The first Nouell.

IN the Towne of Alancon, in the time of Duke Charles that last deceased, there dwelt an Attour­ney that had married a gentlewo­man of that countrey, more faire than honest; who by reason of her beauty, together with her light­nes, was greatly sought vnto by a religious man, whose name I will conceale, for the reuerence of their state, who to attaine to his desire, entertained her husband so wel, and vsed him so friendly, that being blinded with simplicitie, could not per­ceiue the lewdnes of his wife: but which is more, caused him to forget the affection that hee alwayes had to the seruice of his master and mistris, in such sort, that of a faithful seruant, he became so contrary, that in fine he sought by Coniurati­ons to bring the Dutchesse to her end. This priest liued long time, in that maner with this wicked woman, which obeyed [Page] him more for desire of money than for loue, as also that her husband ceased not to incite her thereunto. But there was a yong man in the said towne of Alancon, sonne to the lieute­nant generall, whom she loued with so great affection, that for his loue she was in a maner halfe beside her wits. Wher­in ofttimes she holp herselfe by the priests means, by sending her husband foorth, whereby hee beeing busied, shee might with better leisure visit the lieutenants sonne. This manner of behauiour continued so long time, that for her profit she en­tained the priest, and for her pleasure receiued the other, vnto whom she sware that al the entertainement she gaue vnto the priest was only by that means freely to vse his companie, and that whatsoeuer passed betweene them yet she saide the priest had obtained naught of her but wordes, and that he might be wel assured, that neuer any man but himselfe should reape o­ther pleasure at her hands. Vpon a day as her husband went to see the priest, she asked him leaue to goe into the countrey, saying that the aire of the citie was somewhat contagious for her: and being at her country house, she wrote vnto the lieue­tenants sonne that he shoulde not faile about ten of the clocke at night to come vnto her, which he failed not to doe: but at the doore he found the maid that vsed to let him in, who spake vnto him and said; Friend, you must now go walke some o­ther way, for your place is taken vp. Hee thinking her hus­band had bin come, asked her the cause: wherewith the poore maide pittying his estate, and perceiuing him to be so fayre, and honest a yong man, and one that loued so wel, and so litle beloued againe, opened her mistris folie vnto him, thinking that when he vnderstoode thereof, hee woulde blame himselfe for louing so constantly. She told him that the priest was but newly come thither, and gone to bed to her mistris, whom at that time she looked not for, in that she had not appointed him to come before the next day; but he hauing busied her husband about his affaires, was secretly come that night to visite her. If any man euer dispaired, assure your selues it was the lieu­tenants sonne, who for that time would scant beleeue it, But [Page] to trie the trueth, he stayed at a house hard by till he sawe the priest come foorth, not so wel disguised but that he knew him better than he would. In which dispayre hee went to Alan­son, whicher, not long time after, his counterfet friend retur­ned, who thinking to abuse him, as she had often done, went to speake with him: but hee saide shee was too holy (hauing touched consecrated things) to speake with him being so mi­serable a sinner as he was, whose repentaunce was so great that he hoped it could soone be pardoned. When she perceiued her wanton life discouered, and that neither excuse, oathe, nor promise neuer to do it againe would aught preuaile, she made complaint vnto the Priest. And hauing consulted with him, went and told her husband, that shee coulde no longer stay in Alanson, because the lieutenants sonne whome shee accoun­ted for her friend▪ sought continually to dishonour her; where­vpon she desired him to giue her leaue to stay at Argenton, thereby to cease suspition: her husband that suffered himselfe to be ruled by her, yeelded to her request. They were not long at Argenton, but this wicked woman sent worde vnto the lieutenants sonne, that shee thought him the wickedest man at that time liuing on earth, and that shee had heard that hee ceased not openly to speake euil of hir and of the priest, for the which she swore she would be reuenged. The yong man that neuer had spoken thereof but to her selfe, and that feared the priests displeasure, with two of his seruants went strait vnto Argenton, and found the woman in the Iacobins Church at euening prayer, where hee went and kneeled downe hard by her, and said vnto her: Gentlewoman, I am come hither to protest vnto you by the liuing God, that I neuer spake to a­ny man of you to your dishonor, but only to your selfe, and yet you haue committed so heynous an offence in my behalfe, as I haue not vsed halfe so many iniurious speeches in your be­halfe as you deserue, for if either man or woman wil affirme that euer they heard it from my mouth, I am come hither be­fore your face to prooue them liers. Shee perceiuing many people to be in the church, and that he was accompanied with [Page] two lusty seruingmen, spake as softly as she could saying vn­to him, she doubted not but he said the truth, & that she coun­ted him too honest to speake euil of any woman in the world, specially of her, being one that loued him wel, but shee saide her husband had some inkling thereof, wherefore she desired him that he would cleare himselfe before him, whereby hee might be thorowly perswaded of her honestie, which hee a­greed vnto; and thinking to bring her home, tooke her by the arme: but she tolde him it was not good for him to goe with her, for if he should, her husband would conceiue that shee had caused him to come. And therewith taking one of his men by the cloke, she said vnto him, let your man goe with mee, and when time serueth, I wil send him to fetch you, meane time goe you vnto your lodging: hee not fearing her conspiracie, went thither, and she being at home made his man that went with her to stay to supper, who demanded of her oftentimes when hee should fetch his maister: she answered hee woulde come time enough. When midnight came, she sent one of her seruants secretly to fetch him, who nothing doubting her pre­tended mischiefe, went boldly to saint Aignans house, where the gentlewoman stayed his seruant, whereby he had but one with him. And when he was at the dore, her seruant told him, that his mistris would faine speake with him before her hus­band, and that she stayed for him in a chamber, only with his owne seruant, saying he should do wel to send his other home, which he presently did: and going vp a paire of darke-staires, the Attourney that had set men to watch in a chamber hard by, hearing the noyse of his feete, asked who went there? and it was told him it was a man that woulde secretely come into his house. With that one Thomas Guerin a common mur­therer, and by the Atturney hyred for the purpose, strooke so many blowes with his sword at the poore young man, that what defence soeuer he made, hee could not saue his life, but was presently slaine. His man that in the meane time was talking with the Gentlewoman, saide vnto her, I thinke I heard my maister on the staires, I will go see. But she made [Page] him stay and said; take you no care he wil come soone enough. But not long after hearing his master say, alas, I am dead, Lord receiue my soule, he said he would go help him: yet shee stil held him saying, doubt not, it is nothing but that my hus­band hath taught him how to leaue his youthful tricks: let vs go see; and looking downe from the staires head, asked her husband what the matter was, saying, what haue you done? who replied, come downe and see. Nowe haue I reuenged you of him that lought you so much shame, & saying so, with a poinyard that he had, thrust ten or twelue blowes into his belly being dead, that liuing hee durst not assaise. After the murther done, and that the dead Gentlemans seruants were both fled, to certifie his father: the saide Aignan knowing it could not be concealed, and that the Gentlemans seruauntes could not be allowed as witnesses in lawe, and that not: anie man in the house had seene it done, but only the murtherers, an old maid, and a yong wench of fifteene yeres old, thought secretly to take the old maid, but she found meanes to escape away, and fled into the Iacobins church, being the surest wit­nesse to prooue the murther. The wench for a time stayed within the house; but he found such meanes, that one of the murtherers inticed her, and he falling in loue with her led her to Paris, and there kept her in the common stewes, by the which meanes she was not a lawful witnesse. And the better to hide the murther, he caused the dead body to be burnt, and the bones that were not consumed, to bee putte into a morter and stamped to pouder: sending in al haste vnto the Court, to aske a pardon, giuing it to vnderstand, that he had oftentimes forbidden his house to a certaine yong man, whom he suspec­ted in his wifes behalfe, who notwithstanding was come thither by night, secretly to speake with her, and finding him at her chamber doore, more filled with rage than reason, had slaine him. But hee coulde not so soone dispatch his letter to the chancellor, but the Duke and the Duchesse by the father of the dead man were certified therof, who to stay his pardon, wrote letters to the contrary. Whereuppon the vnhappy [Page] wretch perceiuing he could by no means obtaine it, fled with his wife, and diuers of his kinred into England: but before his departure he said vnto the murtherer, (who at his request had done the deede) that he had receiued expresse letters from the King to take him, and cause him to be hanged: but in re­spect of the seruice he had done, hee saide hee was content to saue his life, and therewith gaue him tenne crownes to flie out of the realme. Which he presently did, and neuer was seene againe. But the murther was so well prooued and iu­stified, not onely by the seruants of the dead man, but by the maide that saues her selfe in the Iacobins church, as also by the bones found within the morter, that in the absence of the said S. Aignan and his wife, the proces was made and sued against them, whereby they were both condemned by default, and iudged to be hanged, their goods confiseate to the prince, and 1500. crownes giuen to the father of the dead man, for the charge of the sute. Meane time the said S. Aignan being in England, and seeing that by course of law he was condem­ned in France, did so much by his seruice vnto diuers Noble­men, as also by the meanes of his wiues kinsmen, that the King of England wrote vnto the king to grant him pardon, and to restore him to his goodes and credite againe. But the king hauing vnderstoode the heinousnesse of the fact, sent the copie of the proces vnto the king of England, desiring him to looke into it, and to consider whether such a fact deserued par­don; certifying him likewise, that the duke of Alancon one­ly had that priuiledge within his realme, to grant pardons for al faults committed within his Duchie. Al these excuses not­withstanding, the king of England did not content himselfe, but wrote so earnestly therein, that in fine at his request, the Attourney obtained his pardon, and thereby returned into Fraunce. But being at home, the better to accomplish his iniquities, hee acquainted himselfe with a certaine coniurer named Gallery, hoping by his meanes and diuellish art, to be exempted from paying the said fifteene hundred crownes to the dead mans father. Which to effect, hee and his wife [Page] went disguised vnto Paris, where his wife perceiuing her husband with the said Gallery to be so long time shut vp into a chamber, and made not her acquainted with the cause, one morning she watched them, and sawe. Gallery shew her hus­band fiue Images of wood, whereof three had their handes hanging downe, and two held vp their hands, and speaking vnto him said, we must make the like Images in waxe, and they that haue their armes hanging downe, shal be the Ima­ges of such persons as we meane to consume to death, but those that hold them vp, shall be for those of whom we meane to win the fauour. Then the Attourney said, this shal be for the king, of whome I will be loued, and this for Monsieur Brinon Chancellor of Alancon. Gallery said, you must set the Images vnder the alter where masse is vsually said, with certaine wordes, which as then (said he) I wil cause you to pronounce: and speaking of the images that held their armes downe, the Attourney saide, that one of them was for Mai­ster Giles de Mesuil the dead mans father, as knowing wel, that as long as he liued, he would neuer leaue the sute, & one of the images, made for women that had the armes hanging downe shall be (said he) for my Lady the Dutches of Alan­son the kings sister, because she loued her olde seruaunt Don Mesuil so wel, and to the contrary, knew so much of the at­turneys villany, that if she died not he could not liue: and the second image of a woman hauing the armes downeward, hee said was for his wife, as being cause of all his mischiefe, be­ing well assured, she neuer would amend her life. When his wife that saw all this through the key hole of the doore, and vnderstood he placed her among the dead, thought it better to send him thither first: so that making as though shee went to borrow money of her vncle, being maister of Requests vnto the duke, shewed him what she had heard and seene her hus­band do. Her vncle like a trusty old seruitor to the duke went vnto the Chancellor of Alancon▪ aduertising him therof: and because the Duke and the Dutchesse of Alancon were not on that day at the Court, the Chancellor went and tolde it to [Page] the lady Regent the queene mother, and likewise to the Du­chesse, who presently sent for the prouost of Paris called La-Barre, who made such haste, that he tooke the attourney and Gallery his Coniurer, who without [...] or anie con [...]raine confessed their fault. Whereupon their proces being made, was carried to the King, to whome (some of the Court desi­rous to saue their liues) said in their behalfe, that by their in­chantme [...]ts, they sought but only to [...] his fauor, and not to destroy him▪ But the king hauing his sisters life as deere as his owne; commanded that iudgement should bee giuen in as strict a maner as if they had practised his own death. Ne­uerthelesse the Duchesse of Alanson his sister, besought him to saue the Attunies life, and to change his death into some hard and grieuous corporall paine; which was graunted her, so that he and Gallery were sent to Marseills, there to rowe in the galli [...]s of Saint Blanquart, where in they ended their dayes in great captiuitie; and thereby had meanes to confesse and acknowledge the greatnesse of then sinnes: and the wicked woman in the absence of her husband continued in her wickedne [...] more than euer she did before, [...] [...]ie [...] miserably▪

The second Nouel.

THere dwelt in the towne of Ambois a multier that serued the Queene of Nauarre▪ sister to Frauncis the French king, whose wife lay in childbed of a sonne within the Cittie of Blois; whither the s [...]id [...] multier [...] receiue his quarters wages, leauing his wife at Ambois, lodging be­yond the bridges: now he had a seruant that of long time had so desperately loued his wife, that vppon a certaine day hee could not choose but [...] i [...] vnto her: bu [...] she b [...]ing an ho­nest woman, tooke it [...] that [...] reprooued [Page] him, but threatned to cause her husband to beat him, whereby hemener after durst venture to speake vnto her, or once shew any countenaunce thereof, keeping it secret in his heart vntill such time his master was gone abroad, and his mistris in S. Florontines (a church belonging to the castle, and standing farre from thence) at euening prayer. And he being at home without company, it came in his minde to seeke that by force and violence, which by prayer and seruice he could neuer ob­taine, and to that end brake a planke out of the wall, between the chamber of his mistris, and that where he lay, which, be­cause the side of the hed, as wel of his maister and mistris, as of the seruauntes on the other side stoode close vnto the wall, could not be perceiued, whereby his wicked pretence coulde neuer be espied, till vpon a time, she being in bed with a yong wench of eleuen or twelue yeares old, and in her first sleepe, this villaine in his shirt entred through the saide hole into the chamber with his naked sword in his hand: but as soone as she felt him by her, she quickly sprang out of the bed, disswa­ding him by all meanes and exhortations, that possibly an ho­nest woman could deuise; but he that had naught but heastly loue, and better vnderstood in the Mules language, than her honest reasons, shewed himselfe beastilier than those beasts with whome he had long continued: for perceiuing that shee ranne so fast about a table that he could not haue his will, as also that she was so strong, that she had twice loosed her selfe out of his hands, being in dispaire neuer to haue his pleasure while she liued, gaue her a great blowe vpon the reines, thin­king, that if neither feare nor force could make her yeelde, yet paine would doe it: but he found the contrary, for that euen as a good souldier, perceiuing his blood, is therby more mo­ued to reuenge himselfe, and winne his honour, so her chaste heart inforced her much more to runne and flie out of the vil­laines hands, alwaies giuing him the fairest words she could, thinking by such meanes to make him knowe his fault: but to the contrary he was so furious, that by no means he wold be ruled by her good counsel, giuing her diuers other blows, [Page] which to auoyd, she neuer ceased to runne, as long as her legs would hold. But in the end, when with the losse of so much blood she felt her death approach, listing her eies to heauen, and holding vp her hands, she yeelded thanks to God, whom she named her force, her vertue, her patience, and her chasti­tie, beseeching him to accept that bloud (which to obey his commaundement) she then had shead in reuerence of Christ Iesus his sonne, whereby she stedfastly beleeued all her sins to be forgiuen, and saying, Lord receiue the soule that by thy mercie hath freely beene redeemed, she fell with her face vp­on the ground; and being fallen, the wicked villaine gaue her diuers blows; wherwith hauing lost her speech, and strength of body failing, the villaine tooke by force that which shee for want of strength could not defend. And hauing satisfied his filthy lust, fled so hastily, that neuer after (what meanes soe­uer was wrought) he could be found. Meane time the young wench that lay with the Multiers wife, with feare crept vn­der the bed: but perceiuing the man to be gone, came out, and finding her mistris to be without either speech or feeling, shee cried at the window to the neighbors round about for helps, whereat such as loued and liked her well came presently vnto her, bringing Surgeons with them, and found she had recey­ued fiue and twenty deadly wounds vpon hir body, which, as much as in them lay they sought to heale; but all in vaine: neuerthelesse, shee languished without speech in that sort for the space of one whole houre, mooued her handes, and eyes, whereby she shewed not to haue lost her memorie; and being by a priest examined of her faith, shee made thereof such eui­dent signs, as that by word of mouth she could not have done better, shewing that her trust was in the death of Iesus Christ, whom she hoped shortly to behold within his heauenly seate: and so with a cheerefull countenance, her eies looking vp to heauen, she yeelded her chaste body vnto the earth, and her soule vnto the Lord: and being taken vp, and her bodie wownd and set before the doore, staying for company to bring her to her graue, her husband chaunced to come home, where [Page] he espied his dead wife standing at the doore before he knewe thereof: and hauing inquired of the cause, had double reason to be grieued thereat, whereby he fell so sicke, that hardly he escaped death. In this manner that martire of chastitie was buried in saint Florentines Church, whither all the honest wiues within the towne failed not to beare her company, ac­counting themselues most happy to be of such a towne where so vertuous a woman was found: and therewith those that were not so wise, but lighter of behauiour, seeing the honour done vnto that body, determined from that time forwardes to change their wicked liues.

The third Nouell.

