The blazon of iealousie· A subiect not written of by any heretofore· First written in Italian, by that learned gentleman Benedetto Varchi, sometimes Lord Chauncelor vnto the Signorie of Venice: and translated into English, with speciall notes vpon the same; by R.T. Gentleman. — Lettura sopra un sonetto della gelosia di mons. Dalla Casa. English

The blazon of iealousie· A subiect not written of by any heretofore· First written in Italian, by that learned gentleman Benedetto Varchi, sometimes Lord Chauncelor vnto the Signorie of Venice: and translated into English, with speciall notes vpon the same; by R.T. Gentleman. — Lettura sopra un sonetto della gelosia di mons. Dalla Casa. English

Table of contents

Title page

TO MY HONOVRABLE FRIEND, Sir EDWARD DIMMOCK Knight, the most worthy and generous Champion vnto the Sacred Maiestie of Great BRITAINE, &c.

TO THE IVDICIOVS VNDERSTANDER: To the Ignorant READER: and to the base CARPER whatsoeuer.

TO THE NO LESSE NOBLE, THEN FAIRE, and yet not more faire then learned, the Lady GASPARA STAMPA.

The Liues of the Authour of this VVorke, BENEDETTO VARCHI, and of FRANCESCO SANSOVINO, the publisher of the same, whose EPISTLE is before.

Benedetto Varchi

The Life of FRANCESCO SANSOVINO, the first Publisher of this Worke in the Italian tongue.

To the Jealous Husband, vpon this Translation by his kinde Friend Mr. R. T.

The Censure of a Friend, vpon this Translation, done by R. T. Gentleman.

To his Friend Mr. R. T. vpon the Translation of this Worke.

§

THE BLAZON of Jealousie.

[Page]

THE BLAZON of Jealousie.

EVen as the omnipotent and incomprehensible God the beginning of all things (the IDEA and patterne of all Good and Goodnesse) is that Almightie Omnipotencie, which wanteth Beginning and Ending, which being made of None, hath by his owne power created all things: and as another saith excellent well; God is beyond fraile sense to comprehend. Hee, first, beganne All, and of All is End. HOLY ONE, is not alone the Author and Preseruer of this vniuersall world, and of euery thing that moueth therin; but is (likewise) most glorious and most absolute, most blessed and most perfect, beyond all humane beliefe and imagination; so hath he giuen and imparted to all creatures, (most Princely Duke, Honourable and Graue Senators, and yee my Fellowes and Companions of Amongst other laudable customes, vsed among the better sort of learned Gentlemen in Italy, their priuate Exercises, called ACADEMIES, are most commendable and praise-worthy, of which the INTRONATI of Sienna, the INFIAMMATI of Padoa, the GELOSI of Rome, the PAZZI, the ZOPPI, and such like, are of most fame and note: the manner whereof is after this sort. A certaine number of Gentlemen (the best Schollers and Courtiers of such Cities, where they enhabit) draw themselues into a Societie and Company together, whereof the Duke himselfe, or the chiefe Magistrate of that Citie is (alwayes) one. These, once a weeke, at some houre set downe, in the afternoone, assemble and meete in a goodly Hall, appoynted for that purpose; where one of them mounteth vp to a place called the Harangue, a little higher than the rest, and in his owne naturall language maketh an Oration of an houre long, of what Subiect or Theame soeuer himselfe shall like best: this Orator hauing warning so to doe, by an Officer, a pretty while before his day. For they chuse euery halfe yeere a Consull or chiefe Magistrate amongst them, who appoynteth sundry men [...]o the Harangue, for sundry dayes; and when the houre of their Assembly approacheth, all the Gentlemen of that Company repayre to the Consuls house, bringing him honourably to his Chayre, where hee sitteth highest, although the Duke or chiefe Gouernour of that Citie be there present And these be the Gentlemen of the fore-said Academies, who in the Christmas and Carnouall time (tearmed by vs Shroue-tide) deuise many rare showes & sports, presenting before the Ladies and Gentlewomen (there) excellent, witty, and pleasant conceited Comedies, with such like delightfull Exercises, to their owne no small commendations and credit, and to the wonderfull applause and conteutment as well of their owne Countrymen as of all other strangers whatsoeuer. this flourishing ACADEMIE of this most feruent [Page] and zealous INFIAMMATI,) not onely a naked Substance or Beeing, by meanes whereof they onely are; but moreouer, a good and perfect Beeing, so farre forth, as each ones nature is apprehensible and capable. And hereof it proceedeth that all things contend to be like the Creator, so farre as they are able, and naturally couet and desire (aboue all) not onely (simply) to exist and bee, but farther also, to be perfect and hap [...]y, each thing in that, which best standeth with his owne nature and qualitie.

And because (as the He meaneth Aristotle, (Disciple to Plato) who was an admirable singular wittie man, inferiour to None; Platoes Better in varietie of knowledge, and all the worlds Superiour in disputation. Philosopher saith in his Booke, De Coelo) God and Nature is that Spirit or diuine Reason, which is the efficient. Cause of naturall works, and the preseruing cause of those things that haue beeing, through the onely power of the heauenly Word. Nature make not any thing in vaine; therefore haue all things their Meanes, Faculties, or Possibilities, as well to attaine vnto these two things, as to preserue and keepe them: for as concerning their existence or beeing, they (generally) haue a kinde of promptnesse and inclination (as wee may tearme it) from Nature her selfe, to defend and protect themselues (as much as their force will giue them leaue) from all such things as may offend, or corrupt them, any way.

Now to doe good, or to doe well, they haue likewise a kinde of appetite or desire, through which instinct, they (all) couet, and seeke, what is good, or (at least) that which they imagine to be good for them: As contrariwise, they shunne, and haue in hatred, what, eyther is, or, which may be presupposed by them, to be hurtfull, and bad, considering they are (many times) deceiued before they be aware.

Neyther must we thinke, that the knowledge of the The exteriour Senses are the powers of the Soule and Body, and are in number fiue, viz. Seeing, Hearing, Smelling, Tasting and Touching: the right vse of which may be set downe thus; Looke, but aright, and long but for your owne.Heare all alike, and Trust, when Truth is knowne.Taste (but to feed) yet feede not (still to please.)Touch neuer more, than lawfull is to sieze.The Senses thus you (rightly) shall enioy,Which (oft) makes many, Seruants of annoy. Senses, as well exteriour, as interiour, (as I may say) of liuing Creatures, was giuen them to any other end, but onely for this, viz. that their Iudgements should eyther pricke them forward [Page] to good, or else draw them backe from that which is euill: and the Actions of these Faculties or Powers, which our The Soule is a created Substance, invisible, incorporall, and immortall, resembling the Image of her Creator: Plato deuideth the Soule into three parts, in his Timeus, placing Anger in the Heart, Concupiscence in the Lyuer and Splene, and Reason (the Lady and Gouernesse of the worke) in the Braine. Soules haue to follow such things, as doe delight and helpe, or be loathsome and to be auoyded, were called by the Latines, Plato saith, that Affections in a man, are like Nerues or little Sinewes or strings, wherby Nature draweth vs forward into contraries, as themselues are contrary; but he that hath giuen his Reason (once) dominion ouer them, shall finde their force of no effect worth esteeming: and to this purpose, one writeth very well thus: Sad perturbations, that Affections guide. Should not giue iudgement till their Cause were [...]ride.Affections or Perturbations of the The Minde is that bright eye which guides the Soule, and gouernes men in all their actions whatsoeuer: and as one saith; The Minde hath in it selfe a Deitie, And in the stretching Circle of the eye All things are compast, all things present still. Will fram'd to power doth make vs what wee will. Minde; but the Tuscanes (following, in this, as in many other matters, the Grecians) tearme them Passions are certaine internall Acts or Operations of the Soule, bordering vpon Reason and Sense, prosecuting some good thing, or flying some ill thing, causing (therewithall) some alteration in the Body. Passions, because the whole minde (being troubled and stirred vp through the same) doth suffer and endure. Now, of all the perturbations and passions, which haue their Beeing & Breeding in the vnreasonable part of our Soules, and which are chiefly Viz. Loue, Hate, Ioy and Sorrow; and they haue foure chiefe Gouernours, Reason, Patience, Time, and Experience. foure, (as I haue discoursed, heretofore more at large in this place,) there is no question, but that Loue, according to Plato, is three-fold; the first imbraceth Vertue onely; the second is infamous, which preferreth bodily pleasure; and the third is of the body and the soule: nothing more noble than the first, than the second nothing more vile: the third is equall to both. But this Loue of which our Author now speaketh, is comprehended in these two lines onely: Loue is a Fiend, a Fire, a Heauen, a Hell, Where Pleasure, Paine, Griefe, and Repentance dwell. But hee that will see a most liuely description of this kinde of Loue, indeede, and more at large, let him reade Mr, Michael Draitons Definition thereof, in The Flowers of English Parnassus. LOVE aboue all the other three, is (by much odds) most potent and strong, as being that, from whom (if [Page] wee consider throughly thereof) All the rest proceede, and therefore not without great reason, was it said of the Father and Prince of Of Virgil it is said, that for his great learning and iudgement, hee encountred with Theocritus, vanquisht Hesiodus, and ranne the selfe-same race, as fairely and as well as Homer himselfe did. Romane Poets:

L'Amor vince tutte le cose.

Loue ouercomming euery thing,

Vnder his proud subiection doth vs bring.

And the auncient Poets, and Theologitians of Greece, meant no other thing, by the mysticall History of Paris (who leauing Pallas the Goddesse of Wisedome, and Iuno the Lady of Wealth and Riches, tooke part with Venus, the Commandresse of Beautie) but to shew the meruailous, and incredible power of Loue; because Loue dominiereth ouer vs, as doth our The Stoickes hold, that, onely to be Will, when a thing is firmely and constantly desired, and therefore it is defined to be a Desire of any thing with Reason, which is in a wise man onely; but that which is against reason, is called Lust, or an inordinate desire, being resident in all Fooles: whereupon an English Poet, setting downe the difference betwixt Will and Wit, writes thus: Will holds the royall Scepter in the Soule. And o'er the Passions of the Heart doth raigne. Wit, is the Minds chiefe Iudge, which doth controule Of Fancies Court, the iudgement false and vaine. Will puts in practise what the Wit deuiseth. Will euer acts, and Wit contemplates still: And as in Wit the power of Wisedome riseth, All other Vertues, Daughters are to Will, Will, which draweth and forceth vs vnto his scope and drift: this his motion being most vehement, and more stirring than any other whatsoeuer; as well in respect of himselfe, (Loue being most mighty and powerfull) as also for that it groweth, and increaseth, with the good leaue, the quicke readines, and best liking of our owne will; so that it is no otherwise, than like that man, who is not alone fiercely spurred forward with a continuall force, but (as it were) is vrged thereunto, through his owne willingnesse, maugre his owne might, and as they say, quite against the hayre.

And certainely, were it not but that Nature, (who for many respects, is thought by diuers, to be rather a And yet there are foure chiefe bridles by which Nature is curbed, which are Want, Authoritie, Hope, and Feare. cruell stepdame, than a kinde and louing mother) had ordayned that all our sweet [Page] meates should be (euer) seasoned with sowre sawce, then doubtlesse should euery one be most happy, but To this sense, one imitating Ariosto (herein) saith thus: The ioyes of Louers, if they still should last, Without Affliction, or Disquietnesse, That worldly Chances doe amongst them cast, Would be on earth, too great a Blessednesse; Liker to Heauen, than to mortall wretchednesse. Therefore the winged God, to let them weete That here on earth is no true Happinesse. A thousand sowres hath tempered with one sweet, To make it seeme more dainty, as is meete. aboue all, loyall Louers should be more blessed than the rest. But as no sweetnesse, no pleasure, nor happinesse, are so delightfull, so pleasant, nor so much desired, as that which proceedeth from Loue; euen so againe, those bitter pils, those vntollerable Griefes, and those disasterous Mischances, or rather Mischiefes, which fall out in Loue, exceede (beyond all comparison,) all other Torments, and Tortures whatsoeuer, as they who haue proued, and tryed them, finde it to be but ouer-true, especially the A Tragedy so called, presented by the Gentlemen of the [...]TRONATI, in Sienna, where all the Actors in the same, came to seuerall vnfortunate and disasterous ends. Perottinian Louers.

