide he was a Childe of Otranto, but what is that to the matter? once .xxiiij. Ducattes he cost me, that I wot well.
Alas, I speake it not for that sir, I woulde it were he whome I meane.
Why, whom meane you sir?A crafty suppose.
Beware sir, be not to lauish.
Was his name Dulipo then? or had he not another name?
Beware what you say sir.
What the deuill hast thou to doe? Dulipo? no sir his name was Carino.
Yea, well said, tell all and more to, doe.
O Lord, if it be as I thinke, how happie were I? & why did you change his name then?
We called him Dulipo, bycause when he cryed as Chrildren doe sometimes, he woulde alwayes cry on that name Dulipo.
Well, then I sée well it is my owne onely Childe, whome I loste, when I loste my countrie: he was named Carino after his grandfather, and this Dulipo whome he alwayes remembred in his lamenting, was his foster father that nourished him and brought him vp.
Sir, haue I not told you enough of ye falshood of Ferara? this gentleman will not only picke your purse, but beguile you of your seruaunt also, & make you beleue he is his son.
Well goodfellow, I haue not vsed to lie.
Sir no, but euery thing hath a beginning.
Fie, Philogano haue you not the least suspecte that may be of me.
No marie, but it were good he had the most suspecte [Page 62] that may be.
Well, hold thou thy peace a litle good follow. I pray you tell me Philogano had ye child any remembrance of his fathers name, his mothers name, or ye name of his familie?
He did remember them, and could name his mother also, but sure I haue forgotten the name.
I remember it well enough.
Tell it then.
Nay, that I will not marie, you haue tolde him too much al ready.
Tell it I say, if thou can.
Cā? yes by ye masse I cā wel enough: but I wil haue my tong pulled out, rather thā tell it, vnlesse he tell it first: doe you not perceiue sir, what he goeth about?
Well, I will tell you then, my name you know alredy: my wife his mothers name was Sophronia, the house that I came of, they call Spiagia.
I neuer heard him speake of Spiagia but in déede I haue heard him say, his mothers name was Sophronia: but what of yt? a great matter I promise you. It is like enoughe that you two haue compact together to deceiue my maister.
What nedeth me more euident tokens? this is my sonne out of doubt whom I lost eighteen yeares since, and a thousand thousand times haue I lamented for him: he shuld haue also a mould on his left shoulder.
He hath a moulde there in deede: and an hole in an other place to, I would your nose were in it.
Faire wordes fellow Litio: oh I pray you let vs goe talke with him, O fortune, howe much am I bounde to thée if I finde my sonne?
Yea how little am I beholdē to fortune, that know not where my sonne is become, and you whome I chose to be mine aduocate, will nowe (by the meanes of this Dulipo) become mine aduersarie?
A right suppose.Sir, let vs first goe find mine: and I warrant you [Page 63] yours will be founde also ere it be long.
God graunt: goe we then,
Since the dore is open, I will neuer knocke nor cal, but we will be bolde to goe in.
Sir, take you héede, least he leade you to some mischiefe.
Alas Litio, if my sonne be loste what care I what become of me?
Well, I haue tolde you my minde Sir, doe you as you please.
Scena sexta.
COme hither you olde kallat, you tatling huswife, that the deuill cut oute your tong: tell me, howe could Pasiphilo know of this géere but by you?
Sir, he neuer knewe it of me, he was the firste that tolde me of it.
Thou liest old drabbe, but I would aduise you tel me the truth, or I wil make those old bones rattle in your skin.
Sir, if you finde me contrarie, kill me.
Why? where should he talke with thée?
He talked with me of it here in the streete.
What did you here?
I was going to the weauers for a webbe of clothe you haue there.
And what cause coulde Pasiphilo haue to talke of it, vnlesse thou began the mater first?
Nay, he began with me sir, reuiling me, bycause I had tolde you of it: I asked him how he knewe of it, and he said he was in the stable when you examined me ere while.
Alas, alas, what shall I doe then? in at dores olde whore, I wil plucke that tong of thine out by the rootes one day. Alas it gréeueth me more that Pasiphilo knoweth it, [Page 64] than all the rest. He that will haue a thing kept secrete, let him tell it to Pasiphilo: the people shall knowe it, and as many as haue eares and no mo. By this time he hath tolde it in a hundreth places. Cleander was the firste, Erostrato the seconde, and so from one to another throughout the citie. Alas, what dower, what mariage shall I nowe prepare for my daughter? O poore dolorons Damon, more miserable than miserie it selfe,The first suppose brought to conclusion. would God it were true that Polynesta tolde me ere while: that he who hathe deflowred hir, is of no seruile estate, (as hitherto he hath bene supposed in my seruice) but that he is a gentleman borne of a good parentage in Sicilia. Alas, small riches shoulde content me, if he be but of an honest familie: but I feare that he hathe deuised these toyes to allure my daughters loue. Well I wil goe examine hir againe, my minde giueth me that I shall perceiue by hir tale whether it be true or not. But is not this Pasiphilo that cōmeth out of my neighbours house? what the deuill ayleth him to leape and laughe so like a foole in ye high way?
Scena septima.
O God, that I might finde Damon at home.
What the diuill would he with me?
That I may be the firste that shall bring him these newes.
What will he tell me, in the name of God?
O Lord, how happie am I? loke where he is.
What newes Pasiphilo, that thou arte so merie?
Sir I am mery to make you glad: I bring you ioyfull newes.
And that I haue nede of Pasiphilo.
I knowe sir, that you are a sorowfull man for this mishap that hath chaunced in your house, peraduenture you thoughte I had not knowen of it. But let it passe, plucke vp [Page 65] your sprits, and reioyce: for he that hath done you this iniurie is so well borne, and hath so riche parents, that you may be glad to make him your sonne in law.
How knowest thou?
His father Philogano one of the worthiest men in all Cathanea, is nowe come to the citie, and is here in your neighbours house.
What, in Erostratos house?
Nay in Dulipos house: for where you haue alwayes supposed this gentlemā to be Erostrato, it is not so, but your seruaunt whom you haue emprisoned hitherto, supposed to be Dulipo, he is in dede Erostrato: and that other is Dulipo. And thus they haue alwayes, euen since their first ariual in this citie, exchaunged names, to the ende that Erostrato the maister, vnder ye name of Dulipo a seruant, might be entertained in your house, & so winne the loue of your daughter.
Wel, then I perceiue it is euē as Polinesta told me.
Why, did she tell you so?
Yea: But I thought it but a tale.
Well, it is a true tale: and here they will be with you by and by: both Philogano this worthie man, and maister doctor Cleander.
Cleander? what to doe?
Cleander? Why therby lies another tale, the moste fortunate aduenture that euer you heard: wot you what? this other Dulipo, whome all this while we supposed to be Erostrato, is founde to be the sonne of Cleander, whome he lost at the losse of Otranto, and was after solde in Sicilia too this Philogano the strangest case that euer you heard: a mā might make a Comedie of it. They wil come euen straight, and tell you the whole circumstance of it themselues.
Nay I will first goe heare the storie of this Dulipo, be it Dulipo or Erostrato that I haue here within, before I speake with Philogano.
So shall you doe well sir, I will goe tell them that [Page 66] they may stay a while, but loke where they come.
Scena .viij.
SIr, you shal not nede to excuse ye matter any further, since I haue receiued no greater iniurie than by words, let thē passe like wind, I take them well in worthe: and am rather well pleased than offended: for it shall bothe be a good warning to me another time howe to trust euery man at the first sighte, yea, and I shall haue good game here after to tel this pleasant story another day in mine owne countrey.
Gentleman, you haue reason: and be you sure, that as many as heare it, will take great pleasure in it. And you Philogano may thinke, that god in heauen aboue, hath ordained your comming hither at this present to the ende I mighte recouer my lost sonne, whom by no other meanes I coulde euer haue founde oute.
Surely sir I thinke no lesse, for I think that not so much as a leafe falleth from the trée, without the ordinance of god. But let vs goe seke Damon, for me thinketh euery day a yeare, euery houre a daye, and euery minute to much till I sée my Erostrato.
I cannot blame you, goe we then. Carino take you that gentleman home in the meane time, the fewer the better to be present at such affaires.
Scena .ix.
MAister doctor, will you not shew me this fauour, to tell me the cause of your displeasure?
Gentle Pasiphilo, I muste néedes confesse I haue done thée wrong, and that I beleued tales of thée, whiche in [Page 67] déede I finde now contrary.
I am glad then that it procéedee rather of ignorance than of malice.
Yea beleue me Pasiphilo.
O sir, but yet you shoulde not haue giuen me suche foule wordes.
Well, content thy selfe Pasiphilo, I am thy frende as I haue alwayes bene: for proofe whereof, come suppe with me to night, & from day to day this seuen night be thou my guest. But beholde, here cōmeth Damō out of his house.
Scena decima.
WE are come vnto you sir, to turne you sorowe into ioy and gladnesse: the sorow, we meane, that of force you haue sustained since this mishappe of late fallen in your house. But be you of good comforte sir, and assure your selfe, that this yong man which youthfully and not maliciously hath commited this amorons offence, is verie well able (with consent of this worthie man his father) to make you sufficient amendes: being borne in Cathanea of Sicilia, of a noble house, no way inferiour vnto you, and of wealth (by ye reporte of suche as knowe it) farre excéeding that of yours.
And I here in proper person, doe presente vnto you sir, not onely my assured frendship and brotherhoode, but do earnestly desire you to accepte my poore childe (though vnworthy) as your sonne in lawe: and for recompence of the iniurie he hath done you, I profer my whole lands in dower to your daughter: yea and more would, if more I might.
And I sir, who haue hitherto so earnestly desired your daughter in mariage, doe now willingly yelde vp and quite claime to this yong man, who both for his yeares and [Page 66] [...] [Page 67] [...] [Page 68] for the loue he beareth hir, is most méetest to be hir husbād. For wher I was desirous of a wife by whom I might haue yssue, to leaue that litle which god hath sent me: now haue I litle néede, that (thankes be to god) haue founde my déerely beloued sonne, whō I loste of a childe at ye siege of Otranto.
Worthy gentlemā, your friendship, your alliaunce, and the nobilitie of your birthe are suche, as I haue muche more cause to desire them of you than you to request of me that which is already graunted. Therfore I gladly, and willingly receiue the same, and thinke my selfe moste happie now of all my life past, that I haue gottē so toward a sonne in lawe to my selfe, and so worthye a father in lawe to my daughter: yea and muche the greater is my contentation, since this worthie gentleman maister Cleander, doth holde himselfe satisfied. And now behold your sonne.
O father.
Beholde the naturall loue of the childe to the father: for inwarde ioye he cannot pronounce one worde, in steade wherof he sendeth sobbes and teares to tell the effect of his inward inuention. But why doe you abide here abrode? wil it please you to goe into the house sir?
Pasiphilo hath saide well: will it please you to goe in sir?
Here I haue brought you sir, bothe fetters & boltes.
Away with them now.
Yea, but what shal I doe with them?
Marie I will tell thée Neuola: to make a righte ende of our supposes, lay one of those boltes in the fire, and make thée a suppositorie as long as mine arme, God saue the sample. Nobles and gentlemen, if you suppose that our supposes haue giuen you sufficient cause of delighte, shewe some token, whereby we may suppose you are content.
IOCASTA: A Tragedie vvritten in Greeke by Euripides, translated and digested into Acte by George Gascoygne, and Francis Kinvvelmershe of Grayes Inne, and there by them presented, 1566.
The argument of the Tragedie.
The names of the Interloquutors.
- Iocasta, the Queene.
- Seruus, a noble man of the Queenes traine.
- Bailo, gouernour to the Queenes sonnes.
- Antygone, daughter to the Queene.
- Chorus, foure Thebane dames.
- Pollynices & Eteocles. sonnes to Oedipus & the Queene.
- Creon, the Queenes brother.
- Meneceus, sonne to Creon.
- Tyresias, the diuine priest.
- Manto, the daughter of Tyresias.
- Sacerdos, the sacrifycing priest.
- Nuntij, three messangers from the campe.
- Oedipus, the olde King father to Eteocles and Pollynices, sonne and husbande to Iocasta the Queene.
The Tragedie presented as it were in Thebes.
¶ The order of the dumme shewes and Musickes before euery Acte.
FIrste, before the beginning of the first Acte, did sounde a dolefull & straunge noyse of violles, Cythren, Bandurion, and such like, during the whiche, there came in vppon the Stage a king with an Imperial crown vppon his head, very richely apparelled: a Scepter in his righte hande, a Mounde with a Crosse in his lefte hande, sitting in a Chariote very richely furnished, drawne in by foure Kinges in their Dublettes and Hosen, with Crownes also vpon their heades. Representing vnto vs Ambition, by the hystorie of Sesostres king of Egypt, who beeing in his time and reigne a mightie Conquerour, yet not content to haue subdued many princes, and taken from them their kingdomes and dominions, did in like maner cause those Kinges whome he had so ouercome, to draw in his Chariote like Beastes and Oxen, thereby to content his vnbrideled ambitious desire. After he had beene drawne twyce about the Stage, and retyred, the Musicke ceased, and Iocasta the Queene issued out of hir house, beginning the firste Acte, as followeth. [Page 72] Iocasta the Queene issueth out of hir Pallace, before hir twelue Gentlemen, following after hir eight Gentlewomen, whereof foure be the Chorus that remayne on the Stage after hir departure. At hir entrance the Trumpettes sounded, and after she had gone once about the Stage, she turneth to one of hir most trustie and esteemed seruaunts, and vnto him she discloseth hir griefe, as foloweth.
The first Acte.
The first Scene.
The order of the second dumbe shevve.
BEfore the beginning of this seconde Acte dyd soūd a very dolefull noise of flutes: during the which there came in vpon the stage two coffines couered with hearclothes, & brought in by .viij. in mourning weed: & accōpanied with .viij. other mourners: & after they had caried the coffins about the stage, there opened & appeared a Graue, wherin they buried ye coffins & put fire to them: but the flames did seuer & parte in twaine, signifying discord by the history of two brethrē, whose discord in their life was not onely to be wondred at, but being buried both in one Tombe (as some writers affirme) the flames of their funeralls did yet parte the one frō the other in like maner, and would in no wise ioyne into one flame. After the Funerals were ended & the fire cōsumed, the graue was closed vp again, the mourners withdrew thē off the stage, & immediately by ye gates Homoloydes entred Pollinyces accompanied with vj. gentlemen and a page that carried his helmet and Target: he & his men vnarmed sauing their gorgets, for that they were permitted to come into the towne in time of truce, to the end Iocasta might bring the two brethrē to a parle: and Pollinyces after good regard takē round about him, speake as foloweth.
Actus. 2.
Scena. 1.
Actus. 2.
Scena. 2.
The order of the thirde dumbe shevve.
BEfore the beginning of this .iij. Act did sound a very dolefull noise of cornettes, during the which there opened and appeared in the stage a great Gulfe. Immediatly came in .vj. gentlemē in their dublets & hose, bringing vpon their shulders baskets full of earth and threwe them into the Gulfe to fill it vp, but it would not so close vp nor be filled. Then came the ladyes and dames that stoode by, throwing in their cheynes & Iewels, so to cause it stoppe vp and close it selfe: but when it would not so be filled, came in a knighte with his sword drawen, armed at all poyntes, who walking twise or thrise about it, & perusing it, seing that it would nether be filled with earth nor with their Iewells and ornaments, after solempne reuerence done to the gods, and curteous leaue taken of the Ladyes and standers by, sodeinly lepte into the Gulfe, the which did close vp immediatly: betokning vnto vs the loue that euery worthy person oweth vnto his natiue coū trie, by the historye of Curtins, who for the lyke cause aduentured the like in Rome. This done, blinde Tyresias the deuine prophete led in by hys daughter, and conducted by Meneceus the son of Creon, entreth by the gates Electrae, and sayth as followeth.
Actus. iij.
Scena. 1.
Scena. 2.
The order of the fourth dumbe shevve.
BEfore the beginning of this fourth Acte, the Trumpets, drummes and fifes sounded, and a greate peale of ordinaunce was shot of: in the which ther entred vpon the stage .vj. knights armed at al points: wherof three came in by the Gates Electrae, and the other three by the Gates Homoloides: either parte beeing accompanied [Page] with .vij. other armed men: and after they had marched twice or thrice about the Stage, the one partie menacing the other by their furious lookes and gestures, the .vj. knights caused their other attendants to stand by, and drawing their Swords, fell to cruell and couragious combate, continuing therein, till two on the one side were slayne. The thirde perceiuing, that he only remayned to withstand the force of .iij. enimies, did politiquely rūne aside: wherewith immediatly one of the .iij. followed after him, and when he had drawen his enimie thus from his companie, hee turned againe and slewe him. Then the seconde also ranne after him, whom he slewe in like mā ner, and consequently the thirde, and then triumphantly marched aboute the Stage wyth hys sword in his hand. Hereby was noted the incomparable force of concorde betwene brethren, who as long as they holde togither may not easily by any meanes be ouercome, and being once disseuered by any meanes, are easily ouerthrowen. The history of the brethren Horatij & Curiatij, who agreed to like combate and came to like ende. After that the dead carkasses were caried from the Stage by the armed men on both parties, and that the victor was triumphantly accompanied out, also came in a messanger armed from the campe, seeking the Queene, and to hir spake as foloweth.
Actus .iiij.
Scena .j.
Actus. 4.
The order of the laste dumbe shevve.
FIrst the Stillpipes sounded a very mournful melody, in which time came vpon the Stage a womā clothed in a white garment, on hir head a piller, double faced, the formost face fair & smiling, the other behinde blacke & louring, muffled with a white laune about hir eyes, hir lap ful of Iewelles, sitting in a charyot, hir legges naked, hir fete set vpō a great roūd bal, & beyng drawē in by .iiij. noble personages, she led in a string on hir right hand .ij. kings crowned, and in hir lefte hand .ij. poore slaues very meanly attyred. After she was drawen about the stage, she stayed a little, changing the kings vnto the left hande & the slaues vnto the right hand, taking the crownes from the kings heads she crowned therwith the ij. slaues, & casting the vyle clothes of the slaues vpon the kings, she despoyled the kings of their robes, and therwith apparelled the slaues. This done, she was drawen eftsones about the stage in this order, and then departed, leauing vnto vs a plaine Type or figure of vnstable fortune, who dothe oftentimes raise to heighte of dignitie the vile and vnnoble, and in like manner throweth downe frō the place of promotiō, euen those whō before she hir selfe had thither aduaunced: after hir departure came in Duke Creon with foure gentlemen wayting vpon him and lamented the death of Meneceus his sonne in this maner.
Actus .iij.
Scena .1.
Scena. 2.
Scena. 3.
Scena. 4.
Scena. 5.
Epilogus.
NOte (Reader) that there vvere in Thebes fovvre principall gates, vvherof the chief and most commonly vsed vvere the gates called Electrae and the gates Homoloydes. Thys I haue thought good to explane: as also certē vvords vvhich are not cōmon in vse are noted and expounded in the margent. I did begin those notes at request of a gentlevvoman vvho vnderstode not poëtycall vvords or termes. I trust those and the rest of my notes throughout the booke, shall not be hurtfull to any Reader.
❧ The Frute of reconciliation, VVritten vppon a reconciliation betwene two freendes.
Two gentlemen did run three courses at the Ring for one kisse to be takē of a fair gentlewoman being then present, with this condicion, that the winner should haue the kisse, and the loser be bound to write some verses vpon the gaine or losse therof. Now it fortuned that the winner triumphed, saying, he much lamented that in youth he had not seen the warres. VVherevpon the loser compyled these following, in discharge of the condition aboue rehearsed.
Not long after the writing hereof: he departed from the company of his sayd friend (whom he entirely loued) into the west of Englande, and feeling himselfe so consumed by womens craft that he doubted of a safe returne: wrote before his departure as followeth.
He wrote to the same friend from Excester, this Sonet following.
He wrote to the same friend from Founteine belle eaü in Fraunce, this Sonnet in commendation of the said house of Fountaine bel'eaü.
He wrote vnto a Skotish Dame whom he chose for his Mistresse in the French Court, as followeth.
A Sonet written in prayse of the browne beautie, compiled for the loue of Mistresse E. P. as foloweth.
Now to begin with another man, take these verses written to be sent with a ryng, wherein were engraued a Partrich in a Merlines foote.
A louing Lady being wounded in the spring time, and now galded eftsones with the remembrance of the spring, doth therfore thus bewayle.