BEcause Gentlewomen (saide Saffredant) I have often wished my selfe to be companion in the fortune of him, whereof I meane to speake, I will shew you that in the cittie of Naples in the time of king Alphonsus, whose lasciuious life was his Scepter, there was a Gentleman so honest, faire and curteous, that by reason of his perfections an olde Gen­tleman gaue him his daughter in marriage, that for beautie and good grace was nothing inferior to him, who loued well together, vntill Shrouetide after, that the King in masking went from house to house to sport himselfe, wherein eache man inforced themselues, to honour him as they could: and when he came to the Gentlemans house, he was receiued and entertained much better than else-where, as well with ban­quets, as with musike, and the fairest wife (in his mind) that euer he had seene, who after the banquet was doone, shee and her husband sang a song with so good grace, that it increased her beuty: wherwith the king perceiuing two perfections in [Page] one body, tooke not so much delight in their pleasant voyces, as in deuising how to breake thaccord: but the difficultie he found, was, the great and perfect loue he saw to be in them, which made him heare that: passion in his minde as couertly as he could: but to [...]ase himselfe, he caused certaine banquets to be made, for all the Ladies and Gentlewomen within the Citie of Naples, where the Gentleman and his wife were not forgotten. And because a man is easily induced to be­leeue whatsoeuer he seeth, it seemed the Gentlewomans eies promised him some good fortune, if the husbands presence were no hinderance thereunto: and to proue it, he sent her hus­band for 15. dayes or three weekes on message vnto Rome: who was no sooner gone, but his wife that neuer had bin so long without his company, made exceeding sorrow: but be­ing in his absence often visited by the king, as time and lea­sure serued, both with faire speeches, presents, and with gifts, she was not onely comforted, but well content her hus­band should stay longer: and before the three weekes ended, wherin he should returne, she waxed so amorous of the king, that she was as much grieued at his comming againe, as she had beene sorrowefull for his going. And not to loose the presence of the king, they agreed, that when her husband went into the country, she would make it known to him, who ther­by might assuredly come to her, and so secretly, that the man whome she feared more than her owne conscience, should not he burt: in hope whereof this Gentlewoman was ioyfull, so that at her husbands returne she seemed very glad, who al­though he heard that in his absence, the king had often visited his wife, yet he suspected no ill, but in proces of time, that [...]re so hardly to be couered, beganne by little and little to shew, in such maner, that the husband in thend doubted some deceit, keeping so good watch, that he was therof assured: but by re­son of the feare he had of him, that did him iniury, he made no shew thereof, determining to dissemble, as desiring rather to liue in secret griefe than once to hazard his life for a women that had no loue in her. Neuerthelesse, in that despight hee [Page] thought to yeelde the like vnto the king, if possibly he might: and knowing that oftentimes despight: maketh women doe more than loue, specially such as haue great heartes, and ho­norable mindes, he being in the queenes presence was so bold to say vnto her, that it pittied him to see her not so well belo­ued of the King as shee deserued. Whereunto the Queene that knew the loue the king bare to his wife, answered him, and said, I cannot both haue honor and pleasure at one time, I know I haue the honour, but another reapeth the pleasure, and she that hath my pleasure yet hath she not my honour. He that perceiued ful wel why she vttered that speech, answered her and saide: Madam, your honour proceedes from birth, as being so nobly born, that any degree cannot augment your glory, but your highnesse beutie, grace, and honestie, hath de­serued so much pleasure, that she which taketh that from you that is your due, doth her selfe more wrong than you, for that for a certaine glorie, which turneth to shame, shee looseth as much pleasure as you or any Gentlewoman in this land can haue. An [...] [...] much Madam I wil tell you, that if the king would lay his [...]owne aside, I thinke he should haue smal ad­uantage at my hands to please a woman, being well assured hereof, that to conte [...] so honest a person as your self, it would be better for him that [...] were of my complexion. The queene laughing answered him & said, although the king my husband be of more de [...]icate complexion than your selfe; yet it is the loue he be [...]th m [...] contenteth mee so well, that I preferre the sa [...] before all other thinges. The Gentleman repli­ed and said: [...], if it were so, you would not pittie me, for hereof am I assured, that the honest loue which resteth in your heart would [...] you more conten [...]ment, if it founde the like within the king; but God hath well prouided other­wise, to them that you not finding that in him which you de­sire, you should not vse him for your God on earth. I assure you, said the Queene, the loue I beare him is so great, that in no woman [...] heart but mine the lik [...] is to be found. Pardon me Mada [...] ▪ (said the Gentleman) you haue not yet well tried [Page] the loue of all mens hearts: for this I dare wel say, there is one that loueth you, whose loue is so importable, that yours in his respect is not to be compared; and for that he seeth the kings loue much quenched towards you, his doth so much in crease, that if you like thereof, you shalbe satisfied for all your losses past. The Queene therewith beganne as wel by out­ward gesture, as by wordes, to finde his speech proceeded from his heart: and calling to minde, that of long time her sought to do her seruice, with such affection, that hee wholie seemed melancholy, which shee esteemed because of his bad wife, but as then the stedfastly beleeued it was for the loue of her, as also the vertue of loue, which maketh it selfe felt not being done, assured her of that which no man else could tell: And beholding the Gentleman to be of greater beautie than the king, perceiuing him also cleane cast off by his wife, as she was of the king, being vrged with despite and ielousie of her husband, and mooued with the loue of the Gentleman, with teares ready to droppe out of her eies, sighing shee spake and said, O God! must reuenge of wrong work that in me, which loue could neuer do: Which the Gentleman hearing, answe­red her and said: Madam the reuenge is easie to him, that in place of killing his enemy giueth life to a perfect friend: me thinketh it is time that truth should take from you the foolish loue you beare to him that loueth you not againe; and that the iust and reasonable loue should driue that fear out of your mind, which neuer can remaine within a vertuous hart. Now Madam, let vs lay aside the greatnesse of your state, and con­sider our selues to be the man and wife in this worlde, most mocked and betrayed of those we dearely loued: let vs re­uenge our selues (good Madam) not so much to giue them their desert, as to satisfie the loue which on my behalfe can no longer be forborue, vnles it cost me my life: and this I think if your heart be not hardened more than a Diamond, it is im­possible you should not feele some sparke of fire which increa­seth so much more, as I seeke to couer it, if pity of me, which for your loue stil die, cannot mooue you to loue me, at least, [Page] the loue of your owne selfe should constraine you thereunto, who being so perfect, deserue the hearts of all the honest Gentlemen in the world: being dispised and forsaken of him, for whome you haue disdained all the rest.

The queene hearing these words was therwith in such a transe, that fearing once by countenance to shew hir troubled minde, and leaning on the Gentlemans arme, went into a Garden adioyning to her chamber, where shee walked long before that she could vtter any word, but the gentleman per­ceauing her to be halfe wonne, being at the Allies end where no man could discouer what they did, shewd her by effect the loue he had so long conceald from her, & finding themselues to be of one consent they tooke reuenge in that, whereof the passion seemed intollerable, and there▪ they did agree, that as often as he went into the Countrie, and the King into the Towne, he would not faile to come vnto the Castell to see the Queene, and in that maner deceiuing the deceiuers, they shuld be foure participants of that pleasure which two alone thought onely to inioye: this agreement made, the gentle­man returned home, and the Queene into her Chamber, with such contented mindes, that all their former griefe was cleane consumed, and the feare that each of them might haue of the Kings repaire vnto the gentlwoman, was wholy tur­ned to desire, which caused the gentleman oftener to go (then he had vsed) to his country house, being but halfe a mile from thence. Which the King no sooner knew, but he went to see the gentlewoman: and the gentlman when night came went likewise to the Queene, as lieuetenant to the King so secret­ly, as it neuer could be spied: which life continued long, not­withstanding the King, being no common person, could not so well dissemble his loue, but that the world perceiued it full well, whereby all honest men tooke pitie of the gentle­mans estate in that some bad companions refrained not to mocke and scorne him, which he perceiued wel, where with he was so well content, that he esteemed his hornes as much as the king esteemed his crowne. Who on a time being with [Page] the Gentleman, could not refraine (seeing a harts head nai­led vp in the Gentlemans house) to smile before him, say­ing that such a head became the house ful well. But the gen­tleman in courage not inferior to the King, wrote ouer the head, saying, I beare these hornes as euery one may see, but some do beare them that beleeue it not. And when the king came thither againe, and found the same writing there, he asked the gentleman the meaning thereof, who made him answer: if the kings secret be hidden from the heart, it is no reason why the harts should be declared to the king: but com­tent your selfe (my Lord) said he, that all those which beare hornes go not bare head, for that they are thought, that they vncouer no man, and he beareth them lightest, that thinketh he hath none. The king knew wel by th [...]se words that som­what was discouered, yet neuer suspected the loue between the queene & him: for that the more the queene contented her selfe with the kings behauior, so much the more she seemed discontent, whereby long time they liued in that sort, on all partes, vntill by age they were constrained to leaue.

The fourth Nouell.

THere dwelt in the country of Flaunders a Ladie of such state as better there could not be; a widow of two husbands, by whom she had no children, whereby during her widowhoode shee continued in her brothers house, of whom she was well beloued, he be­ing a great Lord and husband to a kings daughter. This yong prince was much giuen vnto his pleasure, louing hunt­ing pastimes, and company of Ladies, as youth requireth, hauing a wife so troublesome and melancholy, that her hus­bands [Page] pleasures were no delight to her at al: wherefore the said Lord still desired his sisters presence, being a pleasant Gentlewoman, and the best companion that might be found, yet very wise and of great honestie. There was in this great Lordes house a Gentleman, whose port, beautie, and good behauior surpassed al the rest of his companions. This gen­tleman perceiuing his Maisters sister to be a Gentlewoman addicted vnto mirth, and alwayes pleasant, thought to assay, if moouing her with the choice of an honest friend would not offend her: which he did, but found contrary answere to her outward shew: and though her answer was such as became an honest woman, and so great a Princesse, yet perceiuing him to be so faire, and courteous withall, she easily forgaue his bold attempt, shewing by outward countenance not to be displeased with him, in speaking vnto her; telling him neuer­thelesse, that her desire was not that hee shoulde mooue her any more therein: which he promised to obserue, thereby not to loose the honor and contentment he receiued in darke spea­king to her. Neuerthelesse in time his affection so much in­creased, that he cleane forgat his former promise, not that he sought to hazard it by words (as hauing ouermuch, and sore against his wil tried her wise deniall) but thinking if he could find her in some place conuenient, that shee beeing a widow, yong, lusty, and of good complexion, would possibly take pi­tie of them both. Which to effect, he saide vnto his maister, that not far from his house, he shuld find good store of game, and that if it pleased him to goe thither to hunt three or foure stags, in the month of Maie, he should not finde so pleasant sport elsewhere. Which the Lord, as well for the loue hee bare vnto the Gentleman, as for the pleasure he vsually took in hunting, agreed vnto: going vnto his house, which he found, not onely faire, but excellently furnished, as any Gentlemans within that country, where he lodged the lorde and his lady in one chamber, and in an other chamber right ouer against that he placed her whome hee loued better than himselfe. The chamber being so wel hanged with arras, both [Page] round about and ouer head, and so well matted, that it was impossible once to perceiue a trap doore, vnder her bed that went downe into the chamber where his mother lay, beeing an olde Gentlewoman, and somewhat lame, who by reason of her cough, fearing to disease the Princesse that lay in the chamber ouer her, chaunged chambers with her sonne: and euery night after supper this olde Gentlewoman brought comfets into the Princes chamber, whereat the Gentleman was assistant, who being welbeloued, and secret with her bro­ther, was not excluded from her when shee [...]de her readie, or when she went to bed, where stil he found occasion to aug­ment his loue, in such manner, that one night after hee had kept the Princesse waking so long time, that she being slee­pie, caused him to retire, he went into his chamber: and ha­uing put on his brauest and best perfumd shirt he had, with a night coife sutable thereto, it seemed vnto him (in looking on himselfe) that not any Lady in the world could finde in her heart to refuse his loue: wherefore perswading with himselfe a happy successe, he went to bed, wherein he lay not long, by reson of the great desire & hope he had to obtaine a far more honorable successe▪ and hauing sent his seruants forth, he rose to shut the doore, listening if he could heare any stirring in the princes chamber; and being well assured that euery man was at rest, meant to bring his long desired trauaile to effect, by little and little letting downe the trap, which being so well trimmed and lined with cloth, made not any noyse: which be­ing doone, by the same way went into the [...]inces chamber, and to her bed (who as then beganne to sleepe) not once re­membering the promise made vnto her, neither yet respect­ing her high parentage, where without reuerence or once asking leaue he lay downe by her, who soner felt her selfe be­tween his armes, then once perceiued his comming. But she being strong, vnlosed her selfe, and asking what he was, began in such sort to strike, bite, and scratch, that for the feare he had she should cry out he was constrained to couer her mouth, which neuerthelesse he could not doe, so that when [Page] she perceiued he spared not all meanes to force her to his wil, she spared not againe to keep him from it, calling her waiting gentlewoman as loud as possible she could, that slept within her chamber, & an old & vertuous lady as any could be found who in her smocke came strait vnto her mistris. But when the gentleman perceiued himselfe discouered, hee was in so great feare to be knowne vnto the lady, that in as great haste as he could he got down by the trap, and so with as much de­sire and hope as before he had to be receiued, with much more feare and deepe dispaire he was glad to goe away; and tak­ing his glasse in hand, hauing a candle vpon the table, he be­held his face by her all bloody, scratched, and bitten, where­by the blood ranne downe vpon his shirt, in such maner, that it appeared more bloody than wrought with gold. Where­with he said: O beuty, thou now hast wonne thy iust reward, for by thy vaine promise, I haue enterprised a thing impossi­ble, which in lieu of increasing my desire, may be a strong re­doubling of my griefe: being well assured, that if she once do perceiue that contrary to my promise I haue enterprised this folie, I shal not only leese my honestie, but the daily frequen­tation with her, that more than others. I vsually haue hade that which my glory, beuty, & good grace hath wel deserued, I ought not once to couer; but to obtaine her loue, I shoulde not so haue ventured, to force her chaste and princely body, but rather by true seruice, & humble patience attend the time when loue might be victorious, because that without it al the vertues, & forces of man can naught auaile. In which sort he passed the night in tears, sighs & griefs vnpossible to reherse: & in the morning perceiuing his face al mangled, he fained to be sicke, and not able to indure the light til al the company was gone. The Lady that had wonne the victorie, knowing, that not any man in her brothers house, durst once attempt so bad an enterprise, but onely he that had so boldly opened his loue vnto her, perswaded her selfe assuredly it was her hoste: and hauing with her Gentlewoman sought round a­bout the chamber, to see if they coulde finde him: in a great [Page] rage she said, Assure your selfe this is not doont but onelie by the maister of the house; but in the morning I wil so deale with my Lord my brother, that with his head hee shall wit­nesse my chastitie. Which his furie the gentlewoman per­ceiuing, said: Madam, I much reioyce at the great care you haue vnto your honour, which to augment, you woulde not spare the life of him, that by the force of loue hath hazarded himselfe, but oftentimes there are such as seeke to increase it, to the contrary do diminish it: wherefore Madam I beseech you not to disclose the trueth. And when the Princesse had tolde her how it happened, the Gentlewoman said vnto her: Your Ladiship assureth me that he obtained naught of you but blowes and scratches. Of that I assure you said she, and in such manner, that if he found not a good surgeon, I think the markes will easily appeere. Madam, seeing it is so, said the Gentlewoman, mee thinketh you haue more occasion to praise God, than to think on your reuenge: for you may well suppose that, seeing he had so good courage to enterprise such a thing, than the despight he hath receiued in failing thereof, you cannot giue him any death, that would not be much easi­er vnto him. If you desire to be reuenged on him, let loue and shame worke which knowe howe to torment him better than your selfe, and doe it for your honour; beware Madam I say to fall into the like; for that in lie [...] to obtaine the grea­test plesure that he could deuise, he hath receiued the most ex­treme displesure that any gentleman can haue. And you ma­dam, thinking to increase your honor, may thereby diminish it: and by making complaint thereof, make that known, that neuer was knowne before: for by him you may be wel assu­red it neuer shalbe reuealed: and say my Lorde your brother should do that iustice you require, and therby the poore gen­tleman loose his life; yet the common voyce would be, that he had his pleasure of you; and againe men would not sticke to say, It is impossible for a gentleman to enterprise such a thing, vnlesse the Lady haue giuen him great occasion. You are both yong and faire, liuing merrily in companies: there [Page] is not any man in the Court but seeth wel what fauour you shew to him whome you suspect, which will make all men iudge, that if he hath enterprised such a thing, it was not done without some fault committed on your behalfe. And your Honour, which hitherto hath made you hold your head aloft, shall by that meanes be brought in question wheresoeuer it shal be knowne. The Princesse hearing the good reasons al­leadged by her gentlewoman, knew well she saide the truth, and that with good reason shee shoulde bee blamed, conside­ring the priuate and good countenance she had alwayes she­wen vnto the gentleman, asked her what she were best to do, who answered her, and said: madame, seeing it pleaseth you to heare councell, perceiuing from what affection it proceed­eth, me thinkes you should be merry at your hart to see, that the fairest and honestest gentleman that euer I knew, could neither by loue nor force, make you dishonest your selfe. Wherein madame, you ought to thanke God, acknowledge­ing it not to be doone of your selfe, for that many women, leading farre more stricter liues then you, haue been ouer­come and vanquisht by men lesse worthy to be loued then he: and you ought now more then euer to abstaine from hearing any discourses of loue, bicause many there are, which hauing anoyded the first occasion, yet in the second could not resist. Remember good madame, that loue is blind, and blindeth men in such sort, that where men thinke the way to be most sure, there commonly their feet doe soonest slip. And me thinketh madam that you ought neither vnto him nor any o­ther make it knowne, and though he would remember you thereof, yet make you as though you knewe it not, thereby to auoide all dangers that ensue, the one of vaine glory, in re­spect of the victory you haue had, the other in calling thinges to mind that are so pleasant to the flesh, that most chaste per­sons haue much to do to keep themselues from some sparks thereof, although they shunne them as much as in them lieth. And further (Madam) to the end he shall not thinke that he hath hazarded a thing which might content or please you: I [Page] am of this opinion, that by little and little you shal withdraw the good countenaunce you haue vsed towardes him, to the end he may perceiue how much you dislike of that his follie, and how great your goodnes is, in contenting your self with the victory that God hath giuen you, without requiring fur­ther reuenge of him. And I beseech God madam (said she) giue you the grace to continue the honestie hee hath put into your heart; and knowing that all goodnesse commeth from him, you may loue and serue him better than euer you did be­fore. The princesse therewith determined to folow her Gen­tlewomans counsell, and thereupon slept with as quiet and glad a mind, as the gentlman to the contrary waked in great dispaire. The next day the Lord would ride away, and aske for his host, who was certified he was so sicke that hee could not indure to see the light, or speake to any man; whereat the prince was much abashed, and woulde haue seene him, but knowing he tooke his rest, would not disease him, & so with­out bidding him farewell, departed from his house, taking both his wife and his sister with him: who vnderstanding the gentlemans excuse, that would not see the prince, nor yet his company before they went, was well assured it was he that so had troubled her, not daring to shew the marks she had set vpon his face: and although his maister sent often for him, yet would he not returne vnto the Court, before hee had per­fitly healed all his wounds, except that onely which loue and despight had made within his heart. But when he went vnto the prince, and that he found himselfe before his victorious e­nemy, he could not chuse but blush; and he that of all others had bin most aduenturous, was so astonished, that ofttimes in her presence he was abashed, whereby she assured her selfe their suspition to be true, and by litle and litle estranged her­selfe from him, not so couertly, but he perceiued it well, yet durst not be seene therein, fearing to haue worse, and kept his loue within his heart, with the patience of withdrawing it, which he had well deserued.