Yet will I not denie, (but iustifie what I now speake, for a most constant truth) that all those disdainfull Disgraces, but now spoken of, all those burning Martyrings, all those insupportable Punishments; and to be briefe, all those vnspeakable bloudy Passions in Loue, (yea, were they (All placed in one body together) are nothiug, or rather, passing pleasing and sweet, in respect of that one damned Feare, or hellish Suspect, or rather vncurable Plague, and deadly Poyson, cleped Socrates saith, Iealousie is a disease of the minde, proceeding from a Feare, which a man hath, lest that thing be communicated to another, which hee would not (in any wise) haue cōmon, but priuate to himselfe. IEALOVSIE: which (coupled together with Loue,) is no other thing, then (as hath oftentimes beene deliuered in this place,) A certaine eager and earnest Desire to enioy the Beautie (as a certaine graue and learned Gentleman, our Country-man writeth) is nothing else, but a iust proportion of the parts, with an apt correspondency in colours in these inferiour bodies: of which Subiect [...] the immortall Muse, of our euer memorable SPENSER, singeth thus: Nought vnder heauen, so strongly doth allure The Sense of Man, and all his Minde possesse, As Beauties loueliest bait, that doth procure Great Warriours (oft) their Rigour to suppresse, And mighty Hands forget their Manlinesse. Driuen with the power of an Heart-robbing eye, And wrapt in Flowers of a golden Tresse, That can with melting pleasance mollifie Their hardened Hearts enur'd to Crueltie. Beauty of one [Page]alone, by himselfe onely. Of which Subiect, not any Poet, eyther Latine or Graecian, (let it I beseech yee (noble Auditors) be lawfull for mee boldly to speak what I think) nor hath any otherHee saith so, because, none have written at all (to speake of any thing to the purpose,) of this Subiect before, and this (so much, as hee tearmeth it) is onely here and there a Stanzo of Ariosto's, in his Orlando Furioso: and this one Sonet of Monsig or Dela Casa, commented vpon by this Author: but now of late a Country-man of mine, although a stranger vnto mee, called Mr. George Wither, hath penn'd diuers witty Satyres, whereof one is of this Subiect, which you may read in his Abuses stript and whipt.discoursed thereon (so much) or so learnedly, as two rare, and (as I may say) diuine Wits of this our Age haue done; the first of which, and the most auncient, was that learned and iudicious Mr. Lodouicus Ariosto, borne in Rheggio, a towne subiect to the Dukedome of Ferrara, wrote that famous worke ORLANDO FVRIOSO, in honour of Cardinall Hipolito d' ESTA, his Lord and Master, (whom hee then followed,) besides diuers other Bookes, as his Comedies, Tragedies, and Satyres; which Satyres I translated into English Verse, with Notes vpon the same; although, vnknowne to mee, they were set forth in another mans name. In his later time, being somewhat discontented, hee with-drew himselfe priuately home to his owne house, where after hee had continued a few yeeres, hee dyed of a payne in his stomacke, and was buryed in S. Bennets Church in Ferrara, where hee hath a fayre Monument of white Marble, with his Statue erected thereupon, and this Epitaph: Lodouico Ariosto Poetae, Patritio Ferrariensi, Augustinus Mustus tanto viro, ac de se bene merenti Tumulum & Effigiem Marmoreum are proprio pos [...]it. Ann.Dom. 1571. Alfonzo secundo Duce. Hic ARIOSTVS est situs qui ComicoAures Theatri sparsit vrbanus sale,Satira (que) mores strinxit acer improbos:Heroa cultu, qui FVRENTEM carmine Ducum (que) curas cecinit at (que) praelia,Vates Corona dignus vnus triplici,Cui trina constant quae fuere vatibus,Graijs, Latinis, vix (que) Hetruscis singula. Natus est Ariost. 1474. Vixitannos. 59. Obijt anno salutis, 1533. Idus 8. Iulij. But if you will know his whole life more at large, then reade the fore-said English Satyres, where you shall be satisfied at the full. Lodouic [...] Ariosto of Ferrara; and the other is the reuerend, Lord, Giouanni, surnamed This man was both a Philosopher and a Poet, borne not far from Florence, and liuing within the memory of man. He wrote many Sonnets in praise of a faire Gentlewoman, his Mistresse, called DIANA, of the house of the Saluiati in Florence; and a Treatise in Prose of Good Manners, (ycleped Galateo) much in request amongst the Italians. Hee was very inward with Cardinall Bembo, Speren Speroue, Benedetto Varchi, and other learned men of his time, with whom hee conuersed (for a certaine time) in Venice, in the interim of which, hee wrote an excellent Oration (penn'd in the behalfe of Horatio, Grand-childe to Pope Paul the third, of the house of the Farnesi in Rome) who petitioned with the same, to the Emperor Charles the fift, that he might succeed Peter Luigi his father, in the Dukedome of Parma and Piacenza, (as afterward he did) the Emperour commending highly the foresaid Oration. This Giouan de la Casa, held Petrar [...]q to be a better Poet than Dant, contrary to the opinions of most Schollers in those daies. To conclude, he growing in yeeres, returned backe to Florence, where he dyed of the payne of the Collicke, and in the 62 yeere of his age, & lyeth buryed in the Certosi, a Sumptuous Monastery, not far from Florence De la Casa. The one in [Page] his first Stanza of his 31. Canzon of his Orlando Furioso, The other in a Sonnet of his owne, no lesse graue, then learned, and as daintie, as euery way witty, which hee made in the prime of his young and blooming yeeres: which Sonnet, I (following the laudable custome of this most flourishing Academie) and to shew my deuoted Affection, and dutious Seruice, vnto you (most Royall Prince) haue made choyse of (this day) to explaine and expound at large, according vnto that small Talent, which it hath pleased the Almightie Power to bestow vpon mee.

To commend, as is reason, and were but fitting, the Bountie and Learning of this our Author; his owne Greatnesse, and mine Insufficiencie, his discreete Modestie, and natiue Country (common vnto vs Both) forbid mee to say what I should, although I am not ignorant, but that as well the one, as the other, is knowne vnto the maior part of you here present: part also, shall you perceiue thereof, by this his admirable Sonnet, which whilest I repeate, and make plaine, vouchsafe of your acustomed gentlenesse (as your courteous nature is wont to doe) with still attention to giue mee the hearing.

SONETTO.

CVRA, che di timor ti nutri, & cresci,

Et tosto fede à tuoi sospetti acquisti,

Et mentre con la fiammail gelo mesci,

Tutto'l regno d'Amor turbi, & contristi.

Poi che in brieu'hora entro'l mio dolc' hai misti

Tutti gli'amari tuoi, de'l mio cor esci,

Torna à Cocito, à, i lagrimosi, & tristi

Ghiacci d'Inferno, iui' à te stessa incresci.

[Page]Iui senza riposo, i giorni mena,

Senza sonno le notti, iui ti duoli

Non men di dubbia che di certa pena.

Vattene: à che piu fiera, che not suoli,

S'el tuo velen m'è c [...]rso in ogni vena,

Con nuoue Larue, à me ritorni, & voli!

CARE, thou that nourishest thy selfe, o'er bolde

With Feare, encreasing still, and soone d [...]st g [...]e

Credit, to thy suspitions, whilst chill cold

Thou minglest with a hot and burning Flame;

By which thou all the Kingdome of milde Loue

Dost trouble, heauy make, and too much moue:

Since thou so soone vpon my sugred Sweete

Hast mixt thy bitter Drugs, hence from my Heart,

Turne backe to Cocitus, and to those Icies Deepe,

Those sad, and wofull waters, full of smart;

Pack (hence) to Hell, thou worse than hellish Elfe,

There, vexe, torment, and gawle thine inward selfe▪

There (without rest) prolong thy weary dayes;

There, let thy nights, withouten sleepe be spent;

There torture still, and grieue thy selfe (alwayes)

As well with doubtfull, as sure punishment:

Fret thine owne bowels forth, stamp, stare, be mad,

Be euer heauy, neuer blithe, nor glad.

Dispatch, begone; why fiercer than before,

And farre more stronger, then thou wontst to be,

(Since venim thine, to poyson mee the more,

Through euery veyne dispersed is in mee.)

Dost thou returne (afresh) in shadowes new,

The more to make me still to waile and rew?

[Page]THe Subiect of this high and Egelike Sonnet, which is both for the Conceit, the Words, and the Order of the Verse, solemne and graue, and repleate, full of a kinde of religious and compassionate Indignation and Anger; seemeth to mee, that it is willing to instruct, and declare (no lesse according vnto the truth, and like a wise A Philosopher, according to Cic [...]roes definition, is a Louer of Wisedome, and one that is learned in the knowledge and vnderstanding of the Arts and Sciences which is the mother of all Vertue & Perfection: the Greeke Monuments recording two kinds of Philosophers. The Italian [...] out of that part of Italy, whilome called Magna Gretia, and the Ionian in the Country now called Grece; Pithag [...]ra [...] of Samos, being the first Author of the name of Philosophers. Philosopher, then There are seauen kindes of Poetizing, in the Florenti [...] tongue, as this our Author reporteth in his Italian Herc [...]l [...] no. The first and principall is that of Dant and Petrarcq: the second, of Luigi, and Lucas Pu [...]cio (brethren [...]) the third, as Burchiello wrote (for he also was a Poet:) the fourth, the Chapiters of Ber [...]ia: the fift, the Sonnets of An [...]on [...] Alleman [...]: and besides these fiue, there are two, to sing Pastorals; the one in left, as that called N [...]ncia, di Lorenzo de Medices, and that Beca, of Lewis Pulci; and another in truth and in good earnest: and this also is diuided into two parts, for some write Eglogs, in loose Verse, and the other in Verse, ending in meeter or rime: and this also is done two manner of wayes▪ e [...]ther with ordinary versifying, or with that long kinde of smooth, sliding, and running Rim [...], which S [...]nazar vsed in his Writings and is in Italian called Sdursciol [...]. Poetically, with great Inuention is an [...] [...]hat hath more of the Wit, Imitation of the Will, yet Imitation commeth short of Inue [...] [...] though Inuention is the most dangerous of both. Inuention and Skill) what thing Iealousie is, whence it springeth, how it is nourished, and what a wicked, and hurtfull plague it is. And this hee sheweth, by the Effects, and Accidents of the same, which being more apparant, and better knowne vnto vs, (than the Occasions and Substance thereof) will stand vs in great stead (as testifieth Aristotle in his first Booke De Anima, to learne vs to know, of what nature and condition it is: and therefore hee fayneth (or perhaps because it was so indeede) to discharge, and to driue from him, that frightfull Monster, and infernall Fury, which with her sad and blacke poyson, had very much troubled him, in his Businesse, turning all his amorous sweetnesse into sowre and hatefull bitternesse. Neyther gaue shee ouer, (as if it had beene but a small thing to vexe him euery houre,) but rather became more grieuous, and troublesome (continually) vnto him. And although this Sonnet, might be deuided into two especiall parts, yet for our [Page] more ease, and for the better vnderstanding thereof (because the matter is very difficult and hard) wee will diuide it into foure Stanza's:

The first thus:

Of Care one prettily and briefly writes thus:

Men dye, and humane kinde doth passe away,

Yet Care, that makes them die, doth euer stay.

And mine old Acquaintance and Friend, Mr. Henry Cunnestable, hauing set downe this Passion in her right colours, I could not chuse but acquaint the Reader therewith.

Care, the consuming canker of the minde.

The Discord that disorders sweet Hearts tune.

Th'abortiue Bastard of a Cowards kinde,

The light-foote Lackie, that runs post to death,

The busie Aduocate that sels bis breath,

Denouncing worst to him, that is his Friend.

CARE, thou that nourishest thy selfe (o'er bold)

With Feare, encreasing still, and too-too soone dost gaine

Credit, to thy suspitions, whilst chill cold

Thou minglest with a hot and burning Flame,

By which, thou, All the Kingdome of milde Loue

Dost trouble, heauy make, and too much moue.

In this first part, in which the foure things (before specified) are contayned, our Poet, no lesse learnedly than briefly, speaketh to IEALOVSIE, and most artificially calleth her, not by her direct and playne name, but vseth a Periphrasis here, and setteth downe a description of her, saying; ‘Care, thou that nourishest thy selfe, &c.’

And this course did Ariosto take in his first Stanza, of his 31. Canto, who before hee deliuered her proper name, branded her with fiue villanous words, euery one of them being worse than other; and thus hee ranked them, as it were in battell aray: Suspicion is a certaine doubtfull timerousnes of the minde, detaining the hart most fearefully, with sundry Affections and vncertaine proceedings, according to this saying: Suspect bewrayes our thoughts, betrayes our words, Wounds Hearts like sword, and nought but Griefe affords. Suspicion, Feare is two-fold, Good and Euill; Good Feare is that which is grounded vpon a good discourse of Reason, and Argument, standing in awe of blame, reproach and dishonour, more than of Griefe or Death: Euill Feare is destitute of Reason, and is that which wee call Cowardlinesse or Pusillanimitié, alwayes attended vpon with two perturbations of the Soule, Feare and Sadnesse: and of this sort is this whereof the Author speaketh, wherevpon one saith well to this purpose. Feare is defect of manly Fortitude, Continually, by Dread and Doubt pursude. Montagnie also saith, it is so strange a Passion, that as Philosophers affirme, there is none doth sooner transport our Iudgement out of his dew seate, then this doth: and to this purpose one saith thus: Feare is more paine, than is the paine it feares, Disarming humane mindes of Natures might, Where each conceit an vgly figure beares, Which were not Euill, well view'd in Reasons sight. Feare, [Page] Martyring is a kinde of inward painefull Conceit or Thought, that vexeth and galleth as well the body as the minde of man most feelingly, not vnlike a martyring kinde of sensible racke or torture. Martyring, Frenzy is a distemperature of the braine, through some so daine affrighting or inward conceit, but Madnesse is a furious passion, that taketh away the right Senses and Wits for euer, whereupon one writeth thus: This bedlam Madnesse for forerunner sends Mannie & Frenzie, to suborne her Friends, Whereof the one drying, the other ouer-warming The feeble braine (the edge of Iudgement harming) Within the Soule fantasticqly they fayne A confus'd Hoste of strange Chymera's vaine. Frenzie, and Madnesse.

But because euery one of these foure Verses, are full of learning, and all the difficultie and hardnesse consisteth in this first part of the Sonnet, wee therefore for your better vnderstanding (therein) will explaine one Verse after another, with as great case as wee may, and after the best manner wee can deuise.

Care, thou that nourishest thy selfe, o'er bold, &c.

