AMongst all the accidents that vsually draw men into the greatest admi­ration & astonishment, there are none so strange or prodigious as those which Loue produceth: A passion, or rather fury, so violent; as that, ouer­throwing the reason and vnderstanding of those it seazeth, it leaues them no consideration of the euent of what it makes them vndertake. And although [Page 2] the examples of the warres, euersi­ons of Kingdomes and estates, with the errors it hath caused the wisest men to commit, and the ruines into which it hath precipitated the greatest Personages, be so ordinary as no man can be ignorant of them; yet wee finde scarce one that will make the right vse of them; neuerthelesse, they ought to be knowne, to the end that some more happy than the rest, may by the repre­sentation of others miseries, be diuerted from falling into the like. Amongst the chiefest where this passion hath displai­ed her tragicall effects; This of which I now vndertake to write, deserues a remarkable place.

Italy hath beene in all times a region fertile in high and noble spirits, and ca­pable of the greatest and fullest fruits of vertue or vice, and also the most amo­rous and subiect to loue of all other Na­tions: which hath beene the occasion [Page 3] that the men (finding this inclination so common and naturall to them) haue ordained the lawes for the liues of wo­men so strict & seuere in their restraint, to which they subiect them, as not as­sured of their chastities without the in­terdiction of the sight and frequentati­on of men, excepting onely the conuer­sation of their neere allies. Now a­mongst all the Townes of Italy, where vertues and faire exercises are in greatest recommendation, and where is com­monly the best and noblest company, Naples is one of the chiefe, and where there is a greater liberty then in other Cities of the Countrey. In this Citie there liued a Gentleman, Fabritio by name, who as well for the much desert of his vertues, as for the noblenes of his descēt, held the place of one of the most honoured Magistrates of the Citie; In which charge he so wel demeaned him­selfe, and got himselfe so good a reputa­tion, [Page 4] as hauing buried one Wife, hee married a second, of birth and meanes much aboue his owne: for though both Nature and Fortune had yeelded him enough, yet they both had more aduantaged her than him. This Wo­man by name Liuia, had to her first Husband a Lord of the best bloud of the Countrey, who left her two chil­dren, the eldest named Pompeio, the o­ther Cornelio. Fabritio had by his first Wife amongst other children a daughter named Isabella, the which be­sides an excellent beauty with which she was adorned, was endowed with so great an vnderstanding, as she seemed not onely to surpasse those of her age, (which was then about fifteene or six­teene yeares) but to leaue short of her, all those that euer nature had produced excellent of her sex, in such sort as shee was esteemed and admired of all as the wonder of her time. And that which [Page 5] yeelded her more luster, was a certaine braue and proud fashion, but suted with a sweetnesse agreeable to her age and condition, that made her loued and fea­red both at once. Those whom Na­ture hath giuen to taste the sweetnesse of a fatherly loue, may imagine what pleasure and contentment Signiour Fa­britio receiued in being father of many hopefull children, especially of so rare a treasure as this daughter, being withall fauoured with so great an increase of fortunes, and conuenience (by this se­cond marriage) to breed & more highly aduance his children, and chiefly his Isabella: for whom he & his wife Liuia had designed a marriage with Pompeio (her eldest Son by her first Husband) who of her part also was most glad to haue so happily found for her selfe so good a Daughter, & her Son so faire a Wife, breeding her more carefully then if she had been her naturall childe. The [Page 6] good and commendable proiect of this marriage being agreed on by these Pa­rents, and whereon they built the prin­cipall happinesse of their house and fa­mily, brought them much more ruine then it had promised them content­ment; being the ordinary pleasure of fortune to build vpon the foundation of our designes, euents most contrary to our hopes. This Maid to whom the greatnesse of her wit (with her know­ledge of Letters) did aduance the dis­course of her soule to the iudging of things farre aboue her sex, or what her age might seeme to beare, did make her also disdaine that which she thought vnworthy of her faire parts, bestowing her time more on priuacy than conuer­sation, partly in studie, partly in Mu­sicke; sometime marrying with her In­strument her voyce which she had per­fectly sweet; sometime vsing her Nee­dle in working some rare storie or curi­ous [Page 7] Hieroglifique, that euery thing might be a witnesse of the well-spen­ding of her time.

Being arriued at the seauenteenth yeare of her age, she had notice giuen her by her father of her appointed hus­band, with much discourse of the sence she ought to haue of so good a fortune. To which she made such answer, as a Father may expect from such a daugh­ter; who besought him onely to leaue yet awhile some liberty to her youth, and time to frame her selfe to the obe­dience of a Husband.

Liuia being discreet and wise, and knowing many imperfections in her Sonne, had left him to abide euer since her marriage in a Countrey house of hers, some eight or ten miles from Na­ples, where she kept discreet and well-fashioned people about him, to the end to correct and some way amend the ill habits of his minde and body, for cer­tainly [Page 8] he was borne vnpleasing to the eye, and very vncapable of any thing gentle or vertuous: but as it is vnpossi­ble to ouercome so great an enemy as Nature, (which though you beat from you, yet will returne againe) so proued the care of his Mother, and the paine of those about him most vnprofitable to this young man, who hauing attai­ned to the age of twenty two yeares, was then aduertised by his Mother of her intention for his mariage, of which the beauty of this faire Maid made him so greedily desirous, that after his first fight of her, he had no disposition to be from his Mistresse, who then began to looke better vpon him then she was woont to doe before she knew her Fa­thers pleasure. So frequentation made her know him, and her knowledge of him to disdaine him: her disdaine bred hatred, her hate despaire, and despaire those strange resolutions in her that you [Page 9] shall hereafter vnderstand. In this time an Vncle of hers, called Hipolito, was returned home from Bolonia, where he had remained foure or fiue yeares, as well to study, as to learne Horsman­ship, Fensing, Musicke, and other com­mendable parts befitting a Gentleman, in which hauing bestowed himselfe to the age of one or two and twenty yeres, his elder Brother (who assumed the of­fice of a Father) thought it fit to call him home to aduise with him of the setling of his estate.

This young man being returned to Naples, faire mannered, handsome, that knew to dresse himselfe well, and whose speech was gracefull and plea­sing, was foorthwith knowne and affe­cted of all, but chiefly of his Neece, with whom (as well through the affini­ty of their natures and yeares, as of their bloud) he was receiued into that pecu­liar degree of friendship and primacy, [Page 10] as if he had been her Brother; yea more, they had so great a communication and mutuall relation each with other, as they were growne to esteeme it an in­iury to themselues not to make each master of the others neerest thoughts. They had not long liued in this fashion when the young Maid acquainted him with her appointed marriage, and her little affection to it, complaining much of the cruelty of her fortune, and the seuere resolution of her Father to cou­ple her with a man so ill suting her in euery thing, and who (setting aside the aduantage of his birth and meanes) had nothing in him remarkable.

The company of this Vnckle of hers increased still her disdaine against her louer, by the approofe hee gaue of her opinion of the others wants, whose company annoyed them both more then they were pleased with, in such sort, as they sought all meanes to free [Page 11] themselues of it, and retire to reading and other mutuall pleasures betweene themselues. But as it is easie and most ordinary for extremities euen in vertu­ous things to slip into vices; so this ex­cellent friendship could not long con­taine it selfe within the bounds and li­mits of his duty, but growing to a far­ther liberty by their priuate frequenta­tion, began to be accompanied with a certaine vnmeasured doting vpon this retirednesse, and a melancholy passio­nate griefe in absence each of the other, and a loathing of all other company, and in conclusion, (it being the custome of their age to discourse of loue more then any other subiect) loue so mingled with them, that it became the master of both their hearts. And although their yeares had as yet giuen them little practise in this affaire, and that feare tooke from him, and shame from her, the ordinary meanes of declaring their [Page 12] affections; yet the quicknesse of both their apprehensions made them both soone acquainted with their reciprocall passions. Which incouraged Hipolito one time among the rest, to take this aduantage of a discourse they had had of loue, and the thraldome his subiects liue in, and speake to this purpose.

Certainly Neece I haue read a ma­xime which I now receiue for purer truth then heretofore, that men cannot rightly iudge or discourse of the true quality of any passion without hauing had some triall or feeling of it himselfe, and whereas I haue diuers times with your selfe and others, inforced in my discourses what I had read and heard of the strange effects of loue, and how there is no passion nor any part of the soule that yeelds not to it, and that reason and prudence are able to make but weake resistance against it, yet I must confesse I speake rather for argu­ments [Page 13] sake, then beleeuing in the trueth of what I related, esteeming indeed, that affect the easiest to gouerne and hide of most others. But I must now confesse all true, and much more then I could haue said or can, that might ex­presse the admirable effects that loue produces, and strong hand it holds ouer our reasonable part.

How now Vncle! (answered shee) will the lawes of our friendship allow this, that you haue thought one thing, and spoken another to me? Pardon me Neece (answered Hipolito) it hath not beene that I would barre you of any thought in my bosome, nor that I would, or alas could hide this from you; feare onely hath denied mee the libertie. Neither thinke (I beseech you) that I would any way offend you, or faile in the least cause of a friends dutie, but rather double my respect and obseruance, as the subiect and cause is [Page 14] increased; and will beleeue that the occasion of this discourse is happened mee by fate, to remooue my feare, and giue you some occasion to ap­prooue the power of this deitie in mee, whom of a free man it hath made a captiue, and instead of that Vncle and friend, I haue beene hitherto to you, your seruant and vassall; and turned all my free thoughts into so deuoted an obseruance, that they haue no will left to will any thing but obedience to your thoughts, to honour you, to desire you, and lastly, to make me so acceptable to you, as to bee by you, onely esteemed worthy your affection.

The teares and earnest sighes that ac­companyed these words, stayed them there, and made her no lesse amazed at their vnexpected nouelty, then trou­bled and doubtfull, what answere shee might fittest make to them: the con­formitie of her passion of the one side [Page 15] more then halfe yeelding, and of the other, her maiden bashfulnesse drawing her with no lesse violence backe; at last after a little silence, the witnesse of some change in her thoughts, quoth she, I doe now finde it true that I haue heard wise people say; that a vertuous and faire appearance often couers a vi­tious designe; and for this reason, if so­litude had not beene ordained to our sexe, I had so disposed of my selfe, as to shunne the vnhappy consequence, which ordinarily (by my obseruation) follow the societie and haunting with men, euen those that opinion rankes amongst the honestest, but you I thought so innocent of dissembled pur­poses, and all your courses so led by vertue, as nothing but your selfe could haue perswaded mee (I being what I am) you would haue intended any thing against that which I shall euer hold deerer then my life. I see the too [Page 16] much neerenesse I haue allowed you, giues the bouldnesse to take this ad­uantage, (or it may be the guessing me too easie,) to trie and know the dispo­sition of my humour, it being other­wayes impossible you should attempt the honour of one so neere you, as na­ture binds you to the preseruation of it; but since it is thus, I hope hereafter to let you better see, I detest these things, and neither your subtiltie nor com­pany please me.

Those which being young beginners in loue, haue to an extreame passion, re­ceiued such a refusall, may conceiue the anguish this answere brought to poore Hipolito; who thought he heard a sen­tence against his life; and loosing co­lour, speech, and vnderstanding, re­mained a good while without speaking; at last returning to himselfe as from an extacy, with a trembling voyce, as full of sighes as words, hee made this an­swere. [Page 17] If my fortune haue led me to an enterprize so harmefull to my selfe, and to you so offensiue; your perfections, the diuine force of loue, or my cruell destinies, not my will must be accused; which hath but by violent necessitie offended you. O be satisfied with the infinitie of those other miseries that I see prepared for me, without adding to them the priuation of your company, and leaue mee yet the short comfort of that trouble, whereof I hope ere long, by the end of my life to deliuer you, & my selfe by the same meane, from the punishment of myrashnesse, the which I earnestly beseech you not to imagine to haue beene guided by any craft or subtiltie. I haue all my life had this vice of dissimulation in too great a hor­ror to bee able now to vse it; especial­ly with you, towards whom (though it were familiar to me) yet the lawes of my affinitie and loue would forbid it [Page 18] mee. Beleeue mee, truth accompanies my wordes; and the respect of your honour, my intentions: which haue no other end then the assurance of your fa­uour, and of a more particular affection then friendship may dispence with you to beare to another: tis no breach of your honour that I pretend vnto; nor more then I will hope you may thinke belongs to me, being but so [...]arre a pre­ferring me before others, as the obliga­tion of nature, and our vowed friend­ship makes to become due to me.