The fift Nouell.

AT the port of Cullen hard by Nyort, there was a woman that both night and day did continualy beare men ouer the water, wher it happened two friers to passe ouer in her beat, and no other company with them: and for because that it is one of the longest pas­sages in Fraunce, to the ende they might keepe her from wearinesse, they mooued her with loue, wherein she answe­red them as she ought to doe. But they not being wearie of the way, neither yet by reason of the coldnes of the water, a­ny thing a [...]olde, nor at the womans deniall once seemed aba­shed, each of them determined to force her, and if shee cried out, to cast her into the riuer: but she being as wise and suttle as they malicious fooles, spake vnto them, and saide: I am not altogether so vncurteous, as outwardly I shew; but first I would desire you to graunt me two requests, which done, you shall well perceiue that I haue better wil to obey you than you desire. With that the friers swore vnto her by their good S. Frauncis, that whatsoeuer shee asked of them shee should bee sure to obtaine, so they might haue their desires. First then said she, I wil haue you sweare and promise me of your faiths, neuer to make it knowne to any man but your selues, which they willingly yeelded vnto: and then she said that they should take their pleasures one after an other, for that said she I should be much ashamed that any man should looke vpon me while I did it, wherefore saide she, cast lottes betweene you who shal first begin. They saw her requests so reasonable, the yonger frier consented that the elder shuld be first, and aproching neere an Iland she said vnto the yonger, Pray you here in this Iland till I haue carried your fellowe into an other Iland, and if at his returne hee doe like well [Page] of me, we wil leaue him here, and goe to an other place with you. Wherewith the yonger Frier leapt into the Island, staying the returne of his companion, whome the woman brought into another, & being at the shore, making as though she tied the boat, sayde vnto him: Friend, looke what place we were left to go into, wherewith the good father stept into the Island, to finde conuenient place, and he was no sooner on land, but she giuing a thrust with her foote against a tree, made her boate to giue backe into the riuer, leauing the two holy fathers in the Isles, to whom she cried as loud as euer she could, and sayde: Stay there my masters till God sende his holy Angell to comfort you, for of mee, as this day, you get not any thing that may content you. The two poore fri­ers perceiuing her deceit, kneeled downe vpon the shore, de­siring her not to discredite them, promising her, if that shee would cary them to the hauen, they woulde not trouble her: but she rowing on, sayd vnto them: I might well be counted a foole, hauing escaped your hands, to put my selfe into your dangers againe. Which done, returning to y^e village, she cal­led her husband & the officers, desiring them to helpe to take two great deuouring wolues, from whom (by Gods helpe) shee had escaped. They being well accompanied, went thi­ther, for that neither great nor little within the village, but was desirous to bee partaker of that sport. The two poore friers perceiuing so great a company comming to them, hid themselues in the Isles (like Adam from the presence of God) shame setting their sinnes before their eyes, and feare of punishment made them so tremble, that in a maner they were halfe dead. But that kept them not from being taken and led to prison, not without great shouting & crying of the people: some saying, these good fathers preach chastity vn­to vs, yet would defile our wiues: and her husband sayde, they dare not handle money, and yet will handle our womens thighes, which are more dangerous. Others sayd, they are sepulchres all beautified without, and inwardly filled with dead and rotten diseases. And others cried, and sayde, that [Page] by their fruites men might perceiue what trees they were. So that you must beleeue that all the passages which are found to be in the holy Scriptures against hypocrites, were alledged against those poore prisoners, that by the gardiens meanes were succoured and deliuered: who in great haste came thither to fetch them, assuring the officers, that hee would vse greater iustice against thē, then the secular Iudge could do. And to satisfie the partie, he protested they woulde say as many prayers for her as she would desire: whereup­on the Iudge granted him his request, and deliuered him the prisoners, that were so well schooled by the gardien (being an honest man) that neuer after they passed ouer the riuer without making the signe of the holy crosse, and commend­ing themselues to God.

The sixt Nouell.

THere was an olde seruaunt of the chamber to Charles last duke of Alonson, that had lost one of his eies, and was maried to a woman much yonger then himselfe, he being by his master and mistresse as well beloued as any man of his estate could be, whereby he had not meanes to visite his wife so oft as willingly he woulde, which was the cause that she forgot both honour and conscience, and fell in loue with a yong Gentleman, which in fine was so well knowen, that at length her husband was aduertised: which he would not be­leeue, by reason of the great and outward signes of loue his wife did shew vnto him. Neuerthelesse, one day thinking to finde it out, and if he coulde, to be reuenged on him that did him wrong, he fained to goe into the countrey not farre from thence, where he sayde, he must stay at the least two or three dayes. He being gone, his wife sent for her man, but he had not beene with her aboue halfe an houre, when her husbande [Page] came againe, and in great haste knocked at the doore, which the perceiuing, tolde her friend, whereat he was so much a­basht, that hee wisht himselfe in his mothers belly, and curst both her, and loue, that had brought him to that danger: she bade him take no thought, saying she would finde meanes to let him goe without shame or harme, willing him with all speed to make him ready. Meane time the husband knocked still at the doore, and called his wife as loud as euer he could, but she counterfeiting as if she knew him not, sayde vnto her seruant, why doe you not rise, and make them leaue their noise, that knocke and call so hastily at the doore: is this a time of night to come and knocke at honest mens doores? if my husband were here, he would make you leaue. The hus­band hearing his wife speake, called her as loud as he could, and sayd, Wife, open the doore: will you let me stand heere till it be day? And when she saw her friend was ready to go out, opening the doore, she sayde vnto her husband: Oh hus­hand, how glad am I that you are come; for I had a strange dreame, wherewith I was so well pleased, as possible might be, because I dreamt that you had recouered y^e sight of your other eye, and with that imbracing and kissing him, she tooke him by the head, and with one of her handes stopping his good eye, asked him, doe you not see better then you were woont to doe? and while he coulde not see at all, she let her friend go out. Whereof her husband doubted, and sayd: By God wife, I will neuer watch you againe, for that in think­ing to deceiue you, I haue found the finest subtiltie that euer was inuented. God amend you, for it is not in the power of any man liuing, to preuent the malice of a woman, vnlesse he kill her. But seeing the good enterteinment you haue had at any handes, coulde not procure you to amend, it may be, my absence will force you thereunto. Which sayd, he went his way, and left his wife in great discomfort, who by meanes of his kinsemen, friendes excuses, and teares, was of him receiued againe.

The seuenth Nouell.

IN the citie of Paris there was a marchant that loued a mayde that dwelt hard by him, or to say the trueth, better loued of her, then she of him: for that the shew he made to loue her, was but to couer a more honourable & haugh­tie loue then hers. But she that was content to be deceiued, loued him so well, that she had wholly forgotten the maner that women ought to vse, in refusing men. This crafty com­panion, after he had long time taken paines to goe to her, in the end made her so fond, that shee ranne after him: which her mother, being an honest woman, perceiuing, wholly for­bade her the company of that marchant, which if shee obser­ued not, she sayd shee would place her in a religious house. But the daughter that loued the marchant more then shee feared her mother, made more of him then euer she did: and one day being in a chamber alone, the marchant went in, who finding place conuenient, spake as secretly vnto her as possi­bly he might, but a certeine mayd seeing him going in, went and tolde her mother, who in great cholar ranne thither: and when her daughter heard her come, shee wept vnto the mar­chant, and sayd, Alas my loue, now the loue I beare vnto you, shalbe dearely bought, here comes my mother who will surely know y^t which she alwayes feared. The marchant that therwith was not abasht, left her presently, and went to meet her mother, and opening his armes, imbraced her as hard as euer he could, and with the same fury wherewith he vsed the daughter, he threw the poore olde woman vpon a bed, who found that maner of enterteinment to be so strange, that she knew not what to do, but onely to say, what will you haue? what are you madde? but for all that he left not off to handle [Page] her in such sort as if she had beene the fairest mayde in all the world: and had it not beene that shee cried so loud, that both her men and mayds came in to helpe, she had past the same way which she so much feared for her daughter. Wherefore by maine strength they tooke the poore olde woman out of the marchants armes, without once knowing, nor yet could euer know, the cause wherefore he vsed her so. Meane time her daughter got into another house, wherein there was a wedding, which time the marchant and shee did often call to minde, and laughed thereat, but to the olde wiues cost, that neuer could perceiue it.

The eight Nouell.

IN the countie of Aller, there was a man called Bornet, that had married an honest woman, whose credit and reputation he loued, as all the husbands that are heere in place (as I thinke) do, and although he desired his wife shoulde be faithfull vnto him, yet hee woulde not that the lawe (in that case) shoulde be equall to them both: for that hee became a­morous of his mayde, in which exchange he feared nothing, but that diuersitie of meats would not please him. He had a neighbour, of one condition, named Sandras, both a Drum maker and a Taylor, betweene whom there was so great fa­miliaritie, that their wiues onely excepted, their goods were in a manner common: whereupon hee shewed his friend the enterprise he meant to make vpon his mayde, who not onely liked it well, but to his power holpe to bring it to passe, ho­ping to haue some share therein. The mayd that would not consent thereto, perceiuing her selfe so hardly followed, [Page] shewed to her mistresse, desiring her to giue her leaue to goe vnto her friends, saying she could not liue in that sort. The mistresse that loued her husband well, whom she did suspect, being very glad to haue occasion thereby iustly to charge him, sayd vnto her mayde, content your selfe, and holde my husband with faire words, and in the end appoint him to lie with you, but faile not at any hand to tell me certeinly the night when the same shall be, and take heede that no man knowes it. The mayd did as her mistresse had commanded, which pleased her master so well, that hee went to tell his friend, who desired him, that seeing he had bene a partner in making the match, he might likewise haue some part of that he left. The promise made, and the time come, the master went to bed (as he thoght) with his maid, but she that had as then renounced the authoritie of commaunding, for the plea­sure to be a seruant, had layde her selfe in the mayds bed, and receiued her husband therein, not as a wife, but rather seem­ed a bashful mayd, and in such maner, that her husband could neuer perceiue it. I cannot tell you which of them was best pleased, whether he in thinking to deceiue his wife, or she to deceiue her husband: but when he had beene with her, not so long as pleased him, but as he found himselfe able to beare it out, being not altogether so stout a warrier, as otherwise he had bene, he rose and went out of the house, where finding his companion stronger and yonger then himselfe, tolde him that he had found the best gown that euer he saw. You know sayd his companion, what you promised me. Go then quick­ly, sayd the master, lest she should rise, or that my wife should call her for some businesse. His companion went thither, and found the same mayd there which the husband had mistaken, who thinking him to be her husband, refused not whatsoeuer he would aske: I meane by asking, taking, for he durst not speake. And there he stayed longer then the husband did be­fore: whereat the woman wondred, for she was not woont to haue such kinde of nights: neuerthelesse, shee was content, comforting herselfe with the speeches which in the morning [Page] she meant to vse vnto him, and with the mockerie. About breake of day the man rose vp, and in departing from her, be­ing disposed to play, by chance hee tooke a ring from off her finger, which ring her husband gaue her when they married: (a thing which the women of that countrey do keepe in great solemnitie, and honour much that woman which keepeth her ring vntill she dies: and to the contrary, if she chance to lose it, she is discredited, as hauing giuen her faith vnto another man besides her husband) shee was content that he shoulde take it, thinking that it would serue for a certeine token of his late deceit. When the companion returned againe, he asked him, what he had done, and how he liked the match: he tolde him he was of his opinion, and that if he had not feared day, he had not come as yet, wherewith as softly as they could they went to bed. In the morning, as he made him ready, the husband perceiued the ring which his companion ware vpon his finger, in all points like to that which he had giuen his wife when they were married; wherewith hee asked his companion of whom he had it: but when he vnderstood he had snatcht it from the mayd, he was abasht, and began to leane his head against the wal, and said: Good God, haue I made my selfe cuckolde, my wife not knowing it? his companion to comfort him, spake & sayd, It may be, your wife when she went to bed, gaue your mayde the ring to keepe. With that the husband went into the house, where he found his wife, fai­rer, finer, and merrier then vsually she had beene, as she that much reioyced to haue saued the conscience of her mayd, and tried her husband euen to the full, with no more losse then watching for a night. The husband perceiuing her to seem so pleasant, sayd within himselfe: If she knew my fortune, she would not looke so merrily vpon me: and speaking vnto her of diuers things, he tooke her by the hand, and perceiuing she had not the ring, which she neuer put off her finger, he be­came so much abasht, that with a trembling voice, he asked her and sayd, What haue you done with your ring? but she that was full glad that he began to mooue that which she her [Page] selfe desired to vtter, sayd vnto him: O the most wicked man that euer liued on the earth, from whome thinke you, you tooke the ring? you thought you tooke it from my mayd, for whose sake you haue spent double so much more of your good nesse, then euer you did for mee: for the first time that you came to me, I esteemed you so amorous of her, that more you could not be, but after you went out, and then came in a­gaine, you seemed to be a deuill, and not a man; O vnhappy wretch; thinke with your selfe what blindnesse hath bewitched you, so much to vse my company whereof you haue receiued the pleasure, and yet esteemed it not. It is not then the beau­tie or person of your mayd that made you finde such pleasure at this time; but it is sinne and filthy lust that burneth in your heart, and makes your head so madde, that you had taken a goate at that time for a wench. Now husband, it is time to mend your life, and content your selfe with me, knowing me to be your owne, and an honest woman, and thinke what you haue done, supposing me to be your chamber mayd: that I haue done was onely to withdraw from you sinne, to the end that in our age, we both may liue in loue, with quiet consci­ences. For if you meane to liue as you haue done, I had ra­ther separate my selfe, then dayly to beholde the destruction of your soule, your body, and your goods before my face. But if you will confesse your fault, and purpose now to liue in godly sort, obeying him, I will forget all former faults, as I beseech the Lord to pardon my ingratitude, in not louing him as I ought. If euer man was abasht, and in despaire, surely it was this man, perceiuing his wife so faire, so chaste and honest, to haue bene left by him, for one that loued him not, and which is worse, to haue bene so accurst, to haue made her do amisse, not knowing it, and made another partaker of that pleasure that onely was for him, whereby he made him­selfe to weare the hornes, to his perpetuall shame. But per­ceiuing his wife so moued, touching the loue he bare vnto the mayde, was well aduised not to disclose the wicked touch he had playd with her, but asking her forgiuenesse, with promise [Page] to forgoe his wicked life, he gaue her the ring againe, which he had taken from the other man, whome he besought not to disclose the fact. But diuers thinges are spoken secretly that after come to light: for not long time after the trueth thereof was knowne, and he was called cuckold, without disgrace to her.

The ninth Nouell.