Considering that in these first foure Verses hee defineth, or rather describeth what IEALOVSIE is; and there being two manner of Distinctions, the one, which declareth her name, the other, which sheweth her nature: pleaseth it you first to vnderstand that this Greeke word [...], compounded of two words, (from whence Three things (saith one) breedes IEALOVSIE; a mighty State, a rich Treasure, and a fayre Wife. This Fiend, a quondam kinde Acquaintance of mine, Mr. Thomas Watson, paynteth forth very liuely in these Verses: Pale IEALOVSIE, childe of insatiate Loue, Of Heart-sicke Thoughts which Melancholy bred, A Hell tormenting Feare, no Faith can moue, By Discontent with deadly poyson fed, With heedlesse youth, and Errour vainely led, A mortall Plague, a Vertue drowning Flood, A hellish Fire, not quenched but with Blood. Gelosia, that is, IEALOVSIE, commeth in our language) signifieth no other thing, than a certaine Emulation, or an Enuy, of Forme, or Beautie: which name it seemeth that the Latines want. Definitions of IEALOVSIE. True it is that that famous Orator Marke Tully, translated it Obtrectatio, and defined it to be a Passion, wherewith some one man is possessed, least another, should holde and enioy that vvhich hee, onely coueteth to possesse and keepe alone. Others affirme, that IEALOVSIE is a certaine suspition which the Louer hath, of the party he chiefely loueth, least she should be enamoured of [Page] another. A third sort there is, that saith, IEALOVSIE is a fearefull and timerous suspicion or Doubt in the Louer, least the Woman whom hee affecteth, and whom hee would not haue to be common with any other man, should lend her body vnto another. All which three are in effect one, and the selfe-same thing, but yet particularly, and not vniuersally, as the right and perfect definitions vse to be set downe, because they comprehend that Party onely, which is iealous, by reason of his owne desire and proper longing or coueting; that is, that hee might (alone) enioy, what hee most wished for; as if there were no Iealousie to be had of our Daughters, Mothers, Sisters, or others, eyther shee kinred or Friends, which are left in our Custody, Wardship, and Protection, and whom wee desire to haue (not to enioy them our selues) but least some other, whom wee mislike or disdayne, should (against our wils, and to the disparagement of our Honor) get possession and interest in them.The Authors defining of IEALOVSIE. And therefore wee will say that IEALOVSIE is a certaine Feare or Doubt, least any one whom we would not, should enioy a Beautie that wee make account of; and, this, for two Reasons, eyther because wee our selues would enioy the same alone, or else, that such a one as we like and desire, might haue the sole fruition and possession thereof. Now there is no doubt but that Enuy is a vice that inflicteth those most extreamely, that vse itmost, and it (immediately) succeedeth Pride, by nature; for a proud man so loueth himselfe, that he grieues that any should excell him, which when he cannot auoid, then hee enuies them: and this is the difference betwixt Hatred and Enuy; Hate extendeth to Some, Enuy to All, whereupon one saith: Enuy is nothing else but griefe of minde, Conceiu'd that Others Happinesse doe finde: 'Tis Honours shame, and Glories secret Foe, Whose Fruits are Hate, Despight, sad Griefe and Woe. IEALOVSIE is a Spice or Species of Enuy, and although it followeth not of necessitie, that wheresoeuer Enuy [Page] is, there IEALOVSIE should be, yet is it necessary, that wheresoeuer IEALOVSIE is the Precursor, there Enuy must be the Follower alwayes, as that which is a liuing Creature, is not a man, and yet euery man is a liuing Creature. Whereupon Plato defineth a Iealous man to be one, that hath an enuie or malice towards another, by reason of some amorous suspicion, which hee conceiueth against him. And for this cause (perhaps) our non-paraleld Poet Petrarcq in one of his sweet Sonnets, saith thus:

Liete & pensose, accompagnate, & sole,

Donne, cheragionando ite per via;

Oue, è la vita oue la morte mea, &c.

Fayre Ladies, yee, who talking vp and downe this way,

Pleasant and sad, accompanied, yet (alone) I see,

Ah, tell me, where's my Life? where is my Death I pray?

Why, is shee (now) not here? as she was wont to be.

Pleasant we are, when her we call but to our minde:

Sad, that, we cannot haue her wisht-for Company,

Whom ENVY and bad IEALOVSIE doe stay behind,

Whom neighbors good, more than their own mishap makes cry.

But who can Louers bridle? who Lawes can them giue?

None can the Mind restraine. Anger and deep Despight

The Body for a while (perhaps) may vexe and grieue,

Which (now) on Her, and (then) on Me doth often light.

Yet if the Countenance be the Harts bright myrrour true

(As oft it is) then did we see her Beautie fayre,

To be ecclipst, whilst wee her louely Eyes did view

Teares to distill from Limbecke of sad Care,

My comfort's this, in me fault was there none,

'Twas dread of lewd Tongues made her stay at home.

[Page]Although (as sometimes after the Poeticall manner) he maketh his LAVRA to be enamoured of her owne selfe, like another Narcissus, and so hides herselfe from him, as in this Sonnet of his; beginning, ‘Il mio Auersario, in cui videre solete, &c.’

My mortall Foe, in whom you wonted were to see

Your diamond eyes, which heauen & loue do honor much

Not with his Beautie, (but your owne) makes you to be

Enamourd; tis so rare, so sweet, of Vertue such:

(Lady) by his aduise you haue casshiered me,

(A wofull Exile, from that louely Lodge of mine)

Although I yeeld my selfe vnworthy for to be

Placed; where you sit crown'd with Fauour most diuine.

But had I bin (as you made show) deare in your Loue,

Me thinkes a paltry Looking-glasse in my disgrace

Should not haue made you halfe so proud, as to remoue

Your fancy from me, which you on your selfe (now) place.

Assure you, if you thinke but on Narcissus fall,

Your Destiny, and his, are like to be all one,

Although the ground (when you turne to a Flowre) shall

Vnworthy be for to enioy so rare a One.

Remember Pride's the roote of euery sinne:

Rather be Courteous, so you prayse shall winne.

And in that delightfull and pretty Canzon, which beginneth,

S' el pensier chi mi struggi

Come è pungente & saldo, &c.

If th'amorous Thought of mine that vexeth mee.

As it is fierce, bad colour like the same,

[Page]Perhaps my Body then should heated be,

And I should Partner be, in that Loues Flame,

That Flame of Loue which now doth sleepe in her

(May chance) would then beginne in me to stirre.

If so, I then should not so idly liue,

I then (abroad) should waite and on her tend;

Nor I so much with weeping (then) should grieue,

And Heate, not Colde, from me should still ascend:

I should be turned into nought but Fire,

The Brand of Loue, the Torch of hot Desire.

And in that Disticq. of his:

Se forse ogni sua gioia,

Nel suo bel viso è solo.

If all her Ioy and chiefe delight

Be onely in her Count'nance bright. &c.

So likewise this Poet (in another place) maketh her Iealous againe of her owne selfe: which selfe-same course, the learned Francis Maria Molza, borne in Modena in Lombardie, was one of the best Schollers of his time, as wel for Prose as Verse. He was a Retayner to that great Cardinall Alexander Farnesi, of whom it is constantly reported, that by his great power, wealth, and friends, hee could haue made whom hee pleased Pope, in any sede vacante, but for himselfe, he was neuer able to doe the same, so much was hee doubted and feared, because of his huge meanes and great authoritie he had in Rome. Of this iolly Cardinall then, was this Molza (as I said) a Follower, who bestowed a bountifull pension on him during his life, as hee did on many others beside. He was buryed in Modena with this Epitaph: Qui lepido Veteres cantauit carmine MOLZA, Hic iacet aetatu maximu [...] huius honos. Molza taketh, in the end of a certaine witty Sonnet of his, where hee wishing and aduising his Mistresse, that shee should be content, and indure to be eyed and marked of others, and not stand ouer-long prying and gazing in her Glasse, hee (calling her his glorious Sunne) concludeth after this sort;

Voi non doureste hauer tanta paura,

Ne, l'essere guardata, da chi u'ama.

You neede not thus to stand in so great feare,

Nor to be watched, so by him that loues you deare,

As if you doubted, (as it seemes to mee)

That by your owne selfe you should stollen be.

But leauing (for this present time) to speake any thing at all of that kinde of IEALOVSIE, [Page] which Parents haue of their Daughters, Brethren of their Sisters, and of the like by bloud and Alliance, neare and deare vnto them: and reasoning onely of that which is incident to Louers onely,IEALOVSIE of Louers, three-fold. I say that they may be iealous three manner of wayes; and that IEALOVSIE may be taken after three seuerall fashions: 1. Eyther when wee would not haue, that any one should obtayne, that which wee our selues haue already gotten: 2. Or that which wee wish and desire to obtayne: 3. Or which wee haue laboured and endeuoured, following it in chase, and yet could neuer gayne the same. Now this IEALOVSIE springing from our owne couetous minde and proper greedinesse to haue such a thing, is after a foure-fold manner, viz. By reason

1 Of Pleasure.

2 Of Passion.

3 Of Property or Right.

4 Of Honor.

IEALOASIE commeth of Pleasure is of two sorts; one is said to be of honest & good things, and the other of dishonest. In respect of honest things it is called voluntas, but in respect of dishonest, it is called voluptas, therefore very wittily saith one to this purpose. Pleasures, like p [...]asting guests, make but small stay. Where Griefes bide long, and leaue a score to pay. Pleasure, when wee estimate and prise the There be two sorts of Delight, Sensuall and Intellectuall. Sensuall, which taketh his sourse from Sense and Passion; and Intellectuall, which draweth his originall from the Vnderstanding and the Will. delight wee take in the Partie we loue, at so high a rate, as we would engrosse it wholy vnto our selues, and when wee thinke, or imagine, it will decrease and waxe lesse, if it should be communicated, or lent vnto another: and in this poynt, in my conceit, Tibullus, the Poet, speaketh most diuinely (as most commonly he doth in all his Writings) but especially in that excellent Elegy of his, where he beginneth thus:

Quid mihi, sifuer as teneros laesuros amores,

Foedera per Diuos clam violanda dabas?

[Page]Art thou a faithfull Friend and seek'st

To cheate me of my Loue?

And break'st (in priuate) Friendships Bonds,

Confirm'd by Gods aboue?

And in those other no lesse sweet than daintie Disticques beginning after this manner:

Semper, vt inducar, blandos offers mihi vultus,

Post, tamen, es, misero, tristis & asper Amor.

Quid tibi seuitiae est mecum? an gloria magna est

Infidias homini composuisse Deum?

To toule me in, and draw me on,

Most cunning art thou (LOVE,)

Sweet meate (at first) but afterward

Sowre sawce thou mak'st me proue,

Why shouldst to mee thus cruell show?

What credit ist for thee?

A God to entrap a silly wretch,

Think'st thou 'twill Glory be?

This Latine Verse is so pleasing, as I could not choose but translate it into our Italian Tongue, applying it to our purpose, after this manner:

Sempre acciò ch'io piu volontier m'inuecchi,

Con lieti risi, & gratiosicenni,

Dolcemente da prima (Amor) m'adeschi,

Ma poscia (lasso) come tuo diuonni,

Si mi gouerni giorno, & notte ch'io,

Altro che danno, & duol mai non sostenni,

A che sei tanto in me spietato & rio?

E però gloria tal con sorza, e'nganni,

Tender lacciuoli ad huom mortal' è Dio? &c.

[Page]

The better for to bring me to thy Lure,

And as thy prise and pray to get me sure,

(LOVE) thou, at first, dost lay thy tising bait

Most cunningly, to catch me with doceit:

Sweetly and mildely, thou dost set thy ginne,

By s [...]gre [...] smiles and lookes to draw me in:

But (woe i [...] me) no sooner am I caught,

But that I finde to danger I am brought.

Thine Entertainment day and night is such,

As makes me grieue and sorrow ouer-much:

Why art so spightfull, and incenst gainst mee,

When better guerdon'd I deserue to be?

No doubt great glory shall to thee redound,

When it abroad shall euerywhere be found,

A mighty God, a silly man did ketch

Within his Nets, by force and subtill fetch.

IEALOVSIE proceedeth from This Passion may be rightly tearmed some timerous conceit, or strange kinde of Feare, such Feare commonly bringing much griefe to the minde, as one saith to this purpose, thus: Passionate Feare still taketh her delight In perill, which exceedeth perils might. Passion, when we couet to enioy or possesse that which we most loue and like, wonderfully fearing lest we should loose the possession thereof, as if our Mistresse should become a secret sweet Friend vnto another man: and in this pittifull When IEALOVSIE once siezeth on such weake and resistlesse soules (as Propertius was) it is pittifull to see, how cruelly it tormenteth, & how insultingly it tyrannizeth ouer them, for of all the mindes diseases, that is it, where to most things serue for sustenance, but fewest for remedy; such a furious perturbation, and moody Agitation it is, which throweth them into Extremities, altogether contrary to the cause. perplexitie and case was Propertius, as may appeare, when hee made this mournfull and mestfull Elegie; beginning thus:

Eripitur nobis iampridem cara Puella,

Et tu me lachrymas fundere (Amice) vetas?

My Wench is gone and stollen away,

Whom I did loue so deare,

And art my Friend, and yet forbidst,

That I from teares forbeare?