He was beginning to say more, when one came to call them to supper; so as Isabella had onely leisure to tell him, that she was to heare no more of those matters: which thrust him yet farther into despaire; by which occasion, and the many teares hee had shed, his face was so changed, that hee was faine to perswade his brother and sister in law, that hee was not well, so excusing him­selfe [Page 19] for not supping, he went to a house of another of his brothers, a Notary, a rich man, and there lodged with an­other fourth brother named Scipio somewhat elder then himselfe, where hee lay with opinion of euery one that hee was sicke as hee seemed, and re­mooued his brother from his chamber, to the end to enioy more fully the li­bertie of his plaints and passions, which all the night held him in such vnrest, as he not onely slept not, but fell into a feauer, a fit bodily disguise for the af­fliction of his minde. Hee lay foure daies contending in his reason, with loue for the mastery: and to beate him from the hold hee had got in him, but alas, what resistance can men make a­gainst gods? Hee was already in the snare, which the more hee strugled to get free of, still the faster held him, and was forced backe to the pursuit of his vnfortunate loue. Hee resol­ued [Page 20] to take more courage, and to write to his mistresse, since hee had neither meanes nor assurance to see her.

She was no lesse diuided, by as great a ciuill warre of loue, sometimes accu­sing her selfe of ingratitude, sometimes of crueltie, for casting him shee loued best of all worldly things, into so great a dispaire: of this she would excuse her selfe vpon a greater fault, that shee had too easily receiued the first offer of his seruice, whom diuine, humane, and the lawes of publique honesty, had forbid­den her.

In the meane time Hipolito was often visited by his brother Fabritio, and had speech with him of the marriage of Pompeio with his daughter, which hee seemed much to approoue of, wisely dissembling his griefe, and offring Pompeio his seruice in all good offices to his mistresse, for which he hourely impor­tuned him. Amongst these passages [Page 21] Hipolito's foote-man, fit enough for such imployments, brought Isabella a letter from his master, faining to bee onely sent to inquire of her health. The fel­low being gone, shee retired into her chamber, and read the letter, which was to this purpose.

A weake perswasion will carry a di­uided and doubtfull minde, to that part whither it selfe inclines; so these letters finding her leaning more to loue then dutie, forced her through all the doubts that could oppose themselues, and af­ter some discourse with her selfe, of [Page 23] such differing accidents in those occur­rences as her able vnderstanding set before her; reason at length gaue place to loue, and respect to passion; but with this resolution, not to engage her honour, or by any thing confesse her purpose, till the last she could possibly delay it to; and the next morning shee sent this following answere.

This letter was better Physicke to Hipolito's disease, then all the Physiti­ans of Naples could giue him, which hauing read ouer, and ouer, infinitely often, hee was much troubled on what resolution to settle himselfe, and as a minde possest with desire, is euer there­with accompanied with feare, so did he giue so diuers interpretations to the let­ter, as not a word in it, but hee made to suffer a double vnderstanding, some­time taking it for generall and indiffe­rent words, sometime gathering some­what thence to his owne aduantage: after many discourses of his fantasie, hee resolued at last on the better part, [Page 26] and hope making him take heart, be­gan by that meane to recall his health so well, as that within two dayes, lea­uing his chamber, hee went to visit a sister of his, a Nunne, betweene whom and him, by reason of the simpathie of their natures, there was an extraordina­rie loue and amitie.

This Nun, vnderstood but too much for her profession, and was then of the age of thirtie fiue yeeres, hauing more exercised her wit about honest affaires of the world (as farre as the restraint of a Cloister might suffer her) then in the strict obseruance of the duties of her order.

The Lady Isabella her Neece, had often leaue to goe to that Monastery, as well to heare the Seruice, as to see her Aunt, and learne of her to worke curi­ous workes with the Needle, which she much affected.

Shee was glad to see her brother so [Page 27] well amended, and hauing made him sit, and discoursing of his sickenesse, she blamed the strictnesse of her condition, that had denied her the meane of visi­ting him, as otherwise she would haue done, if the Lawes shee liued vnder would haue permitted her. To which, finding hee made no answere, but sate immoderately sighing; she added, cer­tainely Brother, either it is your sicke­nesse hath so strangely altered you, that I may say, I scarce know you, or you haue somewhat in your minde, that you will keepe to your selfe, that makes you so melancholy, as may hazard the casting of you downe againe, if you take not heede. You know there is no disease more dangerous then that of the minde, the Physitians haue no Receipt, nor Apothecaries any Drugge, that may auaile to heale it: the best thing for it, is the aduice of a faithfull friend, and where can you expect it more faithfull, [Page 28] then from me, who you know haue not onely loued you aboue my other Bro­thers, but euen before my selfe. I be­seech you by that inuiolable, and more then sisterly loue, make mee a partner of your sufferings; vpon this assurance that you shall finde mee secret, seruice­able, and assisting you to all you can desire; dispise not a vailed head, as an vnprofitable thing that cannot giue you comfort equall with others more conuersant in the world. Deere Sister (answered Hipolito) my affection to you is built vpon too sure a foundation to bee shaken, or indangered by any earthly accident, nor haue I euer doubted of the abilitie of your vnder­standing, but my despaire of remedy to my affliction, takes from me all will to giue it you; for giue me good Sister, and since you can in nothing helpe, let mee alone endure the penance of my idle thoughts. How? (answered she) [Page 29] where is the resolution you men attri­bute to your selues aboue the courage of women? Certainely, your part of it is very little, that you dispaire of exe­cuting, before you attempt the meanes; if your owne inuention doe not pre­sently giue you a smoothe way to your desires, you must not therefore thinke that others cannot finde it out for you, the fullest vnderstandings, in their owne affaires are distrustfull, and for feare of loosing themselues, doe often repaire to the faith of a friend for their resolution. If I can serue in nothing else but to keepe your griefes for you, it is no little lightning to a heauy and oppressed heart, to leaue his vexations with those he knowes, will affectionate­ly imbrace all, to take but a part from him. The principall effects of friend­ship, are helpe and consolation; though I bee vnusefull for the one; yet am I most fit for the other, and I hope able [Page 30] for both. God often times raises the meanes of our reliefe beyond our hope, and from those we lest expect it: deere Sister (answered he) out of the meere dutie of my loue, and no hope at all of any allay to my griefes; I will tell you their subiect, which shame ought still as much to conceale, as reuerence to the lawes of Nature, should haue at first forbidden. Know (deere Sister) I haue beene so long engaged, that now in despight of my best oppositions, I am constrained to giue my selfe vp to the loue of our Neece Isabella. This hath beene, and is the occasion of my an­guish, and must so remaine as long as my vnhappy fate shall allow mee life: behold the laborinth of my paines, and the little meanes I haue to get out, since I am already gone on so farre. With this he tould her the discourse of all had past betweene them, shewing her the letters he had writ, and her answers to [Page 31] them. To which his Sister said, I finde now that one of the greatest faults that the Anciēts haue made in the picture of Loue is in blinding his eyes, for though he indifferently disperseth his shafts a­mongst all sorts of creatures, yet the eie was neuer against this effect, and in that respect they needed not haue blindfol­ded him, but this marke I see belongs better to those whom hee hath once touch't, and whom he leaueth not one­ly blinde in body, but euen estranged from all due considerations of the minde, so much as they remaine insen­sibly confused and lost in themselues, without ability to make vse of their owne vnderstandings.

Oh how truely was it said of that Phylospher, that for the most part wee make things difficult and impossible to our selues for want of courage to vn­dertake them! Make your selfe (Bro­ther) iudge of this in your selfe, who [Page 32] vpon the first difficulty that affronts you in your designe, remaine astoni­shed and confounded. You loue a La­dy that is vpon the point of marriage with another. There are many marri­ages intended, yet so crost, as they ne­uer arriue to their consummation: and though that must be, yet were not that the worst that might happen you; mar­riage often bringing conuenience to loue. Next, you loue one that you can­not marry? Well? and hath loue no other ends for his contentment, then marriage? since it as often disseuers af­fections as it ioynes them, while being subiected to the lawes of an obligation and dutie, you disarme him of his chie­fest forces. A wife (though neuer so faire) is like a guest, or the raine that becomes a trouble in three dayes.

But you will say, I loue one whom the lawes doe forbid me both all desire and all hope to enioy, which so distracts [Page 33] me in this thornie way, as I am there ruined with the impossibilitie of getting out. You are not the first that haue vn­dertaken things as much forbidden, which haue yet attained to a happie end. Thinke vertue consists in great and difficult things, and is pleased in a resistance, and the more paine and diffi­cultie there is in an affaire, the more glo­rie followes the enterprize, and plea­sure the excution: the attempt may content you, whether you gather the desired fruits of your paines, or fall vnder an impossible enterprize, and where your fortune failes you, not your cou­rage. In summe, you stand not in ill [...]earmes. I find in these Letters ground enough to build hope enough on: leaue the gouernment of this businesse to me; it may be I shall giue you a better ac­count then you expect of it. Be you of good cheere, goe see your Mistresse, and procure her repaire hither vpon our La­dies [Page 32] [...] [Page 33] [...] [Page 34] day to heare the Vespers, and faile not to be here your selfe.

All these faire promises of the Nunne wrought little in her Brothers beleefe; onely they so farre restored him to him­selfe, as that commending his loue to her care, with more affection then he would haue done his life, he returned to his Brother the Notaries house till the next day after dinner, when hee went to see Fabritio, and (vnder that pretence) his Daughter Isabella, where he receiued the gladdest welcome from Brother, Sister, Neece, and Signiour Pompeio that might be. That after­noone past in the discourse of his sick­nesse, and how much euery one suffered for him. Euening being come, hee re­turned home, deferring the speech with his Neece till next day, which was our Ladies Eue, when he was to dine with his Brother Fabritio, and Pompeio should be gone home. He then intrea­ted [Page 35] her to go the next day to the Nuns to Vespers, if she could get leaue, which she easily obtained: her Mother in law being sicke, and accompanied with an old Gentlewoman her neighbour. She carried with her onely her Maid Iulia, in whom she wholly affi [...]d.

This commoditie gaue Hipolito a presage of his good fortune, and her the first danger of her ruine, whereof she had some apprehension at her depar­ture; for getting vp into the Coach, a weaknesse seized her, with a head-ache, and a cold sweat all ouer her bodie, and hauing been a while in the Coach, the Horses that vsed before times to be qui­et enough, began to start, and rush one vpon the other, with such force and confusion as droue the Coachman in­to danger of his life, who had much a doe to bring them into order againe. These accidents not a little affrighted the vnderstanding of the vnfortunate [Page 36] Ladie: but the force of our destinie vi­olently driues vs to what is fatally or­dained to vs; so these things could no­thing hinder her from the persuit of her misfortunes, in spight of all the con­tradictions of either her feare, or rea­son.

Being arriued at the Nunnerie, shee found her Vncle and her Aunt walking together in a Garden, there attending her comming, who assoone as they had perceiued her, and seeing her paler then she vsed to be, her Aunt said to her; Certainly Neece you haue not brought your best lookes hither, me thinks you are afraid of shaming my Brother, and therefore will partake with his sickly lookes. Then Isabella told them what had happened her in her comming, and occasioned that feare which perhaps her lookes had still retained.