An absent Dame thus complayneth.
In prayse of a Countesse.
The Louer declareth his affection, togither with the cause thereof.
A Lady being both wronged by false suspect, and also wounded by the durance of hir husband, doth thus bewray hir grief.
A Riddle.
The shield of Loue. &c.
A gloze vpon this text, Dominus ijs opus habet.
Councell to Duglasse Diue written vpon this occasion. She had a booke wherein she had collected sundry good ditties of diuers mens doings, in whiche booke she would needes entreate the aucthor to write some verses. And therevpon he wrote as followeth.
Councell giuen to master Bartholmew Withipoll a little before his latter iourney to Geane. 1572.
Gascoignes woodmanship written to the L. Grey of VVilton vpon this occasion, the sayd L. Grey delighting (amongst many other good qualities) in chusing of his winter deare, & killing the same with his bowe, did furnishe the Aucthor with a crossebowe cum pertinencijs and vouchsaued to vse his company in the said exercise, calling him one of his woodmen. Now the Aucthor shooting very often, could neuer hitte any deare, yea and oftentimes he let the heard passe by as though he had not seene thē. VVhereat when this noble Lord tooke some pastime, and had often put him in remembrance of his good skill in choosing, and readinesse in killing of a winter deare, he thought good thus to excuse it in verse.
Gascoignes gardnings, whereof were written in one end of a close walke whiche he hath in his Garden, this discourse following.
In that other ende of his sayde close walke, were written these toyes in ryme.
In a chayre in the same Garden was written this followyng.
Vpon a stone in the wall of his Garden he had written the yeare wherein he did the coste of these deuises, and therewithall this posie in Latine.
Quoniam etiam humiliatos, amoena delectant.
Gascoignes voyage into Hollande. An. 1572. written to the right honourable the Lorde Grey of Wilton.
❧ WEEDES.
¶ In this diuision are conteyned:
- The fruite of Fetters. Folio. 175
- The complaynt of the green Knight. Folio. 178
- The farewel to Fansie. Folio. 190
- The fable of Ferdinando Ieronimi and Leonora de Valasco. Folio. 193
- The prayse of a Gentlewoman neither fair nor welfauored.
- The prayse of Phillip Sparrowe. Folio. 279
- Farewel with a mischief. Folio. 281
- The doale of disdaine. Folio. 282
- Mars in despite of Vulcane. folio. 284
- Patience perforce. Folio. 286
- A letter for a yong louer. Folio. 287
- Dauid saluteth Bersabe. Folio. 288
- Sone acquainted, sone forgotten. Folio. 289
¶ The fruite of Fetters: vvith the complaint of the greene Knight, and his Farewell to Fansie.
The complaint of the greene Knight.
The continuance of the Author, vpon the fruite of Fetters.
The greene Knights farewell to Fansie.
Epilogismus.
The pleasant Fable of Ferdinando Ieronomi and Leonora de Valasco, translated out of the Italian riding tales of Bartello.
IN the pleasant Countrie of Lombardie, (and not farre from the Citie of Florence) there was dwelling sometimes a Lorde of many riche Seignories and dominions, who neuerthelesse bare his name of the Castle of Valasco: this Lord had one only sonne and two daughters: his sonne was called (during the life of his father) the heyre of Valasco, who maried a faire Gentlewoman of the house of Bellauista named Leonora: the elder daughter of the Lord of Valasco was called Francischina, a yong woman very toward, bothe in capacitie and other actiue qualities. Nowe the Lord of Valasco hauing already maried his sonne & heyre, and himselfe drawing in age, was desirous to sée his daughters also bestowed before his death, and especially the eldest, who both for beutie and ripenesse of age might often put him in remembrance that shée was a collop of his owne fleshe: and therefore sought meanes to draw vnto his house Ferdinando Ieronimi a yong gentleman of Venice, who delighting more in hawking, hunting, and such other pastimes than he did in studie, had left his owne house in Venice, and was come into Lombardie to take the pleasures of the countrie. So that the Lorde of Valasco knowing him to be of a very good parentage, and therewithall not onely riche but adorned with sundrie good qualities, was desirous (as is sayd) to drawe him home to his house (vnder pretence of hunting and hawking) to the end he might beholde his fayre daughter Francischina: who both for parentage and other worldly respects, might no lesse content his minde, than hir beautie was likely to haue allured his liking. But it fell oute farre contrary to his desire, [Page 194] for Ferdinando Ieronimi beholding the Lady Leonora, who was in déede very fayre, and of a very courtlike behauiour, became enamoured of hir, and forgetting the curtesie that the Lorde of Valasco had shewed him in entertayning him and his seruaunts, with their horses, by the space of .iiij. moneths (whiche is a rare curtesie nowe adayes, and especially in suche a countrey) he sought all meanes possible to make the heyre of Valasco a Becco. And to the end that all menne may perceiue what frutes growe on suche trees, and what issues come of such intents, I will set downe in English the fable as it is written in Italian by Bartello. And bicause I do suppose that Leonora is the same name whiche wee call Elinor in English, and that Francischina also doth import none other than Fraunces, I will so entitle them as to our own countriemen may be moste perspicuous. Vnderstand you then, that Ferdinando hauing nowe a hote affection vnto the sayde Dame Elynor, and thinking it méeter to vtter his firste conceipts in writing than in speache, did write vnto hir as followeth.
FAyre Lady I pray you vnderstande that (being altogether a straunger in this Countrie) my good happe hath bene to behold you to my no small contentation. And my euill happe accompanies the same with suche imperfection of my deserts, as that I finde alwayes a ready repulse in mine owne forwardnesse: So that considering the naturall clymate of the countrie,The ayre of that Countrie did (by all likelyhood) seeme colder to him than ye streetes of Venice. I muste say that I haue found fire in frost. And yet comparing the inequalitie of my deserts, with the least part of your worthinesse, I feele a cō tinuall frost, in my most feruent fire. Such is thē the extremitie of my passions, the whiche I could neuer haue bene content to committe vnto this teltale paper, were it not that I am destitute of all other helpe. Accept therefore I beseche you, the earnest good will of a more trustie (than worthy) seruaunt, who being thereby encouraged, may supplie the defects of his abilitie with readie triall of duetifull loyaltie. And lette this poore paper (besprent with salte teares, and blowen ouer with skalding sighes) bee saued [Page 195] of you as a safegarde for your sampler, or a bottome to winde your sowing silke, that when your last needelfull is wrought, you maye returne to reading thereof and consider the care of hym who is
THis letter by hir receyued, hir aunswere was this: She tooke occasion one day, at his request to daunce with him: the whiche doing, shée bashfully began to declare vnto him, that she had read ouer the writing whiche he deliuered vnto hir: with like protestation, that (as at deliuerie thereof, shée vnderstood not for what cause he thrust the same into hir bosome,) so now shée could not perceyue thereby any part of his meaning: neuerthelesse at laste séemed to take vppon hir the matter, and though shée disabled hir selfe, yet gaue him thankes as &c. Whereupon he brake the braule, and walking abrode, deuised immediatly these fewe verses following.
BEfore he culd put these verses in legible writing, it pleased M. Elinor of hir curtesie thus to deale with him. Walking [Page 196] in a garden among diuers other gentlemen & gentlewomen, with a little frowning smyle in passing by him, she deliuered vnto him a paper, with these words. For that I vnderstand not (quoth she) the intent of your letters, I pray you take them here againe, and bestow them at your pleasure. The which done and sayde, shée passed by withoute change either of pace or countenaunce. Ferdinando somewhat troubled with hir angrie looke, did sodenly leaue the companie, and walking into a parke neare adioyning, in great rage began to wreake his malice on this poore paper, and the same did rend and teare in péeces. When sodenly at a glaunce he perceued it was not of his owne hand writing, and therewithall abashed, vppon better regard he perceiued in one péece therof written in Romaine these letters Colei: which in english betokeneth SHE: wherfore placing all the peeces therof, as orderly as he could, he found therin written, these few lynes hereafter following.
YOur sodeyn departure, from our pastime yesterday, did enforce mee for lacke of chosen company too returne vntoo my worke, wherein I did so long continue, till at the last the bare bottome did drawe vnto my remembraunce your straunge request. And although I founde therin no iust cause to credite your coloured wordes, yet haue I thought good hereby too requite you with like curtesie, so that at least you shall not condemne mee for vngratefull. But as to the matter therin conteyned: if I could perswade my selfe, that there were in mee any coales to kyndle suche sparkes of fire, I might yet peraduenture bee drawn to beleue that your minde were frosen with like feare. But as no smoke ariseth, where no cole is kindled, so without cause of affection the passion is easie to be cured. This is all that I vnderstand of your darke letters: and as much as I meane to answere.
FErdinando immediatly vpon receyte héerof, grew in ielosie that the same was not hir owne deuise. And therin I haue no lesse allowed his iudgement, than commended his inuention [Page 197] of the verses, and letters before rehersed. For as by the stile this letter of hirs bewrayeth that it was not penned by a womans capacitie, so the sequele of hir doings may discipher, that shée had mo redy clearkes than trustie seruants in store. Well yet as the perfect hound, when he hath chased the hurt deere, amidde the whole heard, will neuer giue ouer till he haue singled it againe. Euen so Ferdinando though somwhat abashed with this doubtfull shewe, yet stil constant in his former intention, ceased not by all possible meanes, too bring this Déere yet once agayne to the bowes, wherby shée might be the more surely stryken: and so in the end enforced to yéeld. Wherfore he thought not best to commit the sayde verses willingly into hir custodie, but priuily lost them in hir chamber, written in counterfeit. And after on the next day thought better to replie, either vpon hir, or vppon hir Secretary in this wise as here followeth.
THE much that you haue answered is very much, and much more than I am able to reply vnto: neuerthelesse in myne owne defence, thus much I alleage: that if my sodein departure pleased not you, I cannot my selfe therwith be pleased, as one that seeketh not to please many, and more desirous to please you than any. The cause of myne affection, I suppose you behold dayly. For (self loue auoyded) euery wight may iudge of themselues as much as reason perswadeth: the which if it be in your good nature suppressed with bashfulnesse, then mighty loue graunt, you may once behold my wan cheekes washed in woe, that therein my salt teares may be a myrrour to represent your owne shadow, and that like vnto Nacissus you may be constrayned to kisse the cold waues, wherein your counterfait is so liuely purtrayed. For if aboundance of other matters fayled to drawe my gazing eyes in contemplation of so rare excellency, yet might these your letters both frame in me an admiration of such diuine esprite, and a confusion too my dull vnderstanding, whiche so rashly presumed too wander in this endles Laberinth. Such I esteeme you, and thereby am become such, and euen
THis letter finished and fayre written ouer, his chaunce was to méete hir alone in a Gallery of the same house: (where his manhood in this kinde of combat was firste tried:) and therein I can compare him to a valiant Prince, who distressed with power of enemies had committed the safegard of his person to treaty of Ambassade, and sodenly (surprised with a Camassado in his owne trenches) was enforced to yéeld as prisoner. Euen so Ferdinando Ieronimi lately ouercome by the beautifull beames of this Dame Elynor, and hauing now committed his moste secrete intent to these late rehearsed letters, was at vnwares encountred with his friendly foe, and constrayned either to prepare some new defence, or else like a recreant to yéeld himselfe as already vanquished. Wherefore (as in a traunce) he lifted vp his dazled eies, and so continued in a certen kind of admiration, not vnlike the Astronomer, who (hauing after a whole nights trauaile, in the grey morning found his desired starre) hath fired his hungry eies to behold the Comete long looked for: wherat this gracious Dame (as one that could discerne the sunne before hir chamber windowes were wide opē) did deign to embolden the fainting Knight with these or like woordes.
I perceiue nowe (quod she) howe mishap doth follow me, that hauing chosen this walke for a simple solace, I am here disquieted by the man that meaneth my destruction: and therwithall, as half angry, began to turne hir backe, when Ferdinando (now awaked) gan thus salute hir.
Mistresse (quod he) and I perceiue now, that good hap haūts me, for being by lacke of oportuni [...]ie constreined to commit my welfare vnto these blabbing leaues of bewraying paper (shewing that in his hād) I am here recomforted with happy view of my desired ioy: and therewithall reuerently kissing his hand, did softly distreyne hir slender arme, and so slayed hir departure. The firste blow thus profered and defended, they walked and talked trauersing diuerse wayes, wherein I doubte not but that the Venetian coulde quite himselfe resonably well. For after long talke shee was contented to accept [Page 199] his proffered seruice, but yet still disabling hir selfe, and séeming to maruell what cause had moued him to subiect his libertie so wilfully, or at least in a prison (as shée termed it) so vnworthy. Wherevnto I néede not rehearse his answere, but suppose now, that thus they departed: sauing I had forgotten this: shée required of him the last rehearsed letter, saying that his firste was loste, and nowe shée lacked a new bottome for hir silke, the whiche I warrant you, he graunted: and so preffering to take an humble congé by Bezolas manos, she graciously gaue him the Zuccado dez labros: and so for then departed. And there vppon recompting hir woordes, he compiled these following, whiche he termed Terza sequenza, too sweete Mistresse SHE.
WHen he had well sorted this sequence, he sought oportunitie to leaue it where shée might finde it before it were lost. And nowe the coles began to kindle, whereof (but ere while) shée feigned hir selfe altogither ignorant. The flames began to breake out on euery side: and she to quench them, shut vp hir selfe in hir chamber solitarily. But as the smithie gathers greater heate by casting on of water, euen so the more she absented hir self from company, the fresher was the griefe whiche galded hir remembrance: so that at laste the report was spredde thorough the house, that Mistresse Elinor was sicke. At which newes Ferdinando tooke small comfort: neuerthelesse Dame Venus with good aspect did yet thus [Page 201] much furder his enterprise. The Dame (whether it were by sodaine chaunge, or of wonted custome) fell one day into a greate bléeding at the nose. For whiche accident the sayde Venetian, amongst other pretie conceits, had a present remedie: Whereby he tooke occasion (when they of the house had all in vayne sought many waies to stoppe hir bléeding) to worke his feate in this wise: Firste he pleaded ignorance, as though he knewe not hir name, and therefore demaunded the same of Mistresse Fraunces, who when shée had to him declared that hir name was Elinor, hee sayde these woordes or very like in effect: If I thought I shoulde not offend Mistres Elynor, I woulde not doubte to stoppe hir bléeding, without eyther payne or difficultie. This Gentlewoman somewhat tickled with his woordes, did incontinent make relation thereof to the sayde Mistresse Elynor: who immediately (declaring that Ferdinando was hir late receyued seruaunt) returned the saide messanger vnto him with especiall charge, that hee shoulde employ his deuoyre towardes the recouery of hir health: with whome the same Ferdinando repayred to the chamber of his desired: and finding hir set in a chayre, leaning on the one side ouer a Siluer bason: After his due reuerence, hée layde his hande on hir Temples, and priuily rounding hir in hir eare, desired hir to commaunde a Hazell sticke and a knyfe: the whiche beyng brought, hée deliuered vnto hir, saying on this wise. Mistresse I will speake certaine woordes in secrete to my selfe, and doe require no more: but when you heare me saie openly this woorde Amen, that you with this knyfe will make a nicke vppon this Hazell sticke: and when you haue made fiue nickes, commaunde mée also to cease. The Dame partly of good will to the Knight, and partly to be stenched of hir bléeding, commaunded hir mayde, and required the other Gentils, somewhat to stande aside: whiche done, he began his Oraisons, wherein he had not long muttered before he pronounced Amen, wherwith the Lady made a nicke on the sticke with hir knyfe. The saide Ferdinando continued to an other Amen, [Page 202] when ye Lady hauing made an other nick, felt hir bléeding began to steynch: & so by the third Amen throughly steinched. Ferdinando then chaunging his prayers into priuat talk, said softly vnto hir: Mystres, I am glad that I am hereby enabled to doe you some seruice, and as the staunching of your owne bloud may some way recomfort you, so if the shedding of my bloud may any way content you, I beséech you commaund it, for it shalbe euermore readily employed in your seruice: and therwithal with a loud voyce pronounced Amen: wherewith the good Lady making a nick, did secretly answere thus: Good seruant (quod shée) I must néedes think my selfe right happy to haue gained your seruice and good will, and be you sure, that although ther be in me no such desert as may draw you into this depth of affection: yet such as I am, I shalbe alwayes glad to shewe my self thankfull vnto you. And now, if you thinke your self assured that I shall bleede no more, doe then pronounce your fifth Amen: the which pronounced, shée made also hir fifth nicke, and held vp hir head, calling the company vnto hir, and declaring vnto them, that hir bléeding was throughly steinched. And Ferdinando tarying a while in the chamber, found oportunitie to loose his sequence néere too his desired Mistres: And after congé taken, departed. After whose departure the Lady arose out of hir chayre, and hir mayd going about to remoue the same, espied, and toke vp the writing: the which hir mistres perceiuing, gan sodenly coniecture that the same had in it some like matter to the verses once before left in like maner, and made semblant to mistrust that the same should be some wordes of coniuration: and taking it from hir mayd, did peruse it, and immediatly said too the company, that she would not forgo the same for a great treasure. But to be plain, I think that (Ferdinando excepted) she was glad to be rid of all company, vntill she had with sufficient leasure turned ouer and retossed euery card in this sequence. And not long after being now tickled thorough all the vaines with an vnknown humour, aduentured of hir selfe to commit vnto a like Ambassadour the discyphring [Page 203] of that which hitherto shée had kept more secret: and therevpon wrot with hir own hand and head in this wyse.
GOod seruant, I am out of al doubt much beholding vnto you, and I haue great comfort by your meanes in the steinching of my bloud, and I take great comfort too reade your letters and I haue found in my chamber diuers songs which I think too be of your making, and I promise you, they are excellently made: and I assure you that I wilbee ready to doe for you any pleasure that I can, during my life: wherefore I pray you come to my chamber once in a day, till I come abroad again, and I wilbe glad of your company: and for because that you haue promised to be my HE: I will take vpon me this name, your SHE.
THis letter was doubtles of hir own hande writing: and as therin the Reader may finde great difference of Style, from hir former letter, so may you now vnderstand the cause. Shée had in the same house a friend, a seruant, a Secretary: what should I name him? such one as shée estéemed in time past more than was cause in tyme present. And to make my tale good, I will (by the same words that Bartello vseth) discribe him vnto you. He was in heigth the proportion of two Pigmeis, in bredth the thicknesse of two bacon hogges, of presumption a Gyant, of power a Gnatte, Apishly wytted, Knauishly mannered, and crabbedly fauord. What was there in him then to drawe a fayre Ladies liking? Marry sir euen all in all, a well lyned pursse, wherewith he could at euery call, prouide suche pretie conceytes as pleased hir péeuish fantasie: and by that meanes hée had throughly (long before) insinuated him selfe with this amorous dame. This manling, this minion, this slaue, this secretary, was nowe by occasion rydden too Florence forsothe: and though his absenee were vnto hir a disfurnishing of eloquence: it was yet vntoo Ferdinando Ieromini an opportunitie of good aduauntage: for when hée perceiued the change of hir stile, and thereby grewe in some suspition that the same procéeded [Page 204] by absence of hir chiefe Chauncellor, he thought good now to smyte while the yron was hotte, and to lend his Mistresse suche a penne in hir Secretaries absence, as hée should neuer be able (at his returne) to amend the well writing therof. Wherfore according to hir cōmaund he repayred once euery day to hir chamber, at the least whereas hée guided himselfe so wel, and could deuise such store of sundry pleasures and pastymes, that he grew in fauour not onely with his desired, but also with the rest of the gentlewomen. And one day passing the time amongst them, their playe grew to this end, that his Mistresse, being Quéene, demaunded of him these thrée questions. Seruant (quod she) I charge you, aswell vppon your allgiance being nowe my subiect, as also vpon your fidelitie, hauing vowed your seruice vnto me, that you aunswere me these thrée questions, by the very truth of your secret thought. First, what thing in this vniuersall world doth most reioyce and comfort you? Ferdinando Ieronimi abasing his eyes towardes the ground, toke good aduisement in his aunswere, when a fayre gentlewoman of the company clapped him on the shoulder, saying, how now sir, is your hand on your halfpeny? To whome he aunswered, no fayre Lady, my hand is on my harte, and yet my hart is not in myne owne hands: wherewithall abashed, turning towards dame Elinor he sayde: My souereigne and Mistresse, according to the charge of your command, and the dutie that I owe you, my tongue shall bewraye vnto you the truthe of mine intent. At this present a rewarde giuen me without desert, doth so reioyce mée with continuall remembraunce, that though my minde be so occupied to thinke thereon, as that daye nor night I can bée quiet from that thought, yet the ioye and pleasure whiche I conceiue in the same is such, that I can neyther be cloyed with continuaunce thereof, nor yet afraide, that any mishappe can counteruayle so greate a treasure. This is to me suche a heauen to dwell in, as that I féede by day, and repose by night vppon the freshe recorde of this reward. This (as Bartello sayeth) he ment by the kisse [Page 205] that she lent him in the Gallery, and by the profession of hir laste letters and woordes. Well, though this aunswere bee somewhat mistie, yet let his excuse be: that taken vppon the sodaine, he thought better to aunswere darkly, than to be mistrusted openly. Hir second question was, what thing in this life did moste gréeue his harte, and disquiet his minde, whervnto he answered. That although his late rehersed ioy were incomparable, yet the greatest enimie that disturbed the same, was the priuie worme of his owne giltie conscience, which accused him euermore with great vnworthinesse: and that this was his greatest griefe. The Lady biting vpon the bitte at his cunning answeres made vnto these two questions, ganne thus replie. Seruaunt, I had thought to haue touched you yet nearer with my thirde question, but I will refrayne to attempt your pacience: and nowe for my third demaund, aunswere me directly in what manner this passion doth handle you? and howe these contraries may hang together by any possibilitie of concorde? for your woordes are straunge. Ferdinando now rousing himselfe boldly, tooke occasion thus to handle his aunswere. Mistresse (quod he) my woordes in déede are straunge, but yet my passion is muche straunger: and thervpon this other day to contēt mine owne fantasie I deuised a Sonet, which although it bée a péece of Cocklorels musicke, and suche as I might be ashamed to publish in this company, yet bicause my truth in this answere may the better appeare vnto you, I pray you vouchsafe to receiue the same in writing: and drawing a paper out of his pocket, presented it to hir, wherin was written this Sonet.
