¶A iust Fact, but to cruell, of Iohn Maria, Duke of Myllayne, towarde a Priest extreme couetous.

IOhn Maria Vicont, sonne of Iohn Galeas, vnto whome the Emperour Ladisilaus gaue the tytle and name of Duke of Myl­layne, was he that succeeding in the estate and dignity of Duke, made himselfe knowne and renowned, before all the Princes of his tyme: not in shewing himselfe more ver­tuous then they, or in surpassing the good For­tune of that good Galeas his Father, who I thinke neuer committed any other notable e­uill, then that he lefte behynde him a plague so great and daungerous as his sonne, the succes­syon of whome, was no more fortunate for the Milinois, then was once the Romayne Mo­narch of Marcus Aurelius, leauing for the in­heritour of the Empyre, that Butcher▪ and [Page] Sworde player Commodus, a lyuelye ex­ample of creweltye and mischiefe, and truelye hys Countrey myghte well haue coniectured their Misfortune, in that Iohn Maria was called to the Dignitye of the Dukedome, after that all Italye had seene the Orygynall of the Ciuill warres so often wrytten of by the Hystoryans, whiche so muche weakened the strength of Italye, and abased the glorye of those thinges whiche remayned to them, as Reliques escaped from the handes of so manye Barbary­ans and Straungers, that hadde foyled with their fe [...]te, the honour of that Godlye Prouynce, for it was after that the Guelfes and Gibilines had throughlye de­uyded themselues, leauyng no corner of Italye, that was notte Dyed wyth the bloud of the poore Cittizens, and was it not pittyfull, to see the Nobillitye chased and wandring abroade, there beyng no crea­ture that felte not thys Tempeste, and whyche perceyued not the vehemencye of a deuysyon so furyo [...]s, so that all Natyons of Europe, had their accesse to make their Rodes into Italye, and there to pyll the Cittyes, and Fertyle Fyeldes, called into the country, eyther by the one or the other of the Factions.

[Page] But this Duke was renowned for the moste cruell and inhumayne Tyraunte, that euer was nouryshed in Christendome, and I beleeue that Bucyrus Phalaris, or that Thracian King which fostred his Horses with the bodyes of the dead, did neuer surpasse him in crueltye, and although his Predicessoures had bene Princes, very mercifull, and gentle, and that by their modestye, they had attayned to the place of suche Prehemynence, yet this is he which forgetting the house wherof he came, did degenerate from the bloud of his Ances­tours, being despightfull, for that Fortune had bene otherwyse to him, then she had bene to­wardes that excellent Iohn Galeas his Fa­ther, and to Valentyne that was Wyfe to the Duke of Orleans, shee whych was slayne at Paris, by the Duke of Burgoyne his men, doeth so accarnate hymselfe, that hee caused to be deuoured in his presence, by Mastyfes broughte vp to that ende, those whyche for the leaste occasyon that hee fan­tasyed in his mynde, dydde displease hym, hauyng for the Mynyster of hys cruel­tye, and in steade of Prouest Marshall, a Gentleman named, Squarce Gyra­me, as courteous as hys Lorde, and who in the ende was also payde wyth the same paymente, as was hys May­ster, [Page] being both togyther as cruelly slayne, as vnpittifull they had fleshed themselues vppon the myserable people of Millayne, during the tyme then that this incorporate Deuill reioy­seth himselfe, and sheweth these tragicall and detestable actes of hys cruell lyfe, this thing chaunced which I am now about to descrybe vnto you, to the ende you may beholde the two great and extreame vyces, the one of Auaryce in a Priest, and the other of the crueltie, of the Duke. Iohn Maria ryding one day thorough his Cittye, as commonly he did, not onely for to beholde the faultes of his subiectes, but more to search out if any one durst complayn of the de­testable maners of his lyfe, and the very hauty and tyrannical doings of his raygn, to the end he might seeme to haue some reason to tormēt him, that shoulde complayne without cause of his Lord, that as yet had giuen him no occasy­on: Thus as he made these Iorneys, he hard a farre of, a great crye, and the voyce of a wo­man complayning, who clapping her hands, did eleuate her voyce verye high, thinking that GOD was deafe, and that he will not heare our necessityes, without such a sturre, to whome he sent one of his seruaunts, to know the cause of a crye so fearefull, who found it at thedore of a pore woman, whose husband was lately deceased, that thus complayned, as well for the losse of her companyon, as also for that [Page] shee had not wherewith to bring him to the earth. Alas, sayth the woman (half desperate) whether may the pore haue their recourse? syth the very Church hath denyde their duetyes to them, vnto whome they be bounde, to whome may I adresse my selfe? not hauing wherewith to satisfye, or glent the desyre of my vnsatiable Curat, that is neyther content with the gayns which he hath, suffring this body without life, to remayne without Sepulture, onely for the herytage of all the goods whiche he hath lefte me in this world for my comforte, for if I wyll haue him interred, of necessitye I must sell all my moueables, and afterwards not knowing how to relieue my Infantes. Ah false Pastor, I beseech God to punish with some great per­secution, both thee and them which are of lyke condicions, saying so, with cryes, teares, sobs, and sighes, she pardoneth not her own cheekes and face, but scratcheth the one, she bepaynteth the others, stryking herselfe vpon the stomack, and shewing dyuers other sygnes of a woman distraught, the Dukes man seeing her to shew such fashyons, addrest him towardes her, say­ing: My friende, what wrong is this that is done to you, and wherefore shew you so great dule? tell me, because I may make the reporte to my Lord, who hath sent me hyther to know the matter, and assure your self, if any one hath offended you, he will extend such Iustice, that [Page] you shall be contente and satisfyed, and the au­thoures shall haue whereof to take example, and withholden to doe iniurye to the poore in suche a Towne as thys, where the Lorde wyll that Iustyce be done to euery one, without respecte of estate.

The woman who knewe by his Lyuerye, that hee was one of the Dukes Seruauntes, whose presence although it were not verye agreeable vnto her, in thynking that hee came there but onelye to seeke some praye, yet not fearing anye worse aduenture then her owne, nor anye Fortune more frowarde then the estate wherein shee was, and also for that death to her woulde haue bene great solace, ioying also that the Offycer had tal­ked vnto her so gentlye, aunswereth him in thys sorte.

Alas Syr, beholde there the deade bodye of my Husbande, which the Prieste of thys Parrishe hath refused to burye, for that I haue not wherewith to satisfye him for his payne, and to content him for the Funerals. This is the occasyon why I torment my selfe, not knowing how I maye interre the deade Corpes, the onely memorye whereof, hath made mee so full of sorrowe and dule, and to showe before your eyes this outrage. The Duke which this space attended to know the [Page] occasyon of this crye, vnto whome his man be­ing retourned, sayth: My Lorde, in this house before you, is a poore woman, inuyroned wyth small Chyldren, (whose Husbande thys morning being dead), hath desyred the Priest to burye the bodye of the deade, but hee vnlesse shee will paye the interrage, and the ac­customed Funeralles, hath vtterlye denyed her to goe aboute it, wherefore shee ma­keth this noyse, not hauing wherewith to doe it, and furthermore, if shee shoulde sell her mooueables, shee hath not wherewyth then to bring vp her small Infantes.

Iohn Maria hearing him tell of a Facte so Vylonyous, and of a couetousnesse so de­testable, began to laugh, whose laughter was a prognostication of the teares of some man. Then tourning to them of hys Trayne, hee sayth.

Truely this mayster Curate is very vncha­ritable, and greatly giuen to his owne profyte, so to denye his helpe to them that requyre him, syth that it is his duety, and hee is hyred to doe it. Therefore it is good that I shewe him the waye, and excercyse our Charitye in this, causing this body to be intombed, and then to extende our almes to this woman, that lamenteth as well for her owne losse, as [Page] for that shee beholdeth her selfe charged wyth Infantes, and not knowing howe to keepe them, shoulde not this be well done? sayeth he to his Gentlemen: Truely my Lorde aunswe­reth one of the trayne, this acte would bee as greatly praysed, as any good deede that you can doe in this worlde, and especially for that your excellencye in forgetting your Nobillity, shall so much abase your selfe, as to accompany the most pore to the earth, and to succour their widdowes, although they neuer did you anye seruyce: Let vs go then (sayth the Duke,) the Priest as it may be, will doe his duetye to this partye, at my desyre, wherefore I will giue him such a Salary for his paynes, as all hys lyfe after, he shall not haue cause to complaine: He sayth this, thinking so well to chasten the Priest, that from thence forth he shoulde make no more such refusals, commanding then, that he which had bene first at the house of the wid­dowe, should go for the Curate to come talke with the Duke, for a matter of great impor­taunce. The mayster Chaplen which thought of nothing lesse, then the fault which he had done, and remembred not at all of the dead, the corpes of whome, remayned without Sepul­ture, came sodaynly to the Dukes presence, whome after the Duke had wel beholden, and seeing him fat, grosse in euery poynt, and cloa­thed in rich Apparell, was not abashed at all [Page] of the refusal that he had made to the pore wo­man, as well for his well lyking, whereby hee shewed that one hower of pleasure, was an hundered tymes more agreable vnto him, then a thousand yeres of seruitude, and that also to nourish such a belly, it was needefull to haue more gaynes, then rose of his cure, hauing his Vysage more lyke the picture of some swollen Bacchus, then of one professing the studye of diuinitie, fynally this Priest did not vary at all from the moste parte of them, that at this daye to the great domage of all Christendome, haue entered into the Ministery, who thinke that they haue done their duety, in making a feast or dinner to their equalles, without remem­bring the rest of their office, neyther to visyte the poore, nor to succour them, according to the statutes, and ordinaunces of the holy Canons, ordayned by the generall and sacred counsels, but are become feeders of their owne bellyes, and dumme dogges, so that the onely name of Priesthood ought to shadowe them, and suf­fyce as they imagyne, wythout necessitie to put their hand to the worke, and to satisfye by effect, that for which they be called. Our Cu­rate then bolde and assured, presenteth hym­self to Iohn Maria, saying: My Lord, it hath pleased your excellency to commaunde mee to come before you, may it also please you to shew me the thing wherein you wyll imploy me, in [Page] which I will obey you, as he that desireth no­thing but to serue and please you. The wyly and subtle Lord, seeyng the fayned curtesy and pleasant words of the syr Iohn, begā to laugh, and to mocke him with his glory, and to detest his impudent auaryce, answering him: I haue sent for you to the ende you should cause to bee brought to the earth, that poore man which is one of your parishioners, & I will giue you the rewarde and Salary that you merite, for it is neyther iust nor meete that such a man as you, should be imployed without recompence. Par­done mee my Lord sayth the Priest, your only commandement deth suffyce, & your grace hol­deth the place of al satysfaction: Wel, wel, say­eth the Duke, I accept all that you haue sayd, and beleeue that you woulde doe more for mee then this, syth at this tyme I see you so preste to doe your duety in this afayre, therefore goe prepare your selfe, for I will assist you at the obsequies, assuring you, that you shalbe recom­penced before I depart, as I intend, and accor­ding to your desartes.

Now the Chaplayne, which thought that he was already placed in the office of the Dukes Almoner, verye pleasaunte and merrye depar­teth towardes his Church, where hee setteth all thinges in order, and sendeth for a good companye of Priestes and others, whych ser­ued ordinarilye in the Churches, because hee [Page] would with more greater pompe, and honour accompany the Corpes, for which the Duke had so desyred him.

But the myserable Priest sawe not, that was the Trayne whyche Fortune had orday­ned for him, and howe neare the hower dyd approache, in which he must paye the arr [...]ra­ges of his afore passed lyfe, and aboue all that great and vyle synne of cruell Auaryce, by an other crueltye the moste straunge that hath beene hearde of, and I am abashed, howe he should be so far beside his wyt, that seeing the fault which he had committed, & knowing the nature of his Lord, himself hearing him speake so doubtfully, and with wordes smelling more of his choller then gentlenesse, how he durste retourne and represent himselfe agayne before the furyous face of his Prince: But what? he was so blynded with Auaryce, and led with­the desyre of Money, that euerye looke see­med vnto hym curteous, and euery word plea­saunte, syth the talke of gayne and recom­pence marched therewyth.A cruell custome of the Duke of Millayne. The vnhappye Prieste had [...]orgotten that the Duke for the leaste occasyon that myghte bee, caused to bee dysmembered wyth hys Dogges, men women, and chyldren, wythoute hauyng re­garde eyther to Sex or Age, so vnna­turall and cruell weare hys condycyons. What? oughte hee to hope of more gentle­nesse [Page] and humanitie, then an infynite number of the Citizens of Millayn, the death of whom serued for a pastyme to the rage of this cruell Duke. What thought he to fynd him more re­ligyous towards him? then iust to them whose innocencye had made them vnworthye of all punishment. Alas, although he had rendred Boloigna the great vnto the Pope, and that he had humbled himselfe to the Apostolicall seate very mekely, yet this was more for feare and imbecillitie, then for the affection that hee had to religyon, for it is vnpossible that such a Barbarous and cruel Tyraunt, should eyther honour or reuerence God, or that he should ac­knowledge anye thing that toucheth the re­spect of Religion, witnesse of this was once that Tyraunt Denis of Sciscill, after that he moc­ked and reioyced at the sacriledge & crueltye, making no conscience to pill and rob the Tem­ples, for these contemners fayne all gentlenes and dissemble to haue their myndes full of all deuotion and holynesse: But you see by effecte to what ende tendeth their symplicity, and it is the honour and feare of God that pricketh and mooueth them to some reuerence, leauing this discourse, we will retourne agayne to our Priest, who caused to be caryed the most fayre and riche Crosse of his Churche, prouyding Clarks to carry the Corpes, and vsing suche diligence, as if he had bene the moste ryche V­surer [Page] of al the banquers of Lombardy, and not forgetting to couer him with the most rych co­uering of his Church.