Well then (said the Nunne) since ye are both of you ill at ease, my counsaile [Page 37] is, that ye repose your selues, and dis­pence with to daies deuotion. Iulia and I will go heare the Vespers for you. No good Aunt (said Isabella) I came not here to see your Garden; I will go heare seruice with you and I thinke my Vncle is here for the same purpose too. God will be no lesse pleased (answered the Nunne) with your wills, and per­haps more, then if ye did what might preiudice your healths. The Diuines say, that although in the affirmatiue precepts of pietie one be not alwaies busied in the action affirmatiue, yet that the sight alone sufficeth: in precepts negatiue, the troth is, we must be con­uersant, and bent to the action nega­tiue. Stay here, stay, I will take your sinne vpon me; and with that went a­way, carrying Iulia along with her. Well Neece (said Hipolito) let vs stay then, since it is my Sisters counsaile, and taking her by the hand, led her to sit [Page 38] vnder a hanging roofe couered with Gelsomines and Musk-Roses, and gan to speake to her in this sort.

If euer man had reason to praise Hea­uen, it must be I, for the happinesse I now receiue in this meanes offered me, to returne you my due humble thankes for the honour of your Letters in my sicknesse: and to vnfold the thoughts of my soule to you; to the end that comprehending them better then here­tofore you haue suffered your selfe to do, you will daine to receiue my griefes and relieue them. I beseech you then take my words in that good part that my affection deserues, and with such pitie of my afflictions as your good­nesse ought to moue you to. I will not importune you with the repetition of any my former discourses, you may haue remembred enough to found your determination vpon, and to know the bounds of mine intentions so limitted, [Page 39] as that I nor pretend, nor desire ought of you that is not in all honestie and honour permitted: nor more then a preheminence of affection, such as loue may stablish in a heart, that is, to giue the fruits to others, for whom they are by the superstition of our lawes, and their fauourable destinies more happily reserued. All I desire is, that as all my thoughts are dedicated and vowed to the seruice, honour, and loue of the heauenly vertues of your soule, and all my wishes but to be acceptable to you; yours may so farre answer them, as to set all other friendship and affections behinde mine, & so farre distinguish my portion in you from other mens, as not to receiue them in comparison or equa­litie with me. Pay me no more then for Gods sake with the loue of a Neece, which may be common to many more; and iudging aright of my deuotions, receiue them, since they tend not to [Page 40] your preiudice, nor to any thing vn­lawfull or interdicted.

I had thought Vncle (answered Isa­bella) I had so satisfied you by my Let­ters, as you had remained as well con­tent as you haue cause to be, and that your reason had had the power to dis­perse those vaine fantasies that had clouded your iudgement; but for ought I see, the worke is new to begin: would to God I had beleft those presages that should haue diuerted me from com­ming to this place to enter anew into our wonted contestations. I know (Vncle) that all desires tend vnto the end of their contentment. You say that that of your loue is fixed vpon the soule, and those perfections which you make your selfe beleeue mine is accom­panied with. These are still for ought I can perceiue those first dissembled pro­testations, by which those that are sei­zed with your passion, are woont to [Page 41] abuse such as they finde easie of beleefe, and within the bounds whereof they determine not to keepe themselues: and though there might be found some men so discreet as would be content to be so limited, yet loue still being be­come their master, and hauing taken from them all power of ruling and bounding their will, and bowing it to the appetites of the bodie (which is most conuersant with vs) it soone wea­ries the wit and spirit with the contem­plation of things seperated from huma­nitie, and drawes it to the pursuit of those delights and pleasures, to which our sences and appetites doe leade vs. Doe you not know that the brands or Torches which they paint in Cupids hands betoken his double and different effects? for as the light of the fire plea­seth the eies, and reioyceth vs when we behold it onely, and not feele the heate too neere vs; but when it comes to burne [Page 42] vs, we suffer then the hurt of that thing that before so much delighted vs; euen so Loue hath his beginnings pleasing, because he doth not at first possesse and take vp the discourse of our reason, and represents nothing to vs for a while but the sweetnesse of a felicitie and content­ment which he sets before vs, and makes vs easily hope for: but when hee hath once seized vs wholly, as hee takes his possession, hee dazels vs with the allu­ring appearances of his pleasures, and putting vs into the middest of his flame, melts and makes to waste from vs all the freedome of our reason and iudgement that wee had before. It were better therefore (good Vncle) you draw back the first foot you haue set into it, before the other follow it, and faile you too, and not to desire of me what I can nei­ther giue, nor you ought to pretend vnto. You know I am vpon the point of marriage: if ill hap discouer your [Page 43] addresses (as time if you perseuere can­not long hide them) you not onely ru­ine this my fortune, which brings mee profit, if not contentment, but with it my reputation; and be assured, if I giue you not a most ample content, it is not want of will but power.

This discourse which Hipolito belee­ued to come from a sincere truth, and not mingled with dissimulation, sent him backe to his old feuer, and made him speake thus. Neece, why should you not conceiue my loue rather placed betweene Hercules and Mercury, that is, betweene Reason and Courage, as ancient Academies haue painted him, then betweene voluptuous pleasure and vnfaithfulnesse, where you seate him? Why, will you not allow him vertue for his obiect, before a base lust, and which you forbid me too? Why, will you rather thinke me wicked and false, then such as I am, and you haue reason [Page 44] to iudge me? I could easily answer the scrupulous ceremonies of law with which you combate me. The holy Bi­ble offers mee examples of such, and things much farther in neerenesse of al­liance. The force of loue is diuine, and may iustifie vs against all ciuill or Eccle­siasticall ordinances. But I will not goe so farre, nor alter the stile of my first language, or ouerthrow your marriage, much lesse your reputation. I haue e­nough protested, but since so vnprofi­tably, I finde death must end my loue, and despaire; and I hope it will not be long first: I shall not be alone vnhap­pie, when like Timageres you happily will too late repent the ruine of your Miletus, and so reuenge vpon your owne selfe your crueltie. In speaking this, the teares fell from his eies, and drew as many from Isabella.

As they were taking new heart and speech, the Nunne returned from her [Page 45] short Vespers, and at the entrance of the Garden (to be freed from Iulia) gaue her her Psalter, to deliuer her Maid, willing them to prouide some collati­on. And comming to her Brother and Neece, a little smiling, quoth she: how now sweet hearts, I am affraid you haue spent this time ill you are both so sad, make mee a partner of your entertain­ments: though I be not so cunning as you worldlings, yet I am not such an innocent as my habit speakes me, I haue bookes ye know of other vse then to the Church; nor am I altogether vn­practized in any thing; feare not to giue me your discourse, for should it be euen of Loue, I might be able to put in a word.

Of Loue Aunt (answered Isabella) the deuotions and walls of a Cloister allow it no entrance.

What (answered the Nunne) can you that haue read so much be igno­rant [Page 46] of his effects, in the Temple of A­ [...]ubis, in Saturnes Temple at Alexan­dria, or how little the strict guard of Danaë, Laeda, and many others, could preuent the powerfull workings of this God? There is nothing that his brands cannot fire, or his arrowes pierce; and I had ill spent my time in the house of your dead Mother, who was the wo­man I loued best in this world, and whose memory I doe most honour, if I had learned nothing of this.

My Mother Aunt (answered Isabel­la) what can you say of her? I was not so blest as to see her in an age fit to iudge of her condition, but sure she died with a more faire and vnquestioned reputa­tion, then (if her life and maners had not throughly deserued it) this age would haue giuen her.

Neece (answered the Nunne) no­thing vndoth vs but indiscretion: your Mother was happie in placing her fa­uours [Page 47] vpon a wise and respectfull Gen­tleman, and she of her part was in no­thing vnwarie. This preserued her, and will keepe vp the honour and happi­nesse of all that ioyne it with their loue. I will giue you the whole truth, for I saw it.

The yeare I was profest Nunne (it is some eighteene yeares since) the Mar­quesse of Coria was sent to this Towne in businesse of his Maiesties; he stayed here some seuen or eight moneths, be­stowing the time his great employ­ments left him in the noblest exercises, and most worthy his qualitie; hee was some fiue and thirtie yeares old, and the most accomplished man that I euer saw. The Lords and Gentry to doe him ho­nour, made him many feasts, and there alwaies followed Balls, Masques, Co­medies, and other pleasurable pastimes, in which he would againe returne his thankes to them. He tooke much plea­sure [Page 48] in Masques, for the priuiledge it gaue him of discoursing with Ladies. My eldest Brother was the man of this Towne he most affied in, and to whom he did most freely impart his negotiati­on; my Sister the woman that pleased him best, finding her excellently faire, well graced, of a pleasing discourse, and an vnderstanding aboue the rest. This inclination grew to a loue, in which he gouerned himselfe so well, and so well disguised it, that he escaped all suspiti­on. He resolued to impart it to my Si­ster, but with such fitnesse as none but shee, or some most trusted woman should know it. And knowing the common curiosity and sudden suspiti­ons that ordinarily follow neere fre­quentations in those kinds, might soone ruine his hopes, he retained still his or­dinary modest fashion and seemings. But the Carneuall drawing neere, the Masques and daunces were also more [Page 49] frequent, and gaue him more conueni­ence to speake to her, & entertaine her as hee did; yet so disguized, as though hee was knowne to bee in the troupe, yet hee was vnknowne to all but her, to whom (finding, or presuming, that she was not displeased, hee should make more estimation of her then the rest) hee gaue a signe to know him by, which made the meanes of his ap­proaches more easie. And after hauing enough by generall and doubtfull words, giuen her the chiefe end and aime of his desires, at last, hee reuealed himselfe wholly to her.

To bee short, his discretion so mana­ged his affaire for him, as that helpt with the force of his vertue and noble­nesse, (and the seruice of my Sisters Nurce, whom hee found meanes to gaine, and make the messenger of his letters) hee led my Sister to such com­position, as that (conuenience and safe­tie [Page 50] permitting) shee gaue him promise of sight, and speech with her in more priuacy. Such as are practised in Italy, and Spaine, vnderstand well enough, what such permissions doe promise to those that women haue a will to fa­uour. To bring this to passe, there happened a very fit meane; which was the necessitie of an affaire of import for the Kings seruice, wherein hee was to send to Rome out of hand to his Holi­nesse. The Marquesse (and the Coun­sell by his aduice) iudged my Brother, fitter then any other for this purpose; whereupon, soone as the Carneuall was ended, my brother made that voyage, where hee was fiue or sixe weekes; in which time, the Marquesse taking the occasion, found meanes to visit my Sister by night, following her permis­sion, which stretch't at length euen to the point, whither they say loue pre­tends; with such continuance as that [Page 51] euery second night he visited her, with­out euer hauing bin discouered by any but my Sisters Nurce, who lay in her Chamber, and I in her inner Cham­ber, by reason of a sickenesse I had, that made me leaue the Monastery a while, to bee the better tended in my Bro­thers house? And, who not being yet throughly recouered, slept not so soundly, but I sometimes heard soft noises of doores, and murmures of words, which put me into a little suspi­tion, with some other things that I had already beene imployed about, which kept mee still in doubt: In such sort, as one day I cast out a word to my sister; who so rebuked me, that I neuer after durst speake any more to her of it.

But neere vpon the time that my Brother was expected backe againe; shee offered occasion of speech with mee to that purpose, expressely coniu­ring mee to harbour no such opinions [Page 52] in my fantasie, and not to frame any false and iniurious tales of her. I that loued, and honoured her more then any other thing, and had all the obli­gation of nature, and loue from her to make me doe so: gaue her all the as­surances that shee could desire, of what shee commanded mee, telling her by way of discourse what I had seene here, which so satisfied her, seeing I had both ingaged my selfe, and had besides a little knowledge of the world; as she promised mee, if time gaue her proofe of the faith I profest her, shee would one day speake more freely to me, then yet she would, as afterward she did, which ye shall heare.

But first ye must know, that my Bro­ther being returned, this practise be­tweene them ceased, not their loues; but vertue was of both sides so reci­procally obeyed, as their pleasure, nor desire, had not the power to carry [Page 53] them beyond the limits of respect, nor had they other commerce then by let­ters, and those but seldome. Not long after Easter, the Marquesse hauing di­spatch't the affaires hee had in charge, was called home by the King his Ma­ster, which summons, honour, and duety both commanded him to obey. You may imagine, what an affliction was this eternall separation, both of them despairing euer to see one ano­ther againe.