[Page]Thirdly, IEALOVSIE springeth from the Property or Right, is a kinde of Interest or Clayme, which one challengeth to any thing as his owne, and as peculiar & proper to himselfe, and wherein no other can (truely) demand any share or part. Yea, so peremptory are some men in this point (especially if they know they may lawfully challenge this high pris'd commoditie of Loue as their owne, and that they haue payed for the same,) as they haue cast off their Wiues, and Mistresses, onely vpon a meere suspicion, or scandallous report of a malicious & backe-biting tongue, the poore women being in no fault at all, but their owne fantastique and iealous Conceits and Humours, for who can stop a slanderous speech when it is once spread abroad? since w [...]o knoweth not, that, Reports▪ at rand [...]me runne, whi [...]st Truth they misse. And Heard s [...]y [...]onne to' a L [...]ar counted is. And such a one was a certaine Gentleman, a friend of mine, who vpon a false surmise and giddy Toy that troubled his br [...]ine, forsooke a fayre Gentlewoman (his Mistresse,) not so much as once vouchsafing or enduring to heare how shee could excuse and answere for her selfe: hee being so peremptory in his opinion, that because shee was thought to be false vnto him, therefore shee must be needes so indeede, as you may perceiue by these few Verses, being part of a bitter Letter hee sent her, which you shall finde at the ende of this Booke, and these be they: And where to witnesse thou dost call (For thy true faith) the Heauens all, I tell thee (Dame) the Wench that I Shall like for mine owne company, Shall not alone, right honest be, But from suspicion shall be free: That all may say, shee hath no Fault, No not so much as she can halt. So you may perceiue by this, hee would haue her more fortunate than any other; for what Woman or Man is there, almost liuing, but that hath beene eyther suspected, scandalized, or ill spoken of by one lewd tongue or another: And it is but too true, considering, What Malice likes not, straight disprais'd must be, For Slander's blinde and cannot Vertue see. Lyes, Slander, flattry, Birds are of one feather, Forsworne false Friends they are, and dwell together. Propertie or Right that wee haue, when we (enioying our Lady or Mistresse) would haue her soly and wholy vnto our selues; without being able (by any meanes) to suffer or endure, that another man should haue any part or interest in her, any way, or at any time: and to this purpose doth the foresaid Poet write, exceeding well, to Lin [...]us, his fellow Poer, (an old smell-smocke, and an auncient acquaintance and familiar friend of his) who (belike) being more forward in this amorous Businesse than the other could haue wisht; Propertius takes exceptions against him for the same, and withall, earnestly entreates him to giue ouer the Game hee had in chase, as in this Elegie following, you shall finde more at large:

[Page]

Tumihi vel ferro pectus, vel perde veneno,

A Domina tantum te modo tolle mea;

Te socium vitae, te corporis esse licebit,

Te Dominum admitto rebus (Armice) meis,

Lecto te solum, lecto te deprecor vno,

Riualem possum nin ego ferre Iouem.

Stab me with Sword, or Poyson strong

Giue mee to worke my bane,

So thou court not my Lasse, so thou

From Mistresse mine refraine,

Command my selfe, my Body, Purse,

(As thine owne Goods) take All,

And as my nearest, dearest Frend,

I (euer) vse thee shall:

Oh spare my Loue, to haue (alone)

Her, to myselfe I craue,

Swounds Ioue himselfe Ile not endure

My Riuall for to haue.

And so puissant and potent is this our desire, which wee haue to enioy that Party (which wee loue) soly and alone, without the societie and company of any other whatsoeuer, as that (many times) when this our high-pris'd Commoditie chanceth to light into some other merchants hands, and that this our priuate Inclosure proueth to be a Common for others, wee care no more for it, but giue it altogether ouer, quite extinguishing and quenching in vs, not alone the Iealousie wee had of the same, but likewise the hot loue and affection wee bare it before, as Ouid in his second Booke of his amorous Elegies, speaketh in a manner to the same effect, when he saith thus:

Quod licet ingratum est, quod non licet acrius vrit,

Ferreus est, si quis quod finit alter amet.

[Page]What's lawfull, base; what's hard to get,

More eager doth vs moue:

Senselesse, that suffreth others court

His Wife, yet her will loue.

And in another place thus:

Pinguis Amor nimium (que) potens, in taedia nobis

Vertitur, & stomaco dulcis vt esca nocet.

Too much of easie yeelding Loue

My minde doth soone annoy,

Too much of common daintie Fare

The Stomacke (still) doth cloy.

In a third, thus:

Quin alium, quem tanta iuuat patientia quaere,

Me tibi Riualem, si iuuat esse veta.

So many Sutors to endure,

Thy patience sheweth too base,

Another seeke, as Riuall now,

For to supply my place.

Lastly, IEALOVSIE commeth in respect of a mans Honor, is the Reputation and Credit, or the good name and Fame, of a Man, which the generous Spirit priseth, at so high a rate, as before hee will haue the same eclipst, hee will loose all his wealth, yea, and his dearest life to, according vnto the saying of a certaine graue and wise Gentleman: Vntainted HONOR (not long life) the treasure is Which noble Mindes doe hold to be their chiefest blisse. Reputation and Honour, according as his nature is, or as his Breeding hath beene, or after the fashion and manner of the Country, in which hee is borne and liueth, because (in this point) diuers are the opinions of men, and as contrary are the Customes of Countries, wherevpon they say, that the The Persians were wont to be so iealous of their Wiues, as they neuer suffered them to goe abroad, but in Waggons close shut; but at this day the Italian is counted the man that is most subiect to this vice, the sallow complectioned fellow, with a blacke beard, being hee that is most prone, as well to suspect, as to be suspected about Womens matters, according to the old saying: To a Red man reade thy Reade, With a Browne man breake thy Bread, At a Paleman draw thy Knife, From a Blacke man keepe thy Wife. Which wee expound after this manner: The Red is wise, the Browne trusty, The Pale enuious, and the Blacke lusty. Southerne Nations, and [Page] such as dwell in hot Regions are very Iealous; eyther because they are much giuen and enclined vnto Loue naturally: or else for that they hold it a great disparagement and scandall, to haue their Wifes, or their Mistresses taynted with the foule blot of Vnchastitie: which thing those that are of contrary Regions, and such as liue vnder the North-Pole, take not so deepe at the heart, and therefore wee may perceiue that this our Poet, hath done excellent well, to call and as it were define IEALOVSIE, to be That IEALOVSIE, in a manner, is no other thing than a kinde of suspicious CARE, or a carefull kinde of SVSPITION: this Sonnet following (penn'd by an Italian Gentleman) and seeming, (as it were) to be done in imitation of the Authors Mounsignior de la Casa, aforesaid) sheweth as much; which because it is annext vnto this Worke of Benedetto Varchies, I thought good to translate into English thus: CVRA, che sempre vigilant é desta, &c. CARE, who as vigilant, dost alwayes watch,Perswading mee to what is worse than ill,And seek'st my pensiue Heart still for to catch,To force him yeeld to thy accursed will,Making me leade a heauy wofull life,Whereas (before) Pleasures with me were rife. Bane to my sweetest Thoughts, thou gloomy storme,That all my Hopes and best Times ouerthrowes:Why with Suspicious new mak'st me forlorne?Why dost thou vexe my minde with wicked woes?Why dost thou gall me more and more each houre,To wreake thy vengeance on me through thy power? O Monster fierce, more Fierce then monsterous!O Pestilent plague of loyall Louers true!What hellish Fiend, what Hagge most furiousFrom that deepe horrid Caue, thee (hither) drew?Why in so hydeous shape dost thou appeare?To torture mee, and spoyle my pleasures here? Packe hence, away, thy power th'hast too much showne,And therefore mestfull Iacke, with trembling FeareShall write the Sorrowes which through thee are growne,And wofull plaints which in my Breast I beare.(Damn'd IEALOVSIE) Ile blaze thee, Herauld-like,That all the world may loath thee with despight. CARE, that is, a Thought or Passion which proceedeth and leadeth [Page] on Feare, which is as much to say, as if it came of Dread and Suspect. And by this phrase of speech hee giueth vs to vnderstand from whence it springeth, because (as the Well may Aristotle be tearmed the Prince of Philosophers, since (as that famous Auerrois writeth) Nature ment (when Aristotle was borne) to shew the vtmost proofe of all her strength and power, so that what was possible for a mortal man to know, so much did hee vnderstand. Prince of Philosophers teacheth vs) wee are easily and best nourished with that with which wee are borne.

Neyther doth hee thinke it sufficient to haue said thus much, but he addeth besides, (Cresci, thou growest or increasest) which word no doubt is set downe by him, with great and excellent iudgement, by reason that IEALOVSIE may (as other like Qualities) encrease or diminish, and it increaseth or diminisheth through foure things,IEALOVSIE encreaseth or decreaseth. or meanes, to wit, 1. According to the Persons: 2. According to the Places: 3. According to the Times: 4. And lastly, according to the Businesses taken in hand.

The persons, by meanes whereof IEALOVSIE encreaseth or decreaseth, are in a manner alwayes three.

1 The Party that is Iealous.

Three Persons which encrease IEALOVSIE.

2 His Mistressee, ouer whom he is Iealous.

3 The Person whom hee suspecteth, and therefore is Iealous of him.

Concerning the Partie that is Iealous: such as know themselues to be Indeede I am of opinion, that the most worthlesse persons are alwayes most subiect to this infectious Disease of Iealousie, as Mr. George Wither rightly saith. There is None Iealous I durst pawne my life, But hee that hath defilde anothers Wife: And commonly, Mala Mens malus Animus, An ill Disposition breedes an ill Suspition. And for that hee himselfe hath gone astray, Hee straight-way thinkes his Wife will tread that way. The best counsell therefore I can giue to these kindes of suspitious Braines, is to possesse their soules with patience, considering it is the best Salue for this Sore, and to giue ouer this frantique Malady, following this good Counsell. Thy Wife being fayre, be not thou Iealous, Because Suspicion cures not womens Follies. destitute and depriued of [Page] euery good Qualitie and Vertue, and that finde themselues to be little (or nothing at all) fauoured or respected of their Mistresses and Ladies, swallow downe more easily, and sooner, this poyson than others doe. A Testimoniall of which Mr. Iohn Bocchas setteth downe most iudiciously (as is his wonted manner) in the ninth Tale of his seauenth Giornata or dayes Worke, in the person of See this Tale in Bocchas Decameron, and in his seauen Giornata, the Argument whereof is briefely thus: Annigucchio, a rich Marchant of Florence, being iealous of his fayre wife, perceiued how shee vsed to tye a small line or thread about one of her feet when she went to bed, whereupon hee one night finding his Riuall to pull the same, leapt out of his Bed with his Sword drawne to follow him, and shee seeing that her deuise was discride, got her maid to lye in her place in the bed, whom her Husband comming backe (for hee could not ouer-take the fore-said Fellow) beat most pittifully, and that done, set his Wiues kindred, to see her in that pittifull taking, but when they saw it was another, and not their kinsewoman, they beganne to swagger with him, and she to rayle at him, for calling her good name in question, whereupon he being out-fac't by his Wife, and the rest, that hee was drunke, was glad to aske her forgiuenesse, as if hee had done her great wrong and, after that, neuer durst finde fault with her more, but suffered her to haue her will, and take her pleasure where shee thought good, and lik't best. Annigucchio Berlinghieri, as euery one may perceiue that will take the paines to read the same. Besides, it importeth very much to know of what nature the Iealous man is, because if hee be naturally suspitious, hee then will take euery thing in the worse sense, interpreting all whatsoeuer he eyther heareth or seeth, in a sinister and bad sense or meaning, and so his Disease (in time) commeth to be desperate. And such a Of the Fellow that suspecting his Wife, and being exceeding Iealous of her, would needes shriue her in the habit of a Priest, reade Bocchas Tale, in the fore-said Decameron and Giornata 7. the substance whereof is this: A certaine Fellow suspecting his Wife of Incontinency, perswaded her to goe to Confession and Shrift, and shee smelling his drift, made show to be willing thereunto: whereupon hee getting the habit of a Priest, stayed for her in a certaine Church, whither he had appointed her to goe to her Ghostly Confessor, she making shew, (when she came thither) that shee knew him not, and telling him, how shee lay with a Priest euery night. Hee hearing this, when shee was gone, and that it was night, stayed about the doore of his house watching to take her Sir Domine napping, as hee should come to his Wife, whilst shee in the meane time, hauing giuen a secret Item of all these proceedings, to her amorous Friend, by a priuate dore in the Gutter, let him in, where they enioyed one anothers company all the night long, the Gull her Husband staying all that while, shaking for cold in the streete, and when morning beganne to appeare, she let her Friend forth by the same doore he came, Wiseakers her Husband, neuer so much as once doubting or dreaming of any such matter. Fellow was hee who (in Bocchas) would needes (in the habit of a Priest) confesse and shriue his Wife, and of this kinde of mould are most of our Iealous Creatures [Page] made, and therefore our Poet very wisely added in his second Verse:

Et tosto fede à tu [...]i sospetti ac quisti.

—And too-too soone dost gaine

Credit to thy suspitions.—

For so is the true Copy, and not as I haue seene in some other false Bookes.

Et piu temendo, maggior forza acquisti, &c.

And fearing (still) thou greater force dost gaine, &c.

Although I deny not, but that this might passe for currant, well, and might be counted tollerable enough, as being perhaps borrowed from Virgill, where he saith:

Fama, malum, quo non aliud velotius vllum,

Mobilitate viget vires (que) acquiret eundo, &c.

Anon through all the Cities great of Africque, Fame is gone,

That blazing Flame, a Mischiefe such, as swifter there is none,

By mouing [...] shee breedes, and as shee runnes her might doth rise.

Below (for feare) shee lurketh, first, then straight aloft, in skies

She mounteth.

Besides, who knoweth not, but that the more one feareth, the more hee is Iealous? Ariosto likewise setteth downe the quicke swiftnesse, and the strange credulitie of Iealous folkes, when he saith, that this vncurable and mortall wound, is so easily imprinted in the heart of a Louer. And certainely it is wonderfull, and almost incredible to beleeue, that men should be such deadly enemies vnto themselues, and of their owne liues (as many times they are,) through these strange and foolish Humours are tumours of a swelling minde. Sprung from Selfe-will vnconstant as the winde. humours, that for one word onely, or for a signe, a becke, or a glance cast vpon one, without as [Page] much as a thought of any ill; nay, more, that they will (despight of their owne selues) imagine and conceit that which doth so much afflict, gaule, and torment them incessantly, and without any rest, as if there were not (properly) in loue, other Cares and Troubles beside, then those onely, which wee our selues (without any profit or pleasure at all) seeke to purchase most vnseasonably euery houre of the day: To this purpose, one writeth that all the defects of out Wit, may be reduced into two, viz. Ignorance and Error. By Ignorance wee know not things necessary: by Error we know them falsely: Ignorance is a Priuation; Error a positue action: All Ignorances cannot be preuented; many Errors (but not All) may be escaped. From Ignorance floweth Vice, from Error Heresie, and therefore well may we say of the first. Grose Ignorance (to Truth the Opposite) Fa [...]shood and Doubt doe breed, and Foes to Right. And of the last, thus: Error the Daughter of blinde Ignorance. Hates Wisedomes lore, lead by vncertaine Chance. But of both of them one writeth thus: Image of Hellish Horror, Ignorance, Borne in the Bosome of the blacke Abisse, And fed with Furies milke for sustenance, Of his weake Infancie begot amisse, By gnawing Sloath vpon his Mother Night: So hee, his Sonnes, both Sire and Brother hight. A grosse Errour and a Token of much insufficiency of wit.