BEtweene Daulphinois and Prouance there was a Gentleman much richer in vertue, beau­tie, and honestie, than of worldly goods, that ex­treamely loued a Gentlewoman, whose name I wil not now rehearse, for her kinred sake, that are proceeded of great and rich houses; but assure your selues the thing is most true: and because hee was not of the like house, he durst not discouer his affection, for that the extreme loue he bare vnto her was so great and so perfect, that he had rather die than to desire any thing that might haue beene to her dishonour, and perceiuing himselfe to be of so meane pa­rentage in respect of hers, was wholy out of hope to marrie her. Wherefore his loue was grounded vpon no other point, than onelie to loue her with all his power, as perfectly as he could: which he so long continued, that in the end she hadde some inkling thereof; and perceiuing the loue hee bare vnto her, so ful of vertue and good speeches, she esteemed herselfe most happy to be beloued of one that was so vertuous, and gaue him thereupon so good countenaunces, that hee which sought no other thing, was there with well pleased. But ma­lice the enemy of all quietnes, could not indure this honest and happy life, for that certaine men saide vnto the mother of the gentlewoman, that they were much abashed what that gentleman made so much within her house, and that it was [Page] thought her daughters beautie was the onely cause, with whome he was often seene to speake. The mother which no­thing doubted of the gentlemans honest behauiour, whereof she assured herselfe, as much as of any of her owne children, was very sorie to heare that it was taken in euil part, inso­much that in the ende (fearing some slaunder by malitious heades might thereby arise) desired him for a time not to fre­quent her house, as vsually hee had doone: a thing which hee found very hard to be visgested, knowing that the honest spe­ches hee had vsed to her daughter deserued no such cause of absence. Neuerthelesse, to the end he might cease euill spee­ches, he forbare for so long time, and at last returned thi­ther againe, as he had done before, whose absence had not diminished his goodwill. But being in the house, hee vnder­stoode they meant to marry the Gentlewoman with a gentle­man, who in his opinion was not so rich, that hee should doe him such wrong, to haue his loue, no more thou he himselfe. And thereupon beganne to take heart, and to employ his friends to speake for him; thinking that if the choise were put vnto the gentlewoman, she would preferre him before the o­ther: neuerthelesse, the mother of the gentlewoman and her friends, because the other was richer, chose him; where at the gentleman was so much displeased, that knowing his friend lost as much contentment as himselfe, by little and litle with­out other sickenes, beganne to consume, and in short space was changed, and that in such sort, that it seemed hee couered the beauty of his face, with the maske of death, whereunto from hower to hower he still approched: yet could he not re­fraine, but sometimes went to speake with her whom he so deerely loued. But in the ende when strength failed him, be was constrained to keepe his bed, whereof he would not once aduertise her whome he loued, fearing to procure her cause of griefe, and so suffering himselfe to fall into despaire, he lost both his eating, drinking and his naturall rest, in somuch that it was impossible to know him by reason of his leanenes and strange countenance. By chance a friend of his aduer­tised [Page] the mother, of his loue who being very charitable, and on the otherside loued the Gentleman so well, as that if all the friends had beene of her and her daughters opinion, they had preferd his honest behauiour before all the riches of the other Gentleman: but the fathers kindred would not consent thereto. Shee with her daughter went to visit him, whome she found rather dead then liuing, and knowing his death to approch, had confessed himselfe, and received the holy sacra­ment, thinking presently to die and never to see any man a­gaine: but being as it were within two fingers breadth neere to death, seeing her that was his life and resurrection, felt himselfe so strong that he cast himselfe vpon a bed saying vn­to the lady, what occasion hath brought you hither Madame to come and visit him that hath his foote already in the graue, and of whose death you are the cause? what (said the Lady) may it be possible that he whom we loue so well, should re­ceaue his death by our meanes? I pray you shewe vs for what cause you vse this speech? Madame said he, although as much as in me lay, I haue dissembled the loue I beare vn­to the Gentlewoman your daughter, so it is that my friends speaking of her mariage & mine together, haue spoken more then willingly I would, considering the mischiefe that is fal­len vpon me, to loose the hope, not for my particular pleasure, but because I know full well shee shall not be so wel vsed, nor so well beloved as shee should haue beene with me. The good I perceiue shee looseth of the best and most affectionat servant and friend that shee hath in this world, procureth me more grief, then the losse of this my life, which for her only I would preserue, but seeing it can serue her to no end, in loo­sing it, it is to me great profit. The mother and the daughter hearing his discourse, sought by all meanes to comfort him. The mother saying vnto him, be of good courage and I pro­mise you of my faith, that if God send you your health, my daughter shall never haue other husband then your selfe, and here shee is in presence, whom I command to giue her faith vnto you, The daughter weeping, laboured to do that which [Page] her mother promised shee should: but he knowing that when he should be whole, he should not haue his loue, and that the good speech shee vttered vnto him, was onely but to prooue if that shee could reviue him. Once againe he said vnto her, that if those words had beene spoken vnto him three months before, he had beene the healthfullest and the happiest Gen­tleman in France, but the reliefe came now so late, that it could not be beleeved, nor yet hoped, and when he sawe they inforced themselues to make him to beleeue it, he said vnto them: Well seeing I perceiue you promise me that good which never wil come to passe, although you desire it should; for the weaknes wherein I am, I craue of you, a thing much lesse then that, which hitherto I neuer was so bold for to re­quire: with that, both of them sware to grant it bidding him freely speake. I beseech you then said he, that you will giue her into my armes, whom you doe promise me shall bee my wife, and command her to imbrace and kisse me. The daugh­ter that neuer had vsed any such entertainement, thought to denie it him: but her mother commanded her expressely, per­ceiuing there was no more liuely feeling in him, then in a dead man. Therewith the daughter by her mothers com­mandement went to the sicke mans bed, and said vnto him, my good friend, I pray you comfort your selfe. The poore languishing Gentleman as well as he could in his extreame weakenes, stretched forth his armes, nothing but shinne and bones, and with all the strength of his body imbraced the cause of that his death, and kissing hir with his pale and cold lippes, held her as long as possible he could, and then saide vnto her, the loue I haue borne vnto you hath beene so great and honest, that neuer (mariage set apart) did I desire other fauour at your hands, then I haue nowe: for want whereof, and therewith I will most gladly yeeld my spirit vnto God, who is perfect loue and charity, and knoweth the greatnes of my loue, and my honest desire beseeching him (hauing my whole delight betweene mine armes) to receiue my spirit in his hands & saying so, took her again into his armes so vehe­mently, [Page] that the weake heart beeing not able to sustaine that force, was wholy forsaken of all his liuely spirits, for that the ioie made it so to reioice, that the soule abandoning hir place, departed from the body, and although the poore body continued without life, and by that meanes coulde no more holde her griefe, neuerthelesse the loue, which the Gentlewo­man had alwaies hidden shewed it selfe so much at that time, that the mother and her seruants had much adoe to seperate their bodies. But by force pulled the liuing almost dead from the dead whom they caused honourably to be buried: but the greatest triumph vsed at his obsequie was, the teares, sor­rowes and cries of the poore Gentlewoman, which shewed so much the more after his death, as shee dissembled them du­ring his life, in a maner satisfying the wrong that shee had done vnto him, and since that time, (as I haue heard) what husband soeuer shee had giuen her, shee was neuer merry at her heart.

The tenth Nouell.

LOng since there was a Duke of Florence, that had married the ladie Margaret bastard daughter to the emperour Charles the fift: and because as yet she was so yong, that hee might not lie with her, staying till shee came to yeares, he vsed her very kindly, for that to spare her he was amorous of certaine Ladies in the cittie, which by night he went to visite, while his wife slept. Among others he loued a very faire, wise, and honest Gentlewoman, sister to a Gentleman, of whome the Duke made great ac­count, and to whom he gaue so great authoritie in his house, that his word was as much feared and obeied as if he had bin [Page] the Duke himselfe: and there was no secret in his hart, that he made not knowne to him, in such sort that he might well be termed a second Duke. The Duke perceiuing his sister to be so honest, that by no meanes hee could declare his loue vnto her; after he had sought all meanes he could, he went to the Gentleman, whome he loued so well, and said vnto him: If there were anie thing in this world (my good friend saide he) that I would refuse to do for you, I should feare to shew you my desire, and much more to intreate you to be assistant vnto me. But I beare such loue vnto you, as that if I had either wife, mother, or daughter, that might be a meanes to saue your life, I would rather imploy them therein, than let you die for want of them. And I esteeme the loue you beare to me, to be no lesse, and in such sort, that if I my selfe which am your maister, do beare you such affection, you can not at the least beare lesse to me. Wherefore I meane to vtter a se­cret vnto you, the secrecie whereof brings mee in such a case as you now see, whereof I neuer hope redresse, but onelie by death, or by the seruice which in this respect you now may do vnto me. The Gentleman hearing his maisters reasons, and perceuing his face, vnfainedly wet with teares, took such pi­tie on him; that he saide vnto him: My Lord, al the good and honour I haue proceedes from you, you may speake to me, as to your friend, being wel assured, that the thing which is in my power, is already in your handes. With that the Duke beganne to declare vnto him the loue he bare vnto his sister, which was so great and strong, as that if by his means he could not obtaine the same, he was not able to liue long, as knowing well that in regard of her, neither prayers nor presents would ought preuaile, wherefore he desired him, that if he loued his life, as much as he his, he would finde meanes to win him that fauour, which without him he neuer hoped for. The brother that loued his sister, and the honour of his house, more then the Dukes pleasure, sought by cer­teine reasons to disswade him, beseeching him to imploy him in any other thing rather than that, which might be so great [Page] a dispight vnto him, as to purchase the dishonor of his owne blood, saying that his heart and honour could not agree to do him seruice therein. The Duke inflamed with an insupport­able rage, put his finger in his mouth, biting his naile, and answered him in great fury, Well seeing I finde no friend­ship in you, I know what I must do. The gentleman know­ing the cruelty of his master, was in great feare, and said vn­to him: My lord, seeing it is your pleasure, I will speake vnto her, and tell you what she sayth. The Duke answered, going from him, if you loue my life, I will likewise loue yours. The Gentleman vnderstoode well what that word meant, and was a day or two before he saw the Duke againe, thinking what he had to doe: on the one side he set before his eyes the duety hee ought vnto his master, with the riches and honours that by his meanes hee had receiued, on the other side, the honour of his house, the honestie and chastitie of his sister, whom he knew would neuer consent to so disho­nest an action, if by subtiltie she were not deceiued, or by force compelled thereunto: a thing which he would finde ve­ry strange, seeing that thereby both he and his should be de­famed. Wherefore he determined, that he had rather die, then commit so wicked a fact against his sister, being one of the honestest women in all Italie, and that he would rather deliuer his countrey of such a tyrant, then by force to bring so great a shame vpon his owne house: for that he was assured, that without the Dukes death, his life, nor yet his friends could be in saftie: wherfore without speaking to his sister, he determined by one meanes to saue his owne life, and reuenge her shame, at the end of two dayes hee went vnto the Duke, and sayd vnto him, that he had so well practised with his si­ster (not without great paine) that in the end she consented to his will, vpon condition he should keepe the thing so secret, that none but her brother should know thereof. The Duke that desired those newes, beleeued him, and imbracing the messenger, promised him whatsoeuer he would desire, desi­ring him to bring the same to passe with as much speede as [Page] might be: whereupon they did appoint the day. If the Duke was glad, you need not doubt: and when he knew the night (hee so much desired) to approch, wherein hee hoped to ob­taine the victorie of her, whome he esteemed inuincible, he withdrew himselfe with the Gentleman onely, not forgetting to put on his coife and perfumed shirt, the best that could be found. And when all were gone to rest, hee went with the Gentleman vnto his house, where he entred into a very plea­sant chamber: there the Gentleman pulled off his night gowne, and layd him in his bed, saying vnto him, I will goe fetch her, that will not enter into this chamber without blush­ing, but I hope before morning, she will be assured of you: with that hee left the Duke, and went into his chamber, where he found but one of his men, to whome he sayd: Da­rest thou be so hardy to follow me vnto a place, where I will reuenge my selfe of the greatest enemy I haue in all y^e world. His man ignorant what he would do, sayd: Sir, that I will, were it the Duke himselfe. With that the Gentleman ledde him so suddenly that he had no other weapon then a poinard at his backe. When the Duke heard him come againe, thin­king he brought her with him whome he loued so well, he o­pened the curtaines to see and receiue her, he had so long at­tended, but in sted of seeing her by whome he hoped the pre­seruation of his life, he beheld his owne headlong falling into death, being a naked sword which the gentlman had drawen, wherewith he strake the Duke being in his shirt, who being destitute of armes, but not of hart, set himselfe vpright with­in the bed and tooke the Gentleman by the middle, saying vnto him, Is this the promise you keepe? and seeing he had no other weapon but his teeth and nailes, he bit the Gentle­man by the thumb, & by strength of armes defended himselfe so well, that both of them fell vpon the bed: the Gentleman beeing not well assured, called his seruant, who finding the Duke and his Maister so hardly elasped togither, that hee knewe not which to chuse, drewe them both by the feet into the middle of th [...] chamber, and with his ponyard assaied to [Page] eut the Dukes throate, who defended himselfe vntill the losse of his bloud made him so weake that he could doe no more. Then the Gentleman and his seruant laide him in his bedde, where with the stabs of a dagger they made an end of killing him, and drawing their curten they went their waies, and shut the dead body within the chamber, and when he founde himselfe victorious of his enemy, by whose death he hoped to set the commō wealth at liberty, though his cruelty should yet be imperfect, if he doe not as much to fiue or sixe of those that were the Dukes neerest kinsemē. And to bring the same to passe, he said vnto his servant that he would go and fetch them one after the other, to deale with them as he had done with the Duke: but his seruāt being neither strong nor bold, said vnto him, me thinketh sir, you haue done enough at this time, and that you shall doe better in thinking howe to saue your owne life, then seeke to take it from others, for if wee stay so long to kill each of them, as we doe about the Duke▪ the day will sooner discouer our enterprise, then wee shall bring it to an end, although we found out enemies without defence, the Gentleman, whose wicked conscience made him fearefull beleeued his seruant, & taking him with him, went vnto the Bishop that had charge of opening the gates of the Citty, and to command the posts and said vnto him, I haue this night receiued news that a brother of mine is at the point of death, so that I haue desired licence of the Duke to go vnto him, who hath granted it me, wherfore I pray you com­mand the posts to giue me two good horses, and will the por­ter to open me the gates. The Bishop that esteemed his re­quest no lesse then the commandement of the Duke his ma­ster, gaue him presently a billet, by vertue whereof the gate was opened vnto him, and the horses deliuered according to his desire, and insteed of going to see his brother, he went to Venice, where hee caused the bytings he had receiued by the Duke to be healed, and from thence went into Turquie. In the morning the Dukes seruants seeing him so long before he came, suspected he was gone to see some Gentlewoman, [Page] but perceiuing him to stay, began on al sides to seeke him out. The poore Dutches that began to loue him wel, knowing he could not be found, was in great feare: but when the Gen­tleman he loued so well, could no more be found then he, they went to seeke him at his house, & finding bloud at his cham­ber dore, entered into the chamber, but no man could tel them newes, and following the teares of the bloud, the Dukes poore seruants came to the chamber wherein he was, which they found lockt, but they soone brake downe the dore: and perceiuing the place all full of bloud, they drewe the curtin and there found the poore body within the bed, sleeping his long sleepe. You may well thinke what sorrowe his poore seruants made, that bare the body to his pallace, whither the Bishop came, who told them how the Gentleman was de­parted by night in great haste vnder pretence to go and see his brother: wherefore it was evidently found that it was he that had done the murther. And it was prooued that his poore sister, had neuer heard thereof, who although shee was abashe at that had happened, yet she loued her brother the more, that had deliuered her from so cruell a Prince, ene­my of her chastity, not hauing for the safegard thereof, feared to hazard his own life: and continued more and more her ho­nest and vertuous life, in such sort, that although shee was but poore, because their house and goods was all confiscate, yet shee and her sister found as rich husbands as any were in Italie, and euer since haue liued in great reputation.

The eleuenth Nouell.

IN the dutchie of Millan at such time as the great master of Chaumont was gouernor: there was a Gentleman named the Lord of Boniuet, who af­ter for his vertues, was Admirall of France. Hee [Page] being at Millan welbeloued of the great Master and of all o­thers, for the vertues that were in him, vsed much to bankets where the Ladies and Gentlemen did resort, of whome he was better esteemed then euer any French man before him had beene, as well for his beuty, good grace, and pleasant speech, as for the report giuen of him, to be one of the valian­test and stoutest warriors that euer was in his time. Vpon a day being in a maske in shroue weeke, he led one of the bra­uest and fairest Gentlewomen in all the Citty to dance with him, and when the hautboies paused, he failed not to solicite her with loue, which he knew better then others how to doe. But she that was not behinde in answering him, would so­dainly cast her fanne before her face and stay him, assuring him that she loued not, nor euer would loue any but only her husband, wishing him not to hope for any other at her hands. This answere made not the Gentleman to forbeare, but er­nestly pursued her, vntill lent: but for a resolution he founde her firme and constant in determination, neither to loue him nor any other, which hee could not beleeue, considering the hard countenance of her husband and her great beauty: wher­fore seeing she so much dissembled, he determined likewise to vse deceipt. And from that time forwards left off his suite, and enquired so well of her life, that hee found shee loued a very wise and honest Gentleman of Italie: the said Lord of Boniuet by little and little acquainted himselfe with the said Gentleman, in such crafty and subtile manner that he neuer could perceiue, but he loued him so well, that after his La­dy, he was the man that in the world he most loued. The Lord of Boniuet to find the secret of his heart, feined to shew him his, and that he loued a Gentlewoman whom hee neuer thought vpon, desiring him to keepe his secret, and besought him that their harts and mindes might be all one. The poore Gentleman to shewe him the like fauour tolde him at large of his loue he bare vnto the Gentlewoman, whereof Boni­uet sought to be reuenged, and once a day they met in some place or other to shewe their good fortunes that day past, [Page] which the one told in good trueth, the other dissembling. And the gentleman confessed that he had loued that gentlewoman for the space of three yeeres together, without euer obtaining any other things at her hands, than only faire speeches, with assurance to be beloued of her. The said Boniuet counselled him the best way hee coulde, to finde the meanes to bring his purpose to passe; whereby he found himselfe so well eased, that in few daies after she graunted him his desire: and there rested nothing but to finde the meanes to execute the same, which by the lorde Boniuets meanes was soone founde out.