I will onely adde this for one of the rarest, and most notable examples of discretion, and constancy in them both, that I thinke hath beene euer seene vp­on the like occasion: that in a feast which the Signory of the towne made him before his departure, whither the Ladies were inuited, and among the rest my Sister, whom he led in the gran ballo, or Measures, and in whose pauses, or times of rest, this sad subiect serued [Page 54] them for entertainement, that neither there, in taking their leaues, nor here in this place where hee saw her after­wards (as if it had beene by chance, comming to bid our Abbesse farewell) none could euer by either of their faces, or gestures, perceiue any alteration in their mindes, or any appearance so dif­fering from their accustomed fashion, as might giue any the least suspition of the truth. He being gone, and my Sister big with child, and drawing neere her time; she came hither to see me, and tooke of me the greatest assurances she could de­uize of secrisie, of what I should receiue from her. Which I haue hitherto most inuiolably kept; and should still, had not this occasion pluct it from mee, be­sides that, yee, and I owe an equal re­spect vnto her memory, and all other danger is long since past. She fpake to me in this sort.

Sister, you may remember, when my [Page 55] husband was imployed to Rome, wee had speech together of a conceipt you had then taken; and I promised, so you would haue patience for the present, I would hereafter talke more freely to you. The occasion is now come, that (hauing had many testimonies of your loue, though peraduenture, your youth might giue cause to question your di­scretion) I shall repose my selfe vpon the assurances, and trialls that I haue had of your affection in the thing that more concernes mee then my life; as­suring my selfe, it cannot light into more faithfull, more fit, or more safe hands then into yours.

Then she relates to me, the loues of the Marquesse and her, and how the childe, with which she was then great, was his, as hee knew, and not my Bro­thers; but because shee was not aboue three weeks gone with child before my Brothers returne, it was easie to con­ceale [Page 56] it. Neuerthelesse, shee desired the Marquesse should know (as was agreed betweene them) what issue her great belly should come to: which shee de­termined her selfe to doe, if God gaue her life, but if it pleased him by her death, to depriue her of the meanes, shee desired me to discharge this office, and to this purpose; three dayes after she should be brought a bed, a Pilgrime should come, faining to bee returned from Ierusalem, bringing images, and other things of deuotion, and should aske almes to make his voyage to Saint Iaques in Spaine: whom you shall find meanes (said shee) to take into your chamber, and giue him this little cofer, whereof this is the key: there is in it a Iewell, his picture, and his letters, at the bottome of one of which, you shall write a sonne, or a daughter, according as I shall be deliuered, and you shall so discharge him, without more words to [Page 57] him. If I die, you shall be freed of this trouble, and shall only keepe this boxe, which she opened, and read his letters to mee, the best written I thinke, that euer were seene; the Iewell was this Diamond, which you haue so much de­sired, and I haue euer promised you: she gaue it mee at her death, in the pre­sence of my Brother to keepe for you till your Marriage.

Now you must note, that the Mar­quesse was to send some one of trust to Naples, about the time of my Sisters lying in; who clad like a Pilgrime, should temporize and dissemble him­selfe for a time, in all but the place, where hee was certainely to bee found out, by those hee should bee sent vnto from, though he knew them not. God would that soone after his arriuall, she was deliuered of you, Neece, so happi­ly, as she had the meanes to see him di­spatch't herselfe. But she left the cofer [Page 58] with mee still, which I kept till her death, shee commanded mee to burne within a while after, all that was within it (as I did) and gaue me the Iewell (as I haue told you) the which my Bro­ther beleeued, she had had of her Bor­ther the Bishop of Ostia, when she went to see him on his deathbed, a little be­fore her being with child of you.

Behold the trueth of the History, to which I sweare to you, I haue added nothing of my owne, but deliuered the simple trueth of all as it past; being one of the seldomest seene, and rarest passages carried in this kinde, that I thinke hath beene lightly heard, or reade of; and by relation, whereof I hope I shall not haue diuerted, or slact either of you in the offices of that amitie, which the mutuall opinions of your neere alliance each to other hath engendered betweene you: and wherein (though ye may in trueth di­scouer [Page 59] the mistaking of your beleefes hitherto) yet your vertues, I know will smoothe ouer greater errours, for the honour of your house, and the memo­rie of so worthy a woman as she was.

Isabella through this discourse, fai­ning to bee much displeased with her Aunt, said to her; pardon me (Aunt) if I bate you a little of the respect I bore you, to the end to giue the cinders of my dead Mother their due; which command mee to tell you that I hold the story you haue told, as repugnant to trueth, as all those that haue knowne her, haue euer iudged her actions con­formable and obedient to vertue. And you can not more plainely forbid mee your conuersation, then by defaming the honour of one I owe so much to as a Mother.

No, no Neece, (said the Nunne) I pray you doe not thinke I haue dis­coursed any thing to you that is not [Page 60] most true, or haue spoken at all to of­fend you, or blemish the honour of my dead Sister, in the reuerence whereof (though you be her Daughter) you shall neuer exceed me. 'Twas by chance I fell into this discourse, and vpon the occasion your words gaue me, and vp­on that assurance that ought to be be­twixt vs, which I imagined too great to haue suffered any such distrusts to haue stept betweene vs. The experience that the world and more yeares may giue you, will shew you, that such, and stranger accidents than these, are no­thing impossible: Although I must confesse, if I had imagined it would haue so much offended you, I had with­held my selfe from speaking any thing of this matter.

I would not Sister (said Hipolito) for the better halfe of my life but you had brought me this vnexpected quiet, and drawne me out of the conflict my soule [Page 61] was in, and rebellion against mee, and my destinies against all my dearest de­sires, nay, against Heauen it selfe, for hauing plunged me into a gulfe of mi­series so deepe, as no other thing but the remedie this your discourse may prepare for me, can deliuer me out of.

Behold (answered the Nunne) to what passe I am come; for my owne part, I hold you both deare, and loue you with so equal an affection, as I can­not make any distinction between you, and hauing at once pleased the one, and offended the other, I am as much affli­cted with that distast, as glad of the o­ther contentment. But had I knowne the occasion of these contrary motions, perhaps my small vnderstanding had prompted me to haue so fitly spoken, that I had remained equally accepted of you both.

I pray Aunt (said Isabella) let vs leaue this ill subiect; 'tis not onely to you [Page 62] Neece (said she:) but to me deare God­desse (answered Hipolito) who propo­sing to my selfe from hence all my hap­pinesse, will beleeue that my Sister is miraculously falne vpon this discourse, to draw backe my life not from the graue, but (which is worse) from the for-euer languishing griefes, whither the mischiefe of my desperate conditi­on was leading me. Then began hee to discourse anew of his loues, as if he had not yet imparted them to the Nunne, who the better to giue the last accom­plishment to this worke, had sent word that her Neece was to sup with her, and that the Coach should not a wait her re­turne till the euening. She obserued well the Maids countenance during Hi­polito's discourse, and beleeued her heart meant him no ill, though she often in­terrupted him, as desirous they should beleeue the contrarie: in the end she enforced her selfe to this speech.

[Page 63] Was it not enough that you had di­grest so much from what you ought, as to haue followed the direction of so vn­reasonable an opinion, and so farre pre­sumed as to haue thus often importuned mee, but that you must now be trans­ported beyond the limits of modestie and your owne honour, in daring to lay open all this to her, before whom the least thought of it should make you blush? I beseech you be satisfied with my patience, and your own impudence, without going farther.

The Nunne beleeuing she said this rather forced then heartily, interrupted her, saying, (Neece) scornes doe not alwaies sit well vpon modest women, nor ought they to light indifferently vpon all those that offer them their ser­uice: The honestie, birth, wit, iudge­ment, good fashion, with other faire parts and vertues of such as possesse them, ought to commend & make them [Page 64] more acceptable then others, lesse re­markably accomplish't; and shee that should not make this difference, must deserue to be thought without iudge­ment or vnderstanding. You are not of that number; and the especiall com­munication of your friendship with my Brother, shewes in what ranke you hold him. And now that you haue occasion to iudge his, to you greater then euer, and more compleat, since his parts heretofore made you esteeme him worthy your fauour, why must the in­crease and perfection of his loue be the diminution and end of yours? restore your selfe to your selfe, and doe not a thing so vnlike you; doe not (sweet Neece) make him miserable, whom you haue euer knowne honest and worthy of loue, nor pay the debt of the faithfull seruice he hath vowed to you, with a lesse fauourable vsage then you were content to allow him when you owed [Page 65] him lesse. Isabella, though she made shew that these discourses displeased her, and that she beleeu'd the tale of her Mothers loues to be but a cunning imposture of her Aunts, to draw her to her Brothers desires, neuerthelesse this serued for the first excuse of their loues, and to cleare thē of those difficulties which till now had diuided them; for in the end, led by her destinies, woone by her Aunts perswasions, with the oaths and assu­rances she gaue her of the truth of her relation, and by the teares and coniura­tions of Hipolito, but chiefly by the force of loue, she yeelded her selfe wholly to his power: for alas, how can a silly Maid maintaine her libertie against him who subdues all whom he will, and e­uen when he will to his yoke and sub­iection.

At last then, after such ceremonies as likely passe in things of this kinde, Hi­polito is receiued by Isabella for her ser­uant, [Page 66] with such contentment as onely those may imagine who haue incoun­tred the like happie successes, but with condition that his loue should be still confined within those discreet limits he had before offered, without forcing her permission farther then her lookes and speech should giue him cause to hope. These are leaues with which many co­uer the workings of their loues, to giue the more glosse to the colours of their intentions. But hee willingly receiues that law which inables him to make a greater, and he who desires to haue a victorie, imbraces it vpon any conditi­ons; vnder the hope, that being once master, his obedience lies in his owne hands. All this poore Maid could de­sire, was sworne and promised by her Vncle, with all the assurances could be giuen. So hauing supt, and the Coach being come, they tooke their leaues of the Nunne, with many thankes for the [Page 67] easie meane she had giuen them to esta­blish their contentment, promising each to other an often meeting in that or other alike conuenient place. Some happie daies they enioyed to the full of their wishes, but as all things are sub­iect to mutabilitie; so neither could this happinesse long subsist, without some feeling of the inconstancie of for­tune.

Fabritio presseth his Daughter to her marriage, beleeuing her Vncle his Brother no smal part of the cause of the coldnesse of her inclination to it; there­upon he resolues to send him to Padua, to confirme those noble parts his edu­cation had begun in him, and tells him this his resolution; laying before him his youth, and how much it was yet too early to retire himselfe, and put an end to so faire beginnings, that it be­hooued him to goe yet further to ex­ceed the vulgar; that his fortune was [Page 68] to be built vpon extraordinary merits, since his owne meanes were not great; and that onely for so good purposes he should make vse of him, as of one that euer would reckon him one of his; and that though at Naples there was no want of honest exercises, yet they had not letters, the chiefe ornament and perfection of a Gentleman: besides, that, the place of our birth is neuer so fit for our education as another.

Hipolito surprised with this vnexpe­cted newes, was vnprouided of an an­swer, yet neither accepteth nor refuseth it, but found some pretence to delay the time for a few daies. In the end, his dutie, his honour, his reason, and the reuerence hee bore his Brother made him consent; but his desire, his passi­on, his loue and contentment contradi­cted it: amid these doubts he went to aduise with his Sister the Nunne, where hauing long waied all these considera­tions, [Page 69] and finding that the respect and honour of his Mistresse, was too strong for any other argument for his stay, and the many accidents that might crosse their contentments being to be feared; besides, that his Brother the Notarie, of whom he depended, and who began a little to suspect this busi­nesse, had absolutely told him, that if he would euer hope for any thing from him, he was out of hand to obey the appointment of their elder Brother, which was for his good and aduance­ment; and that if he voluntarily reie­cted the well wishes of his friends, he should finde himselfe abandoned of them, and of all the hope of his for­tunes. The Nunne (on the other side) perswaded him, that the yeelding to his Brothers, besides that it might be to him a step to his better fortune, would be a no lesse principall safety for the communication of his, and his Mistres­ses [Page 70] desires, it being hard and almost im­possible that the first hear of their loues could be so cunningly couered, but that some flames would be perceiued, that it was not for him to hope to interrupt her marriage, and though he could, yet that he should rather helpe it forward as the fi [...]test meane to establish their happinesse, gaining thereby the liber­ty to see, haunt and communicate each with other, with all the priuacie they could desire; that it was to be feared that time might open the eies of Signi­our Fabritio, and his Wife, to see more then they would they should, that af­ter this marriage these feares would cease, their actions being no more sub­iect to so much ouer-looking, the su­spition of the occasion of those hinde­rances being taken away.