The Duke hearing the iangling and noyse of the Belles, could not refrayne from laugh­ter, saying: By God Mayster Curat you show well the greedy appetyte of you auaryce, syth the dead carcases doe so displease you without offence, I will gyue you such a reward as shal remayne in memory here this hundred yeres: His men by these wordes perceyued well that the Duke had deuysed somewhat agaynst the Curat, & assured themselues seeing his counte­naunce, which the Priest feared as much as death: But behold now the Chaplayne wyth his company, came and sung the Ambrosyan Vygils, before the doore of the dead, to whom the Duke was assistaunte, and hearde wyth pacyence and good deuotyon, the Durge sung for the dead, which he behelde gladly then, for one that accompanyed him, during this styrre he gaue commandement to the graue makers, that they shoulde make the graue verye deepe and large, without telling why so, of whome he was obayed, for that they knewe the com­maunder, who was wel known in his Duke­dome, more for feare, then loue that any of hys Subiects bare him, for that is very true which is commonly sayd, that men hate him deadly, whome they feare, the seruice being ended in [Page] the Church, there was great Funerall pompe shewed in going to the Churchyarde, to fynish the Obsequyes, that yet before the bodye was put into the earth, they song Psalmes, and other Prayers, in suche a case accustomed, where the Prieste obserued suche a grauytye and reuerence in hys Ceremonyes, that hee himselfe could scarce forbeare the pleasure that he receyued of his well doing. But beholde here the last acte of the Tragedye, for as soone as all was fynished,Hor [...]ble wa [...] [...]ease vpon dead bodyes. and that the Prieste had cast holy water vpon the dead body, leauyng the office to put him into the earth, to them that had the charge thereof, which began strayght wayes to fulfyll the last Ceremonye of the bu­ryall, then the Duke calleth vnto them, say­ing: That they muste attende, for as yet all the Ceremonyes of the Funerall were not per­fyte, for he woulde honoure the deade wyth some thing otherwyse, then they thoughte of, all men were astonyed at thys newe acte of the Duke, and moreouer because he addresseth him towardes the Prieste, with his face insla­med wyth choler, and a voyce representing his fury, saying: Chaplayn, if thy Auarice did not render thee more infamous then the rest of thy hypocriticall lyfe, doth giue the good renowne, I should haue some occasyon to dissemble thy faul [...]e, if thou didst vse it onely to them, that haue wherewyth to satisfye thy appetyte, and [Page] sustayne their owne housholde: But syth I perceyue with myne eyes that thou arte but a raueuing Wolfe, whych desyrest the spoyle of thy Flock [...], I will pay thee presentlye accor­ding to the merytes of thy charitye, whyche being spoken, hee tourneth him towardes them that woulde haue put the Corse into the Graue, to whome he vseth these, or lyke words: For as muche as this Priest beeing a­lyue, woulde not accompanye the deade to the Graue, I wyll that quycke and dead he shall holde hym company vnto the day of the great Resurrectyon, therefore take and bynde hym wyth the Corse, and put them both in tog [...] ­the [...]s, to the end that the presence of the priest, being in this apparell that he is, may make them welcome among the Deuils, when they must passe by the chambers of hel, al the world as I haue said, were so astonyed of the beastly maners and great crueltye of the Duke, that the graue makers obeying his commandmēt, tooke the Prieste and bounde him straightlye face to face, & mouth agaynst mouth, with the carcase of the deade, a cruelty truely extreme great & detestable, although that the vice of the Churchman was worthy of punishmente, but not after this fashyon, nor with deth, as he pu­nished his offence, what should one expecte at his hand [...] that remembreth no other Iustice, then that he fantasyeth in wicked and tyran­nicall [Page] mynde, and what reason should one loke for of him, that detesteth all law, and remem­bereth no goodnesse at all, hauing no law, but his own wyll, nor other mercy then that which endeth with cruell Butchery, hauing no lesse pleasure then Caligula had to see slaughter, ruine, and effusyon of bloud: When the rest of the Clergye saw him intreate the priest of this sorte, fearing that the fury of the Duke would persue all the companye in lyke order, they threw downe the Crosse, the Sprinckle, & ho­ly water Tankarde, and lefte the Tapers, to take their feete, & saue them from the rage of the Tyraunte, who seeing them run out of the Churchyard so afearde, and wythout order, could not hold himself from laughter, although on the other syde, he hearde the dolorous voyce of the myserable Chapleyn, that they were a­bout to put quick into the earth. Alas my Lord (sayeth he) haue compassyon on me vnhappye wyght, that so humblye requyre you of pardon for my fault, and which promyse neuer to of­fend you more, & to recompence the widdowe for the small pittie I shewed vnto her. What arte thou no more bolde (sayeth Iohn Maria, being so vnpittifull) that thou arte afearde of the shadowes of them that floate on the Ryuer of Death, and forgetfulnesse, take thou no care for the Wyddow, I haue already better proui­ded for her, then thou haste for thy affayres. [Page] Therefore calleth hee to the others, that they shoulde dispatch, that the good Synger should not trouble him any more with his prayers, thē all at once they began to laye downe the two bodyes, to couer them with earth, when as the Priest cryed. Alas my Lorde, if you haue no pitty of the bodye, yet haue compassyon of the saluation of the soule, as much as is in your power, and suffer me not to dye, without con­fessing my faultes, before some Minister of God, according to the institution of the church. Go, go, sayth the Duke, thou hadst more neede to appease the Porter of Hell with thy Orati­ons, synce thou canst not get a Priest at thys present, they be all fled away from thee, seeing thee already conuerted into a nightspright, to afray Children in the Churchyarde, and ther­fore thou shalte be put into the earth, with the absolucyon that thou haste, geue him whom thou imbracest, that may serue for the ale­geance of the heape of all thy offences. Wyth such rayling, the inhumayn Prince caused the two bodyes to be cast into the pit, with no lesse abashment of al men, then as a thing that they had neuer seene done before, which thoughte not that the Duke so vnaduysedly, and of such a beastly maner would haue put men to deth, but his lyfe was no lesse detestable, then the lyfe of the Emperour Macryne, who vsed lyke manners, and punished more cruelly then [Page] he did, syth the Prieste was prest and choked, as well by the smell of the dead bodye, as by the earth that was cast vppon him, the graue being verye deepe, whereas the Emperour wythout pyttye, caused such as hee had con­demned, to bee bounde lykewyse to the deade carcases that putrifyed the Ayre, not suffering them to be buryed, but let them so remayne till that eyther by fayntnesse, or stinche of the dead body, and the multitude of Vermyn, they cruelly departed out of this lyfe. Nor more curteous was Maximiniam, who caused such as he hated to be thrust into the empty belly of an Oxe, vnto the head, where they ended their misery by y^• blood that ran out of the beast, but the barbarous tyme, doth excuse these Gallāts that being Panims, and without knowledge of God, which are not so much to be maruailed at, if they did their workes acording to the de­syre of the deuill that was their guyde, who is a murderer from the beginning, but a christy­an Prynce come of a good stocke, broughte vp amongest men of learning, and dwelling in so ciuill a Countrey ought to make the case more straunge, syth that the earth once cryed ven­geaunce to GOD vppon Cayne, for that hee had vyolated the Bright of kynred, in sleaing that iust Abell his Brother, I beleeue that within a little tyme after, Iohn Maria for so pernicious a cryme, was slayne by his owne [Page] Cittizens, and I thinke that in our tyme there be some that haue made sacryfyce of heads, & other members, & who lyke Diomedes haue caused their Horses to eate the bodyes of men. But I beleeue that God will not leaue suche crueltyes vnpunished, although for a whyle he attendeth and is pacyent in his doinges, yet in the end he wil cause thē to feele the strength of his arme, and to feele the inuytable yre of his iust displeasure.

Now to retourne to the matter, the Duke hauing accomplyshed these Tragical, and sor­rowful Funerals, he dispatched sodenly one of his men to the house of the Priest, from whēce he caused all his moueables to be caryed, and giuen to the poore wyddow, the wyfe of hym that was dead, with whome the Priest was companyon in the graue. This last sentence was as iust, as the fyrst was vniust, cruell, and horrible, syth it was good reason that he should be punished in hys goods, that for A­ [...]aryce and desyre of Money, had forgotten hymselfe, and the duety requysyte in a pub­lique man, such a one as is the Pastoure of a Churche, bee not offended, (you that beare the Ecclesyasticall Offyces) of that whyche I haue sayde, but take Example by the myserable ende of one of your estate, thin­king that the persecutions and the euill that God hath sēt you, procedeth of your ambicion, [Page] auaryce, ignorance, and whoredome, I tel you truly, I am sorry for that the aduersarye of the Church suppresseth the good men, & throweth down them that ought to be honored, wheras the foolish, the slow bellyes, the ignorant, & the whoremōgers feele no such scourges, but God which is iust, hath by these meanes called you to repentaunce, because you should acknow­ledge your faultes, and lyue more Godly then the Abbot Guensaldo,The Hy­story of whome is already set forth excel­lently by Mayster Fenton. and this myse­rable Myser, intreated so cruelly by the moste detestable tyraunt that euer was seene in Italy, synce the Lombardes gaue the name to that Lande. (⸫)

¶A Gentleman Myllinois beeing amorous at the very end of his age, for the extreame Ielosy of his Concubyne, was cause of the death of his Sonne and of himselfe, and lastly of the vnhappy ende of the Harlot, whiche was cause of all.

AT the time when the french armies were discouered through­out Italy, for the Conquest of Myllayne, causing all the state of the Venetians to tremble▪ when Lewis the seuenth had brought his affayres in such rea­dynes, that he pitched his Campe euen in the sight of their next Citie, breaking down their walles, and ouerthrowing with the force of his Canons their Towers of defence, that Venis neuer felte any greater, or more migh­tyer force.

The Venetians not knowing howe, or by what meanes to quyet their bondes, and to appease the displeasure of a King, iustly incen­sed agaynste their infydelitie and arrogancie, about that tyme (I saye) there was a Gentle­man Milinois, which for the troubles cōming, doth conuay himselfe to a Castle, that hee had before Monse, as lykewyse did the moste parte of them that coulde not brooke the chaunging [Page] of their Lord, or who (as it might bee) were not able to indure the insolencye, and crueltye of the French Souldyers.

This Gentleman of whome I intreate, was a Wyddower, to whome there was re­mayning onely two chyldren, the one of the Age of seuen or eyghte yeares, the other approaching neare to the age of twentye, the olde man seeing hymselfe wythoute a wyfe, although hee hadde almoste passed the age of threescore yeares, neyther hauing regarde to hys Age, nor to hys approaching death, doeth become amorous of a gyrle, the Daugh­ter of a Messenger, both fayre and well fa­uoured, of whome hee had his pleasure, by the meanes of the onely Father of the Gyrle, which solde her vnto him.

This is a marke very certayne, to bewayle any man, which we see in his age to become a Father, whose youth hath geuen him no sygne thereof, yet thys is moste detestable that Chrystyans beare the iniquitie of Fa­thers and Mothers, so impudente and e­uill, as to sell, prostytute, and corrupte their owne Daughters, and commonly the Ma­iestrates of our tyme wyll see nothing, the Kinges shutte their eyes, they that fayne them selues to be most holy of all the rest, take some Golden gyfte to heare the Chastitye soulde [...]or bargayned sommes, and there is not one [Page] amongest them all, which punisheth this mar­chandyse of bodyes, washed by the bloud of him, that through the pryce of hys lyfe hath re­deemed vs out of the handes of hym, whyche helde vs in bondage, wherefore the Gentiles and Infydels of tyme paste, doe exceede and vanquish vs in Iustice and polliticke do­inges, more right then oures, that they haue thereby attayned the glory of punishing faults whyche we behold, endure, and approue, and as executers therof, do glory and prayse them. Vnhappy surely is y^e world, where vyce beres the name of Iustyce, and Iniquitye is praysed as a vertue, infortunate is the place where such fauoure is shewed to the wicked, that their infamye is sustayned, and approoued by the moste mightye. But the wycked doe not remember at all, that GOD is in Heauen, regarding and beholding the deedes of men, for to doe Iustice one daye, by the strength of his hande, and the inuytable force of his scourges, by whyche (wythout exceptynge of persons) hee indyfferentlye doeth punishe both the faulte of the offender, and of him that fayleth to execute the auctho­ritye, and the sworde that God hath put into his handes. But nowe to retourne to our former matter, thys verye lybydynous and wanton olde man, keeping this Gyrle at bed and boorde in his Castle, lying ordi­narily [Page] with her, and chafeth the cold & vnhap­py fleshe of the vyle Mountayn Satyre, that seketh to contynue that whiche nature doeth deny him, and assayeth to ouercome his own force. The eldest sonne seeing the dishonesty of his father, was sad beyonde all measure, vsing neuerthelesse such a modestye and vertuous dissimulation, because he would not make sor­rowfull his father, that hee shewed a better countenaunce to the Palyarde, then he coulde well, whome he hated to the death, as well for that she was such a one, as for that he knewe she would be the ruine and shortning of the life of the vnhappy olde man, and also for that hee saw her so fonde and vnshamefast, that one mighte easilye iudge by her, she would not re­fuse the intertayning of another Captayne, which might furnish her somewhat better, for the old man doth serue onely for the increasing and prouocation of her sensualitie, without power at anye tyme to contente the immode­rate wantonnesse, that burned within her mynde, and therfore she thinketh to practyse a combate more lustye and of better hope, which she did, because the olde man was not able to suffice her: Ah insaciable desyres, and depth not to be fylled, that is the wantonnesse of an harlot, what detestable euils haue chaunced by these loues, to them that without all shame, haue put all their glory and pleasure in the de­lightes [Page] and flatteryes of the worlde, onely Sampson, Salomon, and Hercules may giue sure testimony. Now this gyrle as we sayd be­fore, feeling the dimissing of the forces of her louer, doth deliberate to pursue another pray, therefore she impudently casteth her lookes on the sonne of the Gentleman, and in becōming Amorous, shee purposeth, if it be possyble, to make him the Liefetenaunt, and ayde of hys Father, and this she doth not for anye curtesy that was hid vnder the Haggard and rustick nature, and bringing vp of the rude countrey, but for that she saw the yong man fayre, well proporcyoned of his members, and for that she iudgeth him apte to performe the Chase, in which his father was able to giue but symple attemptes, sodaynly shee seaseth from her en­terpryse, as do the yong Louers, not experte or able ynough to detayne their pray, by and by agayne, she goeth about to shew him al friend­ship, and familiaritie that she coulde, and often tymes she seeketh hym, fynding him at his boke, where she sheweth euidently the desyres that cause her to pursue him. But the good chyld, neuer thought of such a wickednesse, as well to be chaste of his nature, as for the feare of God, and offending of his father, and for that as yet, hee had neuer bene kyndled wyth loue, nor taken in the trap of worldlye follyes: But the Concubyne perceyuing that shee tra­uayled [Page] in vayn, thinking to make him vnder­stand her desyres by sygnes, doeth deliberate, (as soone as occasyon shoulde be offered) to manyfest it vnto him by worde, which she dyd one day, his Father being gone to see one of his neighboures, and before she would as­saulte the yong man, shee doeth instructe in that myschiefe a Chambermayd her Cosen, to the end that when her perswasyons should fayle, the other myghte supplye her wante, as soone as these eloquente Ieayes hadde prepared themselues, they wente to seeke the Gentleman, whome they founde re­creatyng himselfe in the myddest of a great Chamber, the fayre Forrest Nymphe, assysted wyth the keeper of her bed, began to saye vn­to him. I knowe not syr what to thynke of you, or to make of your doinges, whiche loued and desyred of any, doe not accoumpte it your parte to recompence them with lyke affecti­ons, whyche desyre your acquayntaunce, I thinke surely that you are not so colde, that your hart is not to be attached with any amo­rous passyon, nor I esteeme you so frowarde that if any fayre dame of what state soeuer she were, would geue you power to cōmand, you would be able to abandon and refuse her. To what purpose saye you this? aunswereth h [...], haue you seene in mee any sygne of rudenesse or discourtesye towardes any woman that [Page] lyues? I sweare vnto you that if vnwittingly I haue committed this faulte, for a faulte re­quyres but amendes. She which thoughte to haue holy gayned, and to imbrace him already within her armes, began to weepe verye ten­derly, in saying: Alas syr, I know one y^t would think her the most hapy woman that lyues, if you would amend the wrong which you haue done her, in not making accoumpte of the signes by which she hath assayed to cause you to vnderstande her griefe. I knowe not a woman vnder heauen, (sayeth he) of whom I haue had such acquayntaunce, to know anye signe that shoulde show me her priuie affecti­on: And would you haue her dispayre of that (sayeth she) which she seeth also mistaken, you not willing to see any thing in so playne a thing, and not to perceyue at all wherevnto thinges are offered so openlye to the sences of him that is so vnsensible, that hee can not comprehende the meanes and deuyses of the passyonate, and which tasteth not the vyands purposed to be discouered.

I vnderstande not thys talke (sayeth hee) if you expresse it not otherwyse.

Thys is, then sayeth the Chambermayd that my Cosyn is so amorous of you, that if you haue not pittye of her, she is in daunger to end her lyfe myserablye. Amorous of me, sayeth the chaste yong man, is it possyble that [Page] a daughter of her age, should be so vnshamfast and impudēt, as to solocite the sonne, after she hath bene deflowred by the father. Auaunte you strumpets, loue such as you be, and go ex­cercise your tromperyes with the Deuils, that may furbisse you according to the heates that so molest you, you shew well the place of your byrth, which was neuer otherwyse then infa­mous and beastly, for who is so foolish to think that an euill tree of it selfe can bring forth good or delicious fruite▪ Thinkest thou infamous creature, and vyle Pallyarde, that I will be so wicked, as so vnshamefastly to vyolate the bed of my Lorde and Father, how vnlawfull and cōmon soeuer she be? No, no, I haue I thank God the Heauen before myne eyes, towarde the which when I addresse my sight, I behold one God, which doeth vysyte the iniquities of the wicked, and payeth to euery one according to his Iustice and demerytes, I haue regarde to the reuerence that I owe to my father, for else long agone I woulde haue sente thee to­wardes thy father, which was y^• Butcher, and the infamous Minister of thy chastitie, get thee away then from hence, and talke no more to mee of this, else I assure thee, I shall cause my Father to know it, to the ende that he shall holde no longer in his companye, an infection so contagyous as thou, which arte lyke to bee [Page] the ouerthrow and ruine of all his house: Ha­uing sayde so, the good yong man almoste be­syde himselfe, and greatly abashed, departeth out of the Chamber, leauing the two Flatte­rers as much ashamed and abashed, as he was angry for their impudent request. Nowe this wanton Concubyne loseth not her stomacke, but day by day shee importunately sueth vnto him by her Cosyn: But he remayneth fyrme in his opynyon, and although he had no desyre to reporte it to his Father, yet hee threatneth them so well, that they feared he would doe as he sayd, and therefore they addrest such a trea­son, as you shall heare.