One day before supper the Gentleman said vnto him. Sir I am more beholding to you than to al the men in the world, for that by your good counsel I hope this night to reape that I haue so manie yeares laboured to obtaine. I pray thee said Boniuet shew me the manner of the enterprise, to see if there be deceit or hazard therein, that I may aide and serue thee as a friend. The Gentleman tolde him how she meant to leaue the street doore open, vnder pretence of a certain disease that one of her brethren had, for whome at all times of the night they were forced to fetch some thing or other: and that hee might assuredly enter into the Court: but that hee was to take heede hee went not vp the great staires, but rather, a small paire of staires on the right hand, and so enter into the first gallery, where hee should finde that all the doores of the chambers of her father and brother in lawe did open, and that he should chuse the third doore nearest vnto the saide staires, and that if in thrusting it softly from him he found it shut, hee should not stay, beeing assured that her husband was come, who neuerthelesse was not to returne in two dayes, and that if he found it open, he should go in softly, and then shut it to him, knowing thereby not any body to be therein, but she her selfe; and that aboue all, he should not forget to make shooes of felt, fearing to make any noise, and that he should likewise be sure not to come before two hours after midnight, because her brethren that loued play, neuer vsed to goe to bed before one of the clocke at night: the saide Boniuet answered him [Page] and said: Go my friend, God be thy speede, I beseech him to keepe them from incumbrance, if my company may pleasure thee, I will not spare any thing that is in my power. The Gentleman thanked him most heartily, and tolde him that in such an enterprise he could not be too sure, and went present­ly to take order for the same. The L. of Boniuet for his part slept not, and perceiuing it time to bee reuenged on his cruell Dame, withdrew himselfe in good time vnto his lodging, and caused his beard to be cut of the same length and breadth that the Gentleman ware his beard, and cut his haires like­wise, to the end that by touching, their difference might not be knowne: he forgate not his felt shoes, and the rest of his apparell like vnto the Gentlewomans: and because hee was much beloued of the father in lawe to that Gentlewoman, was not afraide to go thither in good time, thinking that if he were perceiued, he would go strait vnto the old mans cham­ber, with whom he had some busines to do; and about mid­night entred into the gentlewomans house, where he found diuers of the house stirring, but yet hee passed and was not knowne, and so entred into the gallory; and touching the two first doores, he found them shut, but not the third, which he thrust softly from him, and being in the chamber, he shutte the doore to him, and perceiued all the chamber to be hanged with white linnen cloth, the floore and the roofe in like sort, and a bed of linnen very fine, so well wrought with white worke as possible might be, and the Gentlewoman alone within the bedde in her smocke and a wastecoate all set with pearles and stones, which he perceiued thorow the curtaines, not being seene of her, for there stood a great candle of white waxe vpon the table, that made her chamber seeme as light as day: but fearing to be knowen by her, he put it out: that done, he put off his clothes vnto his shirt, and layed himselfe downe by her, she thinking it had beene the Gentleman that had loued her so long, receiued him in as friendly manner as she could: but he that knew it was done in the name of ano­ther man, would not speake a word, but thought onely to ex­ecute [Page] his reuenge, which was to bereaue her, both of honour and chastitie, without giuing her thanks: but against his wil and determination, the Gentlewoman contented herselfe so well with that reuenge, that she thought she had recompen­sed him well for his paines, vntill an houre after midnight, that it was time to bid her farewell, and then as softly as he could, he asked her if she were as well content with him as he with her: she thinking it had beene her friend, sayde that she was not onely content, but marueiled at his great loue, that had made him stay an whole houre from speaking vnto her: with that he began to laugh, saying vnto her, Well Gentle­woman, will you refuse me another time, as til now you haue vsed to doe? She that knew him by his speech and laughter, for shame was almost desparate, and more then a thousand times called him villaine, traitour, and cousiner, thinking to rise out of the bed, to finde a knife to kill herselfe, seeing she had beene so accursed, to lose her honour, for a man she loued not, and that to be reuenged on her, might make it knowen to all the world. But he held her in his armes, and by good and faire speeches, assured her to loue her more then him she [...] loued, and that he would be secret, in such sort that she should neuer heare it. Which the poore foole beleeued: and vnder­standing his inuention, and the paines that he had taken for to win her, sware she would loue him better then the other, that could not keepe his secrets: and sayd that she then knew the contrary of the false report giuen of French men, for they were wiser, more perceiuant, and discreet then the Italians: wherefore from thenceforward she would desist from her opi­nion touching his countreymen, to content her minde with him. But she desired him very earnestly, that for a time he would not be in place, or banket where she might come, but onely in a maske, because she knew full well she should be so ashamed, that her countenance would make it knowen to all the world. He promised her it should be so, and prayed her that when her friend came about two of the clocke, that shee would bid him welcome, and that after by little and little she [Page] might cast him off. Whereof she made so great difficultie, that but onely for the loue she bare vnto him, she would haue granted it. Neuerthelesse in bidding him adue, he contented her so well, that she would willingly haue had him stayd lon­ger. After he was vp and made him ready, he went out of the chamber, and left the doore as he had found it: and because it was almost two of the clocke after midnight, and that hee feared to meet the Gentleman in the way, he stayd at the top of the staires, where presently after he saw him passe by, and enter into the chamber. Which done hee went straight vnto his lodging, to rest him of his trauailes, in such sort, that at nine of the clocke in the morning they found him in his bed. When he was rising, the Gentleman came in, that failed not to shew him his fortune, not so good as he hoped it shuld haue bene: for sayd he, when I entred into the chamber, I found her vp, and set in her mantle, with a fit of an ague vpon her, her pulses beating sore, her face all in a colour and swea­ting, her disease beginning to come vpon her, in such maner, that she desired me presently to depart, for that fearing some inconuenience, she durst not call her women, whereby she was so ill at ease, that she had more cause to thinke on death, then vpon loue, and rather to heare speaking of God then of Cupid, being very sory for the hazzard wherein I had put my selfe for her, seeing she had not the meanes in this world to render mee the like, but she hoped to doe it in the world to come. Whereat I was so abasht, that my fier and ioy were turned into ise and sadnes, and so I presently departed: and in the morning about breake of day I sent to know how shee did, and newes were returned me of a certaine that shee was very sicke: and saying so, he wept so bitterly, that it seemed he would yeeld his spirit with teares. Boniuet that had as much desire to laugh as the other to weepe, comforted him the best he could: saying vnto him, that things of long conti­nuance haue alwaies a hard beginning, and that loue gaue him a delay to cause him to feele a enioying thereof to bee more pleasant, and therewith they departed from each other. [Page] The Gentlewoman for certaine daies after kept her bedde, and recouering her health, gaue her first seruant his farewel, grounding it vpon the feare she had of death, and remorce of conscience, and contented her selfe with the lord of Boniuet, whereof the amity indured (according to the custome) as the beauty of the flowers in the field.

The twelfth Nouell.

IN the Court of King Francis, the first, there was a Gentleman whose name I know full well, but I wil not name it, he was but poore, as hauing but 500. frankes yearely rent, to liue on, but so much esteemed of by the King, for the vertues wherewith he was indowed, that he maried so rich a wife, as that a great Lorde would haue contented himselfe with her, and because shee was very young, he desi­red one of the greatest Ladies in the court to keepe her in her house, which shee willingly did. This Gentleman was so honest and so full of good grace, that all the Ladies in the court made great account of him, and one among the rest the King loued, yet not so faire nor so young as his owne, and for the great loue he bare vnto her he made so small ac­count of his wife, that hardly once a yeare he lay with her, and which was more importable for her, was, that hee neuer spake vnto her, nor shewed any signes of loue: and although he enioyed her goods, yet he gaue her so small a portion, that hardly was she apparelled as her estate required, neither as she desired, whereby the Lady with whom she was, often­times reproued the Gentleman, saying vnto him: your wife is faire, rich and of a good house▪ and you esteeme not of her, [Page] which her infancy and yong yeres hath borne vnto this time, but I feare that when she shall perceiue her selfe to be faire and of good stature, that some one that loueth you not, seeing beauty (which to you is not esteemed) will seeke to court her so, that in bespight she will do that, which being by you will vsed she durst not once conceale. The Gentleman that had set his heart in another place, mocked her, and for all that ceased not to follow his old course: but two or three yeares being past ouer, his wife began to bee one of the fairest wo­men in all France, and so faire, that she had the whole report in the court not to haue her match: and the more she percei­ued and felt her selfe worthy to be beloued, the more it grie­ued her to see her husband, that made no account of her, in such sort, that she tooke so great displeasure thereat, that without the comforte of her mistris she was in a maner des­perace: and hauing sought all meanes she could to winne her husbands loue, though with her selfe it was impossible, but that he should loue her considering the great loue she bare vn­to him, vnlesse his minde were called otherwise, which shee so subtilly went about to know, that in time she founde the truth, and that he euery night was so busie elsewhere, that he forgot both his conscience and his wife: and after she was as­sured of the life he led, she was so malancholy, that she would weare nothing but blacke, nor haunt any places where mirth or good cheere was vsed. Which her mistris perceining, did what she could to withdraw her from this sad conceit; but it was impossible and although her husband were aduertised thereof, yet was he readier to mocke her, then to take any or­der therein. You know Gentlewoman that griefe ouercom­meth ioie, and that griefe by ioy is ouercome. Wherefore it happened that a great Lorde neere kinsman vnto the mistris of the Gentlewoman and that came often thither, vnderstan­ding the strange maner of the Gentlewomans husband, had so great pitty on her, that he thought to try if he could com­fort her: and speaking with her found her so faire and vertu­ous, that he had more desire to win her fauor, then to speake [Page] vnto her of her husband: vnlesse it were to shewe her what small occasion she had to loue him.

The Gentlewoman perceiuing her selfe forsaken of him that ought to loue hir, and on the other side loued, and sought vnto of so great and faire a prince, counted her selfe happie to be so much in his fauour. And although she alwayes desi­red to preserue her honor, yet she took great plesure to speake vnto him, and to see her selfe beloued; a thing whereof shee had great want. This loue continued for a time, vntill by chance the King perceiued it, who loued the Gentleman her husband so well, that he would not suffer any man to procure his shame or displeasure: wherefore hee desired the prince to withdraw his minde, saying that if he did it not, he woulde be offended with him. The prince that loued the kings fauour and goodwill better than all the Ladies in the world, promi­sed him, that for his sake he would leaue his enterprise, and that at night he would take his leaue of her: which he did as soone as he vnderstood her to be in her lodging, and the gen­tleman himselfe was lodged in a chamber ouer hers: and looking out of his chamber window, perceiued the prince to enter into his wifes chamber being vnder his. But the prince that saw him well, staied not to enter, and bidding her adieu, whose loue as then did but beginne, tolde her the reason was because the King had commaunded him so to do. After ma­ny teares and sighes that continued vntil an houre after mid­night, the gentlewoman for conclusion spake and saide: I thanke God (my Lord) that it hath pleased him to alter your opinion, seeing it is so small and feeble that you can take and leaue it at mans commandement. For as for me I haue not asked counsel either of mistris, or of husband, or of my selfe to loue you; for loue helping it selfe with your beautie and honestie, hath had such power ouer me, that I haue not kno­wen other God or King than it: but seeing your heart is not filled with so true loue, that feare as yet remaineth therein: you cannot be a perfect friend; and of an imperfect I wil not make afriend, for that I loue perfectly, as I had determi­ned [Page] to loue you, but now (my lord) I am constrained to bid you farewell, whose feare doth not deserue the freedome of my loue. With that the Lord departed weeping, and as he went away, he perceued her husband stil standing at the win­dow, that had both seene him goe in and out: wherefore the next day he told him the occasion why he went vnto his wife, and the commandement the King had giuen him, wherewith the Gentleman was wel pleased, and thanked the King: but seeing his wife daily to waxe fairer than she was, and hee to the contrary became olde and lesse beautifull, beganne to change course, taking that which he had caused his wife full often to vse, for that he made more of her than vsually [...]e did, whereby he tooke more heed vnto her. But the more she per­ceiued herselfe sought vnto by him, the more shee estranged herselfe from him, desiring to giue him part of the sorrowes and griefes she had had, in beeing little beloued of him, and not so soone to lay hold on that pleasure, which loue began to shew her, she addressed her selfe vnto a young Gentleman so faire, so well spoken, and of so good a grace that he was belo­ued of al the ladies in the court. And making her complaints vnto him, how she had bin well vsed, mooued him to haue pi­ty on her, in such maner, that the Gentleman forgot not anie thing that might comfort her: and she to recompence herselfe for the losse of a prince that had forsaken her, set her loue so sure vpon the gentleman, that she forgat her sorrow past, and thought of nothing else but howe to behaue her selfe therein, which she could doe so well, that her mistris neuer perceiued it, for shee neuer spake vnto him in her presence. But when she would speake vnto him, she went to visite certaine ladies that lodged in the Court: among the which there was one whereof her husband fained to be amorous; and vpon an eue­ning after supper this gentlewoman stole out when it was darke without company, and went into the ladies chamber, wherein she found him whome she loued better than her selfe; and sitting hard by him, leauing on a table, they spake toge­ther, making semblance as if they had beene reading vppon a [Page] booke: but some one whome her husband had appoynted to watch her, tolde him whither his wife was gone: hee being craftie, went presently thither, and entring into the chamber, perceiued his wife reading in a booke, but making as though he sawe her not, went among the ladies to speake to them: The poore gentlewoman perceiuing her husband had found her in his company, to whome in his presence she had neuer spoken, was in such feare, that she lost all sence; and hauing not the meanes to passe by a bench, she slid along by a table, and came away, as if her husband had folowed her with a na­ked sword in his hand, and went into her mistris chamber, who as then was come into her lodging; and when her mi­stris was a bed, she went into her owne chamber, where one of her maides tolde her, that her husband asked for her: shee boldly made answer, she would not come at him, saying that he was so strange and cruell▪ that she feared he would do her some mischiefe. But in the ende, lest worse should happen, shee went vnto him: when shee came into his chamber, her husband gaue her not a word before they were in bed, where she that could not dissemble, as he had done, began to weepe: And when he asked wherefore she wept, she saide: because she feared he was angry with her, for that hee had found her by a gentleman reading in a booke. Whereunto he answered he had neuer forbidden her to speake to any man, and that he di­sliked not of her speaking to him, but for that she ranne away, as if she had done some thing worthy reproch, and that her running away made him verily suspect she loued the gentle­man: wherefore he forbade her, that from that time forward she should not speake either priuately or publikely vnto anie man, assuring her, that the first time she shuld do it, he would kill her without mercy, which she promised to performe, ma­king her account at other times not to be so foolish. But be­cause that in the things that we most desire, the more wee are forbidden, so much the more we desire them. This poore wo­man had soone forgotten her husbands threatnings, for that the same night being returned to her chamber to lie with o­ther [Page] gentlewomen that attended on hir: she sent to seeke the gentleman, desiring him to come that night to see her. But hir husband that was so plagued with iealousie, that he could not sleepe, rose vp, and casting a cloake vpon his shoulders, calling one of his seruants, went out of his chamber, bicause he had vnderstoode that thy yong gentleman went thither by night, and went and knocked at his wiues chamber doore: she that looked for nothing lesse than her husband, rose vp, and putting a mantle about her, and perceuing that three or foure of her maids slept, went out of the chamber, and came to the doore where he knocked: and asking, who is there? aunswer was made in the gentlemans name that she loued: but she for more assurance opened a little hatch, saying: if you be hee you say you are, giue me your hād, & I shal know the better: and hauing touched hir husbands hand, she knew it well, and in all haste shutting the hatch beganne to crie out: O sir, it is your hand: her husband answered her and saide; yea it is the hand that shall keepe promise with you, wherefore faile not to come when I send for you: and saying so he went vnto his lodging, and she returned into her chamber rather dead than liuing, and spake aloude vnto her women saying: Vppe my friends you haue bin ouer sleepy for me; for that I thinking to deceiue you, haue deceiued my selfe: and saying so shee sounded and fell downe in the middle of the Chamber. The poore women at that crie rose vp, much abashed to see their mistris lie vpon the ground, and to heare the words she spake so that they knew not what to do, but only to find meanes to recouer hir: and when she could speake, she said vnto them: this day (my friends) shall you see me the most miserable cre­ature liuing on the earth; and therwith shewd them the cause, desiring them to help hir, for that she made ful account to lose hir life.

They thinking to comfort her, there came one of the Gen­tlemans seruants, that attended on him in his chamber, that tolde her his maister had sent for her. She there at (imbracing two of her mayds beganne to weepe) desiring them not to let [Page] her goe, seeing she was assured to die. But the page assured her the contrary, and that he would venture his life, that the should haue no hurt. She perceiuing that no resistance would serue, cast herselfe into her seruants armes, saying vnto him, My friend, seeing it must be so, doe thou [...]ary this vnhappy body vnto her death: and therewith, halfe dead with griefe, she was borne by the page into her husbandes lodging, at whose feete the poore Gentlewoman fell downe, and sayde: Sir, I beseech you to haue pity vpon me, and I sweare vnto you, of my faith, I wil shew you the trueth of all. With that, like a desparate man he sayd: By God you shall tell me the trueth: and therewith sent all his seruantes foorth. And be­cause he had found his wife to be very deuout, he thought she would not forsweare herselfe, if that shee sware vpon the crosse: wherefore he called for a very faire Crucifire, that he had borrowed, and they two being alone together, made her sweare by it, that she would tell him trueth in whatsoeuer he should aske. But shee that already had past the first brunt of the feare of death, tooke comfort, determining before shee di­ed, not to hide any thing from him, and also not to tell him a­ny thing whereby the Gentleman whom she loued, might su­steine any wrong: and hauing heard the questions hee pro­pounded, answered him, and sayd: I will not iustifie my selfe, neither yet dissemble the loue vnto you I beare vnto the Gentleman whome you suspect, for that you neither can nor ought to beleeue it, considering the experience that this day you haue had, but I am very desirous to shew you the occasion thereof: wherefore, sir you must vnderstand that ne­uer any woman loued hir husband so well as I loue you, for that since I married you vntill this time, there neuer entered any other loue into mine heart then onely yours: you knowe that I being a childe, my parents sought to marry me vnto a man of greater renowme then yourselfe, yet could they neuer make me agree unto it, after I once had spoken vnto you, for that against al their minds I remained constant, to haue you, not respecting your pouertie, my friendes instructions to the [Page] contrary: and you are not ignorant what interteinement I haue hitherto had of you, and how you haue loued and estee­med me, whereby I haue had so much sorow and griefe, that without the helpe of my lady with whome you placed me, I was in maner desparate: but in the end perceiuing my selfe to waxe of more yeeres, and of all men, except your selfe estee­med faire. I began in such sort to feele the displeasure of the wrong you did me, that the loue I bare vnto you, turned into hatred, and the desire to please you, changed into reuenge: and in this dispaire a prince resorted to me, who to obey the king more then loue, left me at such time as I began to feele the comfort of my torments by an honest loue: and leauing him, I found this Gentleman, that needed not to intreat me, for that his beauty, honesty and vertues deserued to be requi­red and sought vnto of all women of good iudgement. At my request, and not at his, he hath loued me, with so honest a minde, that neuer in his life did he require any thing of mee contrary to mine honour. And although the small loue that I haue cause to beare vnto you, gaue me occasion neither to shew faith nor loyalty vnto you, the loue which I onely beare to God and to mine honor, haue hitherto preserued me from doing that, for the which I should need any confession, or feare of shame. I will not deny, but that as often as possible I could, I went to speake with him in a gallery, vnder pre­tence to go to prayer, for that I neuer put my trust either in man or woman to be a meanes therein. I will likewise not deny, that being in so secret a place, and out of all suspition, but that I kissed him with a better heart, then euer I kist you, but yet I neuer aske mercy at Gods hands, if that betweene vs two there euer was other kinde of priuity, or euer he sought more at my hands, or that euer my heart had other desire, for that I was so well pleased to see him, that me thought there was no greater pleasure in the world. And you sir, that are the onely cause of my mishap, would you be re­denged on a deed, where you your selfe haue so long time gi­uen me an example, yours being wholy without honour or [Page] conscience? for you know and I am well assured, that shee whom you loue contenteth not her selfe with that which god and reason commandeth. And although the lawes of man do attribute so great dishonor vnto women, that loue other men besides their husbands, yet it is so, that the lawe of God doeth not exempt the husband that loueth other women then his wife: and if both our offences were put into a paire of ballance it would soone be tried which were heauiest: you are a man in yeares, wise and of good experience, to knowe and vnderstand how to auoid euill; I am young and wholy with­out experience to know the force and power of loue. You haue a wife, that seeketh, loueth & esteemeth you, more then her owne life, and I haue a husband that flieth from me, that hateth and despiseth me, more then a poore seruant. You loue a woman already in yeares, and of no great beauty, in respect of me, and I loue a Gentleman younger, fairer, and amiabler then you. You loue the wife of one of the greatest friends you haue in all the world, on the one side offending the Aunte, and on the other side the reuerence you beare vn­to them both; and I loue a Gentleman that is not bound nor linked vnto any, but only to the loue he beareth me. Now sir I pray you without partiality to iudge, which of vs two is most worthy of punishment or to be excused, I know not a­ny man of experience, but would lay the fault on you, seeing that I am young and ignorant, despised and contenmed of you, & loued of the fairest & honestest Gentleman in France, whom I loue, being in despaire neuer to be beloued of you.