Hipolito at length concluded vpon his iourney to Padua, and that a while after Isabella should consent to the mar­riage, [Page 71] without showing any greater easinesse then before; to remooue all surmize of her Vncles being any cause of her former backwardnesse: without staying then till Fabritio should presse him againe, his Brother of himselfe, vrges him for the meanes to accom­plish his will, promising him so well to employ his time and expence, as should giue him contentment; this Fabritio, receiues gladly.

The day before his departure, hee met his Isabella at the Nunnery; there did their approaching separation, giue all passage of both sides to those griefes, teares, and sad complaints, that the violence of a mutuall Loue passion, might raise in the young heate of these Louers affection; there was Fortune hewen, and their Destinies accused of too excessiue a cruelty, for bringing on them so sudden a night of parting, euen in the morning of their warme affecti­ons. [Page 72] After that, their Eyes, Voyces, Lips, and Armes, had done their mutuall offices, and that the Nunne had comforted them, with the assu­rance of her continuall assistance; they confirmed againe the promises of their Loues, with the strong pledges, of all the solemnest Oathes they could deuize, inuoking all the execrations, and miseries that Heauen, and Hell could lay vpon either of them that should faile in the least point, with protestation, that what euer other vow they should make repugnant to these (which againe, and againe, they re­peated) should not bee by voluntary consent, but forced, and constrained: and thereupon went and heard Masse together.

To the end, to write with more safe­tie each to other, they resolued Hipolito should inclose his letters, within those hee should write to the Nunne, who [Page 73] should giue them to Isabella, and re­turne him againe their answere. They coniured one another also, to beare the anguish of their absence with patience, and so to command themselues at par­ting, as no appearance of either side, should breed any suspition of their af­fection: which they did fitly enough; for Hipolito found meanes to speake to his Brothers, and take leaue of them, and his Sisters in the absence of his Neece, whom afterward hee met, as by chance going to her Chamber, and there took his leaue of her with little stay. Shee tooke onely leasure to in­treate him, that shee might see him be­fore her marriage, which she promised to send him word of.

Hee was no sooner at Padua, which was in September, but hee caused to bee made a Mirhor of Christall of the Rocke couered with gold, and in that, his Picture inclosed, the inside of the [Page 74] couer, was sealed vp with their cifer, or marke, which was in this forme [SS.] Without of one side was a Heart in the middes of a fire kindled by the beames of a Sunne, and blowne by a Cupid, with these wordes written about it; Puro ardet & vno: of the other side, was a burning Fire ascending vpward, and Teares showring on it, with these words; Nec lachrymis, nec mergitur vndis: and sent it by his Laquey dis­guised, directing it to the Nunne, with this letter following.

This letter being receiued by the Nunne, was foorthwith, deliuered to­gether with the present to Isabella; whom now Pompeio visited with more frequencie then euer, being assured by his Father-in-law, and his Mother, that he should marry her before the Carne­uall next; the troublesome importuni­ties of these Parents, redoubled the griefe the young maide felt for the ab­sence of her Hipolito.

Al the ease she found, was in those of­ten deuotions she made at the Nunnery with her good Aunt, by whose helpe, she caused to bee made her Picture, by an excellent Painter in a small Oual, and [Page 77] got it incloased in a little Enameld boxe of gold, vpon one side of which, there were two Cupids Painted, houlding each in the one hand their Bow, and in the other, a Crowne of Palmes, which they held aloft; as for reward of him that shot best, and written about, Neu­tri sed vtrique, and on the other side, were their Cifers ioyned, made of op­posed Sha [...]ts, inclosed within a Chap­let of Myrtle, and Pomgranade, and a­bout it, Non nisi mutuis confodi potuere sagittis: which shee sent to Hipolito, by him that had brought his letter, with this answere.

They continued all they could the commerce of their letters; in the meane time, Signior Fabritio wanted no coun­sailers to perswade his daughter, what happinesse this marriage with Pompeio did promise her: Shee finding which course was her best to hold, made shew of more good liking towards him then aforetimes, the which gaue great con­tentment to Signior Fabritio and Li­uia, [Page 80] who now esteeming her wholly reclaimed to their wills, made her ac­quainted with their desire of the di­spatch of her Marriage, presently after the end of the Christmas holy-dayes; Shee that alwayes beleeued it should haue beene deferred till the end of the Carneuall, (for feare of being surprised) writ to Hipolito this letter following.

This letter was safely deliuered to Hipolito, which more afflicted him, then if it had brought him the doome of his death. And, but that hee knew it madnesse to oppose what he could not hinder (and though he could, it might bee his destruction) hee had to his vt­termost laboured to haue crost it: but [Page 82] hee yeelded in his resolution to neces­ssitie, and conuenience, and sent this answere.

By good hap the Post of Naples, was then at Padua, who had brought letters and money to Hipolito from his Brothers, and by whom hee returned them answere, which gaue him the fit­ter commoditie to steale his iourney without being discouered. He went disguized during the Christmas holy-dayes, and by bywayes got to Naples, where hee arriued late in the euening, and without being knowne to any one, found the way the next morning to the Nunnery, where hee lay concealed for the space of eight or tenne dayes in his Sisters Chamber; in which time Isa­bella (who quickly heard of it) had but three times the meanes to see him; and then caused certaine workes to bee made there, which was the pretext of her visitations. During the two last [Page 84] whereof, the good and discreete Nunne left them alone in her Cabinet, two or three houres, where they employed the time about (you may imagine what) rather then to looke on Pictures. For so was it fit, and reasonable, that the deere and last gage of the confirmation of a loue ariued to his perfection, should be reserued for him, whose merite and affection might best claime it; not for one that had but the shadow giuen him by the blind tyrany of fate.

A little after Twelfe day, because the time of her Marriage drew neere, and his longer stay, could not bee but incommodious and daungerous; hee prepared for his departure, and after hauing anew repeated their old oathes, and assurances; and giuen each other fresh witnesses of the affections of their soules, by all sorts of lamentable com­plaints, that may bee occasioned by so d [...]spleasing a seperation (which they [Page 85] could not leaue off till Teares, Words, and time failed them) he left her.

Shortly after, and almost assoone as Hipolito was arriued at Padua, the long promised Nuptialls of Pompeio, and Isabella were dispatch't, with the honour of much great and Noble com­pany, Combats, Races for prizes, Masques, and other pleasures vsuall in such occasions.

He that had well obserued Isabella's lookes that day (howsoeuer she might dissemble them) would haue iudged that what shee did then, was more by constraint, then out of her wils electi­on. This alteration (apparant some­times in her teares, which yet she stroue to hide) was by such as perceiued it, at­tributed rather to the apprehension she might haue of the change of her con­dition (which often troubles in such occurrences, the chast hearts of young maides) then to the true cause, which [Page 86] none knew of. The dauncing being ended, the Bride led into her Chamber and vndrest, and the women that ac­companied her, departed, shee retired into her inner Chamber, where in de­spite of her best resolution, the force of her teares ouer-bare the strongest opposition her reason could make De­testing with sobbing, and broken com­plaints, the fault shee made against her faith to Hipolito, and the more shee sought to curbe her passion, the more violent it grew, so as in this conflict, she was halfe distracted. In the end com­ming a little more to her selfe, shee tooke paper, and bad her maide bring her handkercher, faining that her nose bled, to excuse her long stay; and in the meane time opened a vaine so well to her purpose, as she had blood enough to write this letter to Hipolito.

She had onely the leisure to end and seale this Letter, when her Mother who had staid all that while in her Cham­ber, came to take her to bed and found her binding vp her hand, which shee fained to haue hurt by mischance. She seeing her face so sad and full of teares, imputed it to the anguish of her hurt, and to the apprehension that Maids v­sually haue of their first nights endu­rings. But when she was to go to bed, her teares brake out anew, and her Mo­ther finding her vnwillingnes so great, as she could hardly in a long time draw her out of that inward Chamber where [Page 89] she was, sent for her Father, and said much to him that witnest her griefe to finde things in so ill tearmes, and that this marriage was ingaged beyond the recouery of repentance. At length she was put to bed, not without the pitie of all about her, and beliefe that onely her word was forced, not her will gai­ned to this marriage: and had her Husband vnderstood any thing, hee might easily haue perceiued in bed how the world went; but hauing no sight but in his eies, hee could see no farther than their obiect. Hee suffered scornfull refusals euen till morning, when he receiued it for a great fauour, to receiue but a kisse.

Some daies after the Carneuall, this solemnity lasted; and then Pompeio and Isabella were honourably condu­cted to their owne house, where his chiefest abode was before. A little after, the Nunne that had conuaied [Page 90] Isabella's letter to Hipolito, receiued, and sent her this following answer.

[Page 92] These Letters gaue Isabella some comfort, whose sorrowes neither the great feasting, entertainments, visitati­ons of kinred, friends and neighbours, the commodities of a pleasant and rich house, nor all the fondnesse of her new Husband could any whit diminish; so much her minde laboured with the im­patience of loue and desire, w [...]th the ab­sence of her Hipolito, and with the dis­pleasure she tooke at the fault she accu­sed her selfe of hauing made against him. In this time Hipolito sent his elder Bro­ther word that hee would visit him at Easter, who now hauing married his Daughter, was indifferent for his Bro­thers returne: and he hauing receiued a leaue, came two daies before Easter; and the day after, came Pompeio and his La­dy thither. The ioy and contentment of these louers at their meeting was so great, as bred them no little paine to dis­semble it: Isabella fayning such a wel­come [Page 93] come to her Vncle, as if his comming had beene vndream't of, and vnexpe­cted. They were there together eight or ten daies without oportunity of any priuacy, but once, because she could not goe now as before without company to the Nunnery.

In this time Hipolito vsing the fittest carriage for the time and quality of his loue, addrest himselfe so well to his Ne­phew, and so woone his affection, as no mans company was so pleasing and ac­ceptable to him as his. After that, Pom­peio and his Lady went home to their owne house, but not without hauing first drawne a promise and assurance from Hipolito, that hee would within two dayes see them: which he did, be­ing now freed from the curiosity of many eies, and hauing only his to blind, which were of themselues well enough seeled.

There was yet in the house an old [Page 94] woman, who had long liued there a seruant, who being the generall Key-keeper of all the roomes, and so went too and fro through the house, entred easily into those suspitions that a wic­ked old age is often subiect to, being also led by those many appearances which loue in an vnwarie young cou­ple (transported with the conuenience of an vnexpected liberty) takes not heed to preuent; and hatching this o­pinion without making shew of it to a­ny, more narrowly watcheth their be­hauiours, who hauing with content­ment enough enioyed some dayes to­gether, concluded it at last better to vse discreetly those oportunities, than abuse their fortune; as also the good Nunne had carefully aduised them to beware of being surprized in inconueniences.

Hipolito returnes to Naples, from whence he often visits his Nephew for his Neeces sake, who could not so well [Page 95] command her passions, but she must shew much more contentment in her face, when her Vncle was there, then at other times, feasting him more then her Husband, who was so blinde and yeel­ding to them, as he would leaue them to entertaine one another (as hee call'd it) and himselfe spend the whole day in hunting. Wherein Hipolito excused himselfe, being the thing he was most vnfit for, and least delighted in; the malice that appeared in the doubtfull lookes of this busie old woman, began to make them distrust her, so as Hipolito durst neither goe so often, nor stay so long in the house of Pompeio, as before: who both tooke his strangenesse ill, and complained of it to his Wife.