THis sonet was highly commended, and in my iudgement it deserueth no lesse. His dutie thus perfourmed, their pastimes ended, and at their departure for a watch worde hée coūselled his Mistresse by little and little to walke abrode: saying, that the Gallery neare adioyning was so pleasaunt, as if he were halfe dead he thought that by walking therin hée might be halfe & more reuiued. Think you so seruaunt (quod she?) and the last tyme that I walked there, I suppose I toke the cause of my malady: but by your aduise (for that you haue so clerkly steynched my bléeding) I will assay to walke there to morow. Mistres quod he, and in more ful accomplishment of my duetie towards you, and in sure hope that you will vse the same onelie to your owne priuate commoditie, I will there awaite vpon you, and betwene you and me wil teach you the ful order how to steynch the bléeding of any creature, wherby you shal be as cūning as my self. Gramercy good seruant, quod she, I thinke you lost the same in writing here yesterday, but I cānot vnderstand it: & therfore to morrow (if I féele my self any thing amēded) I wil sende for you thither to enstruct me throughly: thus they departed. And at supper time, the Lord of Valasco finding fault yt his gestes stomacke serued him no better, began too accuse the grosnesse of his vyands, to whom one of the gētlewomen which had passed ye afternoone in his company, answered. Nay sir, quod she, this gentleman hath a passion, the which once in a day at the least doth kill his appetite. Are you so well acquainted with the dispositiō of his body (quod the Lord of ye house?) by his owne [Page 207] saying, quod she, & not otherwise. Fayre ladie quod Ferdinādo, you either mistoke me or ouerheard me thē: for I told of a cō fortable humor which so fed me with cōtinuall remēbrāce of ioy, as that my stomack being ful therof doth desire in maner none other vittayles. Why sir, (quod the host,) do you thē [...]iue by loue? God forbid sir quod Ferdinando, for then my cheekes wold be much thinner thā they be: but there are diuers other greater causes of ioy, than the doubtful lots of loue: & for mine own part, to be playn, I cānot loue, & I dare not hate. I would I thought so, quod the gentlewoman. And thus with prety nyppes, they passed ouer their supper: which ended, the Lord of the house required Ferdinando Ieronimi to daunce and passe the time with the gentlewomen, which he refused not to doe. But sodenly, before the musicke was well tuned, came out Dame Elynor in hir night attyre, and said to the Lord, ye (supposing the solitarinesse of hir chamber had encreased hir maladie) she came out for hir better recreatiō to sée them daunce. Well done daughter (quod the Lorde.) And I Mistres (quod Ferdinando) would gladly bestowe the leading of you about this great chamber, to driue away ye faintnesse of your feuer. No good seruaunt, (quod the Lady,) but in my stéede, I pray you daunce with this fayre Gentlewoman, pointing him too the Lady that had so taken him vp at supper. Ferdinando to auoyd mistrust, did agrée too hir request without furder entreaty. The daunce begon, this Knight marched on with the Image of S. Frances in his hand, and S. Elynor in his hart. The violands at end of the pauion staied a whyle: in whiche time this Dame sayde to Ferdinando Ieronimi on this wise: I am right sory for you in two respects, although the familiarity haue hytherto had no great continuance betwene vs: and as I do lament your case, so doo I reioyce (for myne own contentation) that I shal now sée a due triall of the experimēt which I haue long desired. This sayd, she kept silence: When Ferdinando (somwhat astonied with hir straunge spéech) thus answered: Mistresse although I cannot conceiue the meaning of your woordes, yet by curtesie I am constrayned to yéelde you [Page 208] thankes for your good wil, the which appeareth no lesse in lamenting of mishappes, than in reioycing at good fortune. What experiment you meane to trie by mée, I knowe not, but I dare assure you, that my skill in experiments is very simple. Herewith the Instruments sounded a new Measure, and they passed forthwards, leauing to talke, vntill the noise ceassed: whiche done, the Gentlewoman replied. I am sory sir, that you did erewhile, denie loue and all his lawes, and that in so open audience. Not so (quod Ferdinando) but as the woorde was roundly taken, so can I readely answere it by good reason. Well quod shée, howe if the hearers will admit no reasonable answere? My reasons yet bée neuerthelesse (quod he) in reasonable iudgement. Herewith shée smiled, and he cast a glance towards dame Elinor, as who sayeth askances arte thou pleased? Againe the viols called them forthwardes, and againe at the ende of the braule sayde Ferdinando Ieronimi to this Gentlewoman: I pray you Mistres, and what may be the second cause of your sorow sustained in my behalfe? Nay soft (quod she) percase I haue not yet tolde you the first, but content your selfe, for the second cause you shall neuer know at my handes, vntill I sée due triall of the experiment which I haue long desired. Why then (quod he) I can but wishe a present occasion to bring the same to effect, to the end that I might also vnderstand the mistery of your meaning. And so might you faile of your purpose (quod she) for I meane to be better assured of him that shal know the depth of mine intent in such a secrete, than I do suppose that any creature (one except) may be of you. Gentlewoman (quod he) you speake Greeke, the which I haue nowe forgotten, and mine instructers are to farre from mée at this present to expound your words. Or els to neare (quod she) and so smiling stayed hir talke, when the Musicke called them to another daunce. Whiche ended, Ferdinando halfe afrayd of false suspect, and more amazed at this straunge talke, gaue ouer, and bringing Mistresse Fraunces to hir place, was thus saluted by his Mistresse. Seruaunt (quod shée) I had done you great wrong to [Page 209] haue daunced with you, consideringe that this gentlewoman and you had former occasion of so waighty conference. Mistresse sayd Ferdinando you had done mée great pleasure, for by our conference I haue but brought my braynes in a busie coniecture, I doubt not (sayd his Mistresse) but you wil end that busines easely. It is hard said he to ende the thing, whereof yet I haue founde no begininge. His Mistresse with chaunge of countenaunce kept silence whereat dame Fraunces reioycinge, cast out this bone to gnawe on. I perceyue (quod she) it is euill to halte before a Creple. Ferdinando perceyuing now that his Mistresse waxed angry, thought good on hir behalfe thus to aunswere: and it is euill to hop before them that runne for the Bell: his Mistresse replied, and it is euill to hange the Bell at their heeles which are alwayes running. The Lord of he Castle ouerhearing these proper quippes, rose out of his chaire, & comming towards Ferdinando required him to daunce a Gallyard. Sir sayd he I haue hitherto at your apoyntmēt but walked about the house, now if you be desirous to see one tomble a turne or twayne, it is like ynough that I mighte prouoke you to laugh at mee, but in good fayth my dauncing dayes are almost done, and therfore sir (quod he) I pray you speake to them that are more nymble at trippinge on the toe. Whilest hée was thus saying dame Elynor had made hir Congey, and was now entring the doore of hir chamber when Ferdinando al amazed at hir sodeyne departure followed to take leaue of his Mistresse: but she more then angrie, refused to heare his good night, and entring hir chamber caused hir mayde to clappe to the doore. Ferdinando with heauie cheare returned to his company, and Mistresse Fraunces to toutch his sore with a corosiue, sayd to him softly in this wise. Sir you may now perceyue that this our countrie cannot allowe the French manner of dauncing, for they (as I haue heard tell) do more commonly daunce to talke, then [Page 210] entreate to daunce. Fardenando hoping to driue out one naile with another and thinking this a meane moste conuenient to suppresse all ielous supposes, tooke Mistresse Fraunces by the hand and with a heauy smile aunswered. Mistresse and I (because I haue seene the french maner of dauncing) will eftsonnes entreat you to daunce a Bargynet: what meane you by thys quod mistresse Fraunces. If it please you to followe (quod he) you shall sée that I can iest without ioye, and laugh without lust, and calling the musitions, caused them softly to sounde the Tynternall, when he clearing his voyce did Allá Napolitana applie these verses following, vnto the measure.
BY these verses he ment in clowdes to discipher vnto Mistresse Fraunces such matter as she wold snatch at, and yet could take no good hold of the same. Furthermore, it aunswered very aptly to the note whiche the musicke sounded, as the skilfull reader by due triall may approue. This singing daunce, or daunsing song ended, Mistresse Fraunces giuing due thanks, séemed weary also of the cō pany, and profering to departe, gaue yet this farewell to Ferdinando not vexed by choller, but pleased with contentation, & called away by heauy sléepe: I am constreyned (quod she) to bid you good night, and so turning to the rest of the company, tooke hir leaue. Then the Maister of the house commaunded a torch to light Ferdinando to his lodging, where the sodaine chaunge of his Mistresse countenance, togither with the straungenesse of Mistresse Fraunces talke, made such an encounter in his mind, that he could take no reste that night: wherefore in the morning rising very earely (although it were farre before his Mistresse hower) he cooled his choller by walking in the Gallery neare to hir lodging, and there in this passion cepiled these verses following.
THis is but a rough méeter, and reason, for it was deuised in great disquiet of minde, and written in rage, but to the matter. When he had long (and all in vaine) looked for the cōming of his Mistresse into hir appoynted walke: he wandred into the Parke néere adioyning to the Castle wall, where his chaunce was to meete Mistres Fraunces, accompanied with one other Gentlewoman, by whome hee passed with a reuerence of curtesie: and so walking on, came into the side of a thicket, where he satte downe vnder a tree to allay his sadnesse with solitarines. Mystresse Fraunces, partely of curtesie and affection, and partly to content hir minde by continuance of such talke as they had commenced ouer night, entreated hir companion to goe with hir vnto this Trée of reformation, whereas they founde the Knight with hys armes foulded in a heauy kinde of contemplation, vnto whome Mistresse Fraunces stepped a pace (right softhlye) and at vnwares gaue this salutation. I little thought Syr Knight (quoth shee) by your Euensong yesternight, to halte founde you presentlye at suche a Morrow Masse, [Page 214] but I perceyue you serue your Saint with double deuotion: and I p [...]ny God graunt you trouble meede for youre true intent. He being taken thus vpon the sodaine, coulde none otherwise aunswere but thus: I toulde you mistres (quod hée) that I coulde laugh without lust, and [...]est without ioye: and therewithall starting vp, with a more bold countenaunce came towards the Dames, proffering vnto them his seruice, to waight vpon them homewardes. I haue hearde saye ofte times (quod Mistresse Fraunces) that it is harde to serue two Maysters at one time, but we wyll be ryght glad of your company. I thanke you (quod hée) and so walking on with them, fell into sundrye discourses, still refusing to touche any part of theyr formor communication, vntill Mystresse Fraunces sayde vnto him: by my troth (quod shee) I woulde bée your debtour these two daies, to aunswere me truely but vnto one question that I will propound: fayre Gentlewoman (quod he) you shall not neede to become my debtour, but if it please you to quit question by question, I will bee more readye to gratifie you in this request, then eyther reason requireth, or than you woulde be willing to worke my contentation Maister Fardinando Ieronomij (quod she, & that sadly) peraduenture you know but a litle how willing I would be to procure your contation, but you know that hitherto familliarytie hath taken, no déepe roote beetwixt vs twaine. And though I finde in you no manner of cause whereby I might doubt to commit this or greater matter vnto you, yet haue I stayed hitherto so to doe, in doubt least you might thereby iustlie condemne me both of arrogancy and lacke of discretiō, wherwith I must yet foolishlye affirme, that I haue with great paine brydeled my tongue from disclosing the same vnto you. Suche is then the good will that I beare towardes you, the which if you rather iudge to be impudencie, then a friendely meaning, I may then curse the hower that I first concluded [Page 215] thus to deale with you: herewithall beeing nowe redde for chaste bashefulnesse, shee abased hir eies, and slaied hir taulke: to whome Fardinando thus aunswered. Mystresse Fraunces, if I shoulde with so excéeding villanye requight suche and so exceeding great courtesye, I might not onelye seeme to digenerate from all gentrye, but also to differre in behauiour from all the reste of my lyfe spent: wherfore to be playne with you in fewe wordes I thinke my selfe so muche bounde vnto you for diuers respects, as if abilitie doe not fayle me, you shall finde mee mindefull in requitall of the same, and for disclosing your mind to me, you may if so if please you aduenture it without aduenture, for by this Sunne quod he, I will not deceyue such trust as you shall laye vppon mee, and furthermore, so farre foorth as I may, I will be yours in any respect: wherfore I beseech you accept me for your faithfull friend, and so shall you surely finde me. Not so, quod shee, but you shalbe my Trust, if you vouchsafe the name, and I wilbe to you as you shall please to tearme me: my Hope (quod hee) if you be so pleased: and thus agreed, they two walked a parte from the other Gentlewoman, and fell into sad talke, wherein Mistresse Fraunces dyd verye curteousely declare vnto him, that in d [...]ede, one cause of hir sorrow sustained in his behalfe, was that he had sayde so openly ouer night, that hee coulde not loue, for she perceyued verye well the affection betweene him and Madame Elynor, and shee was also aduertised that Dame Elynor stoode in the portall of hir chamber, harkening to the talke that they hadde at supper that right, wherefore she seemed to be sorry that such a worde (rashely escaped) might become great hinderaunce vnto his desire: but a greater cause of hir griefe was (as shee declared) that his happe was to bestow his liking so vnworthylye, for shee seemed to accuse Dame Elinor, for the most vnconstant woman liuing: In full proofe whereof, she bewrayed v [...] to him, how she the same Dame Elynor, had long time [Page 216] bene yelded to the Minion Secretary, whom I haue befor described: in whome though the robe (quod the) no one poynt of woorthinesse, yet shameth she not to vse him as hir dearest friend, or rather hir holi [...]st Idoll and that this not withstanding Dame Elynor had bene also sundry tymes woone to choyce of chaunge, as she named vnto Ferdinando two Gentlemen wherof the one was named Hercule Donaty. and the other Haniball de Cosmis. by whom she was during sundrie times of their seuerall aboad in those countries, entreated to like courtisie, for these causes the Dame Fraunces séemed to mislike his choyce, and to lament that she doubted in processe of time to sée him abused.
The experiment she ment was this, for that she thought Ferdenando (I vse Bartelloes wordes) a man in euery respect very worthy to haue the seuerall vse of a more commodious common, she hopped now to sée if his inclosure there of might be defensible against hir sayd Secretary, and such like. These thinges and diuers other of great importaunce, this courteouse Lady Fraunces dyd friendly disclose vnto hym, and further more, did both instruct and aduise him to procéede in his enterprise. Nowe to make my talke good, and least the Reader might bée drawen in a ielose suppose of this Lady Fraunces, I must let you vnderstand yt she was a virgin of rare chastity, singuler capacitie, notable modestie, & excelent beauty: and though Ferdenando Ieronimij had cast his affection on the other (being a mery woman) yet was there in their beauties no great difference: but in all other good giftes a wonderfull diuersitie, as much as might betwene constancie & flattring fantasie, betwene womanly coūtenaunce and girlish garishnes, betwene hot dissimulation & temperat fidelity. Now if any man wil curiously aske the question why he should chuse the one and leaue ye other, ouer & besides ye cōmon prouerbe (So mani men so manie mindes) thus [Page 217] may be answered we sée hy common experience, that the highest flying faucon, doth more cōmonly praye vpon the corn fed crow & the simple shiftles doue, then on ye mounting kyte: & why? because the one is ouercome with lesse difficultye then that other. Thus much in defence of this Lady Fraunces, & to excuse the choyce of Ferdenando who thought himself now no lesse beholding to good fortune, to haue found such a trusty friend, then bounden to Dame Venus, to haue wonne such a Mistres. And to returne vnto my pretence, vnderstand you, that he (being now with these two fair Ladies come very néere the castle) grew in some ielouse doubt (as on his own behalf) whether he wer best to break cōpany or not. Whē his assured Hope, perceiuing the same, gan thus recōfort him: good sir (quod she) if you trusted your trusty friēds, you should not néede thus cowardly to stād in dread of your friendly enimies. Well said in faith (quod Ferdinādo) & I must confesse, you were in my bosome before I wist: but yet I haue heard said often, that in Trust is treason. Wel spokē for your self quod his Hope. Ferdinando now remēbring that he had but erewhile taken vpon him the name of hir Trust, came home per misericordiam, when his Hope entring the Castle gate, caught hold of his lap, & half by force led him by the gallery vnto his Mistres chamber: wheras after a litle dissembling disdain, he was at last by the good helpe of his Hope, right thākfully receiued: & for his Mistresse was now ready to dine, he was therfore for yt time arested there, & a supersedias sent into the great chamber vnto the Lord of the house, who expected his coming out of the parke. The dinner ended, & he throughly contented both with welfare & welcome, they fell into sundry deuices of pastime: at last Ferdinando taking into his hād a Lute that lay on his Mistresse bed, did vnto the note of the Ʋenetian galliard apply the Italian dittie written by the worthy Bradamant vnto ye noble Rugier, as Ariosto hath it. Rugier qual semper fui, &c. [Page 218] but his Mistres could not be quiet vntill she heard hym repeat the Tinternell which he vsed ouer night, the whiche he refused not at that ende, wherof his Mistres thinking how she had shewed hir selfe to vse any further dissimulation, especially perceyuyng the toward enclination of hir seruants Hope, fel to flat and playne dealing & walked to the window, called hir seruaunt apart vnto hir, of whom she demaunded secretly and in sad earnest, who deuised this Tinternell? My Fathers Sisters brothers sonne (quod he) His mistres laughing right hartely, demaunded yet a gain, by whome the same was figured: by a niece to an Aunt of yours, Mistres (quod he). Well then seruaunt quoth shee, I sweare vnto you by my Fathers Soule, yt my mothers youngest daughter, doth loue your fathers eldest sone aboue any ceature liuing. Fardenando hereby recomforted gan thus replie. Mistres, though my fathers eldest son be far vnworthy of so noble a match, yet since it pleaseth hir so wel to except him, I would thus much say behind his bark, yt your mothers daughter hath done him some wrong: and wherein seruaunt (quod she) by my troth Mistres (quod he) it is not yet xx. houres, since with out touch of brest, she gaue him such a nip by the harte, as did altogether bereaue him his nightes rest with the bruse therof. Well seruaunt (quod she) content your selfe, for your sake, I will speake to hyr to prouyde hym a playster, the which I my selfe will applye to hys hurt: And to the ende it maye worke the better wyth hym, I will puruay a lodging for hym, wher hereafter he maye sléepe at more quiet.