The Gentleman hearing those speeches full of truth, and vttered with a countenance so faire, togither with so good a spirit, that thereby she shewed not any feare to haue deser­ued punishment, found himselfe so surprised with doubt, that he could make her no other answere, then only that the honor of a man and of a woman make no lesse, nor yet all one, but that neuerthelesse seeing she sware there was no sin between her friend and her, he determin [...]d not to doe her any hurt, so that shee neuer vsed it againe: and that neither hee nor shee [Page] would euer call to minde their griefes and iniuries forepast, which she promised to obserue; and with that they went to bed, as good friends. In the morning an old Gentlewo­man that was in great feare of her mistris life, came vnto her when she arose, asking her and said; well Madame howe doe you? shee answered her laughing, why sweete heart, there is not a better husband in the world then mine, for hee beleeued me vpon mine oath. In that maner fiue or six daies passed ouer, wherein the Gentleman so narrowly watched his wife, that both night and daie, she had those that looked to her: but he could not watch her so well but that she spake vnto him she loued in a very darke and suspitious place. Yet she did it so secretly that neither man nor woman could euer haue known it, had it not been for a report that a seruingman gaue foorth that he had sound a Gentleman and a Gentle­woman togither in a stall vnder the chamber of this Lady: whereat the Gentleman her husband had so great suspition, that he determined to kill the Gentleman, and to the same end assembled a great number of his kinsmen and friendes, that if they could finde him in any place to kill him: but his chiefe kinseman was so great a friend vnto the Gentleman whom hee sought for, that in steed of taking him, aduertised him what was done against him: who on the other side was so well beloued in the court, and so well accompanied that he feared not his enemies, so that he could not be found; but be­ing in a Church, went in to the mistris of his loue, that neuer had heard of any thing that had past, for that before her hee neuer spake vnto her. The Gentleman told her of the suspi­tion and hatred her husband bare vnto him, and that notwith­standing his innocency he was determined to absent himselfe by some long voyadge, to auoide the suspition already begon: the princes, mistris to his friend, was much abasht to heare those speeches, and sware that the husband did wrong to sus­pect so honest a woman as his wife, in whom she had neuer found other then vertue and honestie. Neuerthelesse because of the authority of her husband, and to quench suspition, the [Page] princes counselled him to absent himselfe for a certaine time, assuring him that she would not beleeue any of her husbands folies or suspitions. The Gentleman and the Gentlewo­man her wayting mayde were very well content to remaine in the good opinion and fauour of the princes, who counsel­led the Gentleman, that before his departure he should speake with her husband, which he did, finding him in a gallery hard by the Kings chamber, where with a bold countenance (gi­uing him his due honour) he saide vnto him. Sir, I haue alwaies had a great desire to doe you seruice, and for my la­bour I vnderstand that the last night you sought to kill mee, I beseech you sir remember that you haue more authority & power then I haue, yet I am a Gentleman as well as you, it would grieue me much to loose my life for nothing: I be­seech you likewise thinke that you haue an honest woman, and that if there be any man that will affirme the contrary, I will plainely tell him that he lyeth, and for my parte, I thinke I haue not done any thing wherby you should haue cause to beare mee ill will; wherefore if it please you, I am your friend, if not I am the Kings, whereby I haue occasi­on to content my selfe. The Gentleman to whom he spake sayd, that truely he had had some suspition of him, but that he accounted him so honest a man, that he would rather desire his loue, then otherwise; and bidding him farewell with his hat in hand imbraced him as his great friend. You may wel thinke what they said, which the night before had had com­mission for to kill him, when they sawe so great shewes of friendship and loue betweene them, whereof euery man did speake: with that the Gentleman departed: but because he was not so wel furnished of money as of beauty, his Lady gaue him a iewell worth 3000. crownes, which he layed to pawne for 1500. And not long after his departure the mari­ed Gentleman went vnto the chamber of the Princes, his wiues mistris, desiring her to giue his wife leaue for a time to lie at one of his sisters houses: which the princes found very strange, desiring him to let her know the cause, who tolde [Page] her part, but not all. After the yong married Gentlewoman had taken her leaue of the princes, and of all the court with­out weeping or any signe of griefe, went vnto the place where her husband had appointed, being in the conduct of a Gentleman that had expresse charge to looke carefully vnto her, and especially that as she rode in the way, she should not speake vnto him for whom he suspected her. She that knew her husbands straight commaundement, euery day during their iourney, gaue them some alarme, mocking both them and their negligent watch: and one day among the rest, as they went out of their lodging, she foūd a frier on horsebacke, and she likewise on a gelding, enterteined him from noone till night: and being about a mile from their lodging, she sayd vnto him, Father, for the good counsels and comforts you haue giuen me this afternoon, there are two French crowns which I giue you, that are within a paper because I know you dare not touch them, praying you that assoone as you de­part from me, you will gallop in all haste ouer the fieldes. And when he was somewhat farre off from the Gentlewo­man, she spake aloud vnto her seruants, saying: Doe you thinke your selues good seruants, and careful of your charge, when he whom ye are expresly commanded not to let speake with me hath beene with me all this afternoone, and you ne­uer sought to hinder him: you deserue that your maister, which trusteth so much in you, should giue you blowes in stead of wages. When the Gentleman that had charge of her, heard those speeches, he was in such a rage, that he could not speake a word, but spurred his horse, and calling two of the men with him, did so much that they ouertooke the frier: who seeing them come towards him, fied as fast as he could, but because they were better horst then he they ouertook him, and he that knew not wherefore, cried them mercy, and put­ting off his hood with more humility to intreat them, they knew well it was not he they sought, and that their mistresse had mocked them, which she did much more at their returne, saying vnto them: Such men as you, ought to haue the kee­ping [Page] of a woman, for when you haue letten her speake you know not to whome, giuing credit to her words, you goe and do iniury to the seruants of God. And after all these mocks, she atriued at the place where her husband had appointed her to be, being by her two sisters in law, & one of their husbands kept in great subiection. Meane time her husband vnderstood that her iewellay at pawne for L500. crownes, for the which he was sorry: but to saue his wiues credit, and to haue it a­gaine, he tolde her that she should fetch it, and he would pay the 1500. crownes. She that cared not for the iewell, seeing her friend had the money, wrote vnto him, how that her hus­band would constraine her to redeeme the iewell: and to the end he should not thinke she did it for want of good will, shee sent him a diamond that her mistresse had giuen her, which shee loued more then any iewell shee had. The Gentleman willingly sent her the marchants obligation, and contented himselfe to haue had 1500. crownes and a diamond, and to be assured of his friends good will, although that as long as her husband liued he had no more meanes to speake vnto her but by letters. And after her husbands death, because he thought her to be the same she alwayes promised him, he vsed all the meanes he could to haue her in mariage. But he found that his long absence had gotten her a friend whom she loued bet­ter: whereat he tooke such griefe, that shunning all Gentle­women, he sought aduentures, where he obtained as much honour as any yong Gentleman could haue, and so ended his dayes.

The thirteenth Nouell.

IN the time of the great maister du Chaumont, there was a Gentlewoman esteemed one of the honestest women in her time liuing within the Citty of Millan, she maryed an Italian Earle, whose widdow she was, liuing in a house of her [Page] husbands brethrē ▪ neuer caring or desiring to heare any speech of marying againe, behauing hir selfe so wisely and so holily that there was not any French man or Italian within that Dutchie, which made not great account of her. Vpon a day as her brethren and her mother in lawe made a great feast for the great maister du Chamount, this Lady being a wid­dow was constrayned to be there, which in other places shee vsed not: and when the French men sawe her, they esteemed much her beauty and good grace, specially one whose name I will not disclose: but it suffiseth you to knowe that there was not any Frenchman in Italie worthier then he to be be­loued; for that hee was adorned with all the beauties and good qualities a Gentleman may haue: and although he saw this Lady (being a widdow) wearing a blacke sipres, sepe­rated from the younger Ladies, and bearing company with the elder sort, as one to whome man or woman coulde neuer procure feare, he began to entertaine her, taking away his vizard and leauing off to dance, that he might sit by her, and all that night left not off to speake vnto her, and the olde la­dies togither, wherein he found more pleasure then with all the brauest and youngest Ladies in the court, in such maner, that when he should recite he thought hee had had the leisure onely to sit downe: and although he spake not to this Lady, but only of common matters, which might be spoken in such company, yet she perceiued wel he was desirous to acquaint himselfe with her: so that she determined to abstaine as much as possible she might, in such maner that he could neuer after finde her at any feast or banket: whereupon he enquired what her common exercises were, and found that she often vsed to the Church and diuers religious houses, where hee made so good watch, that she could not go so secretly but hee was there before her, and that he stayed in the Church as long as he might haue meanes to see her, and that as long as he was ther he beheld her with so great affectiō, that she could not be ignorant of the loue he bare her: which to avoid, she determi­ned for a time to faine her selfe sick, and to heare masse with­in [Page] her house; whereat the Gentleman was so grieued as more he could not be, for that he had no other meanes to see her but onely as I said before: she thinking to haue broken off that custome, went vnto the Churches as before she vsed to doe, which loue presently made knowen vnto the Gentleman who renewed his first deuotions, and fearing least she should finde out some other means of hinderance, and that he might not haue the time to let her know his minde, one morning as shee thought her selfe well hidden within a little Chappell, where she heard masse, he went and placed himself, at the end of the alter: and perceiuing that she had but smal company, as the Priest held vp the Corpus Domini, he turned vnto her, and wi [...]h a vnfi [...] speech and great affection said vnto her: Ma­dame, I take him whom the Priest holdeth in his hands for my damnation, if you onely be not the cause of my death, for although you take from me, all meanes of speaking to you, yet can you not be ignorant of my desire, seeing that truth suf­ficiently declareth it vnto you by my languishing eies, and dead countenance. The Lady counterfeiting not to know his meaning, answered him and say [...]; God ought not to be serued in this maner, but Poets doe commonly say, that Gods do laugh at the othes and lies of louers, wherfore women that loue their honours ought to be neither credulous nor pitifull. And saying so she rose and went vnto her lodging: if the gen­tleman was displeased at those wordes they that haue tryed the like wil say yea: but he that wāted no courage, desired ra­ther that hard aunswere, then to haue failed to declare his mind, which for the space of three yeares he helde most con­stantly, and both by letters and other meanes ceased not dai­ly to sollicite her: but during three yeares space, he could ne­ver obtaine other answere, but that she fled from him, as the wolfe doth from the dogs, fearing to be taken, not for any hatred she did heare vnto him, but for the danger of her ho­nour and reputa [...]on, which hee perceiued so well that more earnestly then before her followed his suit: and after many paines, refusals, torments, and d [...]spaires, perceiuing the [Page] continuance of his loue, this Lady had pitty on him, & gran­ted him that he had so long and earnestly desired, and when they had agreed vpon the meanes, the French Gentleman failed not to hassard him selfe to go vnto her house, although his life thereby might be in great danger, because his kinse­men lodged in the same house. He that had no lesse subtilty then beauty, behaued himselfe so wisely, that he entered into her chamber at the time she had appointed, where he founde her alone lying in a rich bed, and as he made haste to put off his cloathes to go to bed vnto her, he heard a great noise of mens voyces speaking softly, and of swords that strake a­gainst the wals.

The Lady with a face halfe dead said vnto him, nowe at this time your life and my honour are in the greatest danger that euer they were, for there I heare my brethren which seek for you to kill you: wherefore I pray you hide you vnder the bed, for when they finde you not, I shall haue an occasion to be offended with them, for that without cause they haue gi­uen me such alarme. The Gentleman that as yet had ne­uer been afraid sayd vnto her, and what are your brethren to make an honest man afrayd? if all the race of thē were heere in presence, I am sure they would not stay the fourth blowe that I should giue, wherefore lie you still, and let me keepe the dore: with that he wrapt his cloake about his arme, and hauing his sword in hand, he went to open the dore to see his enemies weapons, whereof he heard the noyse, and hauing opened it, he saw two maides that had two swordes in each hand, wherewith they gaue him that alarme, which said vnto him, pardon vs sir, for we haue commandment from our mi­steris to doe so: but you shall haue no more trouble by our meanes. The Gentleman perceiuing them to bee weomen, could not doe lesse then wish them at the diuell, shutting the dore against them, and as soone as he could, went to bed vn­to the Lady, whose feare had not in any thing diminished his loue, and forgetting to aske her the causes of her skirmishes, had no other thought but to satisfie his desire. But percei­uing [Page] day to appeare, desired her to tell him why he had done him that iniury, not onely in prolonging time, but also in that last enterprise, she laughing answered him, saying: my deter­mination was neuer to loue which sure my widdowe-hood I had alwaies obserued, but your honesty from the time you spake vnto me, at the banket made me, change opinion, and that I began as then to loue you as much as you loued me, it is true chst lone which alwaies guided me, would not per­mit that loue should cause me doe the thing wherby mine ho­nour should be ought impaired but as the hinde wounded to death, thinketh in changing places, to change the euill which she heareth in her body, so I went from Church to Church thinking to flie that which I bare within my heart, whereof I haue made so perfect proofe, that it hath made mine honor to consent vnto my loue, but to the end I might be well assu­red to place my loue and my heart in a perfect honest man, I thought to make this proofe which my maides haue now ef­fected, assuring you, that for feare of life or other respect, I had found you fearefull, so that you had hidden your selfe vn­der my bed, I was determined to haue risen, and haue gone into another chamber, without euer seeing you more: but bi­cause I haue found you faire, of good grace, and full of ver­tue and hardines, more then was certifyed vnto me, and that feare could not ouercome your heart, nor in any sort lessen the loue you beare vnto me, I am dotermined to content my selfe with you, vntill I die, being assured that I cannot put my life and honour into a better hand, then in his, whose like for vertues I neuer found. And so as if the mindes of men were not mutable they sware and promised that which was not in their powers, that is a perpetuall amity, which can­not spring nor yet dwell in mans heart, and they knowe it well, that haue tried and known how long such opinions doe continue.

The foureteenth Nouell.

IN the County of Maime, in a villadge called Ar­celles there was a rich husbandman, that in his age had maried a faire young wench, that had no children by him: but for the losse she had by him, till the recompenced her selfe with other men, and when gen­tlemen and other good companions failed she turned to her last reliefe, which was the Church, and made him compani­on of her sinne, that could obsolue her, which was the Curat, that oftentimes came to visit his sheepe. The husband be­ing old and crasie, suspected nothing, but because he was rude and churlish, his wife plaied her part as secretly as shee could, fearing that if her husbād should perceiue it, he would kill her. Vpon a day as he was abroad, his wife thinking hee would come so soone againe, sent for the Curate to confesse her, and as they made good there togither, her husband came in vpon the sodaine, whereby the Curate had not leisure to go vnto his house, but deuised meanes to hide himselfe, and by the womans counsell went into a barne, and couered the staires head where he went vp with a fanne of corne, the hus­band being in the house; she least he should suspect her, made him so good cheere to dinner, that she spared no drink, wher­of he tooke so much, that togither with the wearines he had by labouring in the fieldes, he fell a sleepe, sitting in a chaire before the fier. The Curate being weary to be so long in the barne, hearing no noyse in the chamber, went vnto the stairs, & thrusting out his necke as farre as he could to looke down, perceiued the good man to be a sleepe, and looking earnestly vpon him, leand so hardly vpon the fanne, that both fanne and he fell vnto the ground, hard by the old man that slept, where [Page] with he waked: the Curate that arose vp sooner then the man could open his eies, said vnto him there is your fanne, and I thanke you, wherewith he went his way, and the poore man being abasht asked what it was: she answered him, it is your fanne that the Curate borrowed, and nowe hath brought it home, he grumbling said, doe men vse to bring home things they borrowe in such rude maner, I thought the house would haue fallen downe, by which meanes the Curate saued him­selfe to the poore mans cost, that found fault with nothing but that he brought his fanne so rudely home.

The fifteenth Nouell.