The detestable Palyarde beholding her­selfe so often refused, beginneth by lyttle and little, to conuerte the loue that shee bare to this yong Gentleman, into a fury and deadly hate, and this inraged enemy increased, and tooke such deepe roote in her harte, that she wyth the Chambermayde her Cosyn, doth deuyse the vtter ruine of him, that had so folishly dispysed her, so they consulte togythers, she should com­playne to the Father, that his sonne woulde with force haue vyolated, and taken his plea­sure vpon her, which being thus concluded be­tweene these two abhominable Furyes, was shortly executed. For a certayne tyme after, as sone as the old man was gone to see his lands, lying thereaboutes, these vnhappy women se­ing [Page] him retourne, euen then began to chaunge their vysage, not ceasing to weepe, sygh, and lament, wythout anye will to departe out of the chamber. The infortunate Gentleman aryued, came into the Chamber of hys My­nion, whome he founde all be wept, accompa­nyed wyth her counseller, who for her parte shewed well that it was for some greate mat­ter that they were so sorrowfull. He whyche loued this euill woman more then himselfe, wylling to knowe what thys mente, prayeth her to comforte her selfe, and imbraceth her so gentlely, that the false Crocodile, as con­strayned to doe so, began to weepe more bit­terlye then before, declaring a long Fable that myghte serue to gyue some couloure to her accusation, in the ende she sayth. O would God my Lorde that death had taken me a­waye the hower before yee wente hence, for I would not by any meanes haue bene the oc­casyon of that euill whych I see prepared, in accoumpting to you the truth of that whyche you so much desyre to know, but what wyll it auayle to dissemble that which in the end will manifest it selfe? I am (vnfortunate woman) the me [...]ke [...]y of euery one, & despysed of all, for that I am the pleasure of your age, but is not this ynough if he doe not assay to conuert thys simple sinne into a vyce incestious & execrable? this is your eldest sonne, my Lord; that forget­ting [Page] the honour whych he oweth to your age, to the reuerence wherof he is bound by the po­wer whych you haue ouer him, hath oftētimes requyred me of loue, within this thre months, but what shall I say more. Alas sayth she, w [...] ­ping bytterly, hee hath sponne a fayre webbe, for this morning as soone as you were in the fyeldes, the Rybawde, pardon me syr if so I call him, came hyther wyth such a fury, that I feared hee woulde haue put mee to death, but hee pursued vppon mee a thing more noy­some then Death, so that as hee was in stry­uing to force me, and had done it, my forces so fayled to defende my selfe, if this gyrle had not come by chaunce, the presence of whome cau­sed him to forsake his enterpryse.

The olde man hearing such pittifull newes, remayned so troubled and astonyed, that for a good tyme he spake neuer a worde, then brea­king his sylence, he sayth: And is this possible that he whom I haue more dearely loued then myne owne lyfe, hath so much mistaken hys gentlenesse, that he would dishonour the loue of his father. Ah infortunate chylde, and I a father greatly to be lamented, syth I am tor­mented by myne owne bloud, of whome I thought to haue had some greater ioy▪ then he helde his tongue and sate downe, casting his lokes here & there, with such countenance that a man might iudge the greefe of his mynde to [Page] be more excessyue then his strength was able to suffer, yet sayth he to the Rybawde, I pray thee my friend, tell me the veritie of this fact, to the ende I shall not doe any thing that may hereafter cause me to late to repente. Ah poore and caytyfe woman that I am, sayeth the shamelesse Pallyard, I see well that if this trompery of your sonne, had not bene discoue­red by me, but that by some other it had come to your knowledge, you would haue done such Iustice, that men shoulde haue taken example by me in tyme to come, and nowe syth I haue shewed my selfe so faythfull towardes you, you doubt of my fayth, and esteeme my words for boordes and mockeryes, inquyre you syr of this Gyrle which hath seene all the mysterye, and then doe with me as you shal think good, for I know not well how to liue anye longer here, where men giue such synister intertayn­mēt to them which serue them faythfully. The olde man examyneth the chambermayd, who playde her part better then her Mistresse, and and incenseth the Father so sharpely agaynste the sonne, that he purposeth to punishe him so greeuously, as the lyke hath neuer bene hearde of, rauished then in this extasye of anger, hee speaketh a thousand follies, and was changed into suche a choler, by the impoysoning of the dangerouse venime Ielosy, as one distraught and frantick, and remayned in the chamber a [Page] great space rulling his eyes in whytenesse, grynding his teeth, and saying the dogges pa­ternoster, inraged agaynst him, of whome he thought he had receyued such an vnworthy outrage, which during the tyme that this tem­pest boyled within the stomack of his Ieleous father, lyke as some say there is a tempest vp­pon the Tyrenea mountaynes, all the Canicu­ler dayes, and also in the deepenesse of that Scicilian Ethne: arryued in the house in an vnhappy tyme, for the torment tourned wholy vpon him, the drops whereof did reuerberate vpon the infortunate father, who comming in­to the place where he was, the vapors cause of the outrage of this vnhappy fortune, do pro­uoke him agaynst his sonne, who was talking with an honest Lady, that lodged within the Castle. The Ieleous and inraged olde man fretting with anger, as one pressed and ouer­come with chollor, no lesse then a Bull, com­pelled through famyne or desyre of companye, seeing the yong man, entered into such a fren­sye, that wythout speaking what hee woulde doe, he put his hand to his sworde, comming toward his sonne, he sayth: Ah infamous trai­tour, is it I that must seeke the meanes to a­dresse thy rybaudry? By God this shall be the last instaunt of thy lyfe. The pore infaunt hea­ring the furyous menace of his Father, not knowing whereof the occasyon of his anger [Page] proceeded, sayth vnto him: And wherefore syr are you so out of your modesty? or what is y^• that I haue done agaynst you? syth you are so extreame rygorous agaynst mee, that to my knowledge, haue neuer offended you. The in­senced olde man, became more inflamed by the aunswere of the chyld, saying to him: Ah infamous chylde, canst thou talke so brauely to me for the purgation of thy wickednesse, thou shalt know by & by what I will do, & to what end the iust anger, y^t I haue conceiued against thy impudency and temerity doeth tend? say­ing so, he rusheth vppon the pore infaunt, that moued not, who seing the bloudy sword of his father to be drawn out of the sheath, y^t in steede of thrusting him through, doeth prepare him a more sodayne death, for hee was vppon a little planck, that aunswereth to two lodges, which had no barre at the entring, to stay one by, or to serue for the assura [...]nce of the waye, not re­membring for feare of the blow, the perrillous place where hee stoode, he fell immediatelye from highe to the grounde, and hys euyll fortune was so great, that the fyrst part which touched the earth, doth beare sufficiēt witnesse being broken in peeces, & sheding his bloud vp­on the ground, his head being stroke against a stone sharp in the ende, & fastened in the earth, so with hys strēgth at the same instant, he for­goeth both his soule and hys warme bloud, [Page] which runneth out both at his nose & mouth, the not only cruell father, but enemy of all hu­manitie, not contente to see his sonne humble himselfe, & to debase him before his face, thin­king that the chyld had fallen by his own will into the dytch, sayth: Thou hast well lopen, for I sweare before God, that thou shalte dye in the payne, out of which thou shalte not escape my handes this day. Alas what pitty is it of a man, after he hath wandered out of the limits of reason? Saule once enuyous agaynst Da­uid, ful of the spirite of intelligence, had no rea­son in performing the pursute of one more iust then hymselfe. And by prophane wrytinges, who did mooue Euristius to tormente that subduer of Monsters Hercules? but only wil­ful mallice & inueterate enuy: truely where the sin is not very euidēt, right would that mercy should be preferred before Iustice, & it is more prayse for any Maiestrate, who following the diuine clemency, to pardon thinges not very e­uident, & not so cruelly to excercise the sword of vengeance & rygorous punishment, for it cānot be otherwyse, then y^t he which excerciseth him­selfe in cruelty, shal feele such a torment in hys mynd, that in the end wil cause him to dispaire of his helth, or else to such a sharpe repentance, that the very prick of that opynyon, wyll not cease for the moste parte, wythout accompa­nying a man to hys buryall, so it chaunced [Page] in this tyrannyous old man, who hauing des­cended the steppes, to see the recouery of hym that was altogyther vnsencyble, he behelde a spectakle before him, that caused him to for­get his affection, that he bare to the vnfortu­nate, who had adrest his body thyther, he seing then the mischaunce of his sonne, lying in such poore order, his head burst in peeces, his body dispearced, and yet styrring, was moued wyth such dolour, that he began to forget his Ielosy and to feele suche a remorse in his intrayles, that caused him to detest his fortune, for that he had bene so blynded in his concupisence. Alas, sayeth he, vnhappye Father, darest thou shew thy selfe among any good men, that hast put to death such and so honest a chylde, for the appetyte of so impudent a Pallyarde: Ah my sonne pardon me this offence, for I assure thee that I will make such a solemne amends, that thou shalte haue whereof to content thee, and they whiche suruiue an occasion to vituperate my fury, and syth this my hart (sayeth he, stry­king his brest) most vnhappily hath receyued the pernicious venyme of false perswasyon, whereof thou hast felte the bitternesse, it shall abyde the penitence, and thou my body, shalte serue for the gyfte and last sacrifyce proceding from me, for the apeasing of the shadow of my sonne, towardes whome I will sende my spi­rites, to requyre him of pardon, in the obscure [Page] fieldes of death, and to whome I will sacry­fyce my wicked, infamous, and vnhappy lyfe, which my sonne being dead, shal be more wea­ry vnto me, then that darke voyage, or any o­ther thing that may disquiet mee at al, hauing sayd so, weeping sorrowfully, he imbraceth the body of his sonne, and beholding his sword, he sayeth. But go to then, syth his soule is depar­ted, and his desteny hath taken him awaye, murder him that hath executed murder, in the person of him, whome he ought to loue moste. These wordes ended, mooued wyth a dyuilish dispayre, stamping lyke a Lyon, and pricked forwarde I knowe not of what Furye, as a wylde Bore whetting his Tuskes, after he is hurte by some mischaunce, tourning the mis­chiefe vpon himselfe, in falling on the poynt of the sworde, which passeth through the center of the hart, he tombleth vpon the corpes of his sonne, yet warme and styrring, and so sheding the commō bloud of them two, he rendereth vp his soule to him, to whome hee had so long vo­wed it, by his wicked and impure lyfe. What harte is there that hauing red this, or in ma­king rehearsal, but would bewayle the chance and misfortune of this desperate old mā, who truely had bene excusable in his fury, if the de­uill had not taken away his sences, and forced him by the inormitye of hys vyce, and by the greatnesse of his synnes, to destroye his owne [Page] soule. These be examples that bee set forth for our instruction, to the end that the perrill of an other should induce vs to beseech God that hee woulde delyuer vs from the spirite of obstina­cy, and awake vs out of that dreame, whiche doth blynd our sences, in following the flatte­ring desyres of our concupisence, for otherwise it were great pitty to behold the faults which we commit euery houre. This vnhappye man blynded in his sin, forsaking God, neyther ac­knowledged his Iustice, nor his mercy, experi­mēteth also the fruits of his infidelity, wicked­nesse, & obstynacy, leauing behynd him, the me­mory of his deeds, as wel for the aduertisemēt of al men, as for the imitation, & deterring, not only of the aged, but of all ages, to auoyde the plagues and diuilishnesse of whoredom, which do bewytch and take away the sences of men, the end whereof is death, and punishment in the infernall lake. The newes hereof were dis­perced incontynent throughout al the house, so that the rybawd which had adrest this deuise, hauing heard and seene the whole, mooued by her owne offence, & the witnesse which her mynd did beare of her sinne, fearing she should haue Iustyce, if she dyd not immytate the illu­stryous fact of her detestable louer, so that all afrayd, she runneth to a pit, into which she lea­peth headlong, and wherin shee was mysera­bly drowned, a death truly, althogh it was fu­rious, [Page] yet to good for the punishment of the de­testable mallice of a woman, so wicked as shee was, which merited to haue all the paynes to­gythers, that euer were inuented by men, for the scourge of euil liuers. Thē there was word sent to Milain to y^• Maiestrate, to inform him, who hauing in examinatiō the chamber maid, that was the ayder of the desperate Palyard, made her to confesse all the facte, wherefore she was hāged, and her body giuen to be meat to the foules of the ayre, and no lesse was done to y^e carcases of the two louers, which agaynst all right both deuyne and humayne, had vyo­lently come to their ende, and as for the yong man, he was buryed wyth such pompe, as hys vertue did well deserue, & was bewayled of al estates, for the modesty that did apeare in him, by which he hath semed to immitate the Sci­pions and Fabions, who once liuing with such temperance, haue caused their glorious names to remayne euen to this daye. So always the death of the well lyuer is fortunate, for besides that he passeth to the lyfe, whych hath no end, and goeth to inioy the holy and Godly compa­nye of the blessed soules, hee doeth glorify his memory, by the knowledge that the posteritye haue of his vertue, which is so grauen and im­prynted in the harts of their children, that ney­ther Death nor tyme hath power to deface it. Vppon the Tombe of this yong example [Page] of chastity, some good Poet of that tyme made this Epitaph, which insueth, to show that such as he was, ought to be praysed with such Eg­logs, and not any of them which haue defy­led their lyues wyth a thousande mischiefes.

¶Such is the ende commonly of them that louing vertue, auoyde the contrarye, syth the vycyous can haue no greater hart breach, then to see one that will not bee infected with their unperfection. Marke wherfore all wrytinges are so full of deceites, addrest by the wicked agaynst the good, but to the end the vertuous should know on whome to repose themselues, which is the good God that will not suffer a­ny [Page] of his to perrishe, although for a certayne tyme he semeth to haue forgotten them, wher­on the contrary parte, the wicked doe prosper and flourish as they desyre, vntil the Lord we­ry of their wickednesse, doth so ouerthrow their doinges that they which to fore ap­peared hauty, prowde, and stately, is conuerted into derysyon, and despy­sed, or else so well weakened, that the very tractes scarcely ap­peare.

¶A Mahometan slaue, reuengeth the death of his Lord, vpon his son that was the Homecyde, and rendered the principa­litie, (being chosen of the people) to him, to whome by righte of Lynage, and succession it did appertayne.