This sayd: the rosie hewe, disdained hir sikely chekes, and she returned to the cōpany, leauing Ferdinando rauished betwene hope and dread, as on that could neither coniecture the meaning of hir misticall wordes, nor assuredly trust vnto the knot of hyr sliding affectiones. When the Lady Fraunces, cōming to him, demaunded, what dream [Page 219] you sir? Yea mary doe I fayre Lady (quod he). And what was your dream, sir (quod she?) I dreamt (quod he) that walking in a pleasaunt garden garnished with sundrye delights, my hap was to espie hanging in the ayre, a hope wherin I might well beholde the aspectes and face of the heauens, and calling to remembrance the day and hower of my natiuety. I did therby (accordyng to my small skil in Astronomy) trie the conclusion of mine aduentures. And what found you therin (quod Dame Fraunces?) you awaked me out of my dreame (quod he) or ells peraduenture you should not haue knowen. I beleeue you well (quod the lady Fraunces) and laughing at his quicke aunswere brought him by the hande vnto the rest of his company: where he taryed not long before his gracious Mystresse badde him to farewel, and to keepe his houre there againe when he should by hir be sommoned. Hereby hee passed the rest of that daye in hope awayting the happie tyme when his Mystresse shoulde sende for him. Supper time came, and passed ouer, and not long after came the handemayde of the Lady Elynor into the great chamber desiering him to repayre vnto their Mistresse, the which he willingly acomplished: and being nowe entred into hyr chamber, he might perceyue his Mystresse in hir nightes attyre, preparing hir selfe towards bed, to whome Fardinando sayde: Why how now mystresse? I hadde thought this night to haue seene you daunce (at least or at last) amongst vs? By my troth good Seruaunt (quoth shee) I aduentured so soone vnto the great Chamber yeasternyght, that I finde my selfe somewhat sickelye disposed, and therefore doe strayne courtesye (as you see) to goe the sooner to my bedde this night: but before I sleepe (quoth she) I am to charge you with a matter of wayght, and taking him a parte from the rest, declared that (as that present night) shee woulde talke with him more at large in the gallery neere adioyning to hir chamber. [Page 220] Herevpon Ferdinando discréetely dissimuling his ioy, toke his leaue & returned into the great chamber, where he had not long continued before the Lord of the Castell commaunded a torch to light him vnto his lodging, wheras he prepared himselfe and went to bed, commaunding his seruaunt also to go to his rest. And when he thought aswell his seruaunt, as the rest of the houshold to be safe, he arose againe, & taking his night gowne, did vnder the same conuey his naked sword, and so walked to the gallerie, where he founde his good Mistresse walkyng in hir night gowne and attending his comming. The Moone was nowe at the full, the skies cleare, and the weather temperate, by reason whereof he might the more playnely had with the greater contentation behold his long desired ioyes: and spreading his armes abrode to embrace his louing Mistresse, hée sayde: oh my deare Lady when shall I be able with any deserte to counteruayle the least parte of this your bountifull goodnesse? The Dame (whether it were of feare in déede, or that the wylinesse of womanhoode had taught hir to couer hir conceites with some fine dissimulation) stert backe from the Knight, and shriching (but softly) sayd vnto him. Alas seruaunt what haue I deserued, that you come agaynst mée with naked sword as against an open enimie. Ferdinando perceyuing hir intent excused himselfe, declaryng that he brought the same for their defence, and not to offende hir in any wise. The Ladie beyng therewith somewhat apeased they began with more comfortable gesture to expell the dread of the sayd late affright, and sithence to become bolder of behauiour, more familiar in spéeche, and moste kinde in accomplishing of common comfort. But why holde I so long discourse in describyng the ioyes whiche (for lacke of like experience) I cannot set out to the full? Well, remedie was there none, but dame Elynor muste returne vnto hir chamber, and he muste also conuey himselfe (as closely [Page 221] as might be) into his chamber, the which was hard to do, the day being so farre sprong, and he hauing a large base court to passe ouer before he could recouer his staire foote dore. And though he were not much perceiued, yet the Lady Fraunces being no lesse desirous to sée an issue of these interprises, then he was willing to couer them in secrecy, laid watch, & euen at the entring of his chamber doore, perceiued the poynt of his naked sworde glistring vnder the skyrt of his nyght gowne: whereat she smiled & sayd to hir selfe, this geare goeth well aboute. Well Ferdenando hauing now recouered his chamber he went to bede, there let him sléepe, as his mistresse did on the other side. Although the Lady Fraunces being throughly tickled now in al the vaynes, could not enioye such quiet rest, but arising toke another gentle woman of the house with hir, and walked into the parke to take the fresh ayre of the morning. They had not long walked there, but they returned, and thought Ferdenando Ieronimij had not yet slept sufficiently, for one which had so farre trauayled in the night past, yet they went in to his chamber to rayse him, and comming to his beds side, found him fast on slep. Allas quod that other gentle woman, it were pitye to awake him: euen so it were quod dame Fraunces, but wée wil take away som what of his, wherby he may perceiue that we were here, and loking about the chamber, hys naked sword presented it selfe to the handes of dame Fraunces, who tooke it with her, and softly shutting hys chamber dore agayne, went downe the stayres and recouered hir owne lodging, in good order and vnperceyued of any body, sauing only that other gentle woman which accompanied with hir. At the last Ferdenando awaked, and apparrelling hym selfe, walked out also to take the ayre, and being throughly recomforted aswell with remembraunce of his ioyes forepassed, as well with the pleasaunt hermony which the Brides made on euery [Page 222] side, and the fragrant smel of the redolent flowers and blossomes whiche budded on euery braunche: hée did in these delightes compyle these verses following called a mooneshyne banquete.
ANd now to returne to my tale, by that time, that hee returned out of the parke, it was dinner time, and at dynner they all met. I meane both dame Elynor, dame Fraunces & Ferdenando. I leaue to discribe that the Lady Fraunces was gorgiously attyered, and set forth with very braue apparell, and Madame Elynor onely in hir night gowne gyrt to hir, with a coyfe trymmed Alla Piedmonteze, on the whiche she ware a little cape crossed ouer the crowe with two bandes of yellowe Sarcenet or Cipresse, in the middest whereof she had placed (of hir owne hand writing) in paper this worde, Contented. This attyre pleased hir then to vse, and could not haue displeased Mistresse Fraunces, had she not ben more priuy to the cause, then to the thing it selfe: at least the Lorde of the Castle, of ignnoraunce, and dame Fraunces, of great temporaunce, let it passe with out offence. At dinner, bicause the on was pleased with al former reconinges, and the other partye priuie to the accōpt, there passed no word of taunt or grudged, but omnia bene. After dynner dame Elinor being no lesse desirous to haue Ferdinandos compani, then dame Frances was to take him in some prety trippe, they began to question how they might best passe the day, the Lady Elinor séemed desirous to kepe her chamber, but Mistresse Fraunces (for another purpose) séemed desirous to ride abroade, therby to take the open ayre, they gréed to ride a mile or twayne for solace, and requested Ferdinando [Page 225] to accompany them, the which willingly granuted. Eche one parted from other, to prepare them selues & nowe began the sport, for when he was booted, his horses sadled, and he ready to ride, he gan misse his Rapier, wherat al astonied he began to blame his man, but blame whom he would, found it could not be. At last the Ladies going towardes the horsebacke called for him in the base Court, and demaunded if he were readie: to whome hée aunswered. Madame, I am more than readie, and yet not so ready as I would be, and immediatly taking him selfe in trip, he thought best to vtter no more of his conceipt, but in hast more than good spede mounted his horse, & comming toward ye dames presented himselfe, turning, bounding, & taking vp his courser to the vttermost of his power in brauery: after suffering his horse to breath him selfe, he gan also allay his owne choller, & to the dames he sayd. Fayre Ladyes I am ready when it pleaseth you to ride where so you commaund. How ready so euer you be seruaunt, quod dame Elynor, it seemeth your horse is readier at your commaunde then at oures. If he bée at my commaund Mistresse (quod he) he shall be at yours Gramercye good seruaunte (quod shée) but my meanyng is, that I feare he be to stirring for our cōpany. If he proue so mistres (quod he) I haue here a soberer palfray to serue you on. The Dames being mounted they rode forthwardes by the space of a mile or very neare, & Ferdinando (whether it were of his horses corage or his owne choller came not so neare them as they wished) at last the Lady Fraunces sayde vnto him, mayster Ieronomy you sayde that you had a sober horse, which if it be so, we would bée glad of your company but I beleue by your countenaunce your horse and you are agréed. Ferdinando alighting called his seruaunt, chaunged horses with, him and ouer taking the Dames, sayd to Mistres Fraunces: And why doe you think fayre Lady that my horse and I are agreed? [Page 226] Because by your countenaunce (quod she) it séemeth your patience is stirred. In good faith, quod he, you haue gessed aright, but not with any of you. Thē we care the lesse seruaunt, quod Dame Elynor. By my troth Mistresse, quod he (looking wel about him that none might heare but they two) it is with my seruaunt, who hath lost my sword out of my chamber. Dame Elinor litle remembring the occasion, replied it is no matter seruaunt, quod she, you shall heare of it againe, I warrant you, and presently wee ryde in Gods peace, and I trust shall haue no néede of it: yet Mistres quod he, a weapō serueth both vses, aswell to defēd, as to offend. Now my by troth, quod Dame Fraunces, I haue now my dreame, for I dreamt this night that I was in a pleasaunt medow alone, where I met with a tall Gentleman, apparrelled in a night gowne of silke, all embroadered about with a garde of naked swordes, and when he came towards me I séemed to be afrayd of him, but he recomforted me saying, be not afrayd fayre Lady, for I vse this garment onely for mine owne defence: and in this sort went that warrelike God Mars, what time hée taught Dame Venus to make Vulcan a hammer of the new fashion. Notwithstanding these comfortable words, the fright of the dreame awaked me, and sithens vnto this hower I haue not slept at al. And what time of the night dreamt you this quod Fardinando? In the grey morning about dawning of the day, but why aske you quod Dame Frances? Ferdenando with a great sigh answered, because that dreames are to bee marked more at some hower of the night, then at some other? why are you so cunning at the interpretation of dreames seruaunt (quod the Ladye Elinor?) not very conning Mistres quod he, but gesse like a young scholler. The Dames continued in these and like pleasaunt talkes: but Ieronomij coulde not be mery, as on that estemed the preseruation of his mistres honor, no lese then the obteyning of his owne delightes, and yet to auoyd [Page 227] further suspicion, he repressed his passions, asmuch as hée could. The Lady Elynor (more carelesse then consideratiue of hir owne case) pricking forwardes sayd softly to him, I had thought you had receiued small cause seruaunt to be thus dumpish, when I would be mery. Alas déere mistresse quod he, it is altogether for your sake, that I am pensife: Dame Fraunces of courtesie with drewe hir selfe and gaue them leaue, when as Ferdinādo declared vnto his Mistres, that his sworde was taken out of his chamber, and that he dreaded much by the wordes of the Lady Fraunces, that she had some vnderstanding of the mater. Dame Elynor now calling to remembrance what had passed the same night, at the first was abashed, but immediatly (for these women be redily witted) chered hir seruaunt, and willed him to commit vnto hir the saluing of that sore. Thus they passed the rest of the way in pleasaunt talke with dame Fraunces, and so returned towards the Castle where Ieronimy suffered the two dames to go together, and he alone vnto his chamber to bewayle hys own misgouernment. But dame Elynor (whether it were according to olde custome, or by wilye pollycye) founde meane that nyght, that the sworde was conueyed out of Mistres Fraunces chamber, and brought vnto hirs: and after redeliuerye of it vnto hir seruaunt, she warned hym to be more wary from that time forthwardes: afterward when he grew more bold and better aquaynted with his Mistris disposition, hee aduentured one Frydaye in the morning to go vnto hir Chamber, and therevpon wrote as followeth: which he termed a Frydayes Breakefast.
MAny dayes passed these two louers with great delight, their affayres being no lesse politiquely gouerned, then happilye atchiued. And surelye it should séeme in sadde earnest, that hée did not onely loue hir, but was furthermore so rauished in extasies with continuall remembraunce of his delights, that he made an Idoll of hir in his inwarde conceyte. So séemeth it by this challenge to beautie, which be wrote in hir prayse and vppon hir name.
BY this challenge I gesse, that eyther he was than in an extasie, or else, sure I am nowe in a lunacie, for it is a prowde challenge made to Beautie hir selfe, and all hir companions: and imagining that Beautie hauing a shoppe where she vttered hir wares of all sundry sortes, his Ladie had stollen the fynest away, leauing none hehind hir, but paynting, bolstring, forcing and such like, the whiche in his rage he iudgeth good inough to serue the Courte: and therevpon grewe a great quarrell. When these verses were by the negligence of his Mistresse dispersed into sundry handes, and so at last to the reading of a Courtier. [Page 230] Well Ferdinando had his desire, yf his Mistresse lyked them, but as Bartello writeth, shee grewe in ielousie, that the same were not written by hir, because hir name was Elynor and not Hellen. And about this point haue béen diuers and sundry opinions among the Venetians, for this & diuers other of his most notable Poems, haue come to view of the world. And some haue attributed this praise vnto a Hellen, who deserued not so well as this dame Elynor shoulde séeme to deserue, and yet neuer a barrell of good herring betwéene them both: But that other Hellen, because she was sayeth Bartello, of so base conditions, as may deserue no maner cōmendation in any honest iudgement, therefore he thinketh that he would neuer bestow verse of so meane a subiect. And yet some of his acquaintaunce knowing also that he was sometimes acquainted with Hellen, haue stoade in argument, that it was written by Hellen, & not by Elynor. Well mine aucthor affirmeth that it was written by this Dame Elynor, and that vnto hir he thus alledged, that he tooke it all for one name, or at least he neuer read of any Elynor suche matter as might sound worthy like commendation, for beautie. And in déede considering all circumstaunces of histories, and comparing also the time that suche reportes do spreade of his acquaintaunce with Hellen, it cannot be written lesse then sixe or seuen yéeres before he knewe Hellen: marrye peraduenture if there were any acquaintaunce betwéene him and that Hellen afterwardes, he might adapt it to hir name, and so make it serue boath their turnes, as elder louers haue done before, and still doe, and wyll doe world without ende. Wel by whome he wrote it I know not, and to returne to the purpose, he sought more certainelye to please his Mistresse Elynor with this Sonet written in hir praise as followeth.
OF this Sonet, were it not a lyttle to muche prayse (as the Italians do most commonly offend in the superlatiue) I could no more commend it: but I hope the party to whome it was dedicated: had rather it were much more, than any thing lesse. Wel, thus these twoo Louers passed many daies in excéeding contentation, & more than speakable pleasures, in which time Ferdinando did compile very many verses according to sundrye occasions proffred, and they were for the most parte fauced with a taste of glory, as you know that in such cases a louer being charged with inexprimable ioyes, and therewith enioyned both by duety and discrecion to kéepe the same couert, can by no meanes deuise a greater consolation, than to commit it into some cyphred wordes, and figured speaches, in verse, whereby he feeleth his heart halfe (or more than halfe) eased of swelling. For as sighes are some present ease to the pensiue minde, euen so we find by experience, that such secréete enteredmoning of ioyes doeth encrease delight. I would not haue you conster my wordes to this [Page 231] effect, that I thinke a man cannot sufficientlye reioyce in the luckie lottes of loue, vnlesse he empart the same to others: God forbid that euer I should enter into such an herisie, for I haue alwayes bene of this opinion, that as to be fortunate in loue, is one of the most inward contentations to mans mind of all earthly ioyes: euen so if hée do but once bewray ye same to any liuing creature, immediatly either dread of discouering doth bruse his brest with an intollerable burden, or els he leeseth the principall vertue which gaue effect to his gladnes, not vnlyke to a Poticares pot, which being filled with swéete oyntmentes or perfumes, doth retayne in it selfe some sent of the same, and being powred out doeth returne to the former state, hard, harsh, and of small sauour: So the mind being fraught with delightes, as long as it can kepe them secretly enclosed, may continually féede vpon the pleasaunt record thereof, as the wel wylling and readie horse byteth on the bridle, but hauing once disclosed them to any other, straight waye we loose the hidden treasure of the same, and are oppressed with sundry doubtfull opinions and dreadfull conceiptes. And yet for a man to record vnto him selfe in the inward contemplation of his mind, the often remembrance of his late receiued ioyes, doth as it were ease the hearte of burden, and ad vnto the mind a fresh supplie of delight, yea, and in vearse principally (as I conceyue) a man may best contriue his waye of comfort in him selfe. Therfore as I haue sayde Ferdinando swimming nowe in delightes did nothing but writ such verse as might acumilat his ioyes, to the extremitie of pleasure, the which for that purpose he kept from sight of ye world, as one more desirous to seme obscure & defectiue, than ouermuch to glory in his aduentures, especially for yt in the end his hap was as heauie, as hitherto he had ben fortunate. And here I wyll surcease to rehearse any more of his verses vntil I haue expressed how yt his ioyes [Page 232] being exalted to the highest degrée began to bend towards declinatiō. For now the vnhappy Secretary whom I haue before remēbred, was returned from Florence, on whom Fardinando had no soner cast his eies, but immediatly he fell into a great passion of minde, which might be cōpared vnto a feauer. This fruit grew of the good instructions yt his Hope had planted in his mind, whereby I might take iust occasion to forwarn euery louer, how they suffer this venemous serpent ielousie to créepe into their conceipts: for surely, of al other diseases in loue, I suppose that to be vncurable, and would hold longer discourse therin, were it not yt both this tale & the verses of Ferdinando him selfe hereafter to be recited, shalbe sufficiēt to speake for me in this behalf. The louer (as I say vpon the sodain) was drouen into such a malladie, as no meate might nourishe his body, no delightes please his minde, no remembrance of ioyes forepassed content him, nor any hope of the lyke to come might recomfort him: hereat (some vnto whome I haue imparted this tale) haue takē occasion to discōmend his fainting heart, yet surely the cause inwardly & déeply considered, I cannot so lightly condempne him: for an old saying is, that euerye man can giue councell better than followe it: and néedes must the conflicts of his thoughts be straunge: betwéene the remembraunce of his forepassed pleasure, and the present sight of this monster, whom before (for lacke of like instruction) he had not so throughlye marked and beheld. Well, such was the griefe vnto him, that he became sickly and kept his chamber. The Ladies hauing receiued the newes thereof, gan al at once lament his misfortune, & of common consent agréed to visit him: they marched thither in good equipage, I warant you, and foūd Ferdinando lying vpon his bed languishing, whō they all saluted generally, and sought to recomfort: but especiallye his Mistresse, hauing in hir hand a braunce of wyllow, wherewith shée defended hir from the whot aire, gan [Page 233] thus say vnto him: Seruaunt (quod she) for that I suppose your mallady to procéede of none other cause but only slouthfulnesse, I haue brought this preaty rod to beate you a little: nothing doubting, but when you feele the smart of a twig or twayne, you will like a tractable yong scholler, pluck vp your quickned spirits, & cast this drowsinesse apart. Ferdinando with a great sigh answered: Alas good Mistres (quod he) if any like chastisement might quickē me, how much more might the presence of all you louely Dames recomfort my dulled mind? whome to behold, were sufficient to reuiue an eye now dazled with the dread of death: & that not onely for the heauenly aspects whiche you represent, but also much the more for your excéeding curtesie, in that you haue deigned to visit mée so vnworthie a seruaunt. But good Mistresse (quod he) as it were shame for me to confesse that euer my hart coulde yéelde for feare, so I assure you that my minde cannot be content to induce infirmitie by sluggishe conceyt: But in trueth Mistresse I am sicke (quod he,) and therewithall the trembling of his hart had sent vp suche throbbing into his throte, as that his voyce (now depriued of breath) commaunded the tong to be still. When Dame Elynor for compassion distilled into teares, and drew towardes the window, leauing the other Gentlewomen about his bed, who being no lesse sorye for his griefe, yet for that they were none of them so touched in their secrete thoughtes, they had bolder sprits and fréeer speach to recomfort him, amongest the rest the Lady Fraunces, (who in deede loued him déepely, and could best coniecture the cause of his conceipts) sayd vnto him: Good Trust (quod shée) if any helpe of Phisick may cure your maladie, I would not haue you hurt your selfe with these doubts whiche you séeme to retayne: If choice of Diet may helpe, beholde vs here (your cookes) ready to minister all things néedefull: if company