IN the time of king Lewes the twelfth, one of the house of Ambois nephew to the legate of France named George, being legate in Auigneon, had in the country of Languedoc a Lady, whose name I wil not rehearse for her kinreds sake, that had better than foure thousand crownes yearely reuenue: she being very yong was a widow, and had but one child, being a sonne; and for griefe she had for the losse of her husband, as also for the loue of her sonne, determined not to marry againe. And to a­uoyde all occasions would not vse the company of any other than religious persons, thinking that sinne causeth temptati­ons, whereby the yong widow gaue her selfe only to diuine seruice, wholy forsaking worldly company, in such manner that she made conscience to goe to any wedding, or to heare the Organs play within the church. When her sonne was seuen yeares olde, shee chose a man of zealous life to be his schoolemaister, by whose good meanes he might be brought vp in godlinesse. When hir sonne entred into his fifteenth yeare, Nature, which of it selfe is a secret Schoolemaister, [Page] finding him too delicately nourished, and full of idlenesse, taught him an other lesson, than his maister vsed to do, for that he beganne to beholde and respect thinges that seemed faire; and among the rest a gentlewoman that lodged in his mothers chamber, wherof no man euer doubted, for that they no more respected him, than a yong infant; no other thing be­ing spoken of in the whole house but godlinesse. This yong gentleman began secretly to seek vnto the maid that told it to her mistris, who loued and esteemed her sonne so much, that she suspected the maide to tell it her, onely to make her hate him: but she was so importunate with her mistris, that shee said vnto her, I wil know if it be true, and assure your selfe I wil correct him if I finde it to be so: but if you tell mee an vntruth, I wil make you feele the price thereof. And to finde the trueth she willed her to appoint her sonne to come about midnight to lie with her in a bed neere vnto the doore of the chamber where the maid lay. The maid obeyed her mistris: and when night came the Gentlewoman laide her selfe in hir maides bed, determining if it were true, to correct her sonne so well, that neuer after he should desire to lie with maide a­gaine. And in that thought and displeasure her sonne came to bed vnto her. She, although she saw him lie downe, would not yet beleeue he would commit any dishonest art, but stay­ed to speake with him, vntil she perceiued some signes of bad desire: but not being persuaded with so small a signe, that he would proceed further, was so long pa [...]ient, and so fraile of nature, that she conuerted her choller into a most abhomina­ble pleasure, forgetting the name of mother: and euen as water that by force is holden in, when it issueth foorth, mek­eth more noyse than that which runneth his ordinary course, so this poore lady turned her glory into the restraint she gaue vnto her body. And when she proceeded to decline from the first degree of honestie, she found her selfe sodainly caried and borne vnto the last; and the saide night became with child by him, whom she sought to keepe from getting others with childe. The same was no sooner committed, but the remorce [Page] of conscience, brought her into into so great torment, that the repentance neuer left her during her whole life, which at the first was so sharp, that she rose out of the bed from her sonne, that knew no other but it had bin the maid, and went into a closet, where calling her good determination vnto mind, and the wicked execution thereof, she passed al the night in weep­ing and lamenting all alone: but in stead of acknowledging of the impossiblitie of our flesh, that without Gods help, can not but sinne, desiring by her selfe, and by her teares to satis­fie hir fault past, and by hir wisedome to auoyde the euill to come, she laide the excuse of her sinne vpon the occasion, and vpon the weakenes of flesh and blood, whereunto there is no remedy but only by the grace of God: she thought to do that, whereby in time to come she might not fal into the like incon­uenience, [...]nd as though there were but one kinde of sinne to damne men, [...]he deuised all the meanes she could to auoyde the same. Bu [...] the roote of pride which externall sinne should heale, increase [...] [...] her heart, in such maner, that by auoy­ding one mischiefe she fel into diuers others: for the next morning as sonne as it was day, she sent for her sonnes Schoole maister and [...]aid vnto him; Now my son beginneth to wax great, it is time to send him abroade. I haue a kinsman that dwelleth beyond the mountains with Mousis the great mai­ster du Chaumont that will be very glad to haue him in his company, wherefore I pray you bring him thither: and to thend I be not grieued with his departure, let him not come to take his leaue of me. And saying so, she gaue him money to beare his charges for the voyage: and the same morning caused the yong gentleman to depart, that was very glad at nothing else than after the inioying the pleasure of his loue, to goe vnto the wars. The lady continued long time in great melancholy and distresse; and had it not bin for the feare of God, she had often [...]shed the end of the vnfort [...]nat fruit she bare within her bo [...]. In the end she fained to be sicke, that vnder that vnder th [...] [...] might couer her imperfection: and being re [...]dy to [...], remembring that there was no [Page] man in the world in whome she so much trusted, as a bastard brother of hers, whom she intertained & did him much good; she sent for him, and shewing him her hard fortune (but made him not acquainted that it was by her sonne) desired him to help her, and to saue her honour, which he did: and not long before she should lie downe, he gaue her counsell to chaunge the aire, and to go to his house, where she might sooner re­couer her health than in her owne. She went thither but with small traine, and there she found a midwife ready for her, that by night not knowing her, brought her to bed of a fayre daughter: the gentleman deliuered it vnto a nurse, and cau­sed it to be nursed for his owne. The Lady hauing stayed there a moneth, went home vnto her owne house, where after that she liued more strictly than euer she did, both in fasting and discipline. But when her sonne became great, perceiuing no warre to be in Italie, he sent to desire his mother that hee might come see her: shee fearing to fall into the euill from whence she had escaped, would not permit him, till in thend he was so importunate with her, that she had no reason to de­ny him. Neuerthelesse she sent him word, that he should ne­uer come vnto her, if he were not married to a wife that he lo­ued wel; and that he should not respect her riches, so she were honest, and it should suffice. In the meane time bastard brother perceiuing the daughter whereof he had the charge, to waxe great, & very faire, thought to place her in some house farre off, where shee should not be knowne; and by the mo­thers counsell, gaue her vnto the Queene of Nauarre. This daughter named Katharine grew to the age of twelue or thirteene yeres, and became so faire & honest, that the Q. of Nauarre bare her good affection, and desired much to mary her richly. But by reason she was poore, she found her selfe to haue suters great store, but none that would bee her husband. Vpon a day it happened that the Gentleman that was her vnknowne father, returning from the other side of the Alpes, went vnto the Queene of Nauarres house, where he had no sooner espied the mayd, but he became amarous of [Page] her, and bicause he had licence of his mother to mary one that liked him, he tooke no care but onely to haue a wife that plea­sed his fantasie, and knowing her to be such, asked her in ma­riage of the Queen, that most willingly consented as know­ing the Gentleman to be rich, and with his riches both faire and honest. The mariage being finished the Gentleman wrot vnto his mother that from thencefoorth she neede not refuse him her house, for seeing he brought with him as faire a wife as any could be found, the Gentlewoman that enquired with what house he had matched himselfe, found hee had maried their owne daughter, wherwith she was in such despaire, that he presently thought to die, perceiuing that y^e more she sought to hinder her griefe, the more she was the means to increase the same. Whereupon not knowing what to doe, she went vnto the Legate being at Auignion, to whom she confessed the greatnes of her sinne, asking his counsell what she should doe therein. The Legat to satisfie her desire, sent for certaine deuines, to whom he vttered the matter not naming the per­sons, & found by their counsel, that the Gentlewoman ought not to make it knowne vnto her children, for that for their parts considering their ignorance, they had not sinned, but that she during her life ought to do penance without making any shew thereof. Which done, the poore woman returned home, where not long after ariued her sonne and her daugh­ter in lawe that loued so wel, that neuer husband nor wife lo­ued in better sort, for she was both his daughter, sister, and wife, & he too her father, brother and husband; in which great amity they continued long: and the poore Gentlewoman in her extreame penance, that neuer sawe them merry, but shee withdrew her selfe to weepe.

The sixteenth Nouell.

IN the towne of Bleare nere Aragon, there is a village called S. Mortis the faire, where there dwelt a handsome propper fellow, as any in Paris, where he was borne; and for his va­lour he durst haue trauailed into any Gentle­mans buttery, where all the barrels had beene full, without either dagger or sword about him. For his resolution, if he had once gotten vnder a maydes chamber window, he would neuer haue started, till they had emptied a chamber pot on his head. For his courage he durst haue gone into any baudy house, and would haue come out againe as honest a man as when he went first in. For his credit, he might haue runne on the score for sixe pots with any Alewife that kept house with­in fiue miles where he dwelt. For his qualities euery maner of way, he had the preheminence amongst all the youths that were in those quarters; for at Maytide, who was the ring­leader for the fetching home of a Maypole, but he? at Mid­summer he was chosen the Summer lord: at euery bridall, who must dance with the bride, but lusty Roger? Thus for a pleasant life, the Constable of Paris liued not more merrily then he. And for his reputation, he was almost as much re­uerenced as our Churchwardens. But as the stoutest stand of ale at last is set on tilt, and the fattest goose comes soonest to the spitte; so his former fortunes were drawen to the latest date, and his prime of pleasures concluded with mishap. But oh loue, oh cruell loue, that was the first fruit to his felicities. But who can resist loue, if it be once crept into the bottome of a mans belly? oh what a rumbling it makes in his gu [...]s, and how it bethrobs him about the heart. And see now the se­quele of his mishappe: he fortuned to be at a sheepshearing, [Page] where he met with a pretie wench, named Sisly, in a fine red peticoate, with damaske vpper bodies, a white apron before her: and vpon her head a broad felt hat, with a braue branch of rosemary sticking in her bosome, appointed amongst the rest with a paire of sheares to helpe sheare sheep, and he ha­uing brought foorth a lusty yoong ramme, would haue laide him in her lappe; but she refusing to take him, said vnto him: Now good friend Roger, if you loue me, bring me none but polde sheepe; for of all things in the world, I cannot abide these horned beasts. When he heard these milde words, that gently spoken, and how kindly she pronounced this sentence (Good friend Roger, if you loue me) oh heauens (thought he) what a sweet charme is this? then noting her modestie, that she could not abide the sight of an horned beast, he began to thinke with himselfe, how happy might that man be ac­counted that could light of such a wife. And hauing but a lit­tle giuen scope to his owne affections, loue that had his tin­der boxe ready to strike fire, by this time had set his fancy of such a flame, that not longer able to endure the heat without a cup of sacke, he sayd vnto her: Sister, your maner of phrase hath wonderfully troubled me: for in your first speeches you call me your good friend Roger, and then you came in with a doubtfull demand, in these words (if you do loue me) as though I could be your good friend, and yet did not loue you: but Sisley, sith you haue popt me such a doubtfull que­stion, if you and I were alone by our selues, I would pop you such an answere, that you should well finde that I loued you, and that hereafter you might leaue out your, If, and say Roger Asse you loue me.

With these words, pretily casting her head at one side, she gaue him such a leering looke, that might aswell haue danted him with dispaire, as gaue him comfort and hope of grace, for the one of her eyes was bleared, and seemed as though shee wept, the other was a prety pinkeny, looking euer as though shee smiled, so that in her very countenance at one instance, you might easely beholde pleasure, and paine, pitie, and rigour, [Page] curtesie and crueltie, loue and disdaine; and then with a sweet voice, like one that were asking an almes, she sayd: Roger, if you loue me as you say, your loue shall not be lost: but men are so crafty now adayes before they are married, that they will make a mayde beleeue they loue her, till they haue got vp her belly, and then they wil not stick to deny their owne children, and that makes women when they be once maried, to play their husbands such a cast, that they shall not know their owne children, but if your loue be no such loue, Roger, you shall not finde me vnkinde: when he heard the wisedome of the wench, it made his pulces so to beate, that he had thought his codpisse point would haue broken a sun­der: but for an answere he said.

Sisly, your sober speeches so wisely deliuered, togither with your sweete countenance so liuely placed, hath so pre­uailed with your good friend Roger, that for the better con­firmation of my loue receaue here this token, as a pledge of my good will, and taking then a twopenny piece which hee had in his purse, he bowed it and gaue it vnto her, the which when she had receiued, she said.

Well Roger, now I doe account you as mine owne, and at night when my mother is gone to bedde, if you will come home, we will there talke further of this matter: and for your welcome I will bestowe of you a messe of creame.

Sisly, (sayd he) looke you keepe your promise, for I wilbe there, and because you will be at so much cost with a messe of creame, I will bring with me a penny worth of spice cakes: and although they had thus referred their further speeches til their next meeting, yet during the time that they remained there in place, many amarous glances, & louing countenan­ces, there passed still too and fro between them: but at night the appointed time being come, thither he went, and Sisly, was at the window watching for his comming, who hauing once espied him, she opened the dore, where she receiued him with such a sweete kisse, as if her breath had beene lately per­fumed for the purpose, whose dainty smell was as savery, as [Page] if it had beene a red herring that had beene newly rosted, her louely lippes pleasant and soft, like a locke of wool, that was but then come out of the seame basket: but should I tell you of al the other loue tricks that passed betwixt him and her that night, I might either oppresse your stomacks to thinke of it, or otherwise perhaps make you ashamed to heare it. But let this suffice, before they departed their mariage day was ap­pointed, and Sisly, in time made her mother acquainted with the matter, who nothing misliking of her daughters choyse, gaue her her blessing, with many other good helps to furnish foorth her bridall day: the which when time had drawen to be solemnized, & that the lusty youths of the parish were ga­thered togither to go with vs to Church, and the young dam­sels were flocked on a heape to waite on the bride, attending her comming foorth, the good olde woman her mother, who had beene euer chary of the louely chickin her daughter, and euen at the very instant when we were ready to go to church, she was schooling of her with this exhortation.

Sisly (said she) the day is now come which you haue so much longed after, it is twenty yeares ago since you first wished for a husband, & byrlady daughter, you were then se­uenteene or eighteene yeares of age, so that at this present you want not aboue two or three of forty: now if wit went by yeares, you are olde enough to be wise: but I being your mother, besides my many yeares, which might aduance my skill: so I haue buried foure seuerall husbands (the heauens he praised for it) which hath so much the more confirmed my experience in the dispositions of men, and can the better iudge of their naturall inclinations: and by all that I haue gathe­red by my own proofe and practise, I haue found it still by triall, that the fantasies of men, are euer best fitted with the follies of women: but leauing generalities, and to come to so much as concerneth but thy selfe, thou art now to be mari­ed to a husband, who in respect of his age thou mightst be his mother: and couldest thou now but consider, what a comfort it is for an old woman, to be imbraced by a young man, O [Page] daughter daughter, thy mothers mouth beginnes to water, but with the very imagination to thinke of the pleasure, and therefore happy maiest thou deeme thy selfe, that art so like­ly to inioy it.

But here is now agreat piece of discretion to be vsed, for as age conceiueth such contentment with the society of flesh and pleasant youth, so youth will quickly fall a loathing of olde and croked age, if the parties be not wise to enforce that by art, that they are otherwise deuaied by nature: which is, to shew a youthfull disposed minde how farre soeuer they be spent in yeares, for it is a tyred iade that cannot cry wee hee, and a sorie mare that cannot wag her taile: thou art nowe to consider the inequality of the yeares betweene thy selfe and thy husband: and therefore a little to whet him on to make him to like the better of thee, it shall not be a misse for thee to shewe some youthfull conceipt, especially being thy bridall day, it is tollerable for thee a little to play the wanton. I tel thee daughter, men are well pleased to see their wiues youth­fully giuen, as there is nothing doth more delight them, then to see them wantonly disposed: and this is the means to win your husbands liking, & to draw him to that appetite, which your many yeares might quench, remember therefore what I haue tolde you, and faile not for your aduantage, to shewe some youthfull tricke.

Sisly, making a manerly curtesie, sayd: yes forsooth mo­ther, I will remember all that you haue tolde me: by this time all things being prepared, to Church they went, where the Priest hauing once done his office, they returned againe, and were accompanied with her neighbours and friends that went home to dinner with them, for whom there was provi­ded furmentie, and minced pies, besides other good meates both rost and sad, the which being all ready, Sislie was pla­ced at the vpper end, between two of the most substantial ho­nest men according to the custome of the parish and himselfe likewise (as the maner was) did wait that day at the table with a napkin hanging on his shoulder.

But o what a comfort it was vnto him, to see how daine­tily Sisly fed of euery dish that came to the table, and howe lustily she layd about her for her victuals, and (though hee) if it be true as some men say, that a good feeding horse will go through with his labour, then I warrdnt you if I giue Sislie her meate, I neede not feare to ride her where I list: but dinner being almost at an end, and the cakebread & cheese readie to be set on the table, the good old woman her mother who had likewise beene very busie that daie in taking paines to fill the pots, & to carie away empty dishes, began to cheere vp the companie, bidding them welcome, and telling them she was sorie there was no better cheere for them.

Sislie, presently vpon the sight of her mother, bethought her selfe what she had to doe, and calling now to minde what lesson she had giuen her, and how she had willed her that day to shew some youthfull tricke, thereby to purchase the favor of her husband, and picking out at that very instant a sitte op­portunity to perfourme it, she called to her mother, in this youthful maner, Mamma, vp and cack, the old woman hea­ring her daughter, said: why how now Sislie, fie for shame, will you speake bugs words? could you not pretily haue said I pray you mother haue me vp to picke a roase, nay now I see you plaie the wanton too much, then speaking to the com­panie that sate by, she said: I pray you bear with my daugh­ters childishnes, for I know it is the furmentie that doth so much annoy her, for euen from her infancie, if shee had taken any spoone meat, she was stil troubled in the bottome of her backe side with a great ventosity.

The neighbours seeing the cleanelinesse of the wench, did euer after that call her by the name of manerly Sisly. Let this suffice: within a very few months after he was maried, Sisly began to grow ielous: for if she had bin once thirsty, and that he wanted money to send to the alehouse, she would tell him that hee spent away his thrift amongest some other yong queanes. Here began our first falling out: and to set forward the matter, there dwelt at the very next house by him [Page] a Taylor that had a wife, who was sure once a day to mea­sure the breadth of her husbands shoulders with his owne metyarde.