ABout the yere of our saluatiō 1494. After that Christopher Colombe, wyth the Nauye of the catholick King, Ferdinand, sonne of Iohn Aragon, did dicouer the West Ilandes, not before discouered, that can bee founde remembered by the wryting of a­ny Hystory, eyther auncyent, or new, Lewys Bartheny Bolognois, as he himself recoump­teth in the ij. Boke of his Nauigations, in coa­sting by this countrey, for that he would haue knowledge of the naturall things, the maner of the liuing of those straunge nations, and al­so to get some profyte in passing by Ethiope, he arested in an Ile, the Capytall town whereof is called, Orme, not distaunte from the forme Lande, aboue twelue myles, where he behelde this pittifull Hystory ensuing, of an execrable sonne, and of his crueltye agaynst his aged fa­ther, and vpon his bretheren, yet in their in­fancy in this citty. Then a little before the sayd Bartheny came thyther, the Soulden there, [Page] was a Lord of the secte of Mahomet, a man very vertuous and gentle for a More and In­fydell, almost an hundered yeares olde, he be­sydes that he was rych in Golde and pearles, syth in that quarter there were found the most exquysyth and fayre Pearles that one shoulde see, esteemeth his age happye, to see himselfe the Father of a leuen sonnes, all lawfullye be­gotten, the yongest wherof, had better fortune by murther, then good chaunce, as you maye see by this which followeth, for the eldest con­trary to the rest, was craftye, subtle, and ma­licyous, & the most dessembling Palyard that was in all the countrey, who studyed wyth himselfe dyuers tymes how to become imperi­ous ouer his bretheren, after the decease of his father. But the Souldan had two bondmen that were of that Land, of that rich & famous Monarch of the Indyans, that mē cal Prester Iean, these two Indian slaues were so well affectioned to the doings of their Lorde, that he had made them as rich, as any of his Vas­sals, and they had so well got the good will of the people by their natyue bounty, & excellente vertue, that euery one doth adorate and prayse them as much, or more as the Prince himself, thus they going about to do good to all men, & to displese none, made no report to y^• Prince, of that which afterwards was cause of the ruine of some of his subiectes, these two by their pru­dence [Page] did keepe sylent the doinges of their am­bicious yong Lorde, not for that the Galland did thereby lose the desyre, to doe that after­wardes, which one would not thinke nor be­leeue, towarde his father, notwithstanding the good intreatmente that the olde man she­wed him, for the nature of y^• wicked is so per­uerse, that the more a man assayeth to obtayn his good will, the more he addresseth his mis­chiefe, and whetteth his teeth in murder, and enuyous for the exployte of his wickednesse, because his harte is so venimous, and full of poyson, that he cannot indure from executing the thing that is contrarye to vertue, by the daungerous infection of his vyces, as verye well appeareth in this ambicious and cruell tyraunt, which could not indure or attende, till Nature had fynished that, wherof she had be­gone to approch, and alreadye to attayne the ende, he purposeth not onely tyrannyouslye to vsurpe the domynyons of his father, but to ex­ecute the most detestable acte vpon him, that a man can eyther thinke or ymagyne, that is, to murder them of whome he had his lyfe, and to fyll his handes with the innocent bloud of his Bretheren, and for the beginning of this Tra­gedy, hee causeth to be imprysoned vnder the tytle of good fayth, his Father, his Mother, and his bretheren, except the yongest, by the ayde and succours of some of the house, as [Page] good as hee himselfe, for truely the boldenesse of the wicked is vanished, as soone as it is ex­cogite, if it want companyons to attayne the ende of his imperfectyon.

Absalon had neuer adrest his force agaynst that Myrrour of pacience, Dauid his father, without the counsell of Achitofell, and wyth­out the ayd of murmurers, that abused the pa­cyent clemencye of the King. But O good God, what enorme and straunge Tragedyes haue euery one sene in the Empire of the East, that is stayned wyth the bloude of Fathers, shead by the Children, and of the lighte of the children, obscured by the handes of their owne mothers? And in our memorye the onely de­syre of raygn, hath caused that at this day, the crueltye of the Vicont Myllinois, shoulde be had in memory, to declare howe many wayes the ambicious do disguyse themselues, to come to the end of their desyres, that I am constrai­ned to say, that our age is so wicked, and so voyde of pittie, that a man shall fynde children that feare not to put to death their fathers by veni [...]e, thinking to couer their wickednesse and greeuous fault, by the meanes they be not bounde by any lawe ordayned for Paracydes, agaynst whom neyther Moyses the fyrst, and great law maker, nor Solon would establishe any law, or make ordynances, assuring them­selues, that it were vnpossyble that the chylde [Page] could be so vnnaturall, as to stayne his handes with the bloud of him, of whose substaunce he hath had his beginning. But to returne to our matter, this wicked sonne being possessed of al thē of this bloud, that he thought could impech the execution of y^t which he had taken in hand, he caused their eyes to be plucked out of their head,A monste­rous and most cruell [...]. without exception of father, Mother, or kyndred, O barbarous acte, & very worthy of the place & countrye, that ingendereth & brin­geth forth nothing but mōsters, he which saw the light by y^t meanes of an other, stoppeth the way to inioy the same receyued goodnesse, to him by whom he had inioyed his. This gallād then, not content with this wicked fact, exten­deth further to accumilate, vyce vpon iniquity, and more & more to set forward their ruine that were almost at an end, for in the chāber where the pore old mā the Souldā his father, accom­panyed with his wyfe, did bewaile his misfor­tune, & torment himselfe for his blyndnesse, the wicked and inraged dog doth thither conduct his .ix. blynded bretheren, that by their euil for­tuno▪ the might more greeue the olde man, and entering with them, he sayth: Make hardly good cheare togythers, for I wil go to prepare that wherof you shal tast, y^• father hearing this incorporate diuel to speake, sayth vnto him: Ah Wolf most cruel, and insatiable of the bloud of thy friendes, what? hast not thou done vylany [Page] ynough to the most vnhappy olde man in this world, without making him so to lament, and to lea [...]e such a memory of thy wickednesse be­fore the eyes of men▪ Fynish murderer, execute thy crueltye, & fulfill the [...]elony of thy hart, go tyrannyously inioy the goods of that house, of which I had made thee (without putting thee to this payn) y^• peaceable possesser, but I hope this shall not be without the great confusyon, and chastisemente of thy detestable lyfe, for God is a iust Iudge, that will neuer leaue vn­punished a treason so great, and a cryme so pernicious. As sone as the father had fynished his words, a mā could not haue hard the noyse of thonder in the chamber, so excessiue was the cry of y^• pore infants, for to perceiue themselues in such mysery, and to heare the iust complaint of their good Lord & father the Souldan, who did comforte their euill as wel as he could, and as wel as his owne misfortune would permit him. But the murderer willing to see an end of his wickednesse begon, (not to gratify him which had desyred him) but fearing as long as his father was in lyfe,The wyc­k [...]d Ty­rauntes, al­wayes in feare, & full of suspicion. the people woulde ryse agaynste him, and go aboute to slea him, or else would chase him out of the Ile, as hee which could not, or myghte not raygne wyth­out the executing of an acte so abhominable, & therfore I say at the same hower, he causeth to be brought a great quantity of wood & fagots, [Page] into the Chamber of the infortunate blynde folkes, and commaunded, that they should bee set on fyre, addressing him to the p [...]yentes, he sayeth: To the ende you may more clearely see to fynde the way into the countrie, whether I wil send you, I haue prepared this light, which may conduct you in steede of a guyde, and as for me (sayth he) laughing it shalbe a clensyng of my sinnes hytherto committed, in making a sacryfyce so cleane, and fayre an Oblation as I will make of you: Hauing sayd so, he caused the fyre to be put to their myserable bodyes, which in the same instaunt, were conuerted in­to Ashes, and hee deliuered from the care to haue any man as he thought, that mighte im­peache his gouernment. But the Tyraunt re­membreth not at all,God the re­uenger of al wrong and iniquitie. that the rewarde of the wicked, is alwayes peased in the equall Bal­launce of Gods Iustice, and that they whiche hope to auoyde the rygour of punishmente by their owne forces, doe fully experimente the vengeaunce of the Lord for their owne wic­kednesse, as afterwards this detestable bloud­sheader did euidentlye perceyue the evetable furye and iust anger of the Almightye for his wickednesse, whose future fortune caused him to forget to murder in his former slaughter, the two Indian slaues, and his yonger brother, which knowing the myserable ende of all his blood, fayleth not to conuaye himselfe into the [Page] Mosque, a place so sacred amongst them, that they thinke it Religion to forbeare to vy [...]late them that retyre thyther, to conserue their lyfe, and to defende them from the seuere rygor of the law, in which place then of their deuotions was this pore chyld, and yong Prynce remay­ning, as the future Reuenger of this tyranny, crying wyth a high voyce, and witho [...]t inter­missyon: O good Lorde, good Lord, beholdest thou not at all, how my Brother hath chaun­ged himselfe into a Dyuell, the Father of all wyckednesse, and hath taken vppon him the manners of the enimy of all humanitye? Alas wylte thou suffer the bloude of my Parentes and Bretheren to be shed innocently and that the sonne shall remayne without vengeaunce▪ Hath not the flame and the smoke stopt and taken away the voyce of them that requyred thee of Iustice, for the greeuousnesse of their torments? Behold, O mighty God, and visyte the synfull lyfe of this Tyraunt, who dispysing thee, hath depryued them of lyfe, by whome thou gauest him his owne in this world; and surely the iust color of the yong Prince, against the furyes of his Brother, had no lesse taken awaye his sences, then was once the chylde wanting his speech, or the sonne of the Lidian Cressus, beholding his father in daunger of death, during the sacke of the Towne, by the great army, and souldyars of the Monarch of [Page] the Meades. But the mesure of the iniquities of this Paracyde, was not yet come to the ful­nesse and ende, which during these things, made the people to vnderstande the death of the murthered, pronouncing moreouer, that if they wente aboute to refuse to obay him, hee knew well how to proceede to compell them. The people seeing him wel accompanyed, and that he was wholy seased of all the fortresses, craftely and wittingly, submitted themselues willingly to his obedience. O Beast of manye heads, thou shewest well that in the foule fan­tasy of such a multitude, reason, equity, or pru­dence, can haue no place, and surely the conty­nuall waues that cause the Seas to ebbe and flow, haue not so many motions and troubles, as the counsel and opinion of a multitude hath deliberations, for there needes but the inter­posityon of one day, and the rest of one nighte, to ouerthrow all that hath bene afore conclu­ded, and all the choyse of opynyons wil be cast to the ground, by the blast of a simple sedition, and folly of the people, the counsell of whome are more gouerned by temeritie, & sodayn mo­tion, then by reason and sage forsight of that which may come after, neyther the constray­ned obedience of this multitude, nor the force of his Souldyors, that were wholy weary of his prowde and cruell Tyranny, nor yet the inexpugnable strength of his fortresses could [Page] impeche that which the diuine prouidence had ordayned for the punishmente of the factes of this wicked creature, who loued better to raygne one Month alone, then a long time af­ter the decease of his father reuerenced of the people, beloued and serued of his bretheren, and not punishable by the iustyce of men, be­holding nor feeling his mynde guiltye before GOD, by the conscience of his owne mis­deeds. Mark how he himselfe made the Net wherein he was intangled, and whetteth the knyfe whereon he myserably ended his lyfe. You haue hearde how the two Indian [...]laues were retourned into their owne houses, after that the fury of this Afrycan Nero, had shed forth his poyson, and that his brother lyued with the Priests of their law, bewayling con­tinually both his Parents and his misfortune to see himselfe so weake and vnfauoured, that he could not reuenge the death of them, that being dead, caused his sorrowfull lyfe, and the absence of whome, made him so vnprofytable in all thinges, and so vnhappy in all his deuy­ses.

The Tyraunt then as it might be, or as it is more true, wearye of hys lyfe, coulde no longer auoyde that whiche the heauens had ordayned for the iuste punishmente of hys vniustyce, and demerytes, delyberatyng now wyth hymselfe, to take away the light [Page] from the eyes of the two aged Indian slaues, which he could not commodyously do, as well for the reuerence that the Souldyers bare to this lincked couple, as for that he knewe they were wel beloued, and cherished of the people, wherfore he purposeth a new treason, to bring his desyre to passe, wythout any slaunder, and without incurring the euill will of the people, and of his great armye, that is, in practisyng the one to be the murtherer of his companyon, and afterwardes to punish y^• murtherer accor­ding to the law, & his deserts, therfore he cau­seth the more ancyent of thē, named Maho­meth, to be called vnto him, who being come to the presence of the Souldā, saith vnto him: It hath pleas [...]d your noble maiesty, my Lord, to cause me to be commaunded to come before you, to whome I am obedient, being here rea­dye to imploye my selfe to any iust acte, wher­in it shall please you to vse my dilligence and loyaltye, which I haue so well shewed, & with such integritye, during the lyfe of the former Souldan your Lorde and father (whome the great Pr [...]phet Mahometh feedeth this daye with delicious Vyands in Heauen) that there i [...] no man which can reproche me in any thing that maye in anye wyse de [...]grate my na [...]ie. That is the onely cause, sayeth the Tyraunte, wherefore I haue caused thee to come before me, assuring my selfe, that thou wilt be no lesse [Page] at my commandement, then thou hast bene o­bedient to the pleasure and wil of my predeces­sor, I will that thou [...]i [...]erstande further, that if thou shall serue me faythfully, in that where­in I will imploy thee, thou shalte not repente thee of the deede, for besydes the pleasure I shall receyue of thy seruyce and indeuour, thou shalte obtayne a Prince so much thy friend, as thou canst or wouldest desyre. My Lord, sayth the slaue, not for any hope of ryches, being so terrestyall a thing, so vayne, and of so small duraunce, I will go aboute to attempte anye thing, neyther to see my self exalted to honours and dignityes, (syth this is the Chayre where­in men are most daungeroas [...]y placed) but you shall beholde me ready prepared to execute all your honest deuyses, onely for the reuerence I owe you, as to my Lorde and Prince, whyche I trust will not commaunde anye thing, that without stayning myne honour, and blemy­shing of my conscience I cannot execute. Then the slaue thought that the Tyraunte woulde haue geuen him in charge, to haue fetched the yong Prince out of the Mosque, to the end, to cause him fe [...]le his crueltye, whiche the good man woulde not haue done for feare of death, nor to haue bene Emperour of all Africa, as he afterwardes sheweth by effecte. Be as it may be (sayth the cruel Souldā) it is that I would haue thee put to death Caime, for so was the o­ther [Page] Slaue called, syth he hath done me such a displeasure, that if I see not his death, my spi­rite cannot liue in rest, or contentment.

Ah my Lorde, sayeth Mahometh, com­maunde me any other thing if it please you, for my harte will not suffer mee to see his death, much lesse to kil him, whome I loue as myne owne lyfe, and wyth whome I haue bene brought vp euen from my byrth, if hee hath done any fault agaynst you Lordship, let hym be accused publiquelye, according to the cu­stome of the countrey, to the ende hee may re­ceyue punishment, according to hys desertes. The Souldan (dissembling his despyte and cholor) aunswereth him very courteously: I am glad that I haue such a seruaunte in my power as thou art, & I thank thee for thy good aduertisement thou hast giuen me, concerning my duty to iustice: Moreouer, think y^t all this that I haue sayd vnto thee, is to no other ende but to assaye thy constancye, and make a profe of thy fydelitye, thou mayest therefore departe when thou shalte thinke it good, and hereafter I will unploye thee in some better thing, and of greater importaunce. The slaue whiche knewe the venyme of the Serpente, and how deadly it was, fayled not after hee was re [...]yred, to garde hymself from the bushments and treasons of the Tyraunt, perswading him selfe that he would assaye that agaynste him, [Page] wherin he had fayled agaynst his companion, and in that his opynyon deceyued him not, for as sone as he was departed from the presence of the Souldan, the Tyraunt inraged and in­venimed, sent to seke Cayme y^• other slaue, vn­to whom he vseth like wordes, as to the first, & perswadeth him so wel, y^t the wycked Moore sweareth vnto him to kyll his companyon, in what sort he could. Behold whervnto the exe­crable mallice of men doth extēd, that through the appetyte of a pernicious Tyraunt, the one friend hath coniured agaynst the lyfe of him, that a little before, had refused to make hym to lose his owne. But alwayes the wicked (what frawde so euer he doth excogitate) fal­leth into the pit, that he hath prepared agaynst him, that doubteth nothing of his treason, and corrupted harte.

This venerable slaue, then hauing the com­mandment of the Souldan, he departeth, m [...] ­ding to murther Mahometh, to gratifye hys Lord, who moued by the couetousnesse of that which the Suborner doth promyse him, & by the obediēce which the subiect oweth to his so­ueraygn, & without thinking what is the na­ture of the tyrant, who pleased with discords, searcheth nothing but to imbrue himselfe with the bloud of his Citizens, and who in the ende excerciseth his cruelty vppon them, that haue bene the ministers of his misdeedes.