may driue away your anoye, wee meane not to leaue [Page 234] you solitary, if griefe of mind be cause of your infirmitie, wée all here will offer our deuoyre to turne it into ioye: if mishap haue giuen you cause to feare or dreade any thing, remember Hope, which neuer fayleth to recomfort an afflicted minde. And good Trust (quod she) (distreining his hand right hartely) let this simple proofe of our poore good willes bee so excepted of you, as that it maye work therby the effect of our desires. Ferdinando (as on in a traunce) had marked very litle of hir curteouse talke, & yet gaue hir thankes, and so held his peace whereat the Ladyes (being all amazed) there became a silence in the chamber on all sides. Dame Elynor fearing thereby that she might the more easely be espyed, and hauing nowe dryed vp hir teares, retourned to hir seruaunt, recomforting him by all possible meanes of common curtesie, promising that since in hir sicknes he had not only staunched hir bleding, but also by his gentle company and sundry deuices of honest pastime, had driuen a waye the pensiuenes of hir mind, she thought hir selfe bound with like willingnes to do hir best in any thing that might restore his health, & taking him by the hand said further. Good seruaunte, if thou beare in deed any true affection to thy poore Mistres, start vpon thy féet again, and let hir enioye thine accustomed seruice to hir cōfort, for sure (quod she) I will neuer leaue to visite this chamber once in a daye, vntill I may haue thée downe with mée, Ferdinando hearyng the harty woordes of his Mistris, and perceiuyng the earnest maner of hir pronunciation, began to receyue vnspeakeable comfort in the same, and sayd: Mistris, your excéedyng courtesie were able to reuiue a man half dead, and to me it is bothe great comfort, and it doeth also glad my remēbrance, with a continual smart of myne owne vnworthinesse: but as I woulde desire no longer life, than til I might be able to deserue some part of your boūty, so I wil endeuor my self to liue, were it but only vnto ye ende, yt I [Page 235] might merite some parte of your fauour with acceptable seruice, and requight some deale the courtesie of all these other fayre Ladies, who haue so farre (aboue my deserts) deigned to doe me good. Thus sayd, the Ladies taried not long before they were called to Euensong, when his Mistres taking his hand, kissed it saying: Farewel good seruaunt, and I praye thée suffer not the mallice of thy sickenesse to ouercome the gentlenesse of thy good hart. Fardinando rauished with ioy, suffered them all to departe, and was not able to pronounce one word. After their departure, he gan cast in his mind the exceeding curtesie vsed towardes him by them all, but aboue all other the bounty of his Mystresse: and therwithall tooke a sound & firme opinion, that it was not possible for hir to coūterfeite so deepely (as in déede I beleeue that shee then did not) wherby he sodenly felt his hert greatly eased, and began in himselfe thus to reason. Was euer man of so wretched a heart? I am the most bounden to loue (quod he) of all them that euer possessed his seruice, I enioy one the fayrest that euer was found, and I finde hir the kindest that euer was hearde of: yet in mine owne wicked heart, I coulde vilanously conceyue that of hir, which being compared with the rest of hir vertues, is not possible to harbour in so noble a mind. Herby I haue brought my self without cause into this féeblenesse: and good reason that for so high an offence, I should be punished with great infirmitie: what shall I then doe? yelde to the same? no, but according to my late protestation, I will recomfort this languishing minde of mine, to the ende I may liue but onely to do penaunce for this so notable a cryme so rashly committed: and thus saying, he start from his bed, and gan to walke towardes the window: but the venimous serpent which (as before I rehearsed) had stong him, coulde not be content that these medicines applyed by the mouth of his gentle Mistresse, should so soone restorte him to guerison. [Page 237] And although in dede they were such Nythrydate to him as that they had nowe expelled the rancour of the poyson yet that ougly hellishe monster had left behind hir in the most secret of his bosome, (euen betwene the minde and the man) one of hir familiers named suspect, whiche gan work in the weake spirites of Ferdinando efectes of no lese perill than before he had receiued, his head swelling with these troublsome toyes, and his hart swimming in the tempests of tossing fantasie: he felt his legges so féeble, that he was cōstrayned to lie down on his bed again, and repeating in his own remembraunce euery woorde that his mistres had spoken vnto him, he gan to dread, that she had brought the willow braunche to beate hym with, in token that he was of hir forsaken: for so louers do most commonly expound the willow garlande, and this to thinke, did cut his hart in twayne. A wonderfull chaunge: and here a little to staye you, I will discribe as I finde it in Bartello the beginning, the fall, the retourne, and the being of this hellish byrde, who in déede maye well bée counted a very lymbe of the Diuill. Many yeares since, one of the moste dreadfull dasterdes in the world, and one of them that first deuissed to weare his beard at length, lest the Barbor might doe him a good turne soner then he looked for it, and yet not so soone as he deserued, had builded for his security a pile on the hyghest and most inaccessible mount of all his Territores: the which being fortyfied with strong walles, and enuyroned with deepe ditches, had no place of entire, but one onely doore so strayght and narrow, as might by any possibility receiue the body of one liuing man: from which he asended vp a ladder, and so créeping through a meruelous strait hole, attayned to his lodging, yt which was so dark & obscure, as scarcely either sunne or ayre could enter into it: thus hee deuised to lodge in safetie, and for the more suertye gane truste none other letting downe this ladder [Page 238] but only his wife: and at the foote therof kept alwaies by daye light, a fierce mastife close enkeneled which neuer sawe nor hearde the face or voice of any other creature but onelye of them twoo: him by night he trusted with the scout of this prety passage, hauing neuerthelesse betwéen him & this dogge, a double doore with treble lockes, quadrible barres, and before all a port coulez of Iron: neither yet could he bée so hardye as to sléepe, vntyll he had caused a garde of seruauntes (whome he kept abroade for that purpose) to search all the corners adioyning to all his fortresse, and that betwéene fearefull sweate and chyuering cold, with one eye opened & the other closed, he stole sometimes a broken sléepe, deuided with many terrible dreames. In this sort the wretch lyued all to long, vntyll at last his Wife being not able any longer to supporte this hellishe life, grewe so hardye, as with his owne knife to dispatche his carkas out of this earthlye purgatorye: the which being done, his soule (and good reason) was quickly conueyed by Carone vnto hell: there Radamanthus Iudge of that benche, commaunded him quicklye to be thrust into a boyling poole: and being therein plonged very often, hée neuer shryked or cryed, I skalde, as his other companions there cryed, but séemed so lightlye to estéeme it, that the Iudge thought méete to condempne him vnto the most terrible place, where are such tormentes, as neyther penne can wryte, tongue expresse, or thought conceyue: but the myser (euen there) seemed to smyle and to make small accompt of his punishment. Radamanthus hereof enformed, sent for him, and demaunded the cause why he made so light of his duraunce? he aunswered that whyles he lyued on earth, he was so continually afflicted and oppressed with suspicion, as that now (only to thinke that he was out of those meditations) was sufficient armour to defend him from all other tormentes. Radamanthus astonied hereat, gan call togeather the Senators of [Page 239] that kingdome, and propounded this question, howe & by what punnishment they might deuise to touche him according to his deserts? & herevpon fell great disputation: at last being cōsidered, that he had already him plonged in the most vnspeakable torments, & therat litle or nothing had changed coūtenance, there withal yt no soule was sent vnto thē to be relieued of his smart, but rather to be punished for his former delights: it was cōcluded by ye general coūsel, yt he should be eftsones sent into ye world & restored to the same body wherein he first had his resiance, so to remain for perpetuity, and neuer to depart nor to perish. Thus this body and soule being once againe vnited, and nowe eftsones with the same pestilence infected, he became of a suspicious man, Suspicion it selfe: and now the wretch remembring the treason of his wife, who had so willingly dispatched him once before, gan vtterly abhorre hir, and fled hir company, searching in all countries some place of better assurance, and when he had in vaine trode ouer ye most part of the earth, he embarked himself to find some vnknowen Ilande, wherein he might frame some newe habitation: and finding none so commodious as hée desired, he fortuned ( [...]yling aloane by the shoare) to espy arock, more than sixe hundreth Cubits high, which hong so suspiciously ouer the seas, as though it would threate [...] to fall at euerye litle blast: this dyd Suspition Imagin [...] to be a fit foundation whereon he might build his secon [...] Bower: hée forsooke his boate, and trauailed by lande to espie what entrye or accesse might bée made vnto ye same, and founde from lande no maner of entrie or accesse, vnlesse it were that some curteouse Byrd of the ayre would be Ambassadour, or conuey some Engins, as whilom the Eagle did carrie Ganymedes into heauen. He then returned to Seas, and approching neere to this rocke, founde a small streame of fresh water issuing out of the same into the Seas: the whiche, although it were so lytle and so [Page 240] straight, as might vnethes receyue a boat of bygnesse to carry one liuing creature at once, yet in his conceypt hee thought it more large and spatious than that broad waye called of our forefathers Via appia, or than that other named Elaminia, he abandoned his barke, and putting of his clothes aduentured (for he was now asured not to drown) to wade and swim against the streame of this vnknown brooke, the which (a wondrous thing to tell, and skarcelye to be beléeued) came downe from the very top and height of this rock: and by the waye he found six strayghts & dangerous places, wher the water séemed to staye his course, passing vnder six strayght and lowe bridges, and harde by euery of those places, a pyle raysed vp in manner of a Bulworke, the which were hollow, in such sorte as lodginges and other places necessary might in them commodiously be deuised, by suche one as coulde endure the hellishnes of the place. Passing by these hée attayned wyth much payne vnto the toppe of the Rocke, the which hée found hollowed as the rest, and farre more fite for hys security, than otherwise apt for any commodity. Ther gan Suspition, determine to nestle hymselfe, and hauing now placed sixe chosen porters, to wit, (Dread, Mistrust, Wrath, Desperation, Frensie, and Fury:) at these sixe straung Bulworkes, he lodged himselfe in that vii. al alone, for he trusted no company, but euer mistrusting that his wife should eftsonnes finde him out therein, hée shricketh comtynually lyke to a shrich owle to keepe the watch wakyng, neuer content to sleep by day nor by night. But to be sure that he should not ouer sleepe him selfe, gane stuffe hys couch with Porpentines quilles, to the ende that when heauy sleep ouercame him, and he thereby should be constrayned to charge his pallad with more heauye burden, those plumes might then pricke through and so awake him. His garments were steele vpon yron, and that yron vpon Iron, and Iron agayne, and the more he was armed, [Page 241] the lesse he trusted to be out of daunger. He chopped and changed continually now this, now that, now keyes, now lockes, ditches newe skowred, and walles newlye fortified, and thus alwaies vncontented liueth this wretched helhound Suspition, in this hellish dungion of habitation: from whence he neuer remoueth his foote, but onely in the dead & silent nightes, when he maye be assured that all creatures (but him selfe) are whelmed in sound sléepe. And then with stealing steps he stalketh about the earth, enfecting, tormenting, & vexing all kindes of people with some part of his afflictions: but especiallye such as eyther doe sit in chayre of greatest dignity and estimation, or els such as haue atchiued some déere and rare emprise. Those aboue al others he continually gauleth with fresh woūds of dread, least they might lose and forgo the roomes whervnto with such long trauaile and good happes they had attained, and by this meanes percase he had crept into the bosom of Ferdinando, who (as is before declared) did earst swimme in the déepest seas of earthly delightes. Nowe then I must thinke it high time to retorne vnto him, who (being now through féeblenesse eftsones cast downe vpon his bed) gan cast in his inwarde meditations all thinges passed, and as one throughly puffed vp and filled with one péeuishe conceipte, coulde thinke vppon nothing else, and yet accusing his own guiltie conscience to be infected with ielosie, dyd compile this as followeth.
THus Ferdinando continued on his bedde, vntyll hys bountifull Mistresse with the companye of the other courteous dames retorned after supper to his chamber. At their first entrie: Why how nowe seruaunt (quod dame Elinor) wee hoped to haue founde you one foote? Mistresse quod he, I haue assayed my féete since your departure, but I finde them yet vnable too suport my heauy body, and therefore am constrayned as you sée, to acquaint my selfe with these pillowes. Seruaunt sayde she I am right sory therof, but since it is of necessitie to beare sicknesse, I will employ my endeuoyre to allay some parte of your paynes, and to refreshe your weary limbes with some comfortable matter: and therewithall calling hir hande mayde, deliuered vnto hir a bounch of pretie littell keyes, and whispering in hir eare, dispatched hir towards hir chamber: The mayde taryed not long, but returned with a little Casket, the which hir mistresse toke, opened and drewe out of the same much fine linnen, amongst the which she toke a pillowebere very fine and sweete, which although it were of it selfe as swéete as might be (being of long time kept in that odoriferous chest) yet did she with damaske water and that of the best that might be (I warrant you) al to sprinkle it with hir owne handes, which in my conceipt might much amende the matter. Then calling for a fresh pillowe, sent hir mayde to ayre the same and at hir returne put on this, thus perfumed [Page 244] pillowebéere. In meane time also shée had with hir owne hands attyred hir seruaunts head in a fayre wrought kerchife taken out of the same Casket: then layde him downe vppon this freshe and pleasaunt place, and pretelye as it were in sporte, bedewed his temples with swéete water which she had readye in a casting bottle of Golde, kissing his chéeke and saying: Good seruaunt be whoale, for I might not long indure thus to attend thée, and yet the loue that I beare towardes thée, cannot be content to sée thée languishe. Mistresse sayde Ferdinando (and that with a trembling voice) assure your selfe, that if there remain in me any sparke of life or possibillity of recouery, then may this excellent bounty of yours be sufficient to reuiue me without any further trauaile or paine vnto your person: for whome I am highlye to blame, in that I do not spare to put you vnto this trouble, & better it were that suche a wretch as I had died vnknown, than yt by your excéeding curtesie, you should fall into any malladye, eyther by resorting vnto me, or by these your paines taken about me. Seruaunt (quod shee) all pleasures séeme painefull to to them that take no delight therin, and lykewise all toile séemeth pleasaunt to such as set their felicitie in the same: but for me bee you sure, I doe it with so good a wyll that I can take no hurt thereby, vnlesse I shall perceyue that it be reiected or neglected, as vnprofitable or vncomfortable vnto you. To me Mistresse quod Fardinando, it is suche pleasure, as neyther my féeble tongue can expresse, nor my troubled mind conceyue. Why? are you troubled in mind, thē seruant quod dame Elynor? Ferdinando now blushing answered, but euen as al sick men be Mistresse. Herewith they staied their talke a while, and the first that brake silence was the Ladye Fraunces: who sayde, and to driue away ye troubles of your mind good Trust, I would be glad if we coulde deuise some pastime amongst vs to kéepe you company: for I remember that with such deuises [Page 245] you did greatly recomforte this fayre Lady when she languished in like sort. She languished in deede gentle Hope quod hée, but God forbide that she had languished in like sort. Euery body thinketh their own greif greatest qd dame Elynor, but in deede whether my greife were the more or the lesse, I am right sorye that yours is such as it is: And to assay whither our passions proceded of lyke cause or not, I would we could (according to this Ladyes saying) deuise some like pastimes to trie if your malladie would be cured with like medicines. A gentle woman of the company whom I haue not hetherto named, gan thus propound. We haue accustomed (quod she) heretofore in most of our games to chuse a King or Quene, and he or she during their gouernment, haue charged euery of vs, eyther with commaundementes or questions, as best séemed to their maiestie. Wherin (to speake mine opinion) we haue giuen ouer larg a skope, neither semeth it reasonable yt on should haue ye power to discouer ye thoughts, or at least to bridle the affects of al ye rest. And though in déed in questioning (which doth of ye twaine more nerely touch the mind) euery on is at frée liberty to answere what they list: yet oft haue I hearde a question demaunded in such sorte, and vpon such sodayne, yt it hath bene hardly answered without mouing matter of contencion. And in commaundes also, some times it happeneth one to bée commaunded vnto such seruice, as eyther they are vnfit to accomplish (and then the parties weaknes is therby detected) or els to doe something that they would not, wherof ensueth more grutch than game. Wherefore in mine opinion, we shall do well to chuse by lot amongst vs a gouernour, who (for that it shalbe sufficient preheminence to vse the chayre of maiestie,) shalbe boūd to giue sentēce vppon al suche arguments and questions as we shall orderly propound vnto them: and from him or her (as from [Page 246] an oracle (wée will receiue aunswere, and decyding of our lytigious causes. This dame had stuffe in her, an old courtier, & a wylie wenche, named Pergo. Wel this proportiō of Pergo pleased them well, and by lot it hapned that Ferdinando must be moderator of these matters, and colector of these causes. The which being so constituted, the Lady Elynor sayd vnto this dame Pergo. You haue deuised this pastime (quod she) & because we thinke you to be most expert in the handling therof, do you propound the first question, & we shalbe both the more ready and able to follow your example ye Lady Pergo refused not, but began on this wise. Noble gouernor (quod she) amongst the aduentures that haue befallen mée, I remember especially this one, that in youth it was my chaunce to bée beloued of a verye courtlike yong Gentleman, who abode neare the place wherin my parents had their resiaunce. This gentleman (whether it were for beauty, or for any other respect that he sawe in me, I knowe not) but he was enamored of me, & that with an excéeding vehement passion, & of such force were his effectes, that notwithstanding many repulses which he had receiued at my handes, he seemed daylye to grow in the renewing of his desires. I on the other side, although I could by no meanes mislike of him by any good reason (considering that he was of byrth no waye inferiour vnto mée, of possessions not to bée disdamed, of parson right comelye, of behauiour Courtly, of manners modest, of mynde lyberall, and of vertuous disposition) yet suche was the gaitye of my minde, as that I coulde not bée content to lende him ouer large thonges of my loue: but alwayes daungerouslye behaued my selfe towardes him, and in suche sorte, as hee coulde neyther take comfort of myne aunsweres, nor yet once finde him selfe requited with one good looke for all his trauaile. This notwithstanding, the worthy Knight continewed his sute with no lesse vehement affection than earst hée had begonne [Page 247] it, euen by the space of seuen yeares, At the last, whether discomfited by my dealynges, or tryed by long trauayle, or that he hade parcase light vpon the lake that is in the forrest of Ardena, and so in haste and all thristie, had dronke some droppes of disdayne, whereby his hot flames were quenched, or that he had vndertaken to serue no longer, but his iust tearme of apprenticehode, or that the téeth of tyme had gnawen and tyred his dulled spirites in such sort, as that all bée nummed hee was constrayned to vse some other artificyal balme for the quickning of his sences, or by what cause moued I knowe not he did not onely leaue his long continued sute, but (as I haue since perceiued) grew to hate me more deadly than before I had disdained him. At the first beginnyng of his retyre I perceiued not his hatred, but imagened that being ouer wearied, he had withdrawen himself for a time. And considering his worthines, ther withall his constancie of long time proued, I thoughe that I could not in the whole world find out a fitter match to bestowe my selfe, than one so worthy a person. Wherfore I doe by al possible meanes procure that he might eftsones vse his accustomed repraye vnto my parentes: And further, in al places where I hapened to meete him, I vsed al the curtesies towardes him that might be contayned wythin the bondes of modestie. But al was in vaine, for he was now become more daungerous to be wone, than the haggard Faulcon. Our lottes being thus vnluckely chaunged, I grewe to burne in desire, and the more daungerous that he shewed him selfe vnto me, the more earnest I was by all meanes to procure his consent of loue. At the last I might perceiue that not only he disdayned me, but (as me thought (boyled in hatred against me. And the time that I thus continued tormented with these thoughts, was also iust the space of seuen yeares. Finally when I perceiued no remedye for my perplexityes, I assayed by absence to [Page 248] were away this malady, and therefore vtterly refused to come in his presence, yea or almost in any other company. Wherby I haue consumed in lost time the flower of my youth, & am become as you sée (what with yeares, and what with the tormenting passions of loue) pale, wane, and full of wrinkles. Neuerthelesse, I haue therby gayned thus much, that at last I haue wond my self cléere out of Cupids chaynes, and remayne carelesse at