Hee gaue her leaue to goe to Naples to see her Mother, with charge to re­turne with her Vncle; ye may imagine this iourny was vndertaken with much gladnesse, and the condition accepted [Page 96] with more. She remained with her a good while; fauoured with her Mo­thers sicknesse, and the commodity of often going to the Nunnery, where she had euer somewhat or other a making for colour of her going.

During her absence from home, an Vncle of her Husbands (sometime his guardian, a Knight of marke and noble descent) came to see him, and his house, liuing at that time not farre thence; where hauing some daies expected his Neeces returne, thought her long stay very strange, and told his Nephew that he was not to winke at such courses, and that since she had brought little o­ther aduantage to his house, he was to expect from her at least a carefull eie o­uer his domesticall affaires, which would run into confusion if she conti­nued this fashion.

The malitious old woman vpon this occasion could not containe her selfe [Page 97] from discouering to the Knight what she thought of her Lady, beseeching him to take it well, as comming from an ancient and faithfull seruant of that house, who could not passe ouer so great a blemish without violating her duty. He seemed to beleeue nothing of what she said, and like a subtile Fox, reproued her sharpely taxing the v [...]ld­nesse of her disposition in conceiuing so false and wicked an opinion, of a di­screete and vertuous Lady, and her im­pudence in daring to speake it to him.

The old woman in her owne excuse, told him all the particulars shee had built vpon, which sunke so deepe into the apprehension of this man, as they neuer after left him. As it is the pro­pertie of a malitious nature, to doe in­iury to what it hates, (according as the passion is defined, to be a disposition of the will intentiue to the hurt of others) so this minister of hate, willing to exe­cute [Page 98] her fury vpon these poore louers, tooke the occasion of their mutuall af­fections, to exercise vpon them her own rage, for not being now able in her withered age, to haue the part in these Loue pleasures, like one euer before liquerish of such fruit, and now not ca­pable of being satisfied, for the three score and fift decreped yeere of her age, that had already disfigured her face, with a hundred foultes and wrincles, forbad all beholders not onely the de­sire, but euen opinion. Certainely, as the Childe is the signe of Virginitie past; the scarre, that there hath beene a wound; and Diomedes his slipper, that hee had a lame club-foote; so was the past ill life of this old woman, e­nough visible in that crooked dispositi­on of her minde, that droue her forward in the ill fruites of her hate and malice, who as Prisoners sometimes play with their Shackles and fetters, so not know­ing [Page 99] perhaps how else to passe the time, and deceiue the languishment of a wea­ry age, busied her selfe with the afflict­ing this young cupple, so shaking (as it were) the fetters of her loathed Prison and solitude. We must beleeue so; for it is most credible that in matters vn­certaine, and that consist in the onely knowledge of their cause (as are these inconueniences hapning in the way of the renowne and credit of faire demea­ned people) the opinions of honest mindes, will rather accorde to their ho­nour, then suffer the rashnesse of their iudgements to conclude them vitious. If we finde some faults in the life and acti­ons of men and women, we should ra­ther determine them the defects, or er­rors of vertue, not yet arriued to the perfection, then flat wickednesses, pro­ceeding from a setled vice; and speake of them with a modest shame, and cha­ritable compassion of poore humane [Page 100] Nature, which cannot produce crea­ture so perfect and accomplish't, as their liues shall bee altogether exempt from reprehension, but there will euer be somewhat faulty and wanting.

Examples doe teach vs, that it hath euer beene an infamous, and dishonest fashion, to blot and destroy the credite and fame of people, by reason of the importance, and consequence of so ma­ny miserable accidents that ensue there­of: for what else doe these exact obser­uers, but sacrifice to the worlds malice (as to an euill spirit) their outrages; pro­uoking vntimely (and often most vn­iustly) the sorrowes, and furies of such as apprehend themselues iniured. As the Carpenters that had the charge of the Deliak Galley, haue (by supplying, or lining still the rotten and decayed ribbes, with new pieces of wood, kept it sound and entire since the time it was first built: So certainely must wee doe [Page 101] with this Reputation, and it is no more hard to mainteine, and hold vp a good name and honour, then a flame, in keeping still vnder it somewhat to sup­port, and preserue it aliue; but when once fury, and malice haue vtterly quench't, and kild it, there is then no more hope left of recouering the one, then renewing the other, when the mat­ter is spent; yet such is the peruerse­nesse of the age we liue in, and so many ill inclinations there are, as for a little profit, or pleasure, they care not to see all things in combustion, and as a field full of weedes, so is the world in euery corner, full of vngratefull, and disloy­all mindes.

The wise therefore ought to be cir­cumspect, and as mischiefes are like to arise, seeke to preuent them, and if not vtterly kill, and roote them out, yet keepe them vnder forgetting the ma­stery of their reputations.

[Page 102] The wise (said the wise man) receiue profit from their enemies, wherefore they at least, whose liues are not with­out colour of suspition, ought curiously to practise this art and science.

The Satyr pressing to imbrace and kisse fire the first time he saw it, Prome­theus cries to him, Satyr, thou wilt wipe the beard off thy chinne; for it burnes being touch't, it giues (besides) warmthe, and light, and is our most vsefull element being well and rightly vsed. So doubtlesse, nothing in this world is so hurtfull, but one side or o­ther, it may bee approach't and hand­led, and applied to some vse, and pro­fit. Fooles are the poyson of societie, but such as are descreete and prudent, can turne to their owne profit and ad­uantage, and fit to their owne vse, all the designes of enmitie and hatred. And euen so, what prooued most hurtfull to Hipolito and Isabella, might haue be­come [Page 103] no lesse profitable to them, if they had beene as carefull and wary as they should haue beene.

To wit, in this time, that this Vncle and guardian (incensed with what he had from the olde womans report) growes from that time vigilant and watchfull ouer them. Hee vses meanes that Isabella is sent for, who soone after arriues accompanied with her Vncle; both of them resoluing to honour this olde Gentleman, as they did. After their greetings, Isabella gaue him a faire wrought Towell, and a Purse of the Nunnes worke, and to her Husband many other little toyes; wanting no faire and probable excuses for her tar­riance. This Knight or guardian stay­ed there three dayes after their returne, prying into all their actions, and watch­ing them strictly, leauing no meanes vnsought, whereby to discouer their neerest passages.

[Page 104] And as one of that age and Nation, being once rouch't with a suspition, yeeldes himselfe easie to perseuer in it, vpon any the least appearances that may bee presented to him; so, though hee perceiued none sufficient to con­firme, and se [...]tle his iudgement vpon, yet the insufficiency that hee knew in his Nephew, and the disparitie be­tweene his wife and him, made him dis­like the honest priuacies betweene her and her Vncle, although they stretch't no farther then might bee permitted. He resolues before his departure to put a man to his Nephew to waite on him in his Chamber, that had beene of his owne breeding, whom hee furnish't with all such instructions as he thought the fittest to bring him to the know­ledge of what hee desired to discouer.

This Chamberlaine is willingly re­ceiued of both the Husband and the Wife too, who nothing suspecting him [Page 105] for that Centinell and Watchman ouer her, that her Vncle had designed him for, laboured to make him hers by the deserts of a good and kinde vsage. Hipolito of the other side, let passe no occasion that might binde him to him; but vnder the disguize of a fained af­fection to their seruice, and acknow­ledgment of his ob [...]igation (this crafty malitious fellow) soothes, and lulles them a sleepe. Thus this young coup­ple ingulfed in the middes of their plea­sures, guided by the onely motion of their desires, foresee not the Shelues, and Rockes that threaten them with the Shipwracke and vtter losse of all their contentment.

So hurtfull often times is our happi­nesse, in hindring the persuite of our designes, through the sloath, negligence, and inconsideration, with which it stupifies vs, and driues vs head-long to our ruine.

[Page 106] This Chamberlaine seconded with the old woman, (to whom the Knight had also declared his intention) had within a moneth or two, at certaine times of Hipolito's repaire to his Ma­sters house, perceiued somewhat be­tweene them, which hee foorthwith acquainted the Knight withall. Who thereupon goes to Naples, where (like enough by his meanes) there was al­ready some whispering rumour spread about of this newes; and where no sooner arriued, but without any word to his Brother Fabritio, or his Wife Liuia, of what led him thither; hee goes to the Notary; who was Hipoli­to's chiefe refuge, and tells him, that if his Brother out of hand refrained not his dishonest frequentation with his Neece, hee was in danger ere long to smart for it, adding how much they a­bused the aduantage of their neere al­liance; and that hee had not beleeued [Page 107] the first report of the vnlawfull priua­cies that had long beene betweene them, but now was so vndoubtedly re­solued thereof, as hee could no longer be ignorant, or conceale them: and that (saue for the respect and honour of their house) he had ere then, taken such reuenge as had befitted such a forfaite: how hee had reuealed it to none but himselfe onely, as one who best, and with least scandall might stop the pro­gresse of the businesse, and bury it: and whose wisedome hee knew of abilitie, for so discreete a conduct, and as the consequence of the affaire required. All the allegations that the Notary could make to the contrary of this Knights opinion, and to possesse him with other beliefe of his Brother and Neece, and how there was nothing, that could be iudged more licentious betweene them, then their neere alliance permitted, ser­ued to no purpose.

[Page 108] In conclusion, he intreated him that he might know no more such fashions in his Brother, least he found his course more roughly interrupted then hee looked for.

This Notary mistrusted nothing of the trueth the Knight had told him, be­ing himselfe a man that vsed not to condemne any kinde of this vice, and besides, had before (as granted) warned his Brother to bee wary in the menage of his affaires, aduertising him how hard a matter it was for him, long to conceale them, if hee once gaue ouer their conduct, wholly to the libertie of his affections. Soone after (then) hee tells him what the Knight had discoue­red; whereupon he refrained from vi­siting his Neece as before, saue by let­ters, which yet were frequent, and gaue her often newes of him. She on the o­ther side (to whom writing was not sufficient) being of a nature apt enough [Page 109] to expose to all dangers, her Fortune, and Life, to giue the greater proofe of her affection, to whom she had vowed it; and condemning all artifice of dis­simulation, and euen discretion, as pro­ceeding from a minde, too free within it selfe, and exempt from passion; full of vnrest, could not containe her selfe, from discouering the alteration in her thoughts, but yeelded to rage, and di­spleasure (vpon all occasions) against this old woman, and often against her new man, of whom shee was now growne distrustfull.

Being aduertized by Hipolito, of an intention hee had to accompany the Prince of Lusignan to Rome; her quicke inuention, supplied her readily, with a colourable occasion to goe to Naples, and such as her Husband was most willing with, there shee learned more particularly, all what this Knight had told the Notary, by the aduice of [Page 110] whom, and of the Nunne, Hipolito goes to Rome.

Isabella's iourney was not approued of by the Knight her Vncle; and con­firmed in him, and in others, the doubt into which he was entred of this Loue, and in her Mother also, who thought much more of it then she spake.

During Hipolito's abode at Rome, the old Woman, and the Chamberlaine, had but few pleasant houres, but still shee found somewhat or other a­misse in their actions: so as one day, this old carcase told her, that for being too true a seruant to her Maister, her Lady lou'd her not; and that if shee could haue seene and said nothing, she had liued a quieter life. This came to the Husbands eares; who sounding not the bottome of it, past it ouer.

The Chamberlaine was more subtile, for though hee could heare it said, that they were worthy of hate, that could [Page 111] indure to serue in a place, where they were knowne to be onely set to doe base offices; and serue for candles, to light strangers into all the basenesse of the house, with much more to that pur­pose, yet, hee stopt eare and mouth, to all, and seeming to vnderstand nothing of it, made likewise no answere to any thing.