[Page] Cayme then without feeling any remor [...]e of Conscience, that might haue withdrawn him from his purpose, came towardes Mahometh his Companyon, who had not so little aduyse­ment, but in his hart he perceiued the matter, & began to doubt of that, which was true, and hee helde himselfe more assured, when as hee behelde the murtherer more nearely, whyche by the couler of his vysage, gaue sufficient ap­parence of an acte not common, that he would commit for all the passions and motions of the spirite I know not howe, by some naturall meanes ar [...] euidently knowne, eyther by the face, voyce, or exteriour gestures, for the face is the porte of the harte, manifesting the will and secrete desyres, that one would assay to keepe secrete, therefore Mahometh adressing him­selfe towardes him, sayth: Ah false murderer, and disloyall traytor, what▪ wilte thou goe a­bout to execute that, whych the Tyraunt hath wickedly commaunded thee, and thou haste lyghtly agreed vnto▪ nowe I wil take such re­uenge of thy Corpes, as I haue bene requyred tofore, that men a long tyme hereafter shall speake of it through all these Ilands. Cayme that knew the humor of his companyon, ad­dresseth himselfe towardes him, as well for that he knew him to be a valyaunt and hardy souldyor, as for that he would not auow anye matter agaynst him, he casteth himselfe at his [Page] feete rendring into his hands his sword, pray­ing him to pardon this faulte, that he had at­tempted, more for feare that the tyrant would haue slayne him, then for any desyre of hurte or euill will that he bare to Mahometh, who aunswereth him. Wherof thy fault proceedeth I am not ignoraunt, but thou couldest not by any thing haue better shewed or more euide [...] ­ly manyfested thy dissoyaltye, whiche if it had taken such deepe roote in my spirite, as thou h [...]st receyued, and taken it▪ into thy periured harte, thou mayest assure thy selfe, that long a­gone thou hadest bene dead, the Tyraunt satis­fyed, and I without a companyon, and as it might haue bene without lyfe, syth this Ty­rant in pursuing the death of the one, desyreth the total ruine of vs both togithers, but it hath pleaseth God that no treason should enter into the mynde of Mahometh, and that he shoulde finish the course of his age without reuenging the death of his Lord, and likewyse the wrong that without his desertes, hath bene purposed agaynst him, therefore Caym go towarde the Souldan, and tell him that thou hast executed that which he commaunded thee, and for the rest let me alone, for I will prouyde such a re­medy, that in tyme to come, the lyfe of the ver­tuous shall be in more assuraunce, then nowe they be in perrill vnder the tyranicall gouern­ment of this Dyuell, whome by Gods help, I [Page] will punish for his wickednesse, and reuenge (with a priuie iniury) the wrong that he hath done to all the inhabitaunts of this Ile.

Cayme hauing escaped from such a daun­ger, promyseth hym to doe all, that it should please him to giue charge, to execute, whyche was to hys great preiudyce, for after that he had tolde the Tyraunt how he had bathed his sworde in the blood of Mahometh his compa­nyon: The Tyraunte full of ease, and con­tentmente began to showe hymselfe verye fa­milyer, then comming chearefully to imbrace him, his comming was no more ioyfull to the pore slaue, then was that of Ioab to the two Princes of the great Hebrue Armyes, Abner, and A [...]asa, syth he holding his lefte arme im­braced and infolden about his necke, taketh into his other a short Dagger, wherewith hee stobbeth the pore slaue so far into the syde, that he tombleth starke dead, at the feete of y^• false and trayterous Lorde. This is the happye ende of the wicked, that cannot at all escape the strength of Gods hande, eyther by the my­nistery of mē, or by the cruelty of wyld beasts, and somtymes by thinges without lyfe or se [...] ­ces, prepared neuerthelesse for the exployte of such punishmente, as once the tree was the [...]ourge of Ab [...]a [...]on, whereon he was hanged by the horsemen, and slayne by the handes of Ioab. But now the Souldan thinking to re­ioyce [Page] himselfe for the death of the two slaues, whom he so much feared, not hauing well put vp his gleue, and returned to his seat: Behold Maho [...] [...]th very well accompanyed, and ar­med at a [...]poyntes, commeth in, at whose ar­ryuall, the moste parte of the Souldyors be­gan to be in a fury, the others laying a way the right of armes rendered them to his mercye, but he which sought the chiefe, made no staye or great accoumpt of them: Thus entring in­to the chamber, where he behelde the stretched Corps of Cayme, and where yet was the Em­perour, with a smal company, who seing Ma­hometh, although hee was surprysed with feare seeing hym in such array, yet making a vertu [...] of necessitye, comming to incounter with him, sayth: Ah Villayne, sonne of a Vil­layne, art thou yet liuing? Yea (sayth Maho­meth) I liue in despight of thy Menaces, and false [...]entions, ready to send thee to all the diuils, to serue for their pray, trusting in God y^t he will geue me strength to reuenge vpon thee (most disloyal of al disloyals) the death of thy innocent parentes, of whome thou haste bene the inhumayne bloodshedder. In saying these wordes, & putting their handes to their▪ wea­pons, they ioyned togythers, and although the Souldan defended himselfe alwayes very [...] brauely, yet the slaue, a man very strōg, braue, [Page] hardy, and always brought vp in warres, and who for his good deede had the ayde and fa­uour of the God of that Coast, acquyteth him­selfe so well, in lesse then an howe [...] at the Tyraunt was able no longer to supporte the strength of the blowes of Mahometh, but in the ende, began to declyne towarde the earth, the slaue by little and little became victoryous setting his shield vpon his throat, to make him to yeelde himself, which being done, he causeth him to be streightly bound, and deliuered vnto the people, who sodaynly rente him into a hun­dred thousand peeces, so that he was not estee­med to be the chyld of a good mother, that had not done some iniury to the car cases of the mi­serable tyraunt. O iust iudgemente of God, he that tofore neuer thoughte himselfe ynough worshipped of his subiectes, is now slayne by their sedicions handes, to the ende that euerye one shoulde euidently perceyue, that goods vn­iustly gotten, alwayes geue the salary of their vniustice to the greedy desyrer, the vyolater of right, and of all religion. After the death of the Souldan, they made dilligent inquisytion of the complicis, and executers of his cruell mur­ders, who being accused and conuicte, were rygorously punished, according to their lawes and ordinances. The people perceyuing them­selues so bound to Mahometh, for that he had beene the deliuerer of all their Countrye, and [Page] the punisher of such an offence, which they dis­sembled by constraynt, gaue vnto him the go­uernment of the Ile, and woulde absolutelye haue inuested him in the seignory. But the sage olde man knowing very wel both the in­constancy of fortune, and the vndurable good will of a multitude, and not ignorant also, that he which vnder the tytle of good fayth, occu­pyeth the goods of another, cannot choose o­therwyse, then ingender the ruine of his suc­cessours, and commonly giue cause of his in­famy and totall dishonor, therfore hauing set the affayres of the Ile in good order, hee cau­seth vpon a day, all the estates of the countrey to be called in counsell, before whome he made this Oration.

There is none of you my good Lords which are ignoraunt,The Ora­tion of Ma­hometh. that I was borne in this your Iland, and much lesse of the blood and race of them which ought to raygne ouer the people, I haue bene brought vp, and nourished as a slaue in the Court of the former Souldan, fa­ther of this wicked parracyde, of whome, and vpon whome, you haue taken condigne ven­geance for his wickednesse, I beseech you re­fer all that which I haue done, or yet shal do, to the honour and obedience of the vertuous deceased Lord, and to the memory of those goods, which I haue receyued of him, and al­so to establish and pacifye the Signory, to the [Page] yongest sonne of hym, who as you know is fu­gitiue in the Mosque, sith the day that his bro­ther the Tyraunt, made the horrible slaughter of them of his blood, I therefore am of thys mynde, if you also shall thinke it good, that the successyon, he being of the right ligne, shoulde be by you rendered vnto him, for I haue not at all purposed to vsurpe anye Lande from the sonne of him, to whose name during my lyfe, I haue borne such honour, as the seruaunte to his mayster, and the Vassall and subiecte to his Lorde. Therefore I resygne and remyt in­to your handes the supremidence, whiche of your good wils you haue giuen me, both ouer you, and ouer the Landes of my Lorde, and your Prince, vnto whome by your meanes, I maye serue to gyue counsell in all his af­fayres, by which if hee will gouerne himselfe, I will assure you, that you shall vnderstande you haue o [...]elye chaunged a man, and not a vertuous and gentle Prince, alwayes than­king you, for the amitye and good affection which you haue borne me, which if God gyue me lyfe, I hope to satisfye, by all kynde of hu­manitie and duety of a good friend, and as an obedyent seruaunt of your commynaltye.

The people abashed of the vertue and con­tinencie of the good olde man, who forsaking the honours vnte which their election had cal­led him, louing better to lyue a pryuate lyfe, [Page] then to enioye a whole countrey, wythout ha­uing iust tytle of possessyon, doe easily accorde to the counsell and sage opynyon of Maho­meth: So the yong Prince was fetched from the Temple, and placed in the seate of his fa­ther, wyth thys condicyon, that hee should haue alwayes the olde man for assystaunte and counceller, and by whose handes shoulde passe all the affayres of importaunce, that might chaunce wythin the Ile.

Beholde a notable and rare example of two great extremities in the vertue of one man, the assuraunce and Magnaminitye to re­uenge a publique iniurye, vpon one that of him selfe was publique, if by his vyce he had not made himselfe more abiect, then the leaste of the common and popular multytude, and the modestye conioyned wyth great reason and foresyghte, to despyse that, where­fore almoste all men at these dayes doe take and adresse, for what occasyon soeuer it bee, the bloody battayles, profayning the sancti­tude of Religyon, peruerting the order of iudgementes, redusyng and rendryng all thinges into wynd, and adnychylatyng the charity that euery one oweth to hys Neigh­boure, for wyth a huge heape of sinnes & cur­ses they a [...]tayn their Lordships, and within a whyle they forget the effusyon of bloud of the good cittizens, & not appeasing the incursyo [...]s [Page] that in the end they ouerthrow themselues, as is the flower by the heate of the Sonne, in his full force, and as was latelye seene in the tyrannous rule of the Myllinois of our tyme, and once in the raygn of the Persians and Greekes, the Monarchie of whome, was lyke a flame, that vanisheth a­way quickly, as did their do­mynyons, after their establishe­ment.

¶The Marques of Ferraria, with­out hauing regarde to fatherly loue, caused his owne Sonne to be beheaded, for that he was found in Adultery with his faire Mother in law, who lykewyse lost her head in Pryson, by his com­maundement.

IN the lyfe of Phillip Vi­cont Duke of Millayne, sonne of Iohn Galeas, he y^• so often made warres against the Florentynes, and their Lyne, then raigning in Fraunce, Charles the seuenth, that good King, which chased the Englishe men out of Normandye, the moste excellente and myghtye Prince, Ni­cholas of East, the thirde Marques of Ferra­ria (he that for his singuler wysdome had bene sente so often as Arbitrator, to determyne the controuersyes, that chaunced amongest the Princes of Italy) made warre agaynste hys owne Cosyn, called Azzo of East, which with the ayde of the Venetians, Floren [...]ynes, and Bolongnoys (although he were a bastard) did chese the sayd Azzo, lawful and iust successour of the Marquisdō, out of Italy, & constrayned him to ende his dayes in exyle, in the Ile of Candy, aunciently called Create, & he because Ferraria was obedyent vnto him, as vnto an [Page] vniust vsurper, doth gouern them so politickly and trayn the people so gently, that neuer any of his predicessors liued more quyetly, he being confyrmed in his estate, espouseth in his fyrste maryage, the daughter of the Lorde Frauncis of Cararya (after y^• Lord of Padue) by whom he had one sonne, which at his christning, was called Hugnes, the bewty & phis [...]omy of whom did promise some future dexterity & excellency in him, this is he of whom I intend most to in­treate, as chiefe cause of the discription of this history, he was surnamed by the pleasure and wil of the Father, the County of Rouigo, and kept with such care, dilligence, & study of them that had the charge ouer him, as did appertain to the Chyld of such a Lord as be, which com­manded ouer Ferraria. Certayne dayes after the birth of this yong Prince, the Marchioues his mother departed this lyfe, to y^• great greefe of her husband, which loued her no lesse, thē his own self▪ & to the displeasure of all his subiects that wholy had tryed such curtesy, gentlnesse, & liberallity to be in her, as whose lyke memorye hath not left ingrauen in the harts of y^• posteri­ty, this yong Prince as he growes in yeres, gi­ueth such testimony of his future vertue, & wis­dome, that a man should fynd a few Lordes of such a raxe in all Italy, that did excell him (so much are they in fault that suffer thēselues to be ouercome) if that fortune had not giuen him [Page] such a foile, as the processe of his yeres did for­bid it in him, whych had giuen such a begin­ning to his honor. But what if the affectyons of men doe ebbe and flow, and neuer continue in one state, as the vnquyet mouing of the sea, it is no otherwyse of the iudgementes and or­dinaunces of God, whereof there is not one left vndone, without coming to the end, ordai­ned by the presence of him, for the ende of the county could not be euil, as euery one thought, by the coniecture of the vertue of his yong yeares, but beholde the ende.

This Marques Nicholas being very yong & lusty, after the death of his wyfe, deliberating with himselfe not to marry agayn beginning so well, as he that had the euill will of none of his neighbours▪ to take his ease, and to passe his tyme in such delightes, that euery nighte he chaungeth his pasture, and continuing his wantonesse, doth his indeuour so wel, that the troupe of his Bastardes were not inferiour in number to them▪ that were begottē by the old Priam of Troy, a litle before y^• Greeks did be­seege it, and to the end that the hystory shal not wāt any thing, which should serue for the suc­ces of that I wil se [...] forth, touching the misfor­tune of y^• county of [...], the sonne of Nico­las. There was remaining to y^• said Marques no other child to succede him lawfully begottē, but Lionel y^• eldest of the B [...]cards, after whō [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] was that famous and renowned Lord Borze, the sonne of a Damsell Senoyis, of the house of Tolomey. This Borze for his vertue, and for that he had done some seruice to the Romayne church, was created and erected in the Duke­dome of Ferraria, by Paule the second of that name, Bishop of Roome, then raigning in France Lewis the leuenth, and Frederick of Austryge, holding the imperiall Crowne, by whome afterwardes the sayde Borze, was proclaymed and made Duke of Rege, and Modena.