libertie. Now marke to what end I tell you this: first vii. yeares passed in the which I could neuer be content to yeld vnto his iust desires: next other vii. yeares I spent in séeking to recouer his lost loue: and sithens both those vii. yeares, there are euen now on saint Valentines day last, other vii. yeares passed, in the which (neither I haue desired to sée him) nor he hath coueted to here of me. My parents now perceyuing how the crowes foot is crept vnder mine eye, and remembring the long sute that this gentelemā had in youth spent on me, considering therewith all that grene youth is well mellowed in vs both, haue of late sought to perswade a marriage betwene vs, the which the Knighte hath not refused to here of, and I haue not disdayned to thinke on. By their mediation we haue bene eftsoones brought to Parlee, wherein ouer and be sides the ripping vp of many olde griefes, this hath bene cheifly rehearsed & obiected betwene vs, what wrong and iniury eche of vs hath done to other. And here aboutes wée haue fallen to sharpe contencion. He alleadged, that much greater is the wrong which I haue done vnto him, than that repulse which hée hath fithenes vsed to me: and I haue affirmed the contrary. The matter yet hangeth in varyence. Now, of you worthy Gouernour I would be most glad to heare this question decided, remembring that there was no difference in the times betwene vs. And surely, vnles your iudgment helpe me, I am afrayde my marryage will hée marred, and I may go lead Apes in hell. Ferdenando aunswered, [Page 249] good Pergo, I am sory to heare so lamentable a discourse of your luckles loue, and much the soryer, in yt I muste néedes giue sentence agaynst you. For surely great was the wrong that eyther of you haue done to other, and greater was the néedelesse greife which causelesse eche of you hath conceyued in this long time, but greatest in my iudgment hath bene both the wrong and the greife of the Knight. In that notwithstanding his desertes (which your selfe confesse) he neuer enioyed any guerdone of loue at your handes. And you (as you alledge) did enioy his loue of long time to gether. So that by the reckoning, it wil fal out (although being builded in your owne conceipt, you sée it not) that of the one & twenty yeares you enioyed his loue vii. at the least, but that euer he enioyed yours wee cannot perceiue. And much greater is the wrong that rewardeth euill for good, than that which requireth tip for tap. Further, it semeth that where as you went obout in time to trie him, you did altogither loose time which can neuer be recouered. And not only lost your owne time, whereof you would seeme nowe to lament, but also compelled him to lease his time, which he might (be it spoken with out offence to you) haue bestowed in some other worthy place, and therefore, as that greife is much greater which hath no kind of cōfort to allay it, so much more is that wrong which altogether without cause is offered. And I (sayd Pergo) must needes think, that much easier is it for them to endure grief which neuer tasted of ioye, and much lesse is that wrong which is so willingly proffered to be by recompence restored. For if this Knight wil confesse that he neuer had cause to reioyce in all the time of his seruice, then with better contentacion might he abyde greife than I, who hauing tasted of the delight which I did secretly cōceiue of his desertes, do think ech grief a present death by the remembrance of those for passed thoughts: & lesse wrong séemeth it to be destitut of ye thing which was [Page 250] neuer obtained, then to be depriued of a Iewel wherof we haue been already possessed, so that vnder your correction I might conclude, that greater hath béene my griefe and iniury susteined, than that of the Knight. To whome Ieronimy replied, as touching delight, it maye not be denied but that euery louer doth take delight in the inward contemplation of his mind, to think of the worthines of his beloued: & therefore you maie not alledge that the Knight had neuer cause to reioyce, vnlesse you will altogeather condemne your selfe of worthines. Mary if you will say that he tasted not the delightes that louers seeke, then marke, who was the cause but your selfe? And if you would accuse him of like ingratitude, for yt he disdained you in the later vij. yéeres (when as he might by accepting your loue, haue recōpenced him selfe of all former wronges) you must remember therewithall, that the crueltie by you shewed towards him was such, that he could by no means perceiue that your change procéeded of good will, but rather eftsons to hold him enchained in vnknown linkes of subtile dealings, & therefore not without cause he doubted you: & yet without cause you reiected him. He had often sought occasion, but by your refusals he could neuer find him, you hauing occasion fast by ye foretop, did dally with him so long, tyl at the last he sliped his head from you, & then catching at the bald noddle, you foūd your selfe the cause, & yet you would accuse another. To conclude, greater is the griefe that is susteined without desert, & much more is the wrōg that is offered without cause. Thus Ferdinando Ieronimy decided the question propounded by Pergo, and expected that some other Dame should propound another? but his Mistresse (hauing hir hand on another halfpeny) gan thus say vnto him. Seruant this pastime is good, and such as I must nedes like of, to driue away your pensiue thoughtes: but sléeping time approcheth, & I feare we disquiete you: wherefore the rest of this time we will (if so like you) bestowe [Page 245] in trimming vp your bed, and to morrow wée shal meete here and renewe this newe begon game with Madame Pargo. Mistresse (quod hée) I must obeye your wil, and most humbly thanke you of your great goodnesse, and all these Ladies for their curtesie. Euen so requiring you that you wyll no further trouble your selues about mée, but let my Seruaunt aloane with conducting mee to bed. Yes seruaunt (quod she) I wil sée if you [...]an sléepe any better in my shéetes: and therewith commaunded hir handmayde to fetche a payre of cleane shéetes, the which being brought (maruaylous fine and swéete) the Ladies Fraunces and Elinor dyd curteously vnfold them, and layd them on the bed, which done, they also entreated him to vncloath him and go to bed, being layd, his Mistresse dressed and couched the cloathes about him, sithens moistened his temples with Rosewater, gaue him handkerchewes and other freshe linnen about him, in doing wherof, she whispered in his eare, saying: Seruaunt, this night I will bée with thée, and after with the rest of the Dames gaue him good night and departed, leauing him in a traunce betwéen hope and dispayre, trust and mistrust. Thus he laye rauished, commaunding his seruaunt to goe to bed, and fayning that him selfe would assaye if he could sléepe. About ten or eleuen of the clocke came his mistresse in hir night gowne: who knowing all priuye wayes in that house verie perfectlye, had conueied her selfe into his chamber, vnséene and vnperceiued: and being nowe come vnto his beds side knéeled downe, and laying hir arme ouer him sayde these or lyke wordes: My good Seruaunt, if thou knewest what perplexities I suffer in beholding of thine infirmities, it might then suffice, eyther vtterlye to driue away the mallady, or much more to augment thy griefes: for I know thou [...]ouest me: and I thinke also that thou hast had sufficient proofe of myne vnfayned good wyll: in remembrance whereof, I fall into sundry passions: First, I [Page 250] [...] [Page 245] [...] [Page 252] compt the happy lotes of our first acquaintance, and therin I call to minde the equalitie of our affections, for I thinke that there were neuer two louers conioyned with freer concent on both partyes: and (if my ouer basty deliuery of yeelding words be not wrested hereafter to my condempnation) I can then assure my self to escape for euer without desert of any reprofe. Here withall I cannot forget the sundry aduentures hapned since wee became one hart deuided in two bodyes, all which haue ben both happily atchiued, and delectable enioyed. What resteth then to consider but this thy present stat? The first corosiue that I haue felt, and the last cordiall that I looke forthe end of my ioyes, and the beginning of my torments. And here hir salt teares gan bath the dying lippes of hir seruaunt: who (hearing these wordes, and well considering hir demeanor) began now to accuse him selfe of such and so haynous treason, as that his gilty hart was constrayned to yeelde vnto a iust scourge for the same. He swooned vnder hir arme: the which when she perceiued, it were harde to tel what feares did most affright hir.
And It were hard nowe to rehearse how he was reuyued, since there were none presente but hee dying, (who could not declare) and she liuing, who would not disclose so much as I meane to bewraye. For mine aucthor dreameth yt Ferdenando returning to life, the first thing which he felt, was yt his good mistres lay pressing his brest with the whole weight of hir bodye, & byting his lips with hir friendly téeth. And peraduenture she refrayned (either of curtesie towards him, or for womanish feare, to hurt her tender hande) to strike him on the chéekes in such sort, as they doe that striue to call againe a dying creature: and therefore thought this the aptest meane to reduce him vnto remembrance. Ferdinando now awaked, could no lesse doe, than of his curteous nature receiue his Mistresse into his bed: Who (as one that knewe that waye better, than [Page 253] how to help his swooning,) gan gently strip of hir clothes, and louingly embracing him, gan demaund of him in this sorte. Alas good Seruaunt (quod shée) what kinde of maladie is this that so extréemly doth torment thée? Ieronimij with fainting speach answered: Mistresse as for my maladie, it hath béene easelye cured by your bountifull medicines applied. But I must confesse, that in receiuing that guerison at your handes, I haue bene constrained to fall into an Extasie, through the gauling remembraunce of mine owne vnworthinesse? Neuerthelesse good Mistres, since I perceiue such fidelitye remayning betwéene vs, as that f [...]we woordes wyll perswade suche trust as louers ought to imbrace, let these fewe wordes suffice to craue your pardon: and do eftsones powre vppon me (your vnworthy seruaunt) the aboundaunt waues of your accustomed clemencie, for I must confesse, that I haue so highlye offended you, as (but your goodnesse surpasse the mallice of my conceiptes) I must remayne (and that right woorthely) to the seuere punishment of my desertes: and so should you but loose him who hath cast away him self, and neither can accuse you, nor darre to excuse him selfe of the crime. Dame Elinor (who had rather haue founde hir seruaunt perfectly reuiued, than thus with straunge conceyptes encombred: and musing much at his darke spech, became importunat to know ye sertaynty of his thoughts. And Ferdenando as on not maister of him selfe, gan at the last playnly confesse how he had mistrusted the chaung of hir vowed affections: Yea and (that more was) he playnely expressed with whom, of whom, by whom, and too whom she bent hir better liking.
Nowe, here I would demaunde of such as are experte: Is there any greater impedymente to the fruition of a Louers delights, than to be mistrusted? or rather, is it not the ready way to race all loue and former good will out of remembrance, to tell a guilty mind [Page 254] that you do mistrust it? It should seeme yes, by Dame Elynor, who began now to take the matter whotlye: and of such vehemencie were hir fancies, that she nowe fell into flat defiance with Ferdinando, who although he sought by many faire wordes to temper hir chollorike passions, and by yelding him selfe to get the conquest of an other, yet could he by no meanes determine the quarrell. The soft pillowes being present at al these whot speches, put forth them selues as mediators for a truce betwene these enemies, and desired that (if they would néedes fight) it might be in their presence but one only blowe, & so from thence forth to become friendes againe for euer. But the Dame denied flatlye, alledging that shée found no cause at all to vse such curtesie vnto such a recreant: adding further many words of great reproche: the which dyd so enrage Ferdinando, as that hauing forgotten all former curtesies, he assayleth his enemies by force. At last she rose sodainlye and determined to saue hir selfe by flight, leauing him in bedde, with many despitefull wordes, and swearing that he shoulde neuer (eftsones) take her at the lyke aduauntage: the whiche oathe she kepte better than hir fourmer professed good wyll: and hauing nowe recouered her Chamber (because shee founde her hurt to be nothing daungerous) I doubte not, but shée slept quietlye the rest of the night. As Ferdinando also (perswading himselfe that he shoulde with conuenient leasure recouer her from this haggard conceipt) tooke some better rest towardes the morning, than hee had done in many nightes forepast. So let them both sléepe whiles I turne my penne vnto the before named Secretarie, who being (as I saye) come latelye from Florence, had made many proffers to renewe his accustomed consultations: but the sorrowe whiche his Mistresse had conceyued in Ieronimy his sicknesse, togeather with hir continuall repayre to him during the same, had bene such lettes vnto his attempts, [Page 255] as it was long time before he could obtayne audience.
At the last these newe accidentes fell so fauourably for the furtherance of his cause, that he came to his Mistresse presence and there pleaded for himselfe. Nowe, if I should at large write his alligations, to gither with hir subtile aunsweres, I shoulde but comber your eares with vnpleasaunt rehearsall of feminine frayltye.
To be short, the late disdayneful moode which she had cō ceiued against Ferdinādo togither with a scrupule which lay in hir conscience, touching the xj. article of hir beléefe. moued hir presently with better will to consult with this Secretary, aswel vpon the spéedy reuenge of hir late receiued wrongs as also vpon the reformation of hir religion. And in verye déede, it fel out that the Secretary (hauing bene of long time absent, & there his quiles and pens not worne so néere as they were wont to be,) did now pricke faire large notes, that his mistres liked better to sing fa-burden vnder him, than to descant any longer vpon Ferdinandoes playne song, and thus they continued in good accord, vntill it fortuned that Dame Fraunces came into her chamber vpon such sodaine as she had like to haue marred all the musicke, well they conueyed their clifes as closely as they could, but yet not altogither without some suspicion giuen to the sayd dame Fraunces, who although she could haue bene cōtent to take any paine in Ieronimies behalfe, yet otherwise she could neuer haue bestowed the watching about so worthelesse a pryse. After womanly salutations they fell into sundrye discourses, the Secretary stil abiding in the chamber with them. At last two or thrée other gentlewomen of the Castle came into Madam Elinores chamber, who after their Bon iour did all (vna voce) séeme to lament the sikenes of Ferdinando and called vppon the Dames Elynor and Fraunces, to goe visite him againe.
The Lady Fraunces curteously consented, but Madame Elynor first alledged that she her selfe was also sickly, the [Page 256] which she attributed to hir late paynes taken about him and sayd, that onely for that cause she was constrayned to kepe hir bed longer than hir accustomed hower. The Dames (but specially the Lady Fraunces) gan streight wayes coniecture some great cause of sodaine chaūge, and so leauing dame Elinor, walked altogether into the parke to take the ayre in the morning: And as they thus walked it chaūced that Dame Pergo heard a Cuckoe chaunt, who (because the pride of the spring was now past) cried Cuck cuck Cuckoe in hir stamering voyce. A ha (quod Pergo) this foule byrd begines to flye the countrye, and yet before hir departure, sée how spitfully she can deuyse to salute vs. Not so (quod Dame Fraunces) but some other whom she hath espyed, wherewith Dame Pergo looking round about hir, and espying none other companie sayde. Why here is no body but we few women, qd she. Thanks be to God the house is not farre from vs (quod Dame Fraunces.) Here at the wylie Pergo partly perceyuing Dame Fraunces meaning, replyed on this sort: I vnderstand you not (quod she) but to leap out of this matter, shall wée goe visit Maister Ieronimy and see how he doth this morning. Why quod dame Fraunces, do you suppose that the Cuckoe called vnto him? Nay mary quod Pergo, for (as fare as I knowe) he is not maried. As who should say (quod Dame Fraunces,) that the Cuckoe enuieth none but maryed folkes. I take it so, sayd Pergo, the Lady Frances answered. Yes sure I haue noated as euill lucke in loue (after the Cuckoes call) to haue hapned vnto diuers vnmaried folkes, as euer I did vnto the maryed, but I can be well content that we go vnto him, for I promised on ye behalfe of vs al, that we would vse our best deuoyre to recomfort him vntill he had recouered helth: and I do much meruayle that ye Lady Elinor is now become so vnwilling to take any trauayle in his behalfe, especially remembring that but yesternight she was so diligent to [Page 257] bring him to bed. But I perceiue that all earthly thinges are subiect vnto change. Euen so they be quod Pergo, for you maye behold the trées which but euen this other daye were clad in gladsome gréene, and nowe their leaues begin to fade and change collour. Thus they passed talkeing and walking vntill they returned vnto the Castle, whereas they went strayght vnto Ferdinandoes chamber, and found him in bed. Why how now Trust (quod Dame Fraunces,) will it be no better? Yes shortly I hope quod he. The Ladyes all saluted him: and he gaue them the gra-mercy: at the last Pergo popped this question vnto him: And howe haue you slept in your Mistres shetes Mayster Ieronemy quod she? reasonably well quod he, but I pray you where is my mistresse this morning? Mary sayd Pergo, we left hir in bed scarce well at ease. I am the more sorye quod he. Why Trust (sayd Mistresse Fraunces be of good comfort, & assure your selfe that here are others who would be as glad of your wel doing, as your mistres in any respect. I ought not to doubt there of (quod Ferdinādo) hauing the profe that I haue had of your great courtesies, but I thought it my dutye to aske for my mistresse being absent. Thus they passed some time with him vntill they were called awaye vnto prayers, and that being finished they went to dinner, where they met Dame Elynor attired in an night kerchiefe after the soolenest (the solempnest fashion I should haue said,) who loked very drowsely vpon all folkes, vnlesse it were hir secretary, vnto whom she deigned somtime to lend a frendly glaunce. The Lord of the Castle demaunded of hir how master Ieronemy did this morning. She answered that she knew not for she had not sene him that day. You may do wel then daughter quod the Lord) to go now vnto him, and to assay if he will eate any thing, and if here be no meates that like him, I praye you commaunde (for him) anye thing that is in my house, You must pardon me sir (quod she,) I am sickely [Page 258] disposed, and would be loth to take the ayre, why then go you mistres Fraunces (quod he) and take some body with you: and I charge you sée that he lacke nothing. Mistres Fraunces was glad of the ambassege, and arysing from the table with one other gentleman, tooke with hir a dish of chikins boiled in white broth, saying to hir father: I think this meat méetest for mayster Ieronimy. Of any that is here. It is so (quod he) daughter, and if he like not that, cause some what els to be dressed for him according to his apetite. Thus she departed and came to Ferdinando, who being plonged in sundry woes and thrilled with restlesse thoughtes, was nowe beginning to rise. But seing the Dames, couched down agayne, and sayd vnto them. Alas fayre Ladyes you put your selues to more paynes than eyther I do desire, or can deserue. Good Trust quod Dame Fraunces, our paynes are no greater than duty requireth, nor yet so great as we could vouchsafee in your behalfe. And presently my father hath sent vs vnto you (quod she) with this pittaunce, and if your apetite desire any on thing more than other, we are to desire likewise that you will not refrayne to call for it. Oh my good Hope (quod he) I perceiue that I shall not dye as long as you maye make me liue. And being nowe some deale recomforted with the remembraunce of his mistres words which she hadde vsed ouer night at hir first comming, and also thinkinge that although shee parted in choller, it was but iustlye prouoked by him selfe, and that at leasure hee shoulde finde some salue for that sore also) hée determined to take the comforte of his assured Hope, and so to expell all venomnes of mistrust before receiued. Wherfor raising him selfe in his bed, hee cast a night gowne about his shoulders saying: It shall neuer be sayd that my fainting hart can reiect the comfortable Cordialles of so freendly phisitions. Nowe by me troth well sayed gentle Trust quod Dame Fraunces, and in so [Page 259] doing, assure your selfe gueryson with spéed. This thus sayed, the curteous Dame become his keruer, & he wyth a bold spirite gan tast of hir cokerey. But the late conflicts of his conceipts had so disaquainted his stomack from repastes, that he could not wel a way with meate: and yet neuerthelesse by lyttle & little receyued some nouryture. When his Hope had crammed him as longe as she coulde make him séede, they delyuered the rest to the other gentlewoman who hauing not dyned, fell to hir prouender. In which meane while the Lady Fraunces had much comfortable spéech with signor Ieronemy and declared yt shée perceiued very well the maladie. but my Trust (quod she) be all whole, and remember what I foretould you in the beginning: neuerthelesse you must thinke that there are remedies for all mischifes, and if you will be ruled by myne aduise, we will soone finde the meane to ease you of this mishap. Ferdinando tooke comforte in hir discrecion, & fréendly kissed hir hand, gaue hir a cartlode of thankes for hir greate good will, promising to put to his vttermost force, and euermore to be ruled by hyr aduice. Thus they passed the dinner while, the Lady Fraunces alwayes refusing to declare hir conceipt of the late chaung which she perceiued in his Mistresse, for she thought best first to wynne his wyll vnto conformitie, by little and little, and then in the ende to perswade him with necessitye. When the other gentlewoman had vytayled hir, they departed, requiring him to rise and boldly to resist the fayntenesse of his feuer. The which he promised and so bad them a Dio. The Ladyes at their retourne found the courte in Dame Elynores chamber, who had there assembled hir secretary, Dame Pergo & the rest: ther they passed an hower or twayne in sundry discourses, wherein Dame Pergo did alwaies cast out some bone for mistresse Fraunces to gnaw vppon, for that in déede she perceyued hir harty affection towardes Ferdinando