But to come to the expounding of this our Sonnet, I say, that (Acquistar fede) in this place doth not signifie, to be beleeued, or to be a meanes for beliefe, as in the first Stanzo of Petrarcqs, where he saith:

Che acquistar fede alla pensosa vita, &c.

It nourisheth matter to a perplexed life, &c.

And in that other matchlesse Sonnet of his, beginning thus:

Se com'eterna vita è veder Dio, &c.

As t'is a blessed thing God to be [...] in skie,

So blessed, as wee can, nor ought, to couet more:

So happy am I when I view thy face with eye,

Since nothing in this world I doe so much adore,

Nor haue I seene thee fayrer then I view thee now,

Vnlesse mine Eyes (as partiall) iuggle with Conceit;

Hope of my Life, the Mindes chiefe Beauty true,

On whom (as dutie bindes) my Heart doth wait:

But th'art no sooner seene, but art straight out of sight,

Else would I not thy Company so much desire;

Then if some liue by Sent, (as wee beleeue) they write

By Water some, and some by Taste, by Touch, and Fire,

Why by your sweet sight then, should I not liue,

Feeding on nothing else, since life you giue?

But it signifieth (quite contrary) a firme and infallible Beliefe and Faith: in which sense Petrarcq vseth it in this Sonnet:

[Page]

Solea lontana, in sonno consolarmi, &c.

Once was I wont to comfort me in sleepe

With that sweet heauenly face of Mistresse mine;

But now in Feare and Griefe it doth me keepe.

(Yet Greife nor Feare can ease mee any time)

Me thought I saw within that beauteous Face

True Pittie, and still Sorrow plac't aright,

My Heart gaue firme Beliefe to this sad Case,

Disarming mee of Hope, and Pleasure quite.

Remember well said shee, that latest Eue,

That Night in which I left thee weeping so,

And when (constrain'd through Time) which mee did grieue,

I went my wayes and left thee plung'd in Woe,

Then could not I tell thee so much for Griefe.

Now doe I tell thee what thou find'st too true,

Dispayre therefore, and thinke not of reliefe

Thou (neuer more) mee in this world shalt view.

Too true I heard what my sicke Heart beleeu'd,

And (euer) shall, for which it still hath grieu'd.

But to come (where I left) to entreate of IEALOVSIE, I say that this malignant Spirit, encreaseth and decreaseth, according vnto the Party for whose sake we are Iealous; and this we doe, not alone in respect shee is well bred, is pittifull of Nature, proper of Personage, constant, wittie, discreete, modest, of few What others would request or desire in their Wiues or Mistresses, I know not; but my nature so much abhorreth a Woman of much tongue, as I had rather haue her infected with any of the seauen deadly Sinnes, then to be counted a notorious Scold: and therefore, A Womans Tongue that is as swift as Thought, Is euer bad, and she her selfe starke Nought: But shee that seldome speakes and mildly then, Is a rare Pearle amongst all other Women. Maides must be seene, not heard, or selde or neuer, O may I such one wed, if I, wed euer. A Maide that hath a lewd Tongue in her head, Worse than if she were found with a Man in bed. Be she best of her Sexe, (Good All,) I hold, She is worse then worst, if once she proue a Scold. Flye then such Furies as (still) scold and raile, Queanes of their Tongue, are (most) Queanes of their Taile. words, tender [Page] of her owne Reputation and Honour, and other such like good parts in her: but (withall) likewise consider and haue How iealous the Italians are of their owne neerest and dearest Acquaintance & kindred, for feare of their Wiues, and how they vse to watch them narrowly, read my Ariostoes Satyres in English, and therefore not without cause is that Prouerbe rise amongst them: Chi non tocca parentado, Tocca mai, o, rado. The nigher kinne, the farther in. an eye euen vnto her owne Mother, her Nurse, her Sisters, and Kindred, her Familiars, Acquaintance, and such Neighbours as she conuerseth withall, which poynt is most excellently well set downe, by Boccas in many places, whereupon Petrarcq (his Mistresse Laura being a Saint, graue, wise, courteous, honest and fayre) saith hee is not iealous of her, in the end of that no lesse pleasant than hard and darke Sonnet of his, beginning after this manner, where he speaketh of IEALOVSIE thus:

L'Amor ch'incend' il cuor d'ardente zelo, &c.

Loue, which enflam'st the troubled Heart with burning Zeale

And kep'st him shut in Prison fast with icy Feare;

And (which is most) to'th doubtfull sense dost not reueale

Or Hope, or Feare, or Fire, or Ice, which he doth beare.

In greatest Heate I shake, and burne in coldest time:

Full of Desire, and yet is my suspect as much

As if a Woman should hide vnder garments fine

Some liuing man, (although there can be nothing such.)

Of all these plagues, the first is proper vnto mee,

To burne both day and night, yet how this harmefull flame

Is sweet in minde, and pleasant seemeth for to be

[Page]No thought can well expresse, nor pen can write the same:

The other's none of mine▪ for my fire's of such power.

As goeth beyond the force of man so farre to reach:

Who thinkes by his flight to the height thereof to skoure:

F [...]ies but in vaine, and soone a dangerous fall may catch:

Well may All striue this golden Ball to gaine,

But in the end they shall (deceiu'd) remaine.

Besides, the Minde and Condition of the Louer towards the Woman whom hee affecteth, importeth very much in this businesse; for if he be giuen to choler, or is (by any other Accident) discontent and displeased, hee will then quickly take occasion to be angry with her, and euery mote (as the Prouerbe goeth) is a Beame in his eye: which qualitie you shall finde in many of Bocchas Nouels, and in See the strange passion and life of this Lady more at large in the 32. Canto of Orlando Furioso. This Bradamanta a warlike Mayde, daughter to Duke Aymon, and Beatrice his Wife, was sister to Rinaldo, one of the douze Peeres of France, for her valiant provvesse King Charlemaine made her Gouernesse of Marselles in Prouance. She was wife to that braue Rugiero, & dyed for griefe of the Paladines ouerthrow, who were most of them treacherously slaine at R [...]uceueax, a Citie bordering on Spaine, through the treason of that Arch-traitor Gano. Bradamantas Humors: and so againe, if hee be temperate, and stayed in Condition, being well conceited, and hauing a good opinion of the party he liketh; then is the case quite altered, and he is iocond and blithsome, and not The more discretion a man hath, the lesse shall hee bee troubled with these franticke fits: and seeing, as a certaine noble Gentleman fayth, the Honour of a true heroique spirit dependeth not vpon the carriage or behauiour of a woman, I see no reason why the better sort should take this false playing of their Wiues so much at the heart as they doe; especially, when it is their Destinie, and not Desert, to be so vsed. Montaigne, that braue French Barron, being of this minde; for saith he, the Gallantest men in the world, as Lucullus, Caesar, Anthony, Cato, and such like Worthies, were all Cuckolds; yea, and (which was more) knew it, although they made no stirre about it: neither was there in all that time, but one Gull, and Coxcombe, and that was Lepidus, that dyed with the anguish thereof. Read the third Chapter of the third Booke of the foresayd Montaignies Essayes, and he will satisfie you at large in this poynt. troubled at all: and therefore is it very [Page] requisite and needfull that men should not be ouer-heady, nor rash, in their Humors, and proceedings, but rather discreet, wary, and coole, canuasing and measuring euery action and behauiour of their Mistresses, with sound discretion and iudgement, and not to be ouer-forward and too much credulous, or too too light of beliefe, without any For this makes Women worse than they would be, and to doe that which they neuer meant. For Women thas are chaste, when they are trusted; Proue wantons when they (causelesse) are suspected. iust cause giuen them, which is the onely reason (as we daily see) of many grosse absurdities, springing and issuing from such like light and idle occasions as these.

Lastly, IEALOVSIE encreaseth or abateth, according as the qualities are in the partie, whom the Iealous man suspecteth to be familiar with his Mistresse, and therefore is iealous of him. For if hee be poore, or ill fauoured, basely borne, illitered, of bad or no breeding, and hath few or no friends of worth, to be a countenance or credit vnto him, hee then doubteth him the lesse, and hath no great feare of him; as (contrariwise) if he be rich, a proper man, well descended, learned, commendable for his qualities, and withall, potent, and mighty in Friends and Alliance, he then taketh on the more, vexing and tormenting himselfe without measure, and neuer giuing ouer to watch and prye into all his deuises and doings. And this is the propertie of such kind of natured men: and although Petrarcq (as we said but euen now, and as he himselfe reporteth) was (ordinarily) neuer Iealous, yet hee sheweth how by an Indeed Montaigne confesseth, that the best disciplined haue beene (heerewith) somewhat tainted, and some reason may be for the same; but yet neuer quite carried away with it, forit is our owne fault, that wee haue raised to the highest straine, the excesse of this moodie Feuer, after the example of some barberous Nations. extraordinary chance, hee fell into this fit a little now and than, as you shall perceiue in this his Sonnet, beginning thus.

In mezzo di duo amanti, honesta, altera, &c.

A modest and maiestike Lady did I see,

Betwixt two Louers; of which twaine myselfe was one.

[Page]The other, the glorious Sunne with his most brightsome glee:

The Sunne on th'one side, I on th'other then was gone.

But when she did perceiue, she compast was about

With the hot rayes of her braue and heroycke friend,

She (smiling) turned toward me, and wound her selfe thereout.

(Ah would that she had neuer vs'd me more vnkind,)

This made me quickly turne my Ielousie to ioy,

Which at the first began to grow within my hart,

Lest such a mighty aduersary should me noy;

Which he had done, but that shee (soone) from him did part.

This caus'd him seeme to haue a sad and watry face,

Whilest that a pretty shower did compasse him each side

As he did gloomy show because of his disgrace,

So much to be o'recome; did it pull downe his pride:

The Sunne so grieu'd at Lauras deepe disdaine,

At his bright Beames were turn'd to duskie raine.

In this place hee calleth the Sunne by his proper name, which the Latines call (in such a case as this) a Riuals in Loue will be suspitious quickly, And through Conceit (not reason) straight grow sickly. Riuall: but I must needs confesse not so properly, nor so happily (by great oddes) as the Grecians doe, which (considering you know better then I can any way set downe) I will giue ouer to speake any more thereof.

Now as concerning the second part of our former Discourse, which is in respect of the place; there is lesse or more IEALOVSIE, concerning the qualitie of the same, which may be eyther Of fit places for Amorous purposes, you may read Ouid de Arte Amandi, his first Book, and that notable plot; Mundus (a Romane Knight laid with the consent of the Priests belonging to the Temple of the Goddesse Isys, to obtaine his will of a fayre Lady his Mistresse,) in S. Augustines booke, called De Ciuitate Dei. Sacred or Prophane; farre off, or hard by; open, or shut, commodious, or vnfit, or such like; or after such a manner. And how much euery one of [Page] these (different one from another) may import and auaile a man about his amorous affaires, any of meane capacitie may comprehend, and the Danae was daughter to Acrisius, King of the Argiues, vnto whom (being closed in a strong Tower) Iupiter came in the forme of a showre of golden Raine, in at the house top, and begot on her Perseus, that valiant Knight that rescued Andromada from a Monster. This Perseus gaue the name first to the Countrie and people of Persia. But the truth is, Iupiter being a gallant young Prince, sent priuately rich treasure vnto Danae, and likewise to them that had the keeping of her, wherewith they (being corrupted) suffered Iupiter to enter into the Tower, & so he obtained his purpose. The Morall of this Tale declareth the force of Money and Gifts, in assulting of Chastitie. Tower wherein Danae was shut, and close Prisons, and Iayles, can giue instance sufficient, besides that common Prouerbe of ours.

Lodo inamorarsi in vicinanza.

That place I (best of all) commend,

Where nighest at hand is our fayre Friend.

So likewise as concerning the third, which is A fit and opporune season is not a little auaialble in this businesse, considering that Time is the plotter of Exp [...]rience, and Obseruation the Instrument of Knowledge: which two, taken right, effect great matters; and to this purpose a certaine Philosopher being demaunded, what was the first thing, needfull to winne the loue of a woman, answered, Opportunitie; being asked what the second, replied, Opportunitie; and being demaunded what was the third, answered still, Opportunitie; and therefore he spake not amisse that said, Occasion, Time, and Opportunitie, Compasse what we desire effectually. But me thinkes this second spake better, who wrote thus: Fayre Opportunitie can winne the coyest she that is, So wisely he takes time, as hee'l be sure he will not misse; Then he that rules her gainesome vaine, and tempers Toyes with Art, Bringes Loue that swimmeth in her eyes, to diue into her Hart. Time, there is none but may imagine, that as it is available in other matters, so no doubt is it of great consequence in this businesse, considering that such occasions, as wee may take in the This iouiall season amongst the Italians beginneth about the 13. of Ianuary, and continueth till Ashwednesday, it being the chiefe time of sports and meriments amongst them, they assuming (as then) more libertie and licentiousnesse, for their deuises and pleasures, than in all the yeere after; which they spend most commonly in Reuelling, Masking, and Feasting, presenting of Comedies, and pleasing showes, and in courting of their Mistresses, with such delightfull exercises. Carnouall time, or at Shrouetide, to serue our purpose, The Italians haue more libertie, & accesse for pleasure on the Holydayes, and in many of their solemne feastiuall dayes, than in the Lent, and on Fasting dayes; for those seasons they obserue very precisely, hauing as then no Feasting, Reuellings, nor Merry-meetings, but onely Fasting and Prayer. we cannot vse them in the Lent, nor [Page] may wee put them in practise on Fasting dayes; and so likewise, is the difference great, which men worke to purchase and compasse what they seeke to effect on the Holy-dayes, it being a quite contrary course to that they take on the working-dayes, about any such matter.