But retourning to our purpose, the Mar­ques hauing now long tyme lyued wythoute a lawfull wyfe, was desyred, as it myghte be, of some of his subiectes, to perswade himselfe to [...]emarrye, who practiseth so well, that he ta­keth to Wyfe, the Daughter of the Lorde Charles Maletest, which because hee was puissaunt & of great Lands, might command ouer many Cittyes and Villages of the Mar­ches, and Romaynes, who had the name to be one of the moste braue and sage Captaynes a­mongest all them that professe the Arte of war in Italy in his tyme. A little after the Mar­ques, who although his wyfe were very [...]ew­tifull, yon [...], e [...]elye of seuent [...]n [...] or eyghteene yeare olde, lefte not to haun [...]e lighte women abroade, that it was thoughte hee had taken a wyfe, more to satisfye his friendes, or to couer [Page] his wanton and effemynate will, then for to chasten himself, and to increase and multiplye his rase, which was the cause that God for his punishment sent such a slander into his house, worthy surely to be noted, as well as it is strange & possible, if the memory thereof were not fresh, it woulde seeme after incredible, for the pacience of God is such, that he attendeth the conuersyon of the synner, but seeing hym indurate in his wickednesse, doth punishe hym so sharpely, that the generations ensuing, doe beholde the sharpenesse of the punishmente, and marke wherefore that good Christ, second to none in pacience, doth so dilligently set forth examples, to shewe that there shalbe no sinne lefte vnpunished in the presence of the Lorde, for what greater ruine can come to the house of any Prince, then the dishonour of him, or his? What greater sorrow, thē to see the shed­ding of his owne bloud? and it is alwayes the Iustyce of GOD, to practise that vpon them, whych contynue their disobedience, accumy­late euill vpon euill, and prouoke the Lorde by their wyckednesse, as did this Marques, the wyfe of whome, seeing herselfe so despysed, as shee that presumed ouermuche of her bewtye, could not so greatly command her constancy, nor so well moderate her affections, but that she did complayne her to a Damsell, whome she had brought with her forth of her country, [Page] and whome shee trusted very well, who being one day in the chamber of her mistresse, seeing that in secrete she was sad beyond measure, & that dayly shee waxeth worse & worse, was so bold to say these, or lyke wordes vnto her. Ma­dame, I beseech you think it not strange, if the desyre that I haue to do you seruice, doe make me so bold to demand of you the cause of so so­dayn change y^t I perceyue in you, whiche had wont to be the only solace, of the anguishes & sorrowes of my Lord your father, by your ple­santnes, if perchance there happened vnto him any greefe, & now you do nothing but sorrow, sigh, & complayn: I beseech you Madame, if e­uer I haue done any thing in your seruice, that meriteth recompence, to do me this pleasure, & honor, to tel me y^• occasion of your disquietnes, to the end y^t if this power that is in me, may do any thing for your contētment, I wil imploy it with the life y^t I haue vowed so long time, to be obedient to your commandments. Alas my friend, sayth the Marchiones, I am ashamed, being such a one as I am, so to tormēt my self, beholding me so contēned of my Lord y^• Mar­ques: I assure thee, that if the hope of some al­legeance did not comfort me, thou shouldst be­hold what sacryfyce. I would make of my life to the crueltys of him, that hath made more ac­coumpt of one of these common & despised wo­men, then of me that am his wyfe, & not inferi­our in bewty to any of them. What Madame? [Page] answereth y^• Damsell, haue you no other cause to disquiet your self, then the foolish loue of my Lord the Marques, truly this is a very small occasyon, & a cause more then fryuolous to vex your selfe, lay away al this from you, & assay to liue ioyfully with them that loue & esteme you, attending til time shal cole his ardēt desyres, & cause him change his affectiō, take good heede that he haue no cause of miscōtentment, for to quite him of his passions, apprehensions, & vn­semely companyes, in the meane time, ioy you only of y^• which is yours, not vsing such foly as to stain your honor, by vnlawful acquaintance with any other then of him, which is giuen you for Lord & Espouse, with shortning of your life for suche a foolishe mistrust, proceeding of that euill▪ Ielosy. O God (sayth the Marchyones, all bedewed wyth teares) howe true is that, which euery one speaketh in a common Pro­uerbe: the whole cā easily giue councel to them that be sick: Ah my friend, if you felt the disqui­etues that wil not suffer me to take any rest in my mynd, & the cause of the bitternesse y^• doeth bereue me of my sences, I am assured that ha­uing pittye of me, thou wouldest councell mee of an other sorte, or else helpe to execute that, which shoulde serue for the intyre solace and contentmente of my spirite: the Marques hath led this lyfe a long tyme, and it is vnpos­sible that hee shoulde chaunge, but by death, or extreme age, and in the meane tyme I passe [Page] my tyme in vayn, accompanyed without com­forts, that procures me to ouerpasse the night with teares in steede of rest, and the daye a­gaynst my will, I am merry to contente hym, that shewes me no pleasure, no not that which he oughte by the sacred rightes of those bands which haue cōioyned vs togyther, would God death had takē away my lyfe in the Cradle, to the end that not remayning vnto this present, I should not haue felt of what force is the de­spighte of an honest Ladye, being deceyued by her husbande: Alas, howe happye are they of base condicion, that may wythout great con­sciēce inaculate their blood, that doth redound but to the shame of a fewe: Ah honor and No­billitie, howe tyrannously doe you brydle the Ladyes, that how much the preferment is be­fore men, the estate of all should not be alyke, to the end, that the people should not shadow our brightnesse, more then the re [...]own of the com­mon sorte of men and women, which dye with the memory of their deedes, that are buryed in the same tombe wyth their bodyes, or if the Lawes did as well punishe the disloyaltye of the husband as the symple women, that by a naturall vyce, are sometymes forced to forget themselues, euen till they bee ouercome by the appetytes of the flesh, how ioyfully woulde I reuenge my selfe of the iniury which that per­iured and vnlouing husband hath done to me? [Page] because that euery couple should equallye re­ceyue the payne and punishmente according to their demerites. But after the Lawes were made, they were Tyrauntes ouer vs, the in­quyetors of our rest, and the common Enny­myes of o [...] perfectiō, who did authoryse them without the [...]yde, helpe, or consente, of any of vs: After that she exclaymeth, as one halfe in­raged, saying wyth a voyce that declared the vehemencye of her torment, and the mutacyon of her mynd. But syth I must dye a thousand tymes, if so be I let this pa [...]se without punish­mente, I would he wel knew it, that I intend not to lyue wyth such griefe and sorrow, as he hath geuen me cause a good tyme, and then let chaunce what may, for this is a torment great ynough, as I beleeue, to abyde such a Tyran­ny, and to feele the puissaunte prickes of loue, the better whereof is no lesse to bee wyshed, then death, hauing sayde so, the Marchiones holdeth her tongue, attending the aunswere of the Damsell, who hauing a long tyme be­thought her selfe, aunswereth in this sorte: Madame, as yet I neuer had experyence of what might the force of loue is, and by that meanes I haue neuer felt what is the disdayn and sorrow of them, that perceyue themselues deceyued of him, of whome she oughte to bee the intyre and onely beloued, yet I beleeue ne­uerthelesse, that the passion both of the one and [Page] the other is so great and vnmeasurable, that the surplusage of the alterations that trouble & greeue the spirite, are nothing in respect of this inexplicable distresse. The argument of this, I take of you Madame, the Constaucye of whome is so troubled, by the outrage and fury of Ielosy, that heretofore hath [...]uer giuen suspition of chaunge, or miscontentmente of harte: But O God, I beholde and perceaue the imbecillity of humayn mynds, & how well they are disquyeted of dyuers & vnlawfull de­syres, which take rest no more in the stomack & thoughts▪ then the sea Sandes, instate with a whyrle wynde, in an extreame hote daye. Ah Madame, where is the great Chastity y^• made you once renowned before al the Ladies of I­taly? I beseech you assay to contayn your selfe in that honest reputation wherin hythe [...]to you haue lyued, to the great contente of your Pa­rents & friends. What? if reason haue so little force in you, that you deliberate to followe the vyce of wantonesse, and to search another for the accomplishment of your desyres, then the Marques your husband, by all meanes do the thing so secretly, that the house wherof you are come, receyue no dishonour, and your selfe me­rite infamy & greuous punishment. The Mar­chiones answereth nothing to the sage admo­nition of the wyse Damsel, beginning to think with herselfe, not by what meanes she mighte [Page] wythdraw her husband from the disordered & wanton lyfe that he led, but rather howe shee might reuenge her selfe, and with whome shee might giue him y^• counter change, in punishing him by the same faulte. But reason doeth not extend herselfe to this end, that sinne and ver­tue should be placed alyke, for vertue is the su­perlatiue aboue her, contrary, which is put vn­der her as a subiect, for the instruction of anye that knowes not what is vyce, let him take heede it fall not out other wyse, that if any bee forgetfull of his honesty and voyd of good ma­ners, we by his example, launche not forth and let slip the brydles of our harts after vice, as after some rare and precious thing, and alwayes thys is so well practysed at thys day, that men esteeme Vyce but by the syghte of them that doe it by example. Doeth or maye thys come before the place of Equitye and righte? and meryte no reprehensyon, of this you may well assure your selfe, by the foule deliberation of this wilfull Pryuces, whyche doeth suffer her selfe to bee so blynded by her noughtye and vuruelye appetytes, that doe peruerte the common order and righte of na­ture, which the laws hath constitute amongst men for the reu [...]rence of blood, persons, and ciuill honesty: becommeth extreame amorous of him, whose wanton toyes, oughte more to feare her, then the memorye of Death him­selfe. I haue declared beefore that the [Page] Marques had one onely Sonne by his fyrst wyfe, a goodly Gentleman in perfection, and which during these furies of his faire mother, was attayned to the age of eyghtene or twen­ty yeares, it was he of whom the second Phe­drya became amorous, but this was not hee that deserues to be put in the vertuous Role of Hypolytus, the sonne of the Amasō, in resisting the amorous folly and incest of the Marchyo­nes, happy was that Greeke heyre, for he dyed by the iniust displeasure of his father, whyche was no shame to him at all, hauing lest, in that whiche the other did, that hath giuen sure te­stymony of his loue to vertue and modesty, but the other hath made his vyce and naughty wil knowne to his owne Father, as you maye ea­sily perceyue in the readyng of thys Hystorye, nowe this yong Prynce seeing himselfe inter­tayned very familyarly by his mother in law, that tooke no pleasure, but in the contemplati­on of the bewty and good grace of the county, did neuer thinke that suche disloyaltye coulde lodge in the harte of his fathers wyfe, & there­fore he deuiseth to requyte it her, but with such reuerence as the Chylde oweth to the mother, whych she taketh not for any denyall, hauyng a desyre of a more strayghte familliaritie with him, whych the more she desyreth, the more she is inflamed in her former flames of loue, and doing her dilligence so well, by her owne selfe, [Page] because that the yong man, for that he as yet had not practysed loue, knewe not howe to take heede to her countenances, sygnes, wan­ton lookes, syghes, and vuperfyte words, that to one more sub [...]il, might easily haue discoue­red her passyon, shee forgetting and despysing both her honour and lyfe, (if the Countye had made the reporte thereof to his father) doeth deliberate to discouer vnto him her affections, for, (saying to her selfe) howe shall I cure my aleadged euill, if I keepe it secrete from him, of whome I intende my safetye, is this the way: to deuyse the occasyon of famillyer cur­tesyes, that I doe vnto hym, truely his tender youth doth denye him to see so well, and to know the most difficult humour, which were ynough for a man that perceyueth the deuyses of the mynde, well if hee were so subtle and ex­pert as to perceyue it, yet his shamfastnesse in­termingled wyth feare, woulde let him to at­tempte that, whych I desyre so much, and (as it may be, he will not refuse mee) therefore I will be the fyrst that shall expell this feare and bashefulnesse that so impeach my ioye, syth it is I that haue felte the amorous flames, and suffred the prickes of the sharpe Arrowes of Cupido, I hope that although the enterpryse be great and daungerous, hee will not refuse me, and that if my great bewty cannot mooue him, if my ardent and fine imbracements can­not [Page] kyndle the fyre in hys harte, nor my loue in hys Breaste, yet I knowe well by what Chase and Nettes▪ I muste take hym, then chaunce what maye, if I dye for it, I wyll cause hym to vnderstande by myne owne mouth, (syth imbassage is perillous in a mat­ter of such consequence as this is) that which I suffer for hym, also I wyll desyre hym to remedye my passyon, otherwyse I haue al­ready excogitate the meanes to prouyde for my vnhappy and desperate lyfe, hauing found out this plot in her mynde, the iucestious and vyle woman searching wyth herselfe, by what meanes to execute it▪ Fortune was so fauo­rable, that the fame tyme Phyllip Vycont Duke of Myllayne, sente to fetch the Mar­ques Nicholas, for certayne affayres of great importaunce, for dispatch whereof, he must re­mayne certayne dayes at Myllayne, where­fore the Marques of Ferrarin, hauing addrest his Trayne, taketh his iorney towardes the Duke, of whom he was the Allye, and greatly beloued, which was no displesure to the Mar­chiones his wyfe, for it came very fyt, that her husband being absent, she might practise with the vnwary county, for the accomplishment of her concupiscence, & for to procure hi [...] in tyme to come, to paye the arrerages of the absente Marques, by her deuyse, that were payable, & for that certayne dayes after the departure of [Page] the Marques, the fayre Foole beeing after dinner in her chamber, fantasying the meanes to performe the plot of her desyres, taketh a Lute in hand y^• she causeth to sound so sweete­ly, and with such cunning, that the Damsel her Secretarye, was as one hauing her eares de­pending of the stringes of the instrument, du­ring which the Marchyones made her voyce agre with the sound, singing this that insueth.

THe Song ended, shee begynneth to search her thoughtes more deepelye then before, and sheweth well by her countenaunce that thy [...] was no other thing, then the common passyon that she imagined, that so troubled her thoughts and exte [...] your countenaunce, in the [Page] ende vanquished with the extreame desyre of her pleasure, shee commaundeth the Damsell whome she so greatly trusted, to goe cause the County Hugenes alone to come vnto her, for a matter of great importaunce, & whych shoulde very well content him, to whom the Damsell obeyes, not withoute great suspition of that, which came to passe, for it was shee alone that perceyued the wanton lookes and sighes, sent forth by her Mistresse, when she was amased to beholde the Countye, before whome when the Damsell was come, she sayeth vnto hym: Syr, my Ladye desyres you to come talke a little wyth her, for a thing that appertayneth to you, whome you shall fynde in her chamber attending with good deuotyon, as I beleeue, to communicate vnto you, a thing that hither­to hath not bene knowne, deuysed, or perused by you. The Prince taking no regarde to the wordes of the Messenger, but guyded by hys mishap, goeth to the Chamber of the Marchi­ones: During this, the Damsell that wente to seeke the Countye, knowing well that the in­ormitie of the case that she imagyned, doeth withhold her to goe agayne to her Mistresse, because she would not impeach the ioy of her, whose lyfe she had seene led [...]yth so much sor­row, re [...]yreth into a wardrope, where she (pre­saging the misfortune of the faire couple) being confounded with teares, in the end agreuaded [Page] wyth sorrowe, and set vppon by slumbring, through wearynesse fell on sleepe. Then the County being entered into the Chamber of his fayre mother, she comming towardes him, to receyue him very courteouslye, taketh him by the hand, and causeth him to syt down by her. But when it came to the poynt, that the fayre Lady would haue addrest her trayne, her hart beginnes to leape within her belly, her sences do denye to fulfyll the offyce of the exteryoure members, for her tongue was mute, her eyes deiecte, and her vysage chaunged into suche a Vermillyon, that she would haue abashed the vant corrour of the Sonne, and surely this chaunge was caused of two contraryes, that is to wit, loue, and shame, the one woulde haue her shew forth her greefe, the other direct con­trary, by naturall wyll and inclynation, but in the end, the more vnperfect and lesse puissaunt in the good cause, became victoryous, for the Lady, after she had syghed a good space, with out speaking any worde, wearye of her vndis­creete sylence, as shee thoughte it, in the ende breakyng her sylence, wyth a looke whyche was suffycyente to enter into the depth of hys harte, (suche was her cunning to mooue hym to compassyon) hauing her voyce tremblyng, and euill assured, for the contynuaunce of that whych she felte in her mynde, and sustayning dyuers affections that mooued her spirite, she [Page] tooke the yong Prynce delicately by the fayre hande, saying vnto him: My Lorde, if I had not manye occasyons to addresse my lamenta­tions, and iust complaynts, you may beleeue, if it please you, y^• I am not so vnshamfaste, as to deceyue your eares, and by myne own meanes to manifest before you a thing, that although as it may be, you shal thinke it very straunge, yet it doth touch you so neare, that for the loue which I beare you, that are more deare vn­to me then you thinke, I cannot, nor am able to keepe it from you, for in so doing, I shoulde wilfully betray you, & should doe both against my conscience, and the duty of her towardes you, that holdeth the place wherein I am, I know you are not ignoraunte of the lyfe that the Marques your Father hath ledde, synce the death of her of good memory, your Ladye and mother, and what troupe of Bastardes e­uery one seeth at this day in your house, which if God doe not otherwyse prouyde, shall vse no lesse inhumanitye one day towards you, then your father did once towards his Cosyn, the lawfull inheritour of this countrey, whome he expulsed, & sent in exile into Candy, for I see as well the small account they make of you, as of me, which haue wished a hundered tunes y^• I had neuer come into this country, not only for the greefs that I haue felt, but also for that I forsee the mischiefs that are prepared for you, [Page] if you doe not wysely preuent thē, I neither do nor would haue you think, that I counsell you to fil your hands with the blood & life of him, of whom you had your beginning, but I would haue you vnderstand, that I giue you this ad­uyse, that you open the eye of your intendmēt, to forsee to what end these things may turne, and as for mee, there is nothing in my power, wherwith I will fayle to succour you, sith it is euen you, to say the truth (saith she) imbrasing & kissing him, my deare friend, whom I loue & e­steme more then any man that liues, which if it please you▪ I wil cause you know by experiēce. O would to God y^t the hower of my alyās had succeded after my mind, truely no other should haue inioyd the daughter of y^• Lord Maletest, then the County Hugnes, for when my Lord & Father did intreate with me for the mariage of the Lorde of Ferraria, it was you whome he talked with me of, & not the Marques, God pardon the folly of him, that so fouly deceyued me, syth y^• vnyon of vs two had bene far better denysed, thē with your Father, the age equal, & the cōfyrmity of maners y^• might haue conioy­ned vs with a perpetual band, which now am bound against my wil to him y^• despiseth me, & who it is that loueth & cherisheth y^• mothers of them y^t one day, as it may chance, shall depryue you both of your honour & lyfe, then thinke my Lord what sorrow it should be to me, in that I [Page] had lost the meanes to bee perpetually yours, and consyder what should be my lyfe to come, (louing you as I doe) if I should see the ruine, and destructyon of your estate. Alas, God is my wytnesse, wyth what anguyshe I open these my secretes vnto you, for the desyre that I haue, that you mighte be wholy myne, as I am yours, is so ingrafted in my harte, that on­ly death must make the seperation, in saying so she kysseth and imbraseth him of an other fa­shyon, then a chaste woman doth imbrace her Parentes and familliars, and then she retour­neth to her former purposes, saying: Therfore my Lorde and greatly beloued friend, bee not you the occasyon of the death of her that seketh to increase your honour, and thereby doth ren­der her selfe of a most vnhappy, the fortunates Lady that liues at this day, haue pittie of her which so liberally and prodigallye offereth her selfe vnto you, but if crueltye haue more place in you, then the prayers I make vnto you, and the synguler loue that I beare you, kill, kill, I say (my Lord) thys miserable Lady, the which if you refuse, sha [...]l not cease to execute that vp­on her selfe, whereof you made the refusall, whych will be the occasyon both of your disho­nour, and the losse of the best and moste loyall louer, that yo [...] had in this world.