whereat Mistresse Fraunces [Page 260] chaunged no countenaunce, but reserued hir reuenge vntill a better oportunitie. At last (quod Dame Fraunces vnto Mistresse Elinor) and when will you goe vnto your seruaunt fayre Lady? When he is sicke and I am whole, quod Dame Elinor. That is euen nowe quod the other, for howe sicke he is your selfe can witnesse: and howe well you are we must beare recorde. You maye as well be deceiued in my disposition (quod Dame Elinor, as I was ouerséene in his sodaine alteration: and if he be sicke, you are meete to be his phisition: for you sawe yesterday that my paines dyd lyttle profite towardes his recomfort. Yes surelye sayde the other, not onelye I but all the rest had occasion to iudge that your curtesie was his chiefe comfort. Well, quod Dame Elinor, you knowe not what I knowe. Nor you what I thinke quod Dame Fraunces. Thinke what you lyst quod Elinor. In deede quod Fraunces, I may not thinke that you care, neither wyll I dye for your displeasure: & so halfe angrie she departed At supper they met againe, and the maister of the house demanded of his daughter Fraunces howe Fardinando did? Syr (quod she) he dyd eate some what at dyner, and sithens I sawe him not. The more to blame quod he, and now I would haue al you gentlewomen take of the best meates and goe suppe with him, for company driueth away carefulnesse, and leaue you me here with your leauinges alone. Naye syr quod Mistresse Elinor, I pray you giue me leaue to beare you company, for I dare not aduenture thither. The Lorde of the Castle was contented & dispatched awaye the rest: who taking with them such viandes as they thought méetest, went vnto Ieronimies chamber, fynding him vp, and walking about to recouer strength: whereat Dame Fraunces reioysed, and declared how her Father had sente that company to attend him at supper. Ferdinando gaue great thankes, & missing now nothing but his Mistresse, thought not good yet to aske for hir, but [Page 261] because he partly gessed the cause of hir absence, he contented himselfe, hoping that when his lure was newe garnished, he shoulde easely recleame hyr from those coy conceyptes. They passed ouer their supper all in quyete, and sone after Mistresse Fraunces, being desirous to requite Dame Pargoes quibbes, requested that they might continue the pastime which Dame Pergo had begonne ouer night: whervnto they all consented, and the lot fell vnto Dame Fraunces to propounde the second question who adressing hir speche vnto Ferdinādo said in this wise, Noble gouernor, I will reherse vnto you a strange historie, not fayned, neyther borowed out of any oulde aucthoritie, but a thing done in deed of late dayes, and not farre distant from this place where wée nowe remayne. It chaunced that a gentleman our neyghbour being maryed to a very fayre gentlewoman, liued with hir by the space of fower or fiue yeares in greate contentacion, trusting hir no lesse than he loued hir, and yet louing hir as much as any man could loue a woman. On that other side the gentlewoman had woonne (vnto hir beautie) a singular commendation for hir chast and modest behauiour. Yet it happened in time that a lustie young gentleman (who very often resorted to them) obtayned that at hir handes, which neuer any man coulde before him attaine: and to be plaine, he wonne so much in hir affections, that forgetting both hir owne duty, and hir husbandes kindnes, shée yéelded hir body at the commaundement of this louer, in which pastime they passed long tyme by theyr pollitycke gouernment. At last the frendes of this Lady (and especially thrée sisters which she had) espied ouermuch familliarity betwene the two louers, and dreading least it might breake out to their cōmon reproch toke their sister apart, and declared that the world did iudge scarce well of the repayre of that Gentleman vnto hyr house: and that if she did not foresée it in time, shée should not onely [Page 262] léese the good credite which she hir selfe had hitherto possessed, but furthermore should distaine theyr whole race with common obloquy & reproche. These and sundry other Godly admonitions of those sisters, could not sink in the mind of this gentlewoman, for she dyd not only stand in defiaunce what any man could thinke of hir, but also séemed to accuse them, that (because they saw hir estimation (being their yonger) to grow aboue their owne) they had therefore deuised this meane to set variance betwene hir husbande and hir. The sisters seing their holesome counsell so reiected, and hir continue styll in hir obstinate opinion, adressed theyr speache vnto hir husbande, declaring that the worlde iudged not the best, neyther they themselues did very wel like of the familiaritie betwene their sister and that gentleman, and therfore aduised him to forecast all perils, and in time to forbid him his house. The husband (on the other side) had also conceiued suche a good opinion of his gest, & had growen into such a stricte familliaritie with him, yt you might with more ease haue remoued a stone wal, than once to make him think amis, eyther of his wyfe, or of hir louer. Yea, and immediatelie after this conference, he woulde not sticke thus to say vnto his wife. Lamia (for so in déede was hir name) thou hast thrée such busie brained sisters, as I thinke shortlye their heads wyll breake: they woulde haue me to bée iellous of thée, no no Lamia. &c. so that he was not onely far from any such beléefe, but furthermore dyd euerye daye increase his curtesies towards the louer. The sisters being thus on all sides reiected, and yet perceyuing more & more an vnséemelye behauiour betwéene their sister and hir minion, began to melt in their owne grease: and such was theyr enraged pretence of reuenge, that they suborned diuers seruauntes in the house to watch so dilligentlye, as that this treason might de discouered. Amongst the rest, one mayde of subtile spirite had so long watched [Page 263] them, that at last she spied them go into the chamber together, and lockte the doore to them: wherevpon she ranne with all hast possible to hir Mayster, and toold him that if he would come with hir, she would shewe him a very straunge sighte. The gentleman (suspecting nothing) went with hir, vntill he came into a chamber néere vnto that wherein they had shut themselues. And she pointing hir mayster to the keyhole, bad him looke through, where he sawe the thing which moste mighte mislike him to behold. Where at he sodaynely drewe his Dagger, and turned towardes the mayde, who fled from him for feare of mischiefe. But when he could not ouertake hir in the heat of his coller, he commaunded that she should forth wyth trusse vp that little which she had, and to departe his seruice. And before hir departure, he found meanes to talke with hir, threatening that if euer she spake any worde of this mistery in any place where she should come, it should cost hir life. The mayde for feare departed in silence, and the Maister neuer changed coūtenance to either his wife or to hir paramour, but fayned vnto his wife that he had turned a waye the mayde vpon that sodayne, for that shee had throwen a Kitchin knife at him, whiles he went about to correct a fault in hir. &c. Thus the good gentleman dranke vp his owne swette vnseene euery day, encreasing curtesie to the louer, and neuer chaunging countenaunce to his wife in any thing, but onely that he refrayned to haue such knowledge of hir carnally, as he in tims past had, and other men haue of their wiues. In this sort he continued by the space all most of halfe a yeare, neuerthelesse lamenting his mishap in solytary places. At last (what moued him I know not) he fell a gayn to company with his wife as other men do, and (as I haue heard it sayed) he vsed this pollicy. Euery time that he had knowledge of hir, he would leaue either in the bed, or in hir cusshencloth, or by hir looking glasse, or in some place where [Page 264] she must néedes finde it, a piece of money which then was in Italie called a Caroline. Thus he dealt with her continuallye by the space of fowre or fiue monethes, vsing hir neuerthelesse very kindly in all other respects, and prouiding for hir all things necessary at the first call. But vnto his geast he still augmented his curtesie, in such sort, that you would haue thought them to be sworne brothers. All this notwithstanding his wife much musing at these smal péeces which she founde in this sort, and furthermore, hauing sundrye times found hir husband in solitarye places making great lamentation, shée grewe inquisitiue, what should be ye secréete cause of these alterations, vnto whom he would none otherwise answere, but ye any man should finde occatiō to be more pensiue at one time than at another. The wife notwithstanding increasing hir suspect, imparted the same vnto hir louer, alledging therewithal that she doubted verye much least hir husband had some vehemēt suspicion of their affaires. The louer encoraged hir, & likewise declared, that if she would be importunate to enquire the cause, hir husband would not be able to kepe it from hir: and hauing now throughly instructed hir, shée dealt with her husband in this sort. One day when shée knew him to be in his study alone, she came into him, and hauing fast locked the doore after hir, & conueyed the keye into hir pocket, she began first with earnest entreaty, and then with teares to craue that he woulde no longer kéepe from hir the cause of his sodaine alteration. The husband dissimuled the matter still: at last she was so earnest to know for what cause he left money in such sort at sundry times: That he aunswered on this wise: Wyfe (quod hée) thou knowest howe long wée haue béene married togeather, and howe long I made so deare accompt of thée as euer man made of his Wife: since which dayes, thou knowest also howe long I refrained thy company, and howe long againe I haue vsed thy company, leauing the [Page 265] money in this sort, and the cause is this. So long as thou dyddest behaue thy selfe faithfullye towardes mée. I neuer lothed thy company: but sithens I haue perceiued thée to bée a harlotte, and therefore dyd I for a tyme refraine and forbeare to lye with thée, and nowe I can no longer forbeare it, I giue thée euery time that I lye with thée, a Caroline, which is to make thée vnder stande thine owne whordome: and this rewarde is sufficient for a whore. The wife beganne stoutlye to stand at defiaunce, but the husband cut of hir speach, and declared when, where, and how he had sene it: hereat the woman being abashed, and finding hir conscience guilty of asmuch as he had aledged, fell downe on hir knées, & with most bitter teares craued pardon, confessing hir offence: whereat hir husband (moued with pitie) & melting likewise in floods of lamentation, recomforted hir, promising that if from that day forwardes she would be true vnto him, he would not onely forgiue al that was past, but become more tender and louing vnto hir then euer he was. What doe I tarrye so long? they became of accord: and in full accomplishment thereof, the gentlewoman dyd altogeather eschewe the company, the speach, and (as much as in hir laye) the sight of hir louer: although hir husband dyd continue his curtesie towards him, and often charged his wife to make him fayre resemblaunt. The Louer was nowe onelye left in perplexitie, who knewe nothing what might be the cause of all these chaunges, and that most gréeued him, he could by no meanes optaine againe the speach of his desired: he watched all opportunities, hée suborned messengers, hée wroote letters, but all in vaine. In the ende she caused to bée declared vnto him a time and place where she woulde méete him and speake with him. Being met, she put him in remembraunce of all that had passed betwéene them: shée layde also before him howe trusty she had bene vnto him in all professions: she confessed also howe faithfullye [Page 266] he had discharged the duety of a friend in al respectes, and therwithall she declared that her late alteration and pensiuenesse of minde was not without great cause, for that she had of late such a mishap, as might chaunge the disposition of any lyuing creature: Yea, and that the case was such, as vnlesse she found present remedy, hir death must needes ensue, and that spedely, for the preuenting whereof, she alledged that she had beaten hir braines with al deuises possible, and that in the ende she could thinke of no redresse but one, the which lay only in him to acomplish. Wherfore she besought him for all the loue and good will which had euer passed betwéene them, nowe to shewe the fruites of true friendship, and to gratifie hir with a frée graunt to this request. The louer who had alwayes bene desirous to pleasure hir in any thing, but now especially to recouer hir wonted kindnesse, gan franklye promise to accomplishe any thing that might be to him possible, yea, though it were to his great detriment, and therewithall, dyd déepely blame hir in that shée would so long torment hir selfe with any griefe, considering that it lay in him to helpe it. The Ladye aunswered, that she had so long kept it from his knowledge, bicause she doubted whether hée would be content to performe it or not, although it was such a thing as he might easely graunt without any manner of hurt to himself, & yet now in the ende she was forced to aduenture vppon his curtesie, being no longer able to beare ye burdē of hir griefe: the louer solicited her most earnestly to disclose it: and she (as fast) séemed to mistrust that he would not accomplish it. In the ende she tooke out a booke (which she had brought for the nonce) & bound him by othe to accomplishe it. The louer mistrusting nothing lesse thā that ensued, toke the othe willingly, which done, she declared al that had passed betwene hir & hir husband: his griefe, hir repentance, his pardon, hir vowe, and in the ende of hir tale enioyned the louer, that from thenceforthwardes, [Page 267] he should neuer attempt to breake her constant determinatiō, the louer replied that this was vnpossible. But she plainlye assured him, that if he graunted hir that request, she would be his friend in al honest & godly wise: if not, she put him out of doubt that she would eschew his company and flée from his sight as from a scorpion. The louer considering that hir request was but iust, accusing his owne guiltye conscience, remembring the great curtesies alwayes vsed by hir husband, and therewithall séeing the case now brought to such an issue, as that by no other meanes than by this it could be conceiled from the knowledge of the worlde: but most of all, being vrged by his othe, dyd at last giue an vnwilling consent, and yet a faithful promise to yelde vnto hir wyl in al thinges, and thus being become of one assent, he remaineth the derest friend & most welcome gest that may be, both to the Lady and hir husband: and the man and the wife so kind (each to other) as if there neuer had bene such a breche betwen them. Now, of you noble Gouernor I would faine lerne, whether the perplexity of the husband when he looked in at the keye hoole, or of the wife when she knewe the cause why the Carolines were so scattered, or of the louer when he knew what was his mistres charge, was greater of ye thrée? I might haue put in also ye troubled thoughts of the sisters & the mayd, when they saw their good wil reiected, but let these thrée suffice. Gentle Hope (quod Ferdinando) you haue rehearsed (& that right eloquētly) a notable tale, or rather a notable history, because you séeme to affirme, that is was done in dede of late & not far hence. Wherein I note fiue especial pointes: that is a maruailous patience in the husband, no lesse repentaunce in the wife, no smal boldnesse of the mayde, but muche more rashnesse in the sisters, & last of al, a rare tractabilitie in the louer. Neuerthelesse so returne vnto your question. I thinke the husbands perplexity greatest, because his losses abounded aboue [Page 268] the rest, & his iniuries were vncōparable. The Lady Fraunces did not seme to contrary him but rather smiled in hir sléeue at Dame Pergo, who had no lesse patience to here the tale recited, then the Lady Fraunces had pleasure in telling of it. By this time the sléeping houre aproched, & the Ladyes prepared their departure, when as mistres Fraūces sayd vnto ye Venetiane: Although percase I shall not do it so hādsomly as your mistres, yet good Trust (quod she) if you vouchsafe it, I can be content to trim vp your bed in the best maner that I may, as on who would be as glad as she to procure your quiet rest. Ferdinando gaue hir great thāks desiring hir not to trouble hirself, but to let his man alone with yt charge. Thus they departed, & how al partyes toke rest that night I knowe not: but in ye morning Ferdinando began to consider with himselfe that he might lye long ynough in his bed before his mistres would be apeased in hir peuishe conceipts: wherfore he arose, & being aparelled in his night gowne, tooke occation to walke in the gallery néere adioyning vnto his mistres chamber: but there might he walke long inough ere his Mistresse would come to walke with him. When dinner time came he went into the great chamber whereas the Lord of the Castle saluted him, being ioyful of his recouerye: Ieronimy giuing due thanks, declared that his friēdly entertainement togeather with the great curtesie of the gentlewomen was such, as might reuiue a man although he were halfe dead. I would bée loath (quod the hoast) that any Gentleman comming to mee for good wyll, shoulde want any curtesie of intertainement that lyeth in my power. When the meate was serued to the table, the Gentlewomen came in all but Dame Elynor and Mistresse Pergo, the which Ferdinando marked very well, and it dyd somewhat abate his apetite. After diner, his Hope came vnto him and demaunded of him howe hée would passe the daye for his recreation? to whome he answered euen as it best pleased hir. She deuised to walke [Page 269] into the parke, and so by litle and litle to acquaint himself with the ayre: he agréed, and they walked togeather being accompanied with one or two other gentle women. And although there were nowe more cause that hee shoulde mistrust his Mistresse than euer he had before receyued, yet the vehement passions which he sawe in her when she first came to visite him, and moreouer the earnest words which she pronounced in his extremitie, were such a refreshing to his minde, as that he determined no more to trouble him selfe with like conceiptes: concluding further, that if his mistresse were not faultie, then had he cō mitted a foule offence in néedeles ielousie, and that if she were faultie (especiallye with the Secretarie) then no perswation could amend hir, nor any passion helpe him? and this was the cause that enabled him after suche passing panges to abide the doubtfull conclusion: And thus manfully and valiantly to represse faintnesse of his mind: nothing doubting but that he should haue won his mistresse to pardon his presumption, & louingly to imbrace his seruice in wonted maner: but he was farre deceiued, for shée was nowe in a nother tewne, the which Mistresse Fraunces began partly to discouer vnto him as they walked togeather: for she burdened him that his mallady proceded onely of a disquiet minde. And if it dyd so my gentle Hope (quod he) what remedy? My good Trust (quod she) none other but to plant quiet where disquiet began to grow. I haue determined (quod he) but I must craue the helpe of your assured friendship. Therof you may make accompt (quod she) but wherein? Ferdinando walking apart with hir, began to declare that there was some contention hapened betwéene his mistres and him: the Lady tolde him that she was not ignoraunt thereof. Then he desired hir to treate so much in the cause, as they might eftsons come to Parlee: thereof I dare assure you (quod Mistresse Fraunces,) and at their returne she led him into his Mistresse [Page 270] Chamber, whome they founde lying on hir bed, whether gauled with any griefe, or weary of the thing (which you woote of) I know not, but there she lay: vnto whome Ferdinando gaue two or thrée salutations before she seemed to marke him. At last sayd the Lady Fraunces vnto hir, your seruaunt hearing of your sicknesse, hath aduentured thus far into the ayre to see you. I thank him (quod dame Elinor) & so lay still, refusing to giue him any countenāce. Whereat he perceiuing all the other Gentlewomen fall to whispering, thought good, boldlye to pleade his owne case: and approching the bed began to enforce his vnwylling Mistresse vnto curtesie, wherein he vsed such vehemence as she could not wel by any meanes refuse to talk with him: but what their talke was, I may not take vpon me to tel you. Sufficeth this to be known, that in the end she pretended to passe ouer all olde grudges, and thencefoorth to pleasuure him as occation might serue, the which occation was so long in hapening, that in the ende he being nowe eftsones troubled with vnquiet fantasies, and forced to vse his penne againe as an Ambassadour betwéene them: one daye amongst the rest f [...]und oportunitye to thrust a letter into her bosome, wherein hée had earnestly requested another Mooneshine banquet or frydayes breakfast to recomfort his dulled spirites, wherevnto the Dame yelded this aunswere in writing, but of whose endyting iudge you.
I can but smyle at your simplicitye, who burden your frends with an impossibility. The case so stode as I could not though I would. Wherefore from hence fóorth either learne to frame your request more reasonablye, or else stand content with a flat repulse. SHE.
Ferdinando liked this letter but a litle: & being thereby drouen into his accustomed vaine, he compiled in verse this aunswere folowing, vpon these wordes conteined in her letter, I could not though I would.
THus Ieronimy replied vpon his Mistres answere, hoping thereby to recouer some fauour at hir hands, but it would not be: so that nowe he had bene as likelye (as at the first) to haue fretted in fantasies, had not the Ladye Fraunces cōtinually comforted him: and by litle & litle she droue suche reason into his minde, that now he began to subdue his humor with discretion, and to determine that if he might espie euident profe of his Mistres fraieltie, he would then stand content with patience perforce, & geue his Mistres the Bezo la, mano. And it happened one daye amongst others, that he resorted to his mistresse chamber and founde her (allo solito) lying vppon her bed, and [Page 272] the Secretarie with Dame Pergo and her bandmaide kéeping of her company. Whereat Ferdinando somewhat repyning, came to her and fell to dalliaunce, as one that had nowe rather aduenture to be thought presumptious than yéelde to be accompted bashfull, he cast his harme ouer his Mistresse, and began to accuse hir of sluggishnes, vsing some other bolde partes, as well to prouoke hir, as also to grieue the other. The Ladye séemed litle to delight in his dallying, but cast a glance at hir Secretarie, & therewith smiled, when as the Secretarie and Dame Pergo burst out into open laughter. The which Ferdinando perceiuing, and disdaining her ingratitude, was forced to depart, and in that fantasie compiled this Sonet.