The Knight who had beene still in­formed of al things, came againe to his Nephew: where freely hee told his Neece, of his discontent at her fashion of life, intreating her to change it, or that else hee was to make the World know, how vnworthy she was, to hold the honour of such a house and alli­ance. All her well couch't and probable speeches (which the many angry teares of her great heart, would not of a long time giue passage to) did no whit abate the obstinacy of this Vncle; who at length, more sweetning his speech, then [Page 112] altering his opinion; told her, that to make her innocence appeare, and re­mooue all misdoubts (since things were already come to so ill a passe) she was by a change of life to remooue their c [...]use; and that to this, there wanted but her will, by the resolution whereof, shee might alwayes make her selfe appeare, such as shee desired the World should iudge her. After hauing well thought of what course was fittest for her to take, shee had recourse to the inforced remedy of dissimulation; Shee spake not so much of her Vncle as before, nor so often commended his actions, nor curiously enquired after him, yet shee often heard newes of him, though not so secreetly, but still this Chamber­laine perceiued, and tooke notice of fre­quent messages to his Lady, which his Maister had no word of; shee shewed her seife more easie to please, and bee serued then in former times, and to [Page 113] shew her purpose of confining her thoughts, within the compasse of her house, and attend onely to the care of her domesticke affaires, shee tooke the charge of them vpon her, with so fit and dextrous a management, that one would haue thought, shee had busied the study of her whole life in them. Shee caused to be made her a Cabinet, or study, with the entry into it of her garderobe, or inner Chamber, and a passage out into the Garden of the house, by a narrow staire-case glazed of either side, and the Glasse couered with false windowes, to see, and not be seene. She caused it to be Varnish't, Gilt, ador­ned with Pictures, Bookes, China co­fers, and other such singularities as peo­ple that vnderstand, and are curious in that kinde vse to haue. There she spent such time as the company of her Hus­band, Stangers, and Houshold busi­nesse left free to her. Shee went some­times [Page 114] to Naples, but stayed not; three or foure moneths togethers, shee was constant to this new life, with much content to her Husband, Mother, and the Knight her Vncle.

During her Hipolito's absence, shee caused to bee made a Bracelet of Knots of her Haire to weare on his arme, studded with Rubies, and Diamonds, with a large locke of Gold foure square, and set with a rich stone at each corner, the midst was Inameled blew, resem­bling cloudes sowen with Teares halfe hidden, and little appearing, and writ­ten about, Conduntur non siccantur, which she sent with this letter.

This letter so mooued Hipolito, as immediately vpon the receipt of them, he returned to Naples, where he could not stay three dayes without seeing his Neece, with whom (after the Hus­bands many welcommings) hee was retained certaine dayes with more ease then needed.

Alas, that the first day could not passe, without reducing to them their former fashion; they stirred not out of their Cabinet, the Husband was left, the care of his affaires neglected; such as came to speake to them, had no more audience or accesse: all businesse, all company was displeasing and trouble­some, all the Husband could haue, was after suppers, some leane entertainment, mingled oftentimes with certaine am­biguous speeches, and smiles sauouring [Page 117] more of mockery, or contempt then othewise: which began at last to di­splease him, and they perceiued it, and withall, were told by Isabella's maide Iulia, that the old Woman, and Cham­berlaine, were diligent priers into their behauiours, and held hourely little counsailes betweene themselues of their actions; which made them presume, that they would not faile to giue the Knight her Vncle notice of euery thing. Hipolito hereupon takes new counsaile, which was (hauing informed himselfe perfectly of the secreatest meane of comming into the Garden, by a little doore out of the Parke, and thence in­to the Cabinet by the close staires) to returne to Naples, as he did, and thence fained a iourney to the Court of Sau [...]y; this is giuen out in the house, and his Brothers being aduertised of it, doe gladly furnish him with Horses, Mo­ney, and Letters of fauour to their [Page 118] friends. Hee would yet carry but one Lacquey with him, whom hee wholly affied in, and with him went to a house of his Brothers the Notary (some eight miles from Naples where hee at that time was) from thence his Isabella had newes of him; and there hee lay con­cealed for the space of two moneths; going thence euery second or third night to see her, hauing found by waies into the Parke, whence he past into the Garden, and so into the Cabinet; hee arriued there commonly at nine or ten at night, meane while his man held his Horses in a most vnhaunted, and re­mote place of the Parke, where hee a­waited him till too or three in the mor­ning, and to auoid all suspition shee vsed before, to retire her selfe into her Cabinet after Suppers, and lye there alone.

From the beginning of September, till about the end of October, this fashon [Page 119] held betweene them: But alas, the night hath eyes, and trueth is seene in the darke. 'Tis knowne Hipolito con­ceales himselfe in this house. Pompeio's Vncle that had vnderstood all the pas­sage of his former iourney, knowes this last deceit too, but not the conueiance of the Cabinet. Hee growes more in­raged then euer; goes to his Neece, taunts her with all the sharpest lan­guage hee had, threatning her and her Hipolito, with no lesse then an ignomi­nious death: tells all to the Husband, reproaching him for his little sence of this iniury, and his want of courage to reuenge it.

And hauing sufficiently plaide his part there, goes foorthwith to Naples, and does there also the like, discouering all to Fabritio and his wife, from point to point, how euery particular had past, the warnings hee had giuen, and intreaties hee had made to them to de­cist [Page 120] from their course: then inueyes a­gainst the Notary, who denies his Bro­thers being at his house (at least to his knowledge, himselfe being then at Na­ples) Hipolito, was foorthwith aduer­tized of this, to the end hee might not bee found there; but because those of the house, could not so readily be in­structed (some woman and a childe af­firming that hee had beene there, and was but two dayes before gone from thence) this made all the rest credible, & after all the bitternesse that the displea­sure of such an affaire could put into his words, and that hee had therewith bound his two brothers by their oathes not to receiue Hipolito, this Vncle left them; resoluing to vse all meanes to surprize him.

Thus, this poore miserable Louer, beaten with so many tempests, left of his chiefest friends, abandoned of all hope▪ findes (though too late) how [Page 121] slippery is the downe-fall of our plea­sures, and how great the disproportion is of the short contentments, and long miseries of this life.

Hee retire himselfe to his Brother Scipio's house, who was married some twelue miles from Naples, in the way to Suca. There he remained some daies, and after hauing rested his wits diuerse­ly distracted, and ouerwrought with the consideration of the extremitie hee was in, and what course was fittest to be taken, hee resolued by the aduice of his Brother (a man more subtile in vice, then ingenious in vertuous mat­ters) to cause dispersed abroad, a rumor that hee was slaine, hoping by this meane to drowne al noise already spread of matters past, and lay a certaine ground whereon to build the last de­signe for the contentment of his Mi­stresse and himselfe.

Before he began to put this in execu­tion, [Page 122] he sent her a Tablet full of stances written vpon the subiect of his For­tune, couered with Gold, sowen full of Thornes to the life in Inameled worke, and in the middest of either face was a Tombe of blacke Amell, and on the top of it a Semperuiue to the life, and at the foote written, Del piacer Sepolto la seranza viua; with this letter follow­ing, which the Nunne (whom he sent it to,) caused it to be deliuered.

[Page 124] Soone as Hipolito was sure his Mi­stresse had receiued his letters, hee be­gan to play his fained Tragedy, certaine people are set on, who come betimes in the morning to his Brothers lodging, telling him that there was a man slaine, that night in the next Village, vpon the way to his house, with the Horse hee rode on, and it should seeme was his younger Brother. He rises hastily, and goes to the place whither these people led him, where hee found a thing trust vp in forme of a man, which hee had caused to be stuft with haye, and drest vp in a sute, his Brother had sometime worne, cut and mangled in diuerse places, resembling blowes, and thrusts with swords, and all besmeared with blood, and his Horse also dead by him. He takes a Notary of the Village, and a Priest for his purpose, and in presence of those that conducted him thither, and some other of his owne people, [Page 125] caused to bee made a verball processe, how his Brother Hipolito had beene by them found in that place, newly slaine with so many hurts, in such places, clad in such a sute, his Horse likewise dead, beside him: and instantly, omitting nothing that might make all credible, caused that bundle, or false man to bee buried as if it had beene the body of Hipolito, in the Church of that Vil­lage; puts himselfe into blackes, and sends foorthwith, the verball pro­esse to Naples to his Brothers; ere long, the death of Hipolito was gene­rally bruted about, and came to the cares of Pompeio and his wife, who faining to beleeue it, (and the Hus­band beleeuing) seemed much to la­ment it.

The Winter was at that time well spent, when Hipolito hauing executed this stratagem, gets him disguised all a­lone, on foote, by night, by vnused by [Page 126] wayes to the Parke of Pompeio's house, and lodges in his Mistresses Cabinet, where hee was two dayes, there they consulted of what was to bee done, for their deliuery out of thraldome.

It was concluded then, that they must resolue for Cypres, or Candy, and that, to that effect, he would prouide a Barke, and lay it ready victualled, and furnish't of all things fit, against the end of March, or beginning of April next. For this purpose shee gaue him such monies as she had, resoluing with­all, to employ her vttermost indeauour, to get together the most shee could, to make their voyage, and maintaine them after. In the meane time, they resol­ued, he was to visite her, with the oft­nest, and secretest meanes hee could, hauing prouided himselfe, of some safe retraite for himselfe not farre of.

Being gone, shee aduised with her selfe, to perswade her Husband to make [Page 127] a voyage into France, the peace being made betweene the Kings of France, and Naples. Shee wanted no faire in­ducements to vrge him with; how it was a shame for one of his age, & place in the world, to haue neuer seene other, then the angle hee was borne in: that this voyage would fashion, and make him vp better; and yeeld him more knowne, and honoured of the best and Noblest company: that hee had not yet gained that esteeme in the World, that hee might enable himselfe to ex­pect, by more inriching his minde, with experience to iudge, and abilitie to discourse, in which, an infinite of o­thers out went him, and were therefore preferred, and respected before him: which both in birth and meanes, and all other things, were farre to yeeld to him: and how though his present e­state in possession yeelded him not much, shee would finde him enough, [Page 128] without much preiudicing it, for that effect: that his lands were well timbred, so as the sale of foure, or fiue thousand crownes worth, would not bee much mist: that they would lease out part of their lands, and make that way as much more money in incummes: and that with such a like summe, he might make his voyage, with credit and honour: how for her part, shee would keepe but her maides, and one man, and to auoid expence, would retire her selfe to Naples to her Mother, who shee knew would thinke her company no trouble.

She gildes her language so well, that her Husband beginnes to relish the motion, and goes to his Vncle and guardian, and communicates it to him: who likes well enough of the busi­nesse; and giues the charge to Isabella, to finde Merchants, and make the bar­gaine with them, saying, he would au­thorize [Page 129] her, because her Husband was yet in his minoritie.

You may imagine whither shee be­stirred her selfe or no, or Hipolito of the other side, who (hauing prouided a Barke, Rigged, Victualled, and furnish't with all things necessary to make the voyage into Cypres, vpon the first day of April) goes confidently about with his Lacquey disguised, like Venetian Merchants, coasting the Countrey, to looke out some place of retreite for himselfe neere his Mistresses house; and as there is no difficultie, but money passes through it, hee gaines by that baite, a Countrey fellow that dwelt in a little house, by a Woodes side; farre enough from neighbours, and onely three miles off from his Mistresse; where he remained till the periode of his mis­fortune, faining himselfe fled out of Ve­nice for certaine debts, and that during his absence, his friendes were labou­ring [Page 130] some reasonable composition for him, with his Creditors, his poore Hoste, for the profit hee receiued by him, could haue wish't him still in businesse: hauing expressely forbidden those of his house, not to discouer him to any one, serued him with all things for himselfe, and his Horses.

When hee went by night to see his Mistresse (which was often) hee made his Host beleeue, that it was either to speake with some that negotiated for him, or to deliuer, or to receiue letters at a place they were still by appoint­ment left.

In the meane time, Isabella of her part was not idle, for hauing bargained for fiue thousand crownes worth of timber, with Merchants that had the money ready at an houres warning, and leased out a great part of her Hus­bands lands for certaine yeeres, for the receipt of fiue thousand more, shee ad­uertized [Page 131] the Knight her Vncle of it, and intreates of him to come the eigh­teenth of March, to see the couenants dispatch't for his Nephew, her Hus­band, at his house: whither hee came the seuenteenth day to dinner.