The County no lesse abashed of the words, then of the wanton imbrasinges of his fayre [Page] mother, was so far besyde himselfe, that with­out aunswering, or hauing power to departe from her, remayned no lesse immoueable, then was once the wyfe of Lot, tourned into a pil­ler, and Rocke of Salte. The Marchyones who was excellent fayre, yong, tender, and de­lycate, and whose lokes were so fyne and gra­cious, that I beleeue, if the most wylfull and abstinent of the Philosophers of former tyme, had felte the temptation of an obiect so fayre and celestyall, they would haue quyte lefte, for­saken, and forgotten, the contemplacyon of na­turall causes, to haue geuen themselues to ex­ecute the very effectes of nature. I thinke al­so if the Daughter of Mynos, had bene of like b [...]wty, good graces, attemptes and intyse­mentes, as was this Lady, I doubt not at al. But that her Hypolite, although he were fro­warde or lunetyque, woulde haue enioyed and cherished her, and lefte Diana, to haue sowne his seedes in the Garden of her, that with such instaunce requyred him of mercy. Thys fayre Temptaresse, then seeing her louer in such alterations, and so surprised with shame­fastenesse, also because he had not showne any semblaunce of displeasure, with any thing she had done, she purposeth to passe further, and to stryke whyles the Yron was who [...]e, to the ende that the yong Prince, during his dyners thoughtes, shoulde not measure with reason [Page] the greatnesse of his misdeedes, & the abhomi­nation of the sin which he committed against his father, in vsing the person of her, in whom the blood of his had bene mingled. Likewise, because he should not discouer the great perrill & danger, wherinto he cast himselfe headlong, in taking the vnhapy counsel of y^• wanton coū ­seller. Therfore she cast her arme ouer y^• necke of the Prince, kissing & imbracing him in suche sort, y^• at the last, the pore County yelded to y^• as­sault, who being once intised by her vnseemely pronocations, & wicked doings, not only fulfil­led y^• which she s on aughtily desyred, but was so inflamed with that rage, & impoysoned with the venim, that loue had spread ouer the cora­ly [...]e cheekes of this new Phedra, that begi [...] ­ning to set apart the duty that he owes to [...] father, and to the honour of the Nuptial bed, the vyolating whereof, hath euer broughte with it the ruyne & dishonour of the violaters, he was so far estraunged from his former mo­destye, that he kisseth the mouth, lippes, [...]yes, as also the whyte & delicate necke of the Mar­chyones, then passing further, he extendeth his hand ouer her two round Dugs, that by their equall and lyke quantitie, cause two little hils eleuate a little aboue the stomacke of the fayre Lady, at the entrye of which, there breatheth a wynde that makes th [...]n fynely▪ ry [...]e and fall, according to the passyons that mooue wythin [Page] the center of her harte, he then beholding hys lyce [...]ce to touch any place of his pleasaunt en­nemy, putteth his hand to the place most desy­red, and in which louers seeke to obtayne the mercy of loue, & then feeling her [...]elly that was round, hard, and more whyte thē the top of the A [...]lpes, after that the wynter had whyted the with frost, she then shrinking away from him, perceyuing that she had ouercome him so fyne­ly, shutteth her eyes, fayning a pleasaunte and no great displeasure, that did well declare her desyres, sayth v [...]to him: Alas my deare friend that cause my death, oh that you would quench this fyre that consumeth my lyfe, and whereof I am [...]ure you feele the quick sparks, at which word [...]s, the Princ [...] was so chafed in his Har­neys, that without vsing his former reu [...]en­ces, he taketh that parte in Musicke, whych he neuer tofore had cryed, and found the ac­cords so sweet, and so correspōdent to his plea­sures, he purposeth to continue thē if in case it should seeme good to his mistresse, which was not so vnplesant, but that hauing found the be­ginning so well done, by the measure and free­dome of hym, shee easilye gaue her consente. Mark and behold here the second Acte of the Tragedy, that thou mayst see, if the ioyes and pleasures of men may be pertual, & if it be not more a doe for the Nobles to keepe secrete their [...]olies, then for the meane sort to manifest [Page] them, and surely they are a great deale sooner espyed in the chiefe of the common weale, then in the members that are more weake, and of lesse puissaunce, for where the heade is troubled, it is vnpossible that the members shoulde not feele some apprehensyon of their mishappe and sorrowe. This is the cause why men intreate alwayes of Prynces, and make so small accoumpte of the doinges of the pleban sorte, the memory of whome vanisheth away so soons as the wynde. But for that these two coulde not well deuyse all thinges themselues, wythout hauing a thyrde person, they intende to imparte their affayres to the Damsell, that was sent to seeke the County, and which doubted of that, whiche they had done togythers. To her then, after the Coun­ty was departed the Chamber, enamoured and inflamed of his louing mother, the Mar­chyones, addres [...]e her wyth a countenaunce more gay, then accustomed, saying: My deare friend, you haue seene in what ease I haue passed my tyme hytherto, and the small ioy I receiued during the presence of the Marques, but GOD hath so prouyded that hee is ab­sent for certayne dayes, to the ende that I should make prouysyon for the tyme to come: of that which I stand in neede of, and by this his absence, might get my selfe that goodnesse which should ende all my euils, I haue chosen [Page] me such a louer as nature cannot shape a more perfect, eyther in bewty, liberallitye, courtesy, or worthynesse, and so n [...]ole, that he is the se­conde in goodnesse to Nobillitie herself, which I imparte vnto you, for that I haue knowne you hytherto both wyse and faythfull, to keepe my secretes in such sort, as they oughte to bee, also you are she that hath heard the communy­cations of my former affections, and the sym­ple obiections, for the apprehēding of my loue, reasō would also, I should manifest vnto you, to what ende all this tendeth, and that whych followeth, trusting onely in your vertue, and honest discretion, that you wyll keepe secrete this facte, as the persons whome it toucheth doe deserue, and as the good and affectionate amitie, whych I haue borne you requyreth. And as she would haue cōtinued her purpose, the Damsell impacyent to be sollicited, sayeth vnto her: Would that God, Madame, had cut of the threade of my yeares, when I fyrst set my foote in this vnhappye house, for by that meanes, I shoulde haue auoyded two euils, wherevnto my misfortune doeth throwe mee headlong, without which I might otherwyse haue lyued, for (all his Daughters whose I am) it shall be a great dishonestye, to vse a ser­uice so vnseemely, both for my age, and estate, and which shall fall out in the ende, consyde­ring the abhomination of the facte, that I [Page] thinke, that I muste see an offence that will cause the totall ruine both of you and him, for whome you addresse this foolish and naughty deuysed aduyse, not for that I am she, whych inte [...]d to defanie you, for death shall be more a­greeable vnto mee, as God shall receyue mee, then to see an accidente so preiudiciall, both to your age and honoure. But alas, the iudge­mentes of GOD are so righte and so equall in the Ballaunce of hys Iustyce, that there is nothyng done there in vayne, I knowe, and GOD seeth, sayth [...]he (fe [...]hing a sygh from the bottome of her har [...]) wyth what anguyshe I lame [...]e this, that the Countye is hee (O GOD the onelye remembraunce makes me blushe in wytnesse) whych is the Liefetenant of the bedde [...] and the incestyous [...]yuall of hys owne Father, it is hee that for your sake, bryngeth vengeaunce vppon hymselfe, and which thinky [...]g to remedye you [...] greefes, hath composed a medi [...]yne so bytter, that the onely smell will cause such an horrour, that hee wyll curse the hower a h [...]dered tymes▪ wherein he began that, whyche as I perceyue, he hath ex­ecuted. Alas, woulde God that I were a false D [...]ynatresse in this? But as for you, Ma­dame, hold you assured of my fayth, by whiche I sweare vnto you, that what torment soeuer shall happen, whether it be sorrowe or death, how ignominyous soeuer it be, shall not force [Page] me to say any thing that may denigrate the ho­nour of my Mistresse, conserued hitherto with so great & good reputatiō. Moreouer Madam, imploy me in what it shall please you, for syth the thing is done; the counsel thereof, is alredy taken, & you shal see by experience & effect, how I am mynded to do you seruyce, in that it shall please you to imploy me. Ah my dere friend, thē sayth y^• Marchyones, how your wordes haue pierced my harte▪ whereby I knowe you haue told me the truth, but what? the force of loue is so great & vehement, that I cannot tell how to withdraw myself now from it, that I thynke my desteny hath done it for my contentment, & also because amongst all the humayn passions, this is it that hath the preference, that cannot be auoided with any forc [...] or study, that one be­stowes, & therfore I des [...]re you to talk no more of this misfortune vnto me, for we wil vse such prouidence, that the most clere sighted shal not know what to think, only ins [...]ruct you y^• Coun­ty of y^t he hath to do, & of the howers at which he may cōmodiou [...]ly come vnto my chamber, it is now in your hands my friend, that you may end both my lyfe & honour, and that yet holde the good or euill Fortune of the Countye, in your power. Thus there passed certayne Monthes, that the two [...]oners reioysed togyther, wythoute any of the Coortyers suspectynge anye thyng, of so detestable a Felonye, and exeerable abhomynacyon, who [Page] although they behelde the courtesyes that the Marchiones shewed to the County, & whom she then intertayned verye familliarlye: But they thought that she did it to please the Mar­ques, to the end that hee should not thinke she hated the children of his fyrst wyfe, and also for that as I sayde before, the County was so honest and curteous, that he rauished the hart of euery one towards him, which did yet con­fyrm the opynyon of the Gentlemen, that this amity of the Lady, towards the yong Prince, was extended onely for the sole vertue & gen­tle nurture of the Countye. But Fortune that cannot forget her Nobillitie, and the heauens angry for an acte so infamous, and an iniurye so detestably committed, both agaynste God, and agaynste the Father and husband of both the offenders, styrred vp a more wyly and sub­tle discouerer of secrete faults, which is Time, who did the offyce of a good Seruaunt, after that by the very foolishnesse of the two louers, their folly was made euydent, they gouerning themselues so vndiscretly togythers, and with so small respecte of persons, tyme, and place, that in the ende blynded in their pleasure, and glutted in their ease, they thought that Tyme woulde alwayes haue bene so fauourable, as she had bene almoste the space of two yeares. Now let alone the Marques of Ferraria, that doubted nothing of the great dishonoure that [Page] his sonne did vnto him, and of the false con­naye of his wyfe, which sent him vnto Corno­uall wythout a Boate. It chanced that a y [...]o­man of the chamber of the myserable County, beganne to suspecte something of that whyche passed betwyxte the two infortunate [...]ong­linges, for he saw ordinarilye that as soone as the Marques was gone anye nighte into the Towne, to vysyte some of hys Concubynes, the Countye fayled not to goe all alone oute of his Chamber, whych was the cause that he as­sured him of his doubte, and therefore purpo­syng to seeke out the truth (beholde the iuste iudgements of God) which seeing the mallice that men haue to commit euill and detestable sinnes, often tymes giueth speech to yong In­fantes, or wysedome vnto Beastes, to publishe it. For this cause hee beginneth to spye all the deedes, countenaunces, actes, and wordes of the Prince: and the enterpryse of the gallant succeeded so well, that after he had be thought of it, beeing in a Wardrope adioyning to the Chamber of the Marchyones, marke the dy­uyn [...] permissyon. The sinne being come to the rypenesse of hys abhominatyon, he espyed by chaunce a small hole in the wall, whyche was iust ouer agaynst the Bed, wherein she lay or­dinarily, by this Creuyse then, the cleare eyed spye, hoped to see that, whych so long tyme he had desyred and imagyned, and as he saw the [Page] enemy of nature before him, he makes a thou­sand sygnes of the crosses▪ with such an abash­ment, that then hee woulde not beleeue, that which he saw euidentlye with his eyes, in the end beholding the thing more merely, and per­ceyuing that he was not deceyued at all, hee sayeth very so [...]tly to himselfe, and by God it shall not be long, before I will also make the Marques to vnderstand it, to the end, he may punish the one of hys foule temeritie, and the other of her great wantonnes, & lasciuious in­contynencye, now he attending oportunitye to cause the Marques to view this pittyous and v [...]ruely Spectacle, behold it chaunsed two or three dayes after, the infortunate Prynce, not doubting the treason, which the yeoman of hys chamber did cōmit, that so sone as he saw hys father gone into the stable to view his Horses, euen then he wēt into the chāber of the Lady, to continue the way begon, within the bed of his Lord & father, but his Argus which slepte not at al, following him by little and little, and hauing seene him enter the listes, returneth to­wards the father, to shew him that, which so long tyme he had desyred, & to make him iudge of the vnfortunate Louers. This Traytor (al­though his fact hath some aparēce of Iustice) arriued before the Marques, saith vnto him, al abashed & astonied for y^t he had sene: My Lord, if time did suffer me to shew and declare one of [Page] the most wicked factes that euer chaunced in Italy, I should cause you to maruayle, and (as it might be) by resyting so straunge a thing, I should make your cheekes to blush, and inrage your hart, so abhominable is the case, but be­cause I would not make you loose y^t discourse, may it please your noble Lordship to come a­lone, whether I will conduct you, & where you shall see with your eyes, that which I cannot commodyously resyte vnto you in order. The Marques which was a mā of a good corage, & desyrous to know rare & strange things, went with the guyde euē to the place, where he saw the act playde, that afterward was the death of the chiefe persōs in the Tragedy, then sayth the spye vnto the Marques, I beseeche you my Lord, to contemplate a little through this cre­uise, what lyfe they leade in your absence, that sith you are present, the disloyalty of thē that be most [...] vnto you, is so euidently shown. The good Marques had no sooner looked through the [...] then he spyed his sonne interlased & [...]foldē about the neck of the Marchiones, and the wantontoyes of the Ladye towardes the County, the Father of whome was so con­stant, that hee attended to what ende these imbrasementes and toyes would [...] come, but when hee sawe the Game woulde redounde to his disaduantage, and to the perpetual infa­mye of hys hoase, with great payne he obser­ued himselfe from being ouercome wyth rage, [Page] and that he had not broke open the dore of the Chamber, vpon the Campe, where were these couple of infortunate Louers, to haue caused them to dye vpon the very fact, alwayes the passyon of his mynde, was so penetrable, that he coulde not by a good space remooue from thence, but remayned there wholy troubled and confused in teares, running downe a­long hys bearde, that now beginneth to waxe white, in the end, euaporating the order of hys harte, he began to say.