Sisly and this Taylors wife grew to be acquainted: and amongst other conclusions it was agreed between them, that to preuent diseases, & to preserue them in health, they would euery morning next their hearts, take a physicall diet, which was, a full quarte of the quintessence drawne from an Ale tub, warmed by the fire, with a grated nutmeg, halfe a yeard of blacke pudding rosted, a quantitie of salt, with a measure of fine wheat flower, first made into paste, and after baked in a loafe of bread: these ingrediences after they had incorpora­ted together, they would afterwardes lightly fast till noone: and they found such a commoditie in vsing the medicine, that if the Taylor and he had not euery morning giuen them mo­ney to pay for the simples, it had not beene good for them to come that day after in their sights; for the Taylors wife she could handle a metyeard or a cudgell passing nimbly. But Sisly had gotten the practise of all manner of weapons; and besides that, she had the vse of her nailes, which she employed many times about my face: she could likewise handle a paire of bellowes about my pate, a paire of tonges a thwart my shinnes, a firebrand sometimes should flie at my head, a ladle full of scalding liquor otherwhiles in my bosome, a three foo­ted stoole, a pot, a candlesticke, or any other thing whatsoe­uer came next her hand, all was one to her; and she had lear­ned such a dexteritie in the deliuerie, that they shoulde haue come whirling about my eares. But in thend, hee deuising with himselfe a remedy for these mischiefes, he found means to be made the Constable, hoping that his office would haue bin a protection to him for a yeare, and that shee durst not haue stricken her Maiesties Officer. But within a day or two, it was his fortune to finde out a pot of strong ale, which she had set vp in a corner for her owne drinking; and he (be­ing thirstie) gaue it such a soope, that hee left very little be­hinde; the which afterward when she came to seeke for, and [Page] found her store so pittifully impaired, against his comming home at night, she prouided her of a waster: and hee was no sooner entred the doores, but foorth she comes with her cud­gell in her hand, and with such a terrible countenaunce, that were able to affright any man that should behold it.

Roger (said she) I had thought you would neuer haue gi­uen me occasion to be iealous of you; but now I see you loue a cup of strong ale better than you loue me: and do you not thinke then that I haue great reason to be displeased with your vnkindenesse towards mee, and to beate out that lacke of loue that causeth you so lightly to regard me? Sisly (said he) take heed what you do, for you know that I am her Maiesties Officer, and here I charge you in the Queenes name that you hold your handes. What master Constable (said she) haue you gotten an inchantment for me? or do you thinke that your charme shall serue to excuse you? No sure, no, for now you haue deserued double punishment: first, you being an officer, if you offer wrong, your punishment must be so much the more grieuous: and is it not meere iniustice to take that which was not prouided for you? Next, you haue deserued to be wel punished, for the little reuerence you haue vsed in the execution of your office, commaunding mee in the Queenes name to holde my handes with your cappe on your head, nor vsing any other duetie or reuerence. But maister Constable, I will teach you how to vse an office: and with that she let flie at his head, shoulders, and armes, and woulde still crie, Remember heere after how you doe your office, re­member your duety to the Queene; remember when you do commaund in her Maiesties name, that you put off your cap, and do it with reuerence; and such a number of other remem­brances she gaue him, as (I thinke) there was neuer poore Constable before nor since, so instructed in an office as hee was. To tell of many other like remembrances which at o­ther times she bestowed on him, would be but tedious: but the conclusion is, he is now rid of her, she being dead, heele keepe himselfe a widower (for her sake) as long as he liueth.

The seuenteenth Nouell.

IF you do euer make any proofe or triall, to know of what trampe the arrowes of loue be, & what fruit they bring to them that do vse & practise thē, I am assured you shalbe touched with some pitie when you vnderstand the beastly crueltie of an Infidell louer towards his Ladie. He of whom I will declare the history is Mahomet, not the false prophet, but the great grandfather of Soliman Otiman Emperour of the Turkes, which reigned at that time: he it is that to the shame and eternall infamie of all Christian Princes of his time, did winne Constantinople, and tooke away the East empire from Constantine, a Chri­stian emperour. Mahomet then hauing obtained so great a victorie at Constantinople, among the spoiles of that rich ci­tie, there was a fond Greeke maiden, of such rare and excel­lent beauty, as she allured the eyes of euery wight to wonder and beholde her, as a thing miraculous, whose name was Hyerenae, of the age of sixteene or seuenteene yeeres, whom a Captaine to gratifie his Lord did present: a iewell (as hee thought) most acceptable vnto him, aboue all things of the world. The emperour Mahomet, yong and wanton beyond measure, after that he had cast his eye vpon the yong maiden, & had grauen her beauty in his heart, gaue a straight charge that she should be kept for him, hoping after the tumult of the warre was ended, to bestow conuenient time vpon her. The retreict sounded, and the affairs of the empire reduced to sure estate, remembring himselfe of the beauty of Hyerence, which had made a breach and entrie into his heart, comman­ded that she should be brought foorth vnto him, and hauing viewed her at his pleasure, he felt himselfe surprised with the new flame, that he conceiued no other delight, but to play and dallie with her, in such sort, as his spirits being in loues full possession, loue dealt with him so cruelly, as he could take no [Page] rest day nor night, who yeelded himselfe such a pray to his darling Hyerence, that he felt none other contentation in his minde, but that which he receiued of her. And this amorous passion endured the space of three yeeres, taking such vigour and increase by little and little, that he beganne to forget that which apperteined to the ornament and honor of his empire, leauing the whole administration of publike causes vnto his Baschats, he himselfe being so negligent, as he reposed in them all matters concerning the state of the empire. During this disorder, the vulgar people began secretly to grudge, as well for the confusion and disorder of the empire, as for the ill gouernment of the same (and specially because the Baschats corrupted with auarice, imployed themselues to the particu­lar profit, and to inrich themselues with the spoile of the peo­ple:) the Ianisaries on the other side a warlike people, and brought vp in continuall exercise of armes, began with open voice to detract and slander their lord, commonly complain­ing how he consumed his life like an effeminate person with­out inferring or doing any profit to the empire. To be short, the matter came to such desolation, as it might rather haue bene called a sedition, then a murmure: & yet there was none so hardy, as durst attempt to declare the same to the empe­rour, knowing him to be of nature terrible, cruel & rigorous, that with a word would put him to death that went about to withdrawe him from his desire: so that hee was so drunke with the beautie of the Greeke, that the least matter where­with they might giue occasion to withdraw him frō his neg­ligent life, was enough to draw him into rage and fury. This poore emperour was so bewitched, as not onely he consumed dayes & nights with her, but he burned with continual ielou­sie, whose beauty was so liuely painted in the inward parts of his minde and heart, that he remained thus ouerwhelmed in beastly pleasure. Euery man in particular, & all in generall conspired against him with one determinate minde, to yeeld no more obedience vnto him in time to come, and purposed to chuse some emperour that were more warlike and martiall, [Page] through whose succour and counsell they might not only con­serue the things gotten, but amplifie the bounds & limits of their empire. Mustapha which was brought vp with the em­peror, a gentle personage, franke of talke, and so neere to his maiesty, that he might go into his chamber although y^e Greeke was present: when he perceiued conuenient time, such as he desired to haue, repaired to the emperour vpon a day, who li­king wel of his deuices, walked alone with him into his gar­den: to whom after he had made great reuerence, according to their custome, he sayd: My souereigne lord & master, if I might speake freely, without seruile feare, which stayeth me, or if y^e terror of your displeasure might not abash me, I would willingly declare vnto your maiesty that which concerneth not onely your security & sauegard, but (which is more) the safety of your whole empire. Whome Mahomet answered with mery countenance, in these words: Cast away such cold feare as stayth thee, & speake hardly thy mind, shew me what it is that toucheth me. I doubt, & it shall please your maiestie, lest I shall seeme ouer presumptuous, and rash, if Idiscouer the secrets of my heart; but ouer ancient education, the duty of my conscience, with the experience that you haue alwayes had of my fidelity, haue so much forced me, as being no lon­ger able to rule my selfe, I am constrained (by what vertuous prouocation I know not) to manifest things vnto you, that both time & necessity will make you thinke them good & ne­cessary: although (it may so be) that now your eies be so boūd vp in the vaile of your disordinate affection, that you can not digest or take the same in good part. The life (my lord) which you haue led since the taking of Constantinople, and the ex­cessiue pleasures wherein you haue bene plunged these three yeres; is occasion, that not only your souldiers, and the rest of your popular people, but the most faithfull lords of your em­pire, do murmure, conspire, & coniure against you: and par­don me (my lord) if I speake so vnreuerently in things tou­ching your preseruation, for there is no man, but doeth verie much marueile of this great & new alteration that appeareth [Page] in you, which doeth so abase you, & maketh you to degenerate from your ancient generositie & valiance: your selfe hath gi­uen ouer your selfe to be a spoile & pray to a simple woman, that you wholly depend vpon her flatteries & allurements; reason or counsell can take no place in your passionate & affli­cted heart: but I humbly beseech your maiesty to enter a lit­tle into your self, and make a suruey of your life that you haue led these three yeres past. The glory of your ancestors acqui­red and come by so much shedding of so much bloud, kept by so great prudence, conserued by so happy counsell, haue they no representation or shew before your face? the remembrance of their memorable victories, doeth it not touch the depth of your conscience? the magnanimitie & valiance, wherby they be immortalized, and their fame registred thorow the whole world, is it extinguished in you? their trophees & monumēts gotten, and aduanced to all the corners of the earth, be they throwen downe and defaced, from the siege of your remem­brance? But where is now the ardent desire which boiled in you from your infancie, to make Italie tributarie vnto you, and to cause your selfe to be crowned at Rome, emperour as­well of the Orient as of the Occident? this is not the way to amplifie and enlarge your empire, but rather to restraine and diminish the same: this is not the way to preserue it, but to spoile it, and to make it lesse. If Ottomon the first Turke or stocke of your gentle familie & kinred, had thus giuen him­selfe to be corrupted in idlenesse, you had not now inherited the noble kingdome of Greece, nor gouerned the countries of Galatia and Bithinia, and many other prouinces, which inui­rone the great sea. Semblably his sonne Orcan (a liuely i­mage of his father, and a folower of his valiant facts, had not triumphed ouer Licaonia, Phrigia, Caria, nor dilated the bounds of his empire, to Hellesponte. What shall I speake of Amurates the successor of Orcan, who was the first that inuaded Europa, conquered Thrafia, Siria, Rasia, and Bul­garia. and Baiazet likewise, did not he cut off the head of the great Tamberlaine, which called himselfe the scourge of [Page] God, and brought into the field foure hundreth thousand Sithians a horsebacke, and sixe hundreth thousand footmen? shall I passe ouer with silence the curteous exploites of your grandfather, Mahomet, who conquered Masedonia, and made the countries to feele the edge of his sword, euen to the sea Tonicom, letting passe manie wonderfull expeditions and iornies, by him made against the Lidians, and Scicilli­ans: but nowe I cannot reuiue the memorie of your father Amurate, but to my great sorrow & griefe, who by the space of fortie years, made the sea and earth to tremble and quake and with the furie of his strong hand, vsed such cruell re­vengment ouer the greeks, that the memorie of the wounds doe remaine at this daie, euen to the mountaines of Tho­mao, and Pindus, he subiugated the Phecians: made tribu­tarie Athens, Boetia, Aetolia, Caramania, and all the bar­barous nations, from Morea, to the straites of Cornitte, what need I here to bring in the cruel battaile that he fought with the Emperour Sigismounde, and Phillippe Duke of Burgundia, wherein he ouerthrewe the whole force of the christians, tooke the Emperour prisoner, and the Duke of Burgundia also, whom he sent to Andrionopolis; or to re­member other fierce armies which he sent into Hungaria, whereof your Maiestie is a faithfull witnes, your selfe being still there in your owne person.

Iudge then my Lord what diligent and intollerable tra­vel he vsed in his manifold glorious enterprises, and famous victories, doe you thinke that if he had beene idle in his pal­lace, amongst the Ladies you had inherited your Empire or had now beene Lord of so manie provinces; which he is not sufficient to rule, that cannot prouide to confirm, and establish the same: there be many of your subiects and vassals at this day, that doe obey and honour your Maiesty, more for feare, than good loue they beare you, that would rebel against you, if fortune would turne her back. The christians of long time (as you know) haue sworne your ruine & destruction: moreo­uer they say that their high bishop the Pope of Rome, hath [Page] conuocated al his prelates to vnite, & reconciled the princes and monarchs of christendome togither to ouerrun you, & to take the scepter out of your hands, & to dispoile you of your empire, but what know we whether theyle ioine their forces with the power of the Persian Sophi, your capital enemy, or with y^e souldan of Aegypt, your ancient aduersary, which if it come to passe (as god forbid) your Empire wil be consu­med: gather your wits then togither, frō henceforth my Lord & cal againe reason, which so many yeares you haue banished away from you: awake out of the deepe sleepe, that hath sea­led vp your eies, imitate & follow the steps of your ancestors which euer loued better one day of honor then a hundreth li­uing yeares of shame and reproch, attend to the gouernment of your empire, leaue off this effeminate life, receiue againe the smell of your generositie and vertue, and if you cannot at one time cut off & remoue all that amarous heate, which vn­dermineth so your heart, moderat the same by little and litle, and giue some hope to your people, which thinke you to be vtterly lost, and desperate of recouery, or if so be the greeke doe so much delight you, who shall let you to cary her with you in al your iornies and expeditions? why, cannot you both inioy her beautie togither, and vse the practise of armes? me thinke that your pleasure shalbe greater after you haue won some victory, and subdued some countrie, to enioy her in your armes, then to remaine in a house with eternall infamy, and continuall grudging of your subiects: but proue I praie you, to seperate your selfe certaine daies from her, and you shall certainly iudge, how far more passing, the pleasure be so de­ferred, then those that be daily vsed: yet one thing more, & it please your Maiestie, there resteth to be said, which is, that al the victories of your progenitors, or the conquests, which your selfe hath made, be to smal purpose if you doe not keepe them, & encrease them, the keeping of a thing gotten, being of no lesse glory and praise, than the conquest: be now then a conquerour of your selfe, humblie beseeching your Maiestie, that if I haue spoken any thing, disagreeable to your minde, [Page] according to your wonted clemencie to pardon the same, and to impute the fault to my bounden duetie, and the care that I haue of your honor and safetie. Mahomet, after he had heard the long discourse of this slaue, stood as still as a blocke, and fixing his eies vpon the ground, with sodaine change of cou­lour, declared by outward signes, the cogitations and vnqui­etnes of his mind in such wise, as the poore slaue Mustapha, seeing in him those alteratiōs, was in doubt of his life; whose words so pricked y^e Emperors heart, that he knew not what to doe, or whereupon to be resolued: and feeling his concience troubled with a furious battel, knowing euidentlie that Mu­stapha had spoken the truth, and that he vttered the same like a trustie seruant to his maister: but on the other side the beau­tie of the greek was still before his eies, and the mind he had to abandon her, gaue him such alarme, that he seemed at that instant, as though his heart had beene torne out of his bellie, and thus moued with diuers tempests, and disquieted with sundrie thoughts, hauing his eies inflamed with great rage and furie, he said vnto him: although thou hast spoken vnre­uerentlie enough, yet our education togither, and the fidelitie that I haue prooued in thee in time past shall be thy pardone for this time. To the purpose; before the sunne doth compas the Zodiacke, I will let it be knowen to thee and other, what puissance and power, gouernes mee, whether I am able to bridle mine affection or not; take order in the mean time, that all my noble men, the Baschats, and the principall of my men of war, be assembled togither to morrowe in the midst of the great hall of my pallace. This determination finished, the Emperour went into the gre [...]ke with whom hee reioiced all that day and night, and made more of her then euer he did be­fore; and the more to flatter her, he dined with her, and com­manded that after dinner, she should adorne herselfe with her best iewels, and deck her with the costliest apparell shee had: whereunto the poore wench obeied, not knowing that it was her funeral garments: on the other side Mustapha vncertain of the Emperors minde at the hower appointed, caused al the [Page] nobilitie to be assembled in the hall, euerie of them maruai­ling what moued y^e Emperour so to doe, since he had so long time shut vp himselfe, without shewing his person abroade: being thus assembled, and euery man talking diuersly of this matter, according as the affection serued: behold the Empe­rour entred the hall, leading the Greeke by the hand, who be­ing adorned otherwise than she was wont to be, was accom­panied and garnished with beautie, so rare and excellent that she resembled rather an heauenlie Goddesse, then a humaine creature: the Turke being come into the hall, after that the Lordes had made their reuerence, according to the woonted maner, he holding stil the faire greeke and the left hand, and stoode still in the midst of the same, looking furiouslie round about him, he said vnto them. So farre as I vnderstand, all you doe mutine and grudge, because I (being vanquished with loue) cannot be deuided, nor yet content my selfe day nor night from the presence of this greeke: but I doe knowe none of you all so continent, and chaste in loue, that if he had in possession, a thing so rare and pretious, so amiable, indow­ed with beautie so excellent, but before he could forget her, and gitie her ouer, hee would three times be well aduised. What saie you to the matter▪ euerie of you shall haue free li­vertie, francklie to tell me your minde: but they rapt with an incredible admiration, to see so faire a thing, saide that he had with great reason passed his time with her. Whereunto the barbarous cruell prince aunswered: well, now then I will make you to vnderstand, that there is no earthly thing that can binde vp, or captiuate my sences so much, but that from henceforth I will follow the glorie, of mine ancestors, and imitate the valiance of the Ottomans, which is so fixed in my brest, as nothing but death is able to blot it out of my re­membrance. Those wordes finished, incontinently with one of his handes, hee catched the Greeke by the haire of the head, and with his other hand, he drewe foorth his falchion from his side, and folding his hands about her golden locks, at one blowe, he strake of her head, to the great terrour of [Page] them all▪ when he had so done, he said vnto them: Now ye knowe, whether your Emperour is able to represse, and bridle hi [...] affec [...]ions, or not. Within a while after, meaning to discharge the rest of his choler, he adressed a camp of foure score or an hundreth thousand men: with whome piercing Bossiue, he besieged Belgrade, where fortune was so con­trarie vnto him that he was put to flight, and lost there a notable battaile against the christians, vnder the conduct of John Huniades, sur­named le Blancke.