Hipolito, and Isabella had determi­ned (this money being receiued, and lock't vp in her Cabinet, which they made account, would be at the furthest by the twentieth day) to depart the night following, vpon Hipolitos Hor­ses, hee carrying his Mistresse behinde him; and his man, and her maide vp­on another Horse, all laden with as much as they could carry in Money, and Iewels, and gaine that night the Port Gaietta, and straight hoise vp the sailes of the Barke that lay ready for them, accomodated at all points, as well with Linnen, Cloathes, Bookes, as all other necessary mooueables.

The Knights two spies had so well [Page 132] watch't ouer the vnfortunate Isabella, that they had heard some one walking and talking in the night with her, in her Cabinet, who they knew were none of her women, hauing found them both a sleepe in her gardrobe: besides, had further discouered, that Iulia did often times conuey meate, and wine thither, without telling for whom: and at three or foure seuerall times, that it had rained in the night, they had tract the footing of some person, going and comming through the Gar­den, to the staire of the Cabinet, and thence to the Parke gate, and the entrie thereof beaten with the footing of a Horse.

All this is told to the Knight, soone after his arriuall, who without seeming to haue knowne any thing new, passes the rest of the day in di­scourse of his Nephewes voyage; of the traine he should carry with him, of [Page 133] the gouernment of his expences; and time of his stay abroad, and his re­turne.

The night being come, hee sent one of his men to watch without the Parke gate, which was fastned onely, but that of the Garden lock't euery night, com­manding him to conceale himselfe all hee could, and speake to no man of it, and if hee saw any one come in that way, to bring him present word. That night there appeared nothing; the next morning betimes, the Marchants come, the couenants are past, and di­spatch't, the last monies receiued and lock't into Isabella's Cabinet, and ear­ly enough for her to aduertise Hipolito of it, by that meane they vsed to heare from one another those daies they met not, which was by leauing their letters in a hollow tree in the Parke, where they fetch't, or sent for them at a fit houre. Hipolito sent his man thither [Page 134] that night at Supper time, who found a little note, containing the aduertise­ment of all.

The night comming, the Knight sends his man againe as before. Mis­fortune, and mischiefe intentiue to the ruine of these vnhappy louers, and meaning to set them for paternes to shew how little auailes mans foresight, to withstand the Heauens appoint­ment; and that when we hold the end of our hopes neerest, and most cer­taine, 'tis then commonly, that we feele the euents farthest off, and most con­trary to our expectations: This mis­chiefe (I say) would that Hipolito, who now prefumed all things so hap­pily laid, as there wanted nothing but to goe to take his Isabella, (and whom the long expectance of this so desired houre, had made vtterly impatient of any longer stay) came his accustomed way, at nine of the clocke at night, ha­uing [Page 135] left his man, and Horses in the Parke.

The Knights man hauing discoue­red them, comes to his Master vndi­scouered by any, tells him what hee had seene; hee sends him with two more of his men with Pistolls to make good the Parke gate, and stay by force such as were gone in, or shoote them if they prest out, they found meanes to get out vndiscouered before the gates of the house were shut in.

The Knight went to bed, so did his Nephew soone after, and was as soone a sleepe; when he knew his men gone, this Knight rises, and sends a Gentle­man of his, whom hee kept with him, for his Nephewes man, him hee com­manded, to watch and bring him word, when his Neeces maides should bee gone out into her inner Chamber; which hauing done, he sends this Gen­tleman of his, commanding him with [Page 136] a sword drawne to keepe the women vpon their liues, from stirring out of the roome they were in, or making any noise, or exclamation, till they were sent for out.

Iulia was within, with her Mistresse in her Cabinet. In the meane time, plants himselfe at the doore of the Ca­binet, listning what was done there, hee could heare speaking, but not the words, opening and shutting of cofers, remouing of monies, and other things; at length, after a whiles stay, being neere eleuen of the clocke, hee heard Iu­lia comming to the doore saying: I will goe see then Madam, if all the house be a sleepe, and take these purses that I haue: and her Mistresse answering her, stay not then, for 'tis time wee were gone; thereupon, the maide halfe ope­ning the doore, perceiued this man, that presses to enter in, which shee stroue against, and during their conten­tion, [Page 137] Hipolito saues himselfe by the staires into the garden, thinking that he not being taken, his Mistresse should runne no hazard: yet hee could not shift himselfe away so sodainely, but the Knight hauing borne ope the dore, might perceiue him shutting the other after him.

His Nephewes man, that he had put to him, entred the Cabinet with him; as soone as Isabella saw that fellow, she could not hold from flying furiously at his face, with such iniuries, as witnest the beliefe she had of being discouered by him.

The Kinght sends him to wake, and bring his Maister, and sends a man hee had there of his owne in the next roome, along with Iulia, into the cham­ber himselfe lay in, to the end, to gaine the trueth out of her, more easily by this separation.

Nature then shewed sufficiently in [Page 138] this poore Lady, how shee pleases her selfe, often times to stray from the course of her ordinary rules, and make to appeare in subiects, wee esteeme weake and lesse perfect, high and great effects; shewing vs in this woman, how farre differing a soule from the vulgar, and capable of rare vertues, is often found in that sexe: and how a resolution hauing once taken sure foo­ting in them, remaines commonly more firme, and immooueable, then in men; she then, in this crosse and vnexpected accident, instead of hauing recourse to Teares, and Prayers, (the refuge na­turall to the weakenesse some impute to women) armed her selfe (contrary­wise) with such an vnstirred assurance, amazed her enemies: for this Vncle hauing set his dagger to her throate, and asking her who it was went downe the staires, and whither she was going, at such an houre with that money, [Page 139] which was part put vp into bagges and sackes, and part spread vpon the table, shee without shew of amazement, told him, that it was the fashion of a poore soul'd man, to speake to a woman with his armes in his hand, and that without more threatning it was an easie matter, to [...]ill, one who resisted not; that ne­uer Noble, nor honest minde, vsed to alot any part of his time, to so base oc­cupations, as to play the hourely eues­droper, and spie ouer the actions of an honest woman: That no body was gone downe the staires, but that shee then shut that doore, when her maide opened the other to goe fetch purses, to put vp the rest of that money vpon the table, to be lock't vp: that her bidding of her returne quickly, that they might bee gon, was to dispatch her sooner to bed, because it was late.

The Husband being come, was not a little amazed at the newes his Vncle [Page 140] tells him, which before he dream't not of: yet, euen the Vncle himselfe, be­ginnes a little to stagger in his confi­dence, seeing the constancy of this wo­man; when his man came to tell him, if Iulia might bee assured her life, that she would confesse the trueth.

The Knight leaues Isabella in guarde, with this seruant of his, and his Gen­tleman, commanding them vpon their liues, not to suffer her to rise out of a Chaire, where they made her sit; and thence, hee and his Nephew goes into the Chamber where Iulia was, where they were scarce entred, when shee re­taining of the base condition of a low seruile heart, falls full of teares at their feete, begging pardon, which is promi­sed her, vpon a true relation, of her La­dies practises and intent, which shee made, and was foorthwith brought to Isabella, who beholding her with them, and looking her in the face, guest [Page 141] how the matter went, and forceing to rise vp, said; Ah false treacher, why am I not suffered yet before I die, to punish thy detestable disloyaltie?

They made this maide, auouch to her all she had told them.

They ransack't her cofers, which were all open; in one of them, they found all the letters Hipolito had writ­ten to her, bound vp by themselues; they found in another, her Iewels ran­ged together; and not farre off, two o­ther little boxes of Mercury sublimate, and other poisons made into Pilles; in the vpper part of one of the Chests, they found laide in a place apparant enough to the sight, this following Euidence, written with her hand.

This Euidence being read, shee was asked, what shee intended with those poysons; she said, shee made them to take, if shee were pursued so narrowly, as shee could not saue her selfe; to the end, to barre her enemies the content­ment, and preuent the mischiefe of fal­ling aliue into their power.

After shee had confest much more, and more voluntarily, then shee was questioned; the Vncle said; since you determined to bee your owne executi­oner, and punish your owne dishone­stie; it were pitie (though you haue beene preuented in the execution of so wicked an enterprise) that you should bee frustrated too, in the iust punish­ment, you haue so well deserued, and so prouidently prepared for your selfe; and therefore you are speedily, by the [Page 149] meane of your owne appointment, to receiue your death; where-with, taking one of the pilles, which her Vncle pre­sented her; shee answered them; it is for them that haue either pleasure, or desire of life, to seeke the meanes to keepe it; and for such as haue lost both the one, and the other, to hasten the end of it, and flie to death, which is so farre from being a thing odious to mee, (being depriued of my Hipolito) as that (were ye as inclinable to pitie, and should deny it mee; as you are bent to cruelty, and to giue it me) I would be­seech you, to let mee take it with my owne hands.

Now after all the trecherous, and ignoble courses you haue taken against me; I must confesse my selfe much bound to you, for shortning my mise­rable life, whose end, is as pleasing to mee, as the course hath beene vnfor­tunate: hoping that as God doeth af­foorde [Page 150] you by this meane, the triumph of your desires ouer me, and mee the end of my afflictions; hee will also please to giue my soule her rest in eter­nall blisse, which I humbly craue of him, and that the long paines of my life, and vniust Martyrdome of my death, may obtaine mee his pitie, and my sinnes their pardon.

Shee spake these words, with so re­solute, and vnmooued a face, and fashi­on, that all those about her, were seized with astonishment, and pitie.

Her Vncle himselfe, and Husband began to speake to her, testifying a mo­deration of their doome, and rage; when she swallowed the Pill, and with a nimble hand taking two more, said; One is too few, and nothing is hard to doe that giues vs contentment, and barres our enemies the pleasure of a long vengeance.

Soone after, the force and quantitie [Page 151] of the poyson wrought his effect; and seizing all the Vitall parts, left her one­ly power to speake these last words: Receiue, receiue, my Hipolito, these last proofes of my affection; and know by my death, what power a faithfull loue hath in a soule resolued: and vpon that word yeelded vp the ghost, in the same chaire, where they had set her: leauing her memory no lesse admirable, for the constancy of her end, then remarke­able, for the bouldnesse of her desperate enterprise.

Here (Reader) with Isabella's end, would I end too; so wearied I am, with the already too sad relation, of these vnhappy Louers fortunes, and most vnwilling to adde hereto, the la­mentable end of the poore Hipolito, whom my Authour tells mee, his Isa­bella's death, made so desperat a despi­ser of his owne life, as to forsake all his hopes, meanes of sustenance, friends [Page 152] and allies, and die an exile to his Coun­trey for her reuenges sake.

For I finde that within few weekes after her death, hee slew her Husband, and his Vncle vpon their way, in a iourney to Rome; for which fact, nei­ther his Brothers (who being questi­oned about him, were driuen to much trouble for him) nor any other friend, or his Countrey durst owne him: but hee was constrained (being opprest with extreame want) to returne him­selfe, into the State of Venice, where fiue yeeres after Isabella's death, to a­uoide staruing, he was inforced to Mar­ry a Widdow, that had some reason­able meanes to sustaine him a while with, but no more then what hee had in a short time so farre wasted, as shee (as well out of discontentment thereat, as also discouering perhaps withall, the many degrees of comparison betweene the loue shee found hee bore her, and [Page 153] might imagine, hee might beare to an Isabella, or one more worthy of him, then she, who was neither handsome, nor well natured) poysoned him, as it was thought, with a messe of broath, shee caused to bee made for him one morning, that hee had taken a little Physick, for some indisposition of body he complained of.

There was found in his Study, after his death a table, which it seemed, hee had not long before caused to be made, wherein there was Painted his Isabella, lying along dead, with her eyes closed, and himselfe, kneeling at her feete, with certaine verses vnder written; speaking (it seemes) to her eyes. The verses were to this purpose.