Alas, vnhappy olde man, that I nowe shall be, that notwythstanding the flower of thyne Age, arte dishonoured by thyne owne bloud, and the substaunce of thyne entrayles, what is it the onely sonne (amongest them that bee lawfull) which hath vnlawfullye abused thy Spouse? shal I be both the witnesse, Party, and Iudge in this cause? and in executing of this iudgement, that I must needes do both by law and iust displeasure, I shall put to death two persons, that I loue beste in this worlde: No, no the amitie of Maryage sha [...] ende here, towards her, that hath put oute the lighte of my honour, and hath blotted the reputation common to vs both, and the charitye of the fa­ther towardes the sonne, shall lose his force in me, syth the chylde in vsurping the Bed of the Father, hath geuen coniecture of his will, to take awaye the lyfe of hym, of whome he had [Page] his owne, and of whome hee hath stayned the honour. What if once a Romaine Captayne, hath punished, as it might be, to seuerelye hys sonne? in that hee had surpassed his comman­demente, touching a certayne expedition in deedes of Armes, whereof although hee had gloryously attayned the wyshed end of his de­syres, then what shall I doe, beholding my self so vyly betrayed? and so euill dishonoured by him, whyche oughte to bee the reuenger of the cryme, whereof my eyes haue seene the execu­tion, I beseech God that pytty may not moue my harte to pardon him of this fault, or to dis­semble this great and extreme hartebreache, that lyuing, causeth my death, and so reuen­gyng a pryuate iniurye, I shall punish the most abhomynable synne, that a man can thinke. Then for the quyetnesse of my mynde, and ex­ample of Iustyce to the posteritye, my sonne shall dye wyth the vnshamefast loue, whiche was cause of all thys, and by whych meanes I shall depart from my only lawfull begotten sonne, and from my honour, whych is more dere then chyldren, riches, or lyfe. The sorrow­full and inraged father with this deliberation, seekyng to execute his deuyse, his sonne depar­ted into the base Court of the Castle, wythout thinking of the perrill, or ruyne, that hys mys­fortune dyd prepare for him, and their bandes the Ball with the Gentlemē of his age, where [Page] was greater companye of people to see the playe, then were there of long tyme before, for I think, that some coniecture of the future Spectacle had broughte thyther thys route, to the ende that wyth more shame, the County and hys incestyous Louer shoulde be impryso­ned. Also these be the Menaces, wherewyth God threatneth the wycked, that their pryuye sinnes committed in the obscurity of the night, shall be one day punished openly, and to the sighte of all the people, duryng this then, that the vnfortunate Prynce (more braue and ioyfull then accustomed) did contynue hys playe, behold there comes the keeper of the Castle, wyth a good troupe of Archers, wel ap­poynted, he in the presence and hearing of eue­ry one, addressing him to the Countye, sayeth vnto him: O Prince it is nowe full tyme that you make ready your selfe to come before other then these be, where you must aunswere to the coniurations, Fellonyes, conspiracies, & facts, agaynst the person of my Lord the Marques, your Father, by whose commandement, sayth he, putting his hand to his coller, I make and cōstitute you his Prisoner, I am sorry for your misfortune, & more sorrowful that it should bee I that must keepe you in pryson, always trust in your great simplicitie, & likewyse, if it please you, excuse that whych I doe, being constray­ned by him, which hath power both ouer mee, [Page] and you: O extreme force, and rygor of the con­science, which moueste so lyuely the hartes of them, that feele themselues guilty of any fault, that the blast of euery wynd that blowes, & by the wagging of euery lefe that they see moue, they thinke they behold before their eyes a tor­ment, and a contynuall punishment, that wyll neuer suffer them to take any rest, whereof comes the great griefe, and the smal assurance that they haue of themselues, whych are so troubled by the very interyour iudgemente of their owne spirite, that they gyue sure wytnes of that thing, whych (as it might haue chaun­ced) otherwyse had bene in doubte, so the pore Countye seeing himselfe sommoned to go e­spouse and defyle another bed, then that wher­in heretofore he had receiued so much content­ment, fayled not then to thynke of the accro­syng of hys euils, and the small hope that hee might or could haue to be delyuered, therefore halfe attached wyth dispayre, hee sayeth vnto the Prouest. Go forward Captain, whether it shall seeme good vnto you, for of long tyme I haue attended no other intreaty of him, then that whyche I now see prepared for me. No, no, my Lord, sayth the Prouest, haue a good harte, God is able to ayde you, & puissaunt to make euery one to know y^• right of your cause, also my Lorde the Marques wyll doe nothing agaynst you, without the coūsel of y^• most wise [Page] and learned men of his house, whych oughte to cause you to hope of some better hap, then you thinke of, & then he conducteth the Prince into the great Tower of the Castle, which standeth iust agaynst the Porte Delyon. And duryng this tyme, there were some gone in lyke sorte, and by lyke commandment to seeke the Mar­chyones, as they had done the Countye, who then was amongest her Gentlewomen, play­ing this song, as the Prognostication of her misfortune, and the Prophecy of the common Buryall, that vnyted after their death, the exe­cuted body both of her, and the Countye.

AS soone as the poore Lady atchieued the end, the Marshall of the Houshold vsing the same ambassage to her, as before to the Prince, carried her Prisoner vnto another tower, a good space from that, wher­in the Prince was inclosed.

The Marques during this styrre, beholding all the worlde astonyed, to see a thyng of so much maruayle, and a Spectacle so cruell, as the imprysonment of hys sonne, that shoulde one daye suceeede him, and of hys wife, whom he had so derely loued, because men should not accounte hys facte vnlawfull, or cruell Tyran­ny, he procured sylence to be commaunded, and before a great company of his Barrons, and houshold Gentlemen, with a graue Maiesty, that exteryously gaue euident token of his in­teryour greefe: After he had spent an infynite [Page] number of teares, accompanyed with sorrow­full sighes, he began to say: What one amōgst you all, my good and louing friends, can well brooke that, whyche is lately done by mee, both vppon my Sonne, and vpon the Mar­chyoues, for that you know not the true occa­syon, and by that meanes, you esteeme mee an vnkynde husbande, and a Father seuere and cruell, agaynst all right and reason, and would it might please God that your playntes were lawfull, and that I had done wrong in thys, truelye then my deare friendes, I should haue no occasyon to make you partakers of my hea­uynesse, nor of the sheddyng of those teares that you see runne downe along the face of hym, that wythout them, cannot expresse vnto you, the iuste cause of hys dule, and also the greate reason of hys so sodayne cru­eltye, (if it oughte not to be named equitye) that neuer heretofore hath shewed any effecte of hys mallyce, towardes anye man that lyues, if fyrste hee haue not gyuen hym the oc­casyon, for it is no lesse prayse worthye in a Prynce, to gouerne hys people wyth gentle­nesse, equytye, and clemencye, then to punishe the sedicious, and disquyetors of the peace, be­cause that such pacience shewed to one, should not bee the common ruyne of all the whole people. Thys is it, wherevnto he oughte to [Page] extende all hys force, no lesse to chasten the te­merritye of the foolyshe, then to recompence the fydelitie of them, whyche hath serued hym faythfully, shewing all the offyce of obedience towardes their Lordes. What if the law doe inioyne this duety in the Vassall and subiecte▪ towards the naturall and liege Lorde, nature conioyned with the lawe, doe constrayne and more streightly bynde the infants, which owe to their Parents honour, obedience, piety, & al good succours, not only of that whiche is exte­riour, but also of the interyour it selfe, which is the good will and perfect amitye, by which the harte of the Sonne ought to be vnyted wyth the pleasure and wil of the Father. But O im­mortall God, what Father would be so pitti­ous and merciful, that seing the Knyfe of hys sonne vpon his owne throate, and coulde staye him, would suffer him to depryue hym of lyfe? But what? lyfe oughte to be equall to honour, for the atchieuing and attayning whereof, all the noble and gentle myndes haue once despy­ced, and yet do despyse their lyues? Alas my friends, the complaynt which I make before you, is against my sonne & wyfe, the forgetful­nesse of whome, is extended euen vnto the de­facyng of myne honoure, wherin both I, and my predecessors haue passed our age, I wyll bring you no other wytnesse then myne owne eyes, that haue seene one of the moste abhomi­nable [Page] and wicked facts that a man can think, it is that which I cannot speake, withoute an vnmeasurable greefe, and without hanging my countenaunce, for the shame hee hath done me. That is, the County Hugnes hath defyled the nuptiall bed of the Marques of Ferrarya, his Father, and the soueraign Lord of you all, it is he that hath polluted the house, that is counted in the raygne of the moste noble in all Europe, this is he that incestyously hath vy­olated the secretes and pru [...]ties, the entrance whereof, were lawfully permitted to none, but me alone. To whome shall I complayne? and who shall reuenge me of thys iniurye? Alas, my harte breaketh, my sences fayle me, and my forces are weakned, only there remaines a de­syre to do Iustice, not that it might be condign to the abhomination of the faulte, but that I might thereby take awaye this blot from my stocke, and moderate a little the greefe that prickes me, and whiche yet serueth for the re­pentance of them that haue offended the Ma­iesty deuyne so greououslye, that their doyngs haue giuen cause to them that come after, to blase abroade the follye of their youth, and in saying so, his speech fayled him, and ouercome wyth sorrow, and the unpacience of his cholor, he founded in the armes of his Gentlemē, who carryed him into his chamber, greatly abashed of the wickednesse of the two offēders, which [Page] they beleeued, as wel for the reuerences of him that did wytnesse to haue seene it, as for the re­membraunces of the impudent lookes, and las­ciuious toyes of the Marchiones, towardes the Countye, that made them thinke it was she that made the pit, wherein both she and the Countye were intrapped, as sone as the Mar­ques was come to himself, there was no man so bolde that durst say any word vnto him, but depending wholye of the wyll of their Lorde, were of that aduyse, that the processe should be quickly dispatched, and that Iustyce should be done to the two Patientes, as well for their comfortes, as to gyue some contentmente to a Father rightly duspleased agaynste his sonne, and as a husband deadlye hating the Palyar­dyse of his wyfe, towardes whome he sente one of his Counsellers, wyth two good Father Fryers, men well lyked of the people, both for their lyfe and learning, the one to carrye the heauy and sorrowfull newes of his death, and the others to mooue hym to repentance of his synnes, and to pray to God to haue mercye on hys soule. As soone as they were come before the yong Prynce, who seeing the Counceller, and hearing the sentence of his death, hee be­gan to say, weeping very tenderly. Ah vnhap­pye flesh, and fylthye desyres, it is for thy plea­sures that I must dye this daye. O vnhappye wretche that I am, not for that I dye, but be­cause [Page] I am the procurer of his choler, & cause of his dule, & for that I haue set such trouble in his house, as shall not so well, & so sone be for­gotten as I would wysh. Alas my Lord & fa­ther, pardon this detestable offēce of him that hath vsed himself otherwise toward you, then the chyld ought towards y^• father, I cōfesse I am the most myserable, that euer was born of a mother, & the most detestable y^t the Sunne shyneth on this daye. Alas good Lorde, suffer not my soule to be punished, seruing for the pa­sture of that vyle serpent & deuouring Lyon, that doth nothing but go about to deceiue and invyron vs, & cause vs to fall into his lake. O Lord haue mercy, haue mercy on me, & suffer not the bloud of thy sonne to be shed in vayne for me. Alas I must dye, not for the confessing of the fayth, and glorifying of thy name before men, but for my owne wickednesse, & the mul­titude of my demerites, y^t which next after the great wickednesse committed against thy dy­uyne maiesty, doth greeue me most, is the sor­rowe of him that doth, and will redounde to my mischiefe & dishonour. But O my God, I beseech thee to comfort him, & giue me strēgth pacientlye to abyde this infamous & cruell pu­nishment, that I see euen redy before my eyes. The Counseller seeing the repentaunce of the Prince, moued with cōpassyon, begā to wepe, & departed out of the pryson, went to make re­port thereof to the Marques, who aunswered [Page] him, it is not now time to become a good chri­styan, syth he cānot escape the iust vengeance of God, by the mynister of his humain iustyce, and I beseech God that hee will pardon hys synnes, & receyue him amongst the number of his elect: saying so, left of, not able to beare the sorrow which did greeue him, for the remem­braunce of the approching death of his sonne, wherfore it was ordayned that they should be quickly dispatched, one in y^e sight of the other, and this was done, for y^t the Marques would here no admonition, for he heard the sentence was extended as well vppon the Countye, as vpon her, that had made no sute for her lyfe, because she saw they had cōdemned y^e county, then in the end seing she had done the faulte, she appoynteth with her self to receyue death, in as good part as she could, which was giuē to euery of them in their tower, within a my­nute of an houre, not without an infynite nū ­ber of teares shead and besprent, as well by the Marques, which could not dissemble hys affection, as by al thē of his house, that vniuer­sally loued the fayre couple of infortunate Lo­uers, y^• vertue of whom, this vlot except, could well haue no comparison, but a lyttle Leuen, as sayeth the Apostle, doth easyly rayse, season and sower a great peece of dow: likewyse, a vyce so slaunderous, doeth obfuscate all the brightnesse of the former vertues, and impoy­soneth the good sauour of all the forpassed life.

[Page] These two Patients being executed, whylst men were preparing of rych and accustomable Funerals, they were broughte into the base Court of the Pallas, to the ende all the world should see and beholde the cause of their death, that yet renewed the teares and complaynts of men, as well for the one as for the other, be­wayling the one for hys worthynesse, the other for her curtesye, and them both for their great bewtye, and youth, wherein they were, for as yet, the more aged of them, had not attayned the age of two and twenty yeares.

After this the Marques caused to bee prepa­red a rych and sumptuous furnyture for their funerals, and with such pompe as their great­nesse did requyre, their bodyes were broughte to be buryed in the couent of Saynt Frances, and there was erected a Tomb to be the com­mon bed of the bodyes of them, whose hartes had bene surely conioyned togythers, when they were alyue, so these two myserable crea­tures had a small ease, for the induring of so great a punishment, and for all the content­ment and satisfaction of their desyres, they had this only good, that by one kynd of death, they both should ende, and haue their bones enioy one Sepulcure togither. Here it is good to be aduysed, how and wyth what counsels men ought to forsee thinges, and their accur­renses, before they be executed, here maye you [Page] gather also what is the nature and condition of synne, which once ingrafted in the harts of men, spreadeth his rootes so broade, that by great payne it cannot be exterped, but by the disolucyon and death of the subiect, whereby they are cheefe cause of their owne ruyne. A good example certaynelye for the youth of this age, which without aduysement of the daun­gers that the flesh & the Prynce of this worlde doe prepare for them, to their great shame, vse pryuate companye wyth them, that be of their kyndred, wythout aduysemente that the moste sage haue once fayled in these doinges, and haue perpe­trated the thinges that are vnworthy to be thought, and punishable only by death in them that commytte them.