Lastly, as concerning the fourth and last point, which is the imployments and Businesses: who knoweth not but that he that is laborious, and beateth his braines about one thing or another; is lesse Iealous than he that is A man being idle, hath his minde apt to all vncleannesse, and when the minde is void of Honestie: Idlenesse being the onely Nurse and Nourisher of sensuall appetites, and the sole maintainer of vnlawfull affections, whereupon one saith: Sloath is to Vertue chiefest Enemie. And Idlenesse the Guide to misery. idle, and doth nothing all the day long: and as Ouid saith of Aegistus.

Quaeritur Aegistus quare sit factus adulter,

In promptu causa est desidiosus erat.

My question's why Aegistus lewd became Adulterer vile,

Tis answer'd: Hee not labour would, his lasinesse did him spoyle.

So may we say, that he that will take no paines but giues himselfe to be idle, will soone come to be Iealous.

Besides, there is no feare of such a one as giueth his minde to matters of great importance & difficultie, or of him that esteemeth more of commoditie and profit, then of any vaine pleasure whatsoeuer: and so by the contrary, contrary causes arise, considering that of contrary occasions contrary Effects spring and grow: so that according as they shall be greater or smaller, the things (spoken of before) shall be greater or smaller, not according to the rule of Truth, but as IEALOV [...]IE it selfe shall conceit thereof. And although wee (for the most part) speake in the Masculine [Page] Gender, yet must you vnderstand we Bartello the Italian, saith, that a pale coloured woman, with a blacke dead eye, and a reddish hayre, of a middle stature, and shrill in voyce, is most subiect to IEALOVSIE and such a one is Progne described to be, and this differeth not much from our olde Said-saw here in England, about the complexions and conditions of Women. Fayre and foolish, Little and loud, Long and lusty, Blacke and proud, Fat and merry, Leane and sad, Pale and pettish, Red and bad. And Burchiello, that fantasticque Writer saith thus: High Colour (in a Woman) Choler showes, And shee's vnwholsome that like Sorrell growes, Nought are the Peeuish, Proud, Malitious, But worst of all the Red, shrill, Iealious. Besides, the Iealous woman and the curst Shrow, differ not much, they being very nigh kinne one to another: considering the Shrow is reported to be of a middle Stature, and somewhat pale or sallow in colour, with a thinne lip, a sharpe nose, a Hawkes eye, and a shrill voyce, that sounds like a Bell; and such a one is Zantippe, Socrates wife, noted to be. But as Plato saith, to a shroud horse belongeth a sharpe bridle, so ought a curst wife to be curbed euery way, but he that hath a peaceable Woman, and of few words, being here on earth, hath attayned Heauen, being in want hath obtayned wealth, and being in care, hath purchast comfort. And as concerning this poynt, this is my Catholicke beliefe: A slow soft Tongue betokens Modestie, But, quicke and loud signe's of Inconstancy: Words, more then swords the inward Heart doe wound, And glib'd tongue'd Women seldome chaste are found. Much tongue in Wiues is bad, in Maides farre worse, A long tongu'd Maide is right the Diuels dry Nurse: He roares aloud, shee scoldeth shrill like bell; Both worse than Fiends, both fit to liue in Hell. Yea, so distastfull a plague was a bad tongue to Ariosto, as he preferreth a wittie woman that secretly playeth false with her Husband, before a common and notorious Scold, as in his fifth Satyre treating of Marriage you may see more at large. meane as well Women as Men, who being giuen no lesse to loue then men, and hauing (generally) lesse wisdome and discretion then the other, they must therefore What Montagnies opinion is in this poynt, and what hee setteth downe of the Female Sexe, as concerning this matter, I had rather referre the Readers to his third Booke of Essayes, then to say any thing hereof my selfe, considering Veritas Odium parit, Verdiuyce and Oate-meale good for a Parrot. needes fall into this dangerous disease, suffering themselues to be possessed now and than with this damnable Fury.

[Page]But here (perhaps) some of you expect from mee, to know whether Man is the most noblest creature God made, whose duety consisteth in knowing his owne Nature, and in labouring to profit others, of whom (after Tassos Imitation) this Disticque is written. Man is a Creature of such excellence. As (All) created was for his defence. Man or Woman is of one and the self-same substance with Man, is what Man is, onely so much more imperfect, as she is created the weaker vessell, and Hermes auoucheth that a beautifull and chaste woman is the perfect workmanship of God, the true Glory of Angels, the rare Myracle of Earth, and the sole wonder of the World, a moderne Writer concluding thus: Women to Men are equall euery way, And like infirmities (in both) doe stay. WEE MEN are Women, Women are WEE MEN; What difference is twixt vs and Women then? Woman, be more extreame and outragious, in this more than monstrous Malady.

Noble (no doubt) and magnanimious is Mankinde, and so most delicate and generous is that pleasing Sexe of Women, I will not (herein) commend Man much, neyther will I so much as discommend the Woman a little for the same, since borne wee were for their Women are daintie Vessels fine, yet tender weake and soft; They must somtimes be born withall, since they do beare so oft Then let vs not these creatures sweet disgrace, scorn or disdain, When (truth to say) we came from thē. & they from vs first came. defence, and brought into the world to doe them dutifull seruice. Comparisons are odious, and to infer, or affirme vpon Conclusions, bringeth on (oftentimes) farther danger: onely gladly, would I please both Kindes, and not willingly displease eyther: vouchsafe then (most Princely and Honourable Assembly) the opinion herein, of a famous Poet (for I neither dare nor will presume to deliuer mine owne) and one, that in my poore conceit, had good iudgement in IEALOVSIE, and that is OVID, a taste and touch whereof you may take, and then be Iudges your selues, prouided alwayes that you be not ouer partiall on your owne side.

The Verses are these:

Sed ne (que) fuluus Aper medea tam saeuus in ira est.

Fulmineo rapidos dum rotat ore Canes.

Nec Leo dum catulis lactantibus vbera prebet,

Nec breuis ignaro Vipera laesa pede,

Foeminea quam, &c.

But neyther rauening Tyger mad,

Nor wildest foaming Bore,

Are halfe so fierce, baited by Dogs,

Whom they doe panch and gore:

Nor ruthlesse Lionesse, who sucke

Giues to her little ones:

[Page]Nor Viper quicke, trod on by chance

By Traueller on the stones:

As is a iealous Womans minde,

Whom Fury doth enflame.

Her gastly Count'nance showes her Thoughts,

None can her malice tame:

To Sword and Fire shee flyes, all Shame

Shee casteth from her quite,

Like such as are possest in Soule,

With some most hellish Spright.

Behold Medea, how shee seekes,

Reuengement for to take

Vpon her Children and her Spouse,

Whom shee away would make.

Another cruell mother is

The Swallow, which you see

Begor'd with bloud on brest, a marke

That with her Fact doth gree.

This is that damned IEALOVSIE,

Which o'er much Loue doth breede.

The wiser sort must shunne this Fiend,

And of the same take heede.

But now let vs come vnto the third verse of our Sonnet.

Et mentre, con la Fiamma il Gelo mesci.

—Whilst chill cold

Thou minglest with a hot and burning Flame.

In this Verse our Poet sheweth the operation and working of IEALOVSIE, viz. that it mingleth chilly Cold (which is no other thing than Feare and Suspition) together with burning Flames of Fire, that is, with Loue, which is no thing else but a kinde of Fire. And Poetry is farre more commended then Prose, being far more honor to the Language it writes in, than the other, both because Poets were before Orators, and for that to write in Verse is more pleasing, more cunning, and more delightfull euery way. Besides, Poets (onely) haue the honour to be crowned with Myrtle and Laurell, and no Schollers else: for they haue other Rewards; but these, Garlands and Crownes which last for euer. herevponour Poets vse these words (Fiamma & Fuoco) [Page] not alone for Loue, but likewise, for the Women themselues whom they affect and like, as Petrarq did, when hee wrote this Canzon:

L'alma mia Fiamma, oltre le belle, &c.

My loueliest Flame, more beauteous then the best,

Who had the heauens (her country) so much at command

Is thither gone; where, with the blessed, she doth rest,

And (as a glorious star) by Venus (there) doth stand,

Now I beginne to wake, & (by Her) I doe finde,

That (for my Good) she crost me in my prime Desire,

And with a sweet disdaine (for my deserts) too kinde,

She temper did my more than hot and raging Fire.

I humbly thanke her, and thanke her Discretion sage,

Who with such mildnes cool'd my hasty youthfull Heate,

Whilst I giuen o'er through fancy fond to raue and rage,

My Mind (thus yong) about my soules health I did beat.

O dainty Arts, and rare Effects, fit for the same:

The one, my Verse, her matchles face, the other, wrought.

She vertuous seedes did sow in me, I rais'd her Fame:

Her sacred selfe, my witty Braine, to passe this brought.

Thrice happy I, if that so rare a Muse

Had liued (still) Grace in me to infuse.

And the reuerend Cardinall Peter Bembo, sonne to Bernardo Bembo, and to Helena Marcella, (a Romane borne) was excellent as well in Prose as in Verse, and for the commendable parts in him, Pope Leo the tenth, made him his Secretary; and not long after, Paul the third created him Cardinall. He dyed at Venice, and lyeth buryed in S. Anthonies Church in Padoa, where his Statue (of white Marble) is to be seene at this day. Bembo, in those his diuine Terzanes of LOVE, saith thus:

Vn dinanzi al suo fuoco effer de neue,

Iliuro, &c.

He swore his Lasse, more white than mountaine Snow,

Before him sweetly smiling stood, as tho.

Where you must vnderstand, that there is alwayes some pretty Epithite, added vnto the same, as Petrarcq did before:

L'alma mia Fiamma.

And in another place:

Il mio bel fuoco è tale.

Che io desidero di vederlo, &c.

My dainty Loue, my Fire so bright,

It shee in whom I doe delight.

[Page]And this kinde of phrase is much in request with the Latines, and not without great reason; wherevpon Virgill in his Bucolickes, saith thus:

At mihi sese offert vltro meus Ignis Amintas.

But my sweet Girle, Amintas wanton Lasse,

Offers her selfe to mee, as by her I did passe.

And that Cold or Ice, is set downe, for Feare, (that is, the Effect, for the Occasion, or Cause) is a most vsuall Figure, not onely with those who are Versifiers, but such likewise as write in prose, follow the same course. Now, the reason of this is, for that whosoeuer doth feare, waxeth pale and colde as a stone, because Dread and Feare draw vp, and weaken the heart, wherevpon Nature (to succour and comfort the same) the Aristotle in his Booke De natura Anim. saith, the heart of man, is lodged on the left side of his body, but in all other creatures else, it is naturally in the middest of their brest. And it is a common receiued opinion among all Naturall Philosophers, that the very first part which is formed of man, is the heart of man, (as the maine roote of all his other members, and the spring and fountaine of naturall heate) and it is also the onely member that last looseth his moouing, and dyeth in man; It being a member so noble and delicate, that it cannot endure any touching, but presently the party dyeth. Heart being the most noble part of man, and being that which (according to the Peripatetical Philosophers, is the first of all the Body that hath life, and the last that dyeth) disperseth and sendeth the bloud abroad, that is aboue it, and finding that not sufficient, conueyeth that bloud also, for his ayde and helpe which is below; and hereof commeth the palenesse in a mans face, and the fearefull cold, hee hath therewithall. Besides, a man trembleth and shaketh for Feare, by reason that (the Heart trembling) all the whole Body shaketh after his first stirring. And this kinde of speech did Petrarcq vse of IEALOVSIE in the Sonnet alledged a little before:

Amor ch'encende il cuor d'ardente Zelo,

Di gelata paura, il tien costretto, &c.

Where Icy Feare, without doubt, signifieth nothing else but IEALOVSIE: and therefore addeth:

Et qual sia più, fa dubbio, all'Intelletto,

La speranz'ol timor, là fiamma o'l gelo.

[Page]He taking (as I said ere while) la fiamma, [...]'l Gelo, the Fire for Loue, and the cold for Iealousie: as in this place the meaning of our Poet is the like: so againe Petrarcque vseth this Verse (Mescere) in the selfe-same signification Mounsignor De la Casa, doth; who speaketh in the Triumph of Diuinitie thus:

Ogni gratia mi fia, se mai l'impetro,

Che i [...] veggio iui presente il sommo bene, &c.

Oh what great Grace should I thinke done to me,

If l'that chiefest Good might (present) see.

And not what's bad and ill, which Time alone

Brings mingled with him, and with him is gone?

Although it may be taken as a Metaphor for Wine, as they (commonly) vse this kinde of phrase, euery where in Florence; in which sense that sharpe conceited Wit of this our dayes, and my very inward Friend Mr. Lodouicque Martelli tooke this phrase,A Florentine borne, and a familiar friend of this our Authors, was excellent in Poetry, especially for composing of Elogies, and therefore was tearmed by many a second Tibu [...]lus. He wrote (amongst other things) a Tragedie called Tullia, and replyed against Giouan Giorgio Trissino (a learned Venetian,) about his Epistles, betweene which twaine, was some controuersie. He dyed very young, and as some say, was made away by poyson in Regno, a country belonging to the Kingdome of Naples, about the yeere 1566. leauing many workes of his vnfinisht, in that hee was preuented by so vntimely a death. set downe in one of his dainty Madrigals, where he beginneth after this manner:

Io ho nel cu [...]re vn Gelo,

Che quanto peu lo scaldo, piu s'indura,

A chilly Cold or freesing Ice

Lyeth bout my Heart below,

Which (more it burnes) the harder still

Within mee it doth grow.

And then a little after, (to come to this our word Mescere) hee saith:

Il soffrir mesce martire a l'aspra doglia.

If I should seeke to ease my Griefe,

My selfe I kill out-right:

If, suffer it, it mixeth paine

Mongst it, more, me to spight.

[Page]But now let vs come to the fourth Verse of our Sonnet:

Tutto il regno d' Amor turbi & contristi.

By which (thou) all the Kingdome of milde Loue

Dost trouble, heauy make, and too much moue.

In these few words of this Verse onely, all the griefes and discontentments which can be imagined in loue, are here (generally) contayned, which by how much it is pleasing and sweet of it selfe, by so much the more it is distastfull and vnpleasant, being mixed with IEALOVSIE, no otherwise than if a most bitter poyson should be mingled with some excellent and pure Sugar or Honey.

But it is now high time, to come vnto the rest of the other Stanzaes, which we will quicklie dispatch as soone as we shall deliuer and show, that not without great skill and Iudgement, these foure first verses were wouen, and knit together, for as much as euery one of them concludeth with a fit sentence (as it were) and so likewise end: which, besides a certaine kinde of Grauitie, with a maiesticq manner of disdaine, (that is included within them) force there Auditors, the more attentiuely to heare them: this sort of workmanship being as cunningly contriued by our fore-said graue Bembo, in a Sonnet of his where hee speaketh of Hope is a pleasant passion of the minde, which doth not onely promise vs those things that wee doe desire, but such things also as we haue vtterly despayre of, and therefore one speaketh wittily to this purpose, saying; Hope is the Fooles God, the Merchants Comfort, the Souldiers Companion, and the Ambitious Mans poyson: but yet notwithstanding this last Definition, Hope is the sad Hearts helpe, the sicke Thoughts Friend. And what Distrust impaires, Hope doth amend. True Hope is swift, and flyes with Swallowes wings, Kings it makes Gods, and meanest Creatures Kings. Hope thus:

Speme, che gli'occhi nostri veli, & fusci,

Sfreni, & sferzi le voglie, &c.

Thou Hope, which cloud'st and shadow'st our sight still,

Which forward yerk'st & whipst our courage & our wil.

Thou Hope, the Bread and Food of hungry men,

(Louers I meane) they oft are hungry then.

And so forth, as in the Sonnet.

But now wee will come to the second Stanza of our Sonnet.

[Page]

Poi che in breui hora entrol' mio dolce hai misti, &c

Since thou (so soone) amongst my sugred Sweet

Hast mixt thy bitter Drugs, hence from my Heart,

Goe packe to Cocytus, and to those Ioyes Deepe,

Those sad and wofull waters full of smart.

As concerning the chiefe point of this second part (in the which our Poet hauing before discoursed of IEALOVSIE, and of her Effects at the full) hee now commeth to the particulars, and commanding or rather entreating her to leaue and part from forth his Body and his Heart, hauing done the worst she could, after her wonted manner, and made him of a most fortunate man, the most wretchedst creature aliue; and therefore there remayning nothing for her (as now to doe more) he telleth her, that she may do well to For there is her chiefe mansion house, according to the opinion of a Gentleman, an acquaintance of mine, who to this effect, writeth thus: A seeming Friend, but Enemie to Rest,A wrangling Passion, yet a gladsome thought;A bad Companion, yet a welcome Ghest,A Knowledge wisht, yet sound too soone vnsought;From Heauen suppos'd, but (sure) sprung first from Hell,Is IEALOVSIE, and there (forlorne) doth dwell. From thence she sends fond Feare, and false Suspect,To haunt our Thoughts, bewitched with mistrust,Which breedes in vs the Issue and EffectBoth of Conceit, and Fictions most vniust:The griefe, the shame, the smart thereof doth proueThat IEALOVSIE is Death, and Hell to Loue. For what but Hell, moues in the iealous Heart,Where restlesse feare workes out all sugred ioyes,Which doth both quench, and kill that louing part,And cloyes the minde with worse then knowne annoyesWhose pleasure farre exceeds Hels deepe Extreames,Such life leades Loue, entangled with Misdeames. returne backe to Hell, from whence she (first) came, as this word (Torna) signifieth. But this Stanza because it is easie enough of it selfe, and because we haue discoursed sufficiently at large thereof before, we will spend no longer time therein, (only) we will (briefely note) certaine speciall things, as concerning some words he vseth here. And first, we will say, that the first halfe line (Since thou so soone) was set downe with great Iudgement, and for the nonce, not so much to answere that Verse aboue written.

—And too-too soone dost gaine

Credit to thy suspitions,—

As to shew the force and sudden power of this detestable poyson, which worketh most violently and suddenly. (Hai misti.) That is, hast mixt, or mingled, as Petrarcq saith in this his Sonnet.

Se Virgilio & Homero hauessin visto

Quel sol, il qual, vegg'io con gli occhi miei, &c.

If Virgil, or learn'd Homer seene had my Sun bright,

Which I so oft behold with these my happy eyes,

[Page]They would haue mixt (to blaze her Fame) their vtmost might,

In both their tongues they would haue rais'd her to the Skies:

They would haue made Aeneas discontent and sad,

Achillis, graue Vlissis, many Heroies then,

Augustus, and Orestes, (who Aegistus bad

Did kill) should still haue laine in darke Obliuions den:

Old Ennius sang in harsh and ragged formed Verse,

Don Scipios praise (the matchlesse wonder of his age.)

I striue a peerelesse Virgins fame for to rehearse,

Who wins the Garland for her vertuous carriage sage.

Heauens grant, though (for this subiect) meane's my wit,

That shee'l not skorne me, but accept of it.

Torna à Cocito e à lagrimosi, & tristi,

Chiacci d'Inferno, &c.

Giacci, and not Campi, you must read (as I haue seene in some Copies) and this is a certaine Poeticall description of HELL, and very rightly, and fitly doth he will her to returne to Hell, from whence she came; since (certainely) it is a right Furie indeed, Ariosto hauing Christned it by the name of an infernall plague. And therefore you must note, that as euery thing which is good and fayre, is said to proceed and come from Paradise; so contrariwise, All, whatsoeuer is foule, and bad, we terme to come from Hell? as Virgill saith that desperate Gaming, and ghastly Famine issue from thence: Petrarcq speaking as much of Laura's Looking-glasse, after this manner:

Questo fu fabricato sopra l'acque,

d' Abisso, & tinto nel eterno oblio,

Onde il principio dimio morte nacque.

No doubt, some Fiend, this Looking-glasse did make,

Within the waters of th'infernall Lake;

Forgetfulnesse eternall, dyed the same

From whence (at first) did spring my mortall bane.

[Page] And in another place, taxing the Court of Rome, he calleth it the HELL of the Liuing; as in a third passage hee termeth the World after this manner; when he wrote thus:

Non v [...]rrei riuederla in ques'tinferno, &c.

Not willingly I would her see againe,

In this bad world; this Hell, this Gulfe of paine:

But now to the rest.

Iui, iate stessa incresci, &c.

Packe hence to Hell, thou worse than hellish Elfe,

There vexe, torment, and gawle thine inward selfe.

Meaning, she should there tortor her selfe, and not be grieuous and troublesome vnto others, and in this sort doth he paint and set forth the Nature and Conditions of IEALOVSIE, which Lodouicq Martelli hath no lesse elegantly, than eloquently set downe in one of his Canzons, entreating of Loue, and which, because I perceiue you stand attentiue to heare, I will most willingly acquaint you withall.

Quel the interrompe ilòr casto desire,

E se quel ch'è d'un solo à molti è dato,

Quest' ingombra i mortai di sdegni, & ire;

Et turba, & volue ogni amorsolo stato, &c,

That which breakes Louers chaste designes in twaine,

And giues to Many, what (to One) doth appertaine,

Is that which fils mens hearts with furious sire,

And (topsi turui) turnes each amorous desire;

Is that which makes Men wish (so oft) to dye,

And to contest gainst God, he is borne disasterously;

Makes him disclaime his Goodnesse and his Grace,

When as he findes himselfe in such hard case:

To liue as one forsooke, and quite exild,

From all good Fortune, and from pitty milde:

But although this Verbe (Iucressere) signifieth to haue compassion and pitty (for the most part) [Page] as that deepe and This learned Poet was borne in Florence, his Wife being of the house of the DONATI, there, and called BIANCA, but he being banished from thence, liued in the ancient Citie Rauenna, in Romagna, where he lieth enterred, hauing a fayre Tombe ouer him, which Bernardo Bembo, (Father to Cardinall Bembo) reedified and made new, when hee remained Podesta (there) for the Signorie of Venice, with this Epitaph ouer him. Exigua Tumulo (DANTES) hic sorte iacebas, Squallenti nulli, cognite (paene) situ; At nunc Marmor [...]o, subnixus conderis arcu Omnibus, & cultu splendidiore nites, Nimirum BEMBVS, Musis incensus Hetruscis, Hoc tibi, quem imprimus hae coluere dedit. But the aforesaid Citie of Rauenna is now subiect to the Romane Church. This Dant is by some learned Italians compared and equalled with Homer and Virgill, and was not alone a Poet, but a Philosopher, a Deuine, a Phisitian, and an Astronomer with all: yet doth Cardinall Bembo preferre Petrarcq before him. When Dant was young, hee was Scholler to Brunetto Latini, Vincentio Borghim, Prior of the Hospitall of the Innocenti in Florence, hauing made an excellent Comment vpon all his workes. profound Poet Dant sheweth, in one of his learned and morall Canzons, beginning (as it were) somewhat abruptly, thus:

Em'incresce di me si altamente

Ch'altro tanto di doglia

Mi reca la pietà, quanto'l martire.

So much I sorrow for my selfe,

And in so high degree;

As pitty brings as much of griefe,

As tortors doe to mee.

And Petrarcq (after the same manner) writeth thus:

Hor de mici danni a me medessimo incresse, &c.

Now to my selfe, I grieue for this my losse.

Though by her lookes she shewed she sorry was.

Yet neuerthelesse, the same Poet in the first Stanza of his Canzon, of his transformations, taketh it in this our sense, when he saith:

Poise giuro si come à me n'increbbe, &c.

Then sware she that to me she did no wrong,

Although she vext me for to stay, and looke so long.

And this is worth the noting (as I said a little before) that one Tuscan word alone, should signifie two things; and those so much different one from another: the Latines likewise, hauing the like signification in these two Verbes: Miseret, and Taedet: It pittieth me, and it irketh me.

Iui senza riposo i giorni mena, &c.

There (without rest) prolong thy weary dayes,

And let thy Nights withouten sleepe be spent;

There tortor (still) and grieue thy selfe alwayes,

As well for doubtfull as sure punishment, &c.

In this part hee goeth on, describing and setting downe the Nature and Life of such as be Iealous, vnder the description of IEALOVSIE herselfe, who (alwayes) liuing as it were, in a continuall Hell, take no rest in the day; neither can they [Page] sleepe at all in the nights, but (euer) grieue and lament, taking on as well for that which is false, as for what they stand in doubt of to be true; imagining many times, and conceiting diuers things that are altogether impossible; for this strange Maladie engendreth a continuall and a perpetuall According to this saying applyed vnto a suspitious or Iealous person. Suspect like traytor false, bewrayes our words, Suspicious eyes are messengers of woe. Iealous Suspect vgly Despayre affords, And of thy dearest friend makes deadliest Foe. discontentment and disquietnesse in the minde, so that hee is not able, nor hath-any power to giue ouer from vexing himselfe, standing (alwayes) watchfull with his cares wide open, to hearken and listen to euery word, euery voyce, euery sound, and euery winde: all which, hee taketh in a wrong and sinister sence, coniecturing (euermore) worse of the same than hee neede. And therefore Propertius excuseth himselfe, about this fault, in one of his Elegies, thus:

Omnia me terrent, timidus sum, ignosce timori,

Et miser in tunica suspicor esse virum;

Me laedit, simulta tibi dabit oscula, mater

Me, Soror, & cum qua dormit Amica simul.

Each thing affrights me, I doe feare

Ah pardon mee, my feare.

I doubt a man is hid within

The cloathes which thou dost weare:

If thine owne Mother kisse thee (oft)

Or Sister thine, I grieue:

I feare the Mayde that lyeth with thee,

And in thy House doth liue.

Each thing makes me suspect; I looke

With iealous watchfull eye;

The Nurse makes me to doubt, and Childe

That doth in Cradle lye.

And this, Petrarcq reprehending as a vaine and impossible thing, saith:

Pur come Donna in vn vestire schietto.

[Page]

As if a woman in her Gowne,

Or in a slender Vayle,

A liuing man should (secret) hide,

Which is a senslesse tale.

Yea, this franticque Humour, runneth on (oftentimes) so farre, as it taketh away a mans senses, as if hee were not the same partie hee was before: whereupon, all those things not onely proceede which Horace setteth downe in that pleasant Ode of his: beginning,

Cum te Lydia, Telephi, &c.

With thee my wanton Lydia,

Who giuen art o'er much to play &c.

But, which is more, we are afraid of our owne shadow: which Propertius confesseth thus:

Ipse meas solus (quod nil est) aemuler vmbras,

Stultus, quod stulto saepe timore, tremo.

I mine owne shadowes dread, alone,

Which (nothing are) in vaine,

And, like a foole, through foolish feare,

Oft put my selfe in paine.

And the learned Molza, imitating this Poet, beginneth one of his Sonnets, after such a manner, writing thus:

Io son del mio bel sol, tanto Geloso.

So Iealous am I of my beauteous Sunne,

As (scarsely) can I brooke,

(Such is my doubt) that any should

As much as on her looke.

And because (as I said before) IEALOVSIE is a kinde of Enuy, grieuing as much at anothers Good, as shee doth at her owne hinderance and hurt. Iealous folke are content to endure any discommodity whatsoeuer, vpon condition that no other shall enioy the benefit thereof.

And hereupon our amorous Poet Tibullus, speaketh thus in an Elegie of his:

[Page]

At tu fallacis Coniux incaute puellae,

Tu quo (que) seruato, peccet vt illa nihil.

But thou (kinde Witall) Husband thou

Vnto my subtle Wench,

I pray thee haue a watchfull eye,

Least shee play false at Fence.

What shall I say more: such as be iealous, feare not men onely, but likewise suspect and doubt the Gods themselues; and therefore saith Ouid in his Epistles for Sappho:

Hunc ne pro Cephalo raperes, Aurora timebam,

Ouid in his Epistle of Sappho to Pha [...].

Et faceres, sed te prima rapina tenet, &c.

I dread (Aurora) least for Cephalus thou would

Haue chosen him, saue that thy former Rape doth thee with-hold:

If Phoebe view him (once) that all suruayes with Eye,

My Phao shall be quickely forc't in slumbers long to lye:

In Iuory Waggon would Dame Venus to the Starres

Haue borne him, but she fear'd, hee would haue coyde the God of Warres.

Many more examples could I alledge for this purpose, most of the Poets, especially the Grecians and the Latines, not talking of any thing so much, nor that toucheth and galleth the Heart so sharply, as this doth: which forced Propertius to write thus:

Nullae sunt inimicitiae nisi Amoris acerbae, &c.

There's no vnkindnesse like Loue wrong'd,

Such things most bitter are to mee,

Let me mine owne throate cut; yet I

A kinde Foe to my selfe shall be:

With what face can I see strange Armes

My Wench for to imbrace and twine,

[Page]When shee anothers shall be tearm'd,

Who (but euen now) was called Mine?

Sure all things change and Louers mindes

Doe change, and (changing) proue.

Winne thou in Loue, or doe thou loose,

So turnes the wheele of Loue.

But our Tuscane The worth of Poets and Poetrie, can neuer be sufficiently commended enough, although this Iron age hath nothing more in contempt, which is not the fault of Schollers, but of those dull Midasses, now liuing, who make so small account of them, and therefore passing well said hee that wrote this Disticque: The Man that scorneth Poets, and Arts Schoole, Lackes but a long Coate to be Natures Foole. Yet in despight of these worse than nasty Iaylors, that keepe such store of wealth in their bard Closets, and secret places far darker than Lymbo it selfe, from those that deserue it better euery way than themselues, (and all which dunghill muck is nothing but the base Excrements of this stinking Earth) I will set downe here the worth of a Poet (more in value by much than their Idolatrous trash) as that sweet Muse of his (who not vnworthily beareth the name of the cheifest Archangell) singeth after this Soule-rauishing manner: When Heauen would striue to doe the best shee can, And put an Angels spirit into a Man. Then all her powers shee in that Worke doth spend, When shee a POET to the world doth send; The difference onely twixt the Gods and Vs, Allow'd by them, is but distinguisht thus; They giue them breath, Men by their Powers are borne, That life they giue the POET doth adorne: And from the world, when they dissolue mans breath, They in the world doe giue Man life in death. Poets, louing more chastly than the Heathen, wrote more discretely, and with a better minde of this subiect, neyther had they so much cause to complayne, or enueigh against this wicked Fury.

And now as concerning the two first lines of this last Stanza, in my conceit this word (iui) (there) is not without good grace and much elegancy vttered three times, one after another, not so much to knit and ioyne the Verses following, to those that goe before, as for that Flourish or Figure, called Repetitio, by our Rhetoritians, and because of that other which is tearm'd an Article, the conioyning and coupling of the Coniunction (Et, And) being not put to any of them.

I giorni mena.

This phrase Menare i giorni, is, in this place, after the same fashion as Petrarcq vseth the same in that Sonnet of his:

[Page]

Chi e fermato di menar sua vita, &c.

Who is resolu'd to lead his life vnsure,

Amid the wauering Seas and Rockes so high

Fearelesse of death in Barke which cannot dure,

Must make account he to his End is nigh.

'Tis good for such an one to hoyse his sayle,

And towards the Hauen get for his auayle.

Imitating herein the Latinists, who say, ducere vitam, to liue. And yet Petrarcq in this Sonnet following, turned it to another sense.

Po ben puo tu portarnclaescorza, &c.

Well maist thou (Po) my body carry fast,

By reason of thy swift and mightie wane,

My Soule the Ghest within this lodging plac't,

For all thy force with thee, thou canst not haue:

This neare giues o'er, but striues to mount on high,

Forcing (herselfe) vnto the clouds to glide,

Vntill it to that happy place come nigh,

Where it doth hope in perfect Blisse to bide:

Thou Prince of Riuers, prouder than the rest,

Encountring with the Sunne when day doth breake:

And in the ponent of that Light quite disposest,

Where waters thine beginne for to grow weake,

Beare thou this outward shape alone with thee,

Whilst my Soule in her sweet lodge longs to be.

And this kinde of phrase is (most commonly) taken after the worse sense, as in the first Chapter of Loue, he speaketh thus:

Qual e morte da lui, qual con piu graui, &c.

What Death is his? what wretched life,

That pouer wretch sustaines?

Whom Lawes seuere command him lye

Shut close, and bound in chaynes, &c.

But now to our Poet againe.

Non mendi dubbia che dicerta pena.

As well for doubtfull as sure punishments, &c.

In my conceit he could neuer more learnedly, [Page] nor more, and as I may say, more elegantly expresse and set downe the last difference of IEALOVSIE, than hee hath (here) done in this Verse, considering there may (perhaps) be found such a kinde of gnawing Corsiue or inward fretting Passion, that may haue part, or the most of these troubles that IEALOVSIE hath, but that there (euer) should be found any one that shall continually, lament and grieue, as much for that which is impossible and doubtfull, as for what is certaine and well knowne, that can I neuer be induced to belieue: this one thing being rightly the propertie and nature of this franticque Maladie. And therefore Ariosto said likewise well, when (speaking of IEALOVSIE) he wrote thus:

Non men per falso che per ver suspetto, &c.

This hellish Hag makes men to wayle and rue,

Through false suspect, as well as for what's true.

Petrarcque intimating as much, when (as before is alledged) hee said:

Pur come Donna in vn vestir schietto, &c.

Like to a woman that is finely clad,

And vnder garment hers some man she had.

Inferring hereby no other thing, then (as hath beene often repeated before) that Iealous persons are afraid of what they neede not, they being alwayes full of Suspition and dread, no otherwise than as if it were a likely or possible thing that a woman should hide a liuing man vnder her vaile or her attyre. And in this Sonnet (aforesaid) Petrarch setteth downe IEALOVSIE by foure diuers names: viz. trembling Cold, shiuering Feare, chilly Ice, and melancholy Suspect Well may Petrarcq brand Loue with foure such seuerall tearmes, when, that learned Philosopher Marcus Aurelius calleth it a cruell impression of that wonderfull passion, which to be defined is impossible, because no words reach to the strong nature of it, and onely they know it, who inwardly doe feele it. And therefore I will be bold to descant vpon it thus, What is not LOVE? tis All, Vertue and Vice, Humble, proud, witty, foolish, kinde and nice; A golden bubble, blowne big with idle Dreames, That waking breakes, and fils vs with Extreames. Or rather thus; LOVE backeward speld (put I for O) is EVIL Adde D before the same, and tis the DEVIL. A DEVIL 'tis, and mischiefe such doth worke, As neuer yet did Pagan, Iew, nor Turke. as he calleth Loue by foure other seuerall words, Zeale, Hope, Fire and Desire: the Reasons whereof we will (at some other time) disclose, and so conclude with our Authors Epilogue:

[Page]

Vatene; a che piufiera che non suole, &c.

Dispatch, begone; why fiercer than before,

And farre more stranger than thou wont'st to be:

(Since venime thine, to poyson me the more

Through euery vayne dispersed is by thee?)

Dost thou returne to me in shadowes new,

The more to force me still to grieue and rew?

This fourth and last part agreeth meruaylous well with the beginning and middest of this Sonnet, according to Horace his Aduice, where hee saith, in his Booke De Arte Poetica.

Primum ne medio, medium ne discrepet imo, &c.

The First with Midst, the Middest with

The latter must agree.

If thus thy worke be framde aright,

It needes must perfect be.

Thus with a kinde of briefe Repetition he concludeth and shutteth vp the whole substance of his Sonnet, willing IEALOVSIE once more to be packing, and as it were, seeming to be angry and to chide her, alledging (to perswade her the sooner to be gone,) the Reasons before alledged: for as much signifieth these two Verses:

Since venime thine, to poyson me the more,

Through euery veyne dispersed is in mee,

As the other twaine aboue mentioned:

Since thou (so soone) amongst my sugred sweets,

Hast mixt thy bitter Drugs, &c.

And partly it declareth the nature of this insatiable Monster, who thinketh it not enough, to haue infected and spoyled a man with her poyson on the sodayne: but shee must also turne backe againe, with diuers and strange Apparisions and Shadowes, that is, with new Fashions and Shapes, after a more cruell and fearefull manner, euery day more than other, and so encreaseth continually, [Page] to the greater discontentment of his minde. But this Part being sufficient playne of it selfe, I will speake the lesse herein, onely, as you know well enough, this word (Besides these Laruae (in Latine the condemned Soules of the wicked) the Heathens held there were these kindes of Spirits more, LARES, GENII, MANES, and LEMVRES, and the Lares, which came of of LARVE, were those Shadowes and Ghosts which they supposed did torment the domesticall and particular Inhabitants of priuate houses. Larue) in the Latine tongue, signifieth the condemned Soules of the wicked, which we in our vulgar tongue terme Spirits of Ghosts: but here it intimateth A Fantasme is according to S. Austin, an Imagination, and an Impression in the Soule, of such Formes and Shapes as are knowne, or of such as shall be imagined without any sight had of them. But a Spectre or Apparition is an Imagination of a Substance without a Body, the which presenteth it selfe sensibly vnto man, against the order and course of Nature, and maketh him afraid, onely the difference betweene the one and the other is this; A Fantasme is a thing without life and substance, and the APPARISION or SPECTRE, hath a substance hidden and concealed, which seemeth to moue the fantasticq body, the which it hath taken. sundry Shadowes, Fantasmes, and Apparisions, in which (as they say) they vse to appeare. And this is borrowed out of Petrarcq, in one of his Sonnets beginning thus:

Fuggendo la preson ou' Amor, &c.

Ladies, it tedious were to set downe here,

How much I grieue at my new libertie,

Since I brake prison; where so many yeere

Loue kept mee (as he pleas'd) most watchfully,

My Heart would tell mee oft hee could not liue,

But as hee did, whilst Cupid (subtle Else)

Met me in Shadowes false, me (more) to grieue,

And might deceiue a wiser than my selfe.

This makes me oft looke backe, and (sighing) say

Woe's me too late, now to my losse I finde,

'Tis worse with mee now I am scap't away,

My Yoake and Chaines were wont to be more kinde:

Too late I now perceiue my wilfull fall,

And hardly (now) can I my selfe vntwine

From my first Error, which I would recall,

In which I wound my selfe through Follies mine;

When I was bound, I then wisht to be free;

Now I am freed, I loath my Libertie.

And now this Sonnet of our being expounded and ended, there are (most noble Auditors) many and sundry goodly and delightfull doubts, no lesse profitable than difficult and hard to conceiue, about this subiect of IEALOVSIE. But because (presuming vpon your curteous patience) I haue somewhat exceeded the prefixed time, appointed [Page] for this solemne place, I would be loth (any longer) to be tedious vnto you; and therefore we will onely touch some of the chiefe and principall of them by the way, and such as wee shall thinke to be most fitting and necessary for vs. First then, some make a doubt, and are maruellous desirous to be resolued in this point, which is: whether Loue, I meane thatThere are sixe properties in LOVE. Selfe-Loue is the ground of Mischiefe. Laciuious Loue, the roote of Remorse. Wanton Loue the Cowards warfare. Pure Loue neuer saw the face of Feare. Pure Loues eies pierce the darkest corners, and pure Loue attempteth the greatest dangers, but this Loue which is a desire of Beautie, is a Hea [...]ull of Coldnesse, a Sweet full of Bitternesse, a Paine full of Pleasantnes making thoughts haue Eyes, and Hearts Eares. It is bred by Desire: nursed by Delight: weaned by Iealousie: kild by Dissembling, and buried by Ingratitude; to be briefe, It is not to be supprest by Wisedome, because not to be comprehended with Reason.Loue which is the desire of beautie, may be without IEALOVSIE, as it seemeth Petrarcq is of that opinion, in that Sonnet of his, (mentioned so often by vs heretofore) where he saith, that he loueth his Mistresse Laura, without being Ielous at all; and he sheweth the reason thereof, and what the cause was he did so, when he said:

L'altra non già ch'el mio bel fuoco è tale, &c.

The other's none of mine,

For my fire's of such power, &c.

l' Amor chen cend il cuore,

To this we answere briefly thus:

True Loue doth looke with pure suspicious eye, And you kill Loue, cashiering IEALOVSIE? Although another writeth after this sort: On Loue (saith some) waits IEALOVSIE, But IEALOVSIE wants Loue: When curiously the ouerplus, Doth idle quarrels moue. Loue (truly) we cannot, vnlesse there be some spice of IEALOVSIE therein; and the reason is, for that (as Aristotle in his eyght Booke of Elegies saith, Loue is of one alone, but Friendship is amongst few. And where Ouid writeth to