THis Sonet declareth that he began now to accompt of hir as she deserued, for it hath a sharpe conclusion, and it is somewhat too general. Well, as it is he lost it, where his Mistresse found it, and she immediatly imparied the [Page 273] same vnto Dame Pergo, and Dame Pergo vnto others: so that it quickely became common in the house. Amongst others Mistres Fraunces hauing recouered a copie of it, did seme to pardon the generallity, and to bée wel pleased with the perticularity thereof, the whiche shée bewraied one daye vnto Ferdinando in this wise. Of all the ioyes that euer I had (my good Trust quod shee) there is none where in I take more comforte than in your conformity. And although your present rage is such that you can bée content to condemne a number vnknowen, for the transgression of one to well knowne: yet I doe rather reioyce that you should iudge your pleasure ouer many, than too be abused by any. My good Hope (quod he) it were not reason that after such manyfold profes of your exceding curtesies, I should vse straung or contencious spéech with so deare a friend. And in déed I must confesse that the opinion which I haue conceiued of my Mistresse, hath stirred my penne to write very hardly agaynst all the feminine gender. But I praye you pardon me (quod he) & if it please you I will recant it, as also (parcase) I was but cloyd with surcuydrye, and presumed to think more than may be proued. Yea but how if it were proued quod Dame Fraunces? If it were so (which God forbid quod he) then coulde you not blame me to conceiue that opinion. Howsoeuer I might blame you (quod she) I meane not to blame you, but I demaund further, if it be as I thinke & you suspect, what will you then do? Surely (quod he) I haue determined to drinke vp mine own sorow secretly, and to bid them both a Dieu. I like your farewell better than your fantasie (quod she) and whensoeuer you can be content to take somuch paynes, as the Knight (which had a night gowne garded with naked swordes) dyd take, I thinke you maye put your selfe out of doubt of all these thynges. By these wordes and other spéech which she vttered vnto him, Ferdinando smelt how the world wente about, and [Page 274] therefore dyd one day in the grey morning aduenture to passe through the gallery towardes his Mistresse Chamber, hoping to haue found the doore open, but he founde the contrarye, and there attending in good deuotion, hearde the parting of his Mistresse and hir Secretarie, with many kinde wordes: whereby it appeared that the one was very loth to depart from the other. Poore Ieronimy was enforced to beare this burden, and after hée had attended there as long as the light woulde giue him leaue, he departed also to his Chamber, and apparelling himselfe, could not be quiet vntyll he had spoken with his mistresse, whome he burdened flatly with this despitefull trecherye: and she as fast denyed it, vntyl at last being styll vrged with such euident tokens as he alleadged, shée gaue him this bone to gnawe vppon. And if I dyd so (quod shée) what than? Where vnto Ferdinando made none answere, but departed with this farewel. My losse is mine owne, and your gaine is none of yours, and sooner can I recouer my losse, than you enioye the gaine which you gape after. And when hée was in place sollitary, he compiled these following for a finall ende of the matter.
THus Ferdinando being no longer able to beare these extréeme despites, resolued to absent him selfe, swell for his owne further quiete, as also to auoide the occasion of greater mischiefes that might ensewe: And although the excéeding curtesies and approued fidelitie of Dame Fraunces had béene sufficient to allure the fast lyking of any man, especially considering that shée was reasonably fayre, and descended of a worthy father, who nowe fell flatlye to moue and solicite the same, yet such sinistre conceyptes had he taken by the frailtye of Dame Elinor, as that reiecting all proffers, and contempning all curtesies, [Page 276] he tooke his leaue, & (without pretence of returne) departed to his house in Venice: spending there ye rest of his dayes in a dissolute kind of lyfe: & abandoning the worthy Lady Fraunces Chima, who (dayly being gauled with the griefe of his great ingratitude) dyd shortlye bring hir selfe into a myserable consumption: whereof (after thrée yeares languishing) shee dyed: Notwithstanding al which occurements the Lady Elinor liued long in ye continuance of hir acustomed change: & thus we sée that where wicked lust doeth beare the name of loue, it doth not onelye infecte the lyght minded, but it maye also become confusion to others which are vowed to constancie. And to that ende I haue recyted this Fable which maye serue as ensample to warne the youthfull reader from attempting the lyke worthles enterprise. I knowe not howe my rude translation thereof wyll delight the finest iudgementes: But sure as Bartello writteth it in Italian, it is both pleasaunt and profitable: the which hath made mée aduenture thus to publishe the same in such simple style as I am able to endite: Desiring the gentle reader, rather to take example of reformation therein, then to finde faulte at the homelye handling of the same.
¶ In praise of a gentlewoman who though she were not verye fayre, yet was she as harde fauoured as might be.
Allegoria.
¶ The praise of Phillip Sparrowe.
¶ Farewell with a mischeife, written by a louer being disdaynefullye abiected by a dame of highe calling, VVho had chosen (in his place) a playe fellovv of baser condition: & therfore he determined to step a side, and before his departure giueth hir this farvvell in verse.
The doale of disdaine written by alouer disdainfully reiected contrary to former promise.
¶ Mars in despite of Vulcane vvritten for an absent louer (parted from his Lady by Sea.)
Lenuoie.
¶ Patience perforce, wherein an absent louer doth thus encourage his Lady to continew constant.
¶ A letter deuised for a yong louer.
¶ Dauids salutacions to Berzabe vvherein are three sonets in sequence, vvritten vppon this occation. The deuiser hereof amongst other friendes had named a gentlevvoman his Berzabe, and she vvas content to call him hir Dauid. The man presented his Lady vvith a booke of the Golden Asse, vvritten by Lucius Apuleius, and in the beginning of the books vvrote this sequence. You must conferre it vvith the Historye of Apuleius, for else it vvyll haue small grace.
Soone acquainted, soone forgotten, As appeareth here by an vncourteous farewell to an inconstant Dame.
¶ Certayne notes of Instruction concerning the making of verse or ryme in English, vvritten at the request of Master Edouardo Donati.
SIgnor Edouardo, since promise is debt, and you (by the lawe of friendship) do burden me with a promise that I shoulde lende you instructions towards the making of English verse or ryme, I will assaye to discharge the same, though not so perfectly as I would, yet as readily as I may: and therwithall I pray you consider that Quot homines, tot Sententiae, especially in Poetrie▪ wherein (neuerthelesse) I dare not challenge any degree, and yet will I at your request aduenture to set downe my simple skill in such simple manner as I haue vsed, referring the same hereafter to the correction of the Laureate. And you shall haue it in these few poynts followyng.
THe first and most necessarie poynt that euer I founde méete to be cōsidered in making of a delectable poeme is this, to grounde it vpon some fine inuention. For it is not inough to roll in pleasant woordes, nor yet to thunder in Rym, Ram, Ruff, by letter (quoth my master Chaucer) nor yet to abounde in apt vocables, or epythetes, vnlesse the Inuention haue in it also aliquid salis. By this aliquid salis, I meane some good and fine deuise, shewing the quicke capacitie of a writer: and where I say some good and fine inuention, I meane that I would haue if both fine and good. For many inuentions are so superfine, that they are Vix good. And againe many Inuentions are good, and yet not finely handled. And for a general for warning what Theame soeuer you do take in hande, if you do handle it but tanquam in oratione perpetua, and neuer studie for some depth of deuise in ye Inuention, & some figures also in the handlyng thereof: it will appeare to the skilfull Reader but [Page] a tale of a tubbe. To deliuer vnto you generall examples it were almoste vnpossible, sithence the occasions of Inuentions are (as it were) infinite: neuerthelesse take in worth mine opinion, and perceyue my furder meanyng in these few poynts. If I should vndertake to wryte in prayse of a gentlewoman, I would neither praise hir christal eye, nor hir cherrie lippe, &c. For these things are trita & obuia. But I would either finde some supernaturall cause wherby my penne might walke in the superlatiue degrée, or els I would vndertake to aunswere for any imperfection that shée hath, and there vpon rayse the prayse of hir commendacion. Likewise if I should disclose my pretence in loue, I would eyther make a straunge discourse of some intollerable passion, or finde occasion to pleade by the example of some historie, or discouer my disquiet in shadowes per Allegoriam, or vse the couertest meane that I could to auoyde the vncomely customes of commō writers. Thus much I aduenture to deliuer vnto you (my fréend) vpon the rule of Inuention, which of all other rules is most to be marked, and hardest to be prescribed in certayne and infallible rules, neuerthelesse to conclude therein, I would haue you stand most vpon the excellencie of your Inuention, & sticke not to studie déepely for some fine deuise. For that beyng founde, pleasant woordes will follow well inough and fast inough.
2 Your Inuention being once deuised, take héede that neither pleasure of rime, nor varietie of deuise, do carie you from it: for as to vse obscure & darke phrases in a pleasant Sonet, is nothing delectable, so to entermingle merie iests in a serious matter is an Indecorum.
3 I will next aduise you that you hold the iust measure wherwith you begin your verse, I will not denie but this may seeme a preposterous ordre: but bycause I couet rather to satisfie you particularly, than to vndertake a generall tradition, I wil not somuch stand vpon the manner as the matter of my precepts. I say then, remember to holde [Page] the same measure wherwith you begin, whether it be in a verse of sixe syllables, eight, ten, twelue, &c. and though this precept might séeme ridiculous vnto you, since euery yong scholler can conceiue that he ought to continue in the same measure wher with he beginneth, yet do I see and read many mens Poems now adayes, whiche beginning with the measure of xij. in the first line, & xiiij. in the second (which is the common kinde of verse) they wil yet (by that time they haue passed ouer a few verses) fal into xiiij. & fourtene, & sic de similibus, the which is either forgetfulnes or carelesnes.
4 And in your verses remembre to place euery worde in his natural Emphasis or sound, that is to say in such wise, and with such length or shortnesse, eleuation or depression of sillables, as it is cōmonly pronounced or vsed: to expresse the same we haue thrée maner of accents, grauis, lenis, & circumflexa, the whiche I would english thus, the long accent, the short accent, & that whiche is indifferent: the graue accent is marked by this caracte,[figure] / the light accent is noted thus, \ & the circūflexe or indifferent is thus signified ˜: the graue accent is drawē out or eleuate, and maketh that sillable long whervpō it is placed: the light accēt is depressed or snatched vp, and maketh that sillable short vpon the which it lighteth: the circumflexe accent is indifferēt, sometimes short, sometimes long, sometimes depressed & sometimes eleuate. For exāple of th'emphasis or natural sound of words, this word Treasure, hath the graue accent vpō the first sillable, whereas if it shoulde be written in this sorte, Treasure, nowe were the second sillable long, & that were cleane contrarie to the cōmon vse wherwith it is pronounced. For furder explanation hereof, note you that cōmonly now a dayes in english rimes (for I dare not cal them English verses) we vse none other order but a foote of two sillables, wherof the first is depressed or made short, & the second is eleuate or made lōg: and that sound or scāning continueth throughout the verse. We haue vsed in times past other kindes of Méeters: as for example this following:
Also our father Chaucer hath vsed the same libertie in féete and measures that the Latinists do vse: and who so euer do peruse and well consider his workes, he shall finde that although his lines are not alwayes of one selfe same number of Syllables, yet beyng redde by one that hath vnderstanding, the longest verse and that which hath most Syllables in it, will fall (to the eare) correspondent vnto that whiche hath fewest sillables in it: and like wise that whiche hath in it fewest syllables, shalbe founde yet to consist of woordes that haue suche naturall sounde, as may séeme equall in length to a verse which hath many moe sillables of lighter accentes. And surely I can lament that wee are fallen into suche a playne and simple manner of wryting, that there is none other foote vsed but one: wherby our Poemes may iustly be called Rithmes, and cannot by any right challenge the name of a Verse. But since it is so, let vs take the forde as we finde it, and lette me set downe vnto you suche rules or precepts that euen in this playne foote of two syllables you wreste no woorde from his natural and vsuall sounde, I do not meane hereby that you may vse none other wordes but of twoo sillables, for therein you may vse discretion according to occasion of matter: but my meaning is, that all the wordes in your verse be so placed as the first sillable may sound short or be depressed, the second long or eleuate, the third shorte, the fourth long, the fifth shorte, &c. For example of my meaning in this point marke these two verses:
In these two verses there séemeth no difference at all, since the one hath the very selfe same woordes that the other hath, and yet the latter verse is neyther true nor pleasant, & the first verse may passe the musters. The fault of the latter verse is that this worde vnderstand is therein so placed as the graue accent falleth vpō der, and therby maketh der, in this worde vnderstand to be eleuated: which is contrarie to the naturall or vsual pronūciation: for we say
5 Here by the way I thinke it not amisse to forewarne you that you thrust as few wordes of many sillables into your verse as may be: and herevnto I might alledge many reasons: first the most auncient English wordes are of one sillable, so that the more monasyllables that you vse, the truer Englishman you shall séeme, and the lesse you shall smell of the Inkehorne. Also wordes of many syllables do cloye a verse and make it vnpleasant, whereas woordes of one syllable will more easily fall to be shorte or long as occasion requireth, or wilbe adapted to become circumflexe or of an indifferent sounde.
6 I would exhorte you also to beware of rime without reason: my meaning is hereby that your rime leade you not from your firste Inuention, for many wryters when they haue layed the platforme of their inuention, are yet drawen sometimes (by ryme) to forget it or at least to alter it, as when they cannot readily finde out a worde whiche maye rime to the first (and yet continue their determinate Inuention) they do then eyther botche it vp with a worde that will ryme (howe small reason soeuer it carie with it) or els they alter their first worde and so percase decline or trouble their former Inuention: But do you alwayes hold your first determined Inuention, and do rather searche the bottome of your braynes for apte wordes, than chaunge good reason for rumbling rime.
7 To help you a little with ryme (which is also a plaine [Page] yong schollers lesson) worke thus, whē you haue set downe your first verse, take the last worde thereof and coumpt ouer all the wordes of the selfe same sounde by order of the Alphabete: As for example, the laste woorde of your firste line is care, to ryme therwith you haue bare, clare, dare, fare, gare, hare, and share, mare, snare, rare, stare, & ware, &c. Of all these take that which best may serue your purpose, carying reason with rime: and if none of them will serue so, then alter the laste worde of your former verse, but yet do not willingly alter the meanyng of your Inuention.
8 You may vse the same Figures or Tropes in verse which are vsed in prose, and in my iudgement they serue more aptly, and haue greater grace in verse than they haue in prose: but yet therein remembre this old adage, Ne quid nimis, as many wryters which do not know the vse of any other figure than that whiche is expressed in repeticion of sundrie wordes beginning all with one letter, the whiche (beyng modestly vsed) lendeth good grace to a verse: but they do so hunte a letter to death, that they make it Crambe, and Crambe bis positum mors est: therfore Ne quid nimis.
9 Also asmuche as may be, eschew straunge words, or obsoleta & inusitata, vnlesse the Theame do giue iust occasiō: marie in some places a straunge worde doth drawe attentiue reading, but yet I woulde haue you therein to vse discretion.
10 And asmuch as you may, frame your stile to perspicuity and to be sensible: for the haughty obscure verse doth not much delight, and the verse that is to easie is like a tale of a rosted horse: but let your Poeme be such as may both delight and draw attentiue readyng, and therewithal may deliuer such matter as be worth the marking.
11 You shall do very well to vse your verse after thenglishe phrase, and not after the maner of other languages: The Latinists do commōly set the adiectiue after the Substantiue: As for example Femina pulchra, aedes altae, &c. but if we should say in English a woman fayre, a house high, &c. [Page] it would haue but small grace: for we say a good man, and not a man good, &c. And yet I will not altogether forbidde it you, for in some places, it may be borne, but not so hardly as some vse it which wryte thus:
Surely I smile at the simplicitie of such deuisers which might aswell haue sayde it in playne Englishe phrase, and yet haue better pleased all eares, than they satisfie their owne fancies by suche superfinesse. Therefore euen as I haue aduised you to place all wordes in their naturall or most common and vsuall pronunciation, so would I wishe you to frame all sentences in their mother phrase and proper Idióma, and yet sometimes (as I haue sayd before) the contrarie may be borne, but that is rather where rime enforceth, or per licentiam Poēticam, than it is otherwise lawfull or commendable.
12 This poeticall licence is a shrewde fellow, and couereth many faults in a verse, it maketh wordes longer, shorter, of mo sillables, of fewer, newer, older, truer, falser, and to conclude it turkeneth all things at pleasure, for example, ydone for done, adowne for downe, orecome for ouercome, tane for taken, power for powre, heauen for heavn, thewes for good partes or good qualities, and a numbre of other whiche were but tedious and needelesse to rehearse, since your owne iudgement and readyng will soone make you espie such aduauntages.
13 There are also certayne pauses or restes in a verse whiche may be called Ceasures, whereof I woulde be lothe to stande long, since it is at discretion of the wryter, and they haue bene first deuised (as should seeme) by the Musicians: but yet thus much I will aduenture to wryte, that in mine opinion in a verse of eight sillables, the pause will stand best in the middest, in a verse of tenne it will best be placed at the ende of the first foure sillables: in a verse of twelue, in the midst, in verses o [...] [...]welue, in the firste and [Page] fouretene in the seconde, wée place the pause commonly in the midst of the first, and at the ende of the first eight sillables in the second. In Rithme royall, it is at the wryters discretion, and forceth not where the pause be vntill the ende of the line.
14 And here bycause I haue named Rithme royall, I will tell you also mine opinion aswell of that as of the names which other rymes haue commonly borne heretofore. Rythme royall is a verse of tenne sillables, and seuen such verses make a staffe, whereof the first and thirde lines do aunswer (acrosse) in like terminations and rime, the second, fourth, and fifth, do likewise answere eche other in terminations, and the two last do combine and shut vp the Sentence: this hath bene called Rithme royall, & surely it is a royall kinde of verse, seruing best for graue discourses. There is also another kinde called Ballade, and thereof are sundrie sortes: for a man may write ballade in a staffe of sixe lines, euery line conteyning eighte or sixe sillables, whereof the firste and third, second and fourth do rime acrosse, and the fifth and sixth do rime togither in conclusion. You may write also your ballad of tenne sillables rimyng as before is declared, but these two were wont to be most cōmonly vsed in ballade, which propre name was (I thinke) deriued of this worde in Italian Ballare, whiche signifieth to daunce. And in deed those kinds of rimes serue beste for daunces or light matters. Then haue you also a rondlette, the which doth alwayes end with one self same foote or repeticion, and was thereof (in my iudgement) called a rondelet. This may consist of such measure as best liketh the wryter, then haue you Sonnets, some thinke that all Poemes (being short) may be called Sonets, as in déede it is a diminutiue worde deriued of Sonare, but yet I can beste allowe to call those Sonets whiche are of fouretene lynes, euery line conteyning tenne syllables. The firste twelue do ryme in staues of foure lines by crosse méetre, and the last twoo ryming togither do conclude the whole [Page] There are Dyzaynes, & Syxaines which are of ten lines, and of sixe lines, cōmonly vsed by the French, which some English writers do also terme by the name of Sonettes. Then is there an old kinde of Rithme called Verlayes, deriued (as I haue redde) of this worde Verd whiche betokeneth Gréene, and Laye which betokeneth a Song, as if you would say gréene Songes: but I muste tell you by the way, that I neuer redde any verse which I saw by aucthoritie called Verlay, but one, and that was a long discourse in verses of tenne sillables, whereof the foure first did ryme acrosse, and the fifth did aunswere to the firste and thirde, breaking off there, and so going on to another termination, Of this I could shewe example of imitation in mine own verses written to ye right honorable ye Lord Grey of VVilton vpon my iourney into Holland, &c. There are also certaine Poemes deuised of tenne syllables, whereof the first aunswereth in termination with the fourth, and the second and thirde answere eche other: these are more vsed by other nations than by vs, neyther can I tell readily what name to giue them. And the cōmonest sort of verse which we vse now adayes (viz. the long verse of twelue and fourtene sillables) I know not certainly howe to name it, vnlesse I should say that it doth consist of Poulters measure, which giueth .xij. for one dozē and xiiij. for another. But let this suffise (if it be not to much) for the sundrie sortes of verses which we vse now adayes.
15 In all these sortes of verses when soeuer you vndertake to write, auoyde prolixitie and tediousnesse, & euer as neare as you can, do finish the sentence and meaning at the end of euery staffe where you wright staues, & at the end of euery two lines where you write by cooples or poulters measure: for I see many writers which draw their sentēces in length, & make an ende at latter Lammas: for cōmonly before they end, the Reader hath forgottē where he begon. But do you (if you wil follow my aduise) eschue prolixitie and knit vp your sentences as compendiously as you may, [Page] since breuitie (so that it be not drowned in obscuritie) is most commendable.
16 I had forgotten a notable kinde of ryme, called ryding rime, and that is suche as our Mayster and Father Chaucer vsed in his Canterburie tales, and in diuers other delectable and light enterprises: but though it come to my remembrance somewhat out of order, it shall not yet come altogether out of time, for I will nowe tell you a conceipt whiche I had before forgotten to wryte: you may see (by the way) that I holde a preposterous order in my traditions, but as I sayde before I wryte moued by good wil, and not to shewe my skill. Then to returne too my matter, as this riding rime serueth most aptly to wryte a merie tale, so Rythme royall is fittest for a graue discourse. Ballades are beste of matters of loue, and rondlettes moste apt for the beating or handlyng of an adage or common prouerbe: Sonets serue aswell in matters of loue as of discourse: Dizaymes and Sixames for shorte Fantazies: Verlayes for an effectuall proposition, although by the name you might otherwise iudge of Verlayes, and the long verse of twelue and fouretene sillables, although it be now adayes vsed in all Theames, yet in my iudgement it would serue best for Psalmes and Himpnes.
I woulde stande longer in these traditions, were it not that I doubt mine owne ignoraunce, but as I sayde before, I know that I write to my fréede, and affying my selfe therevpon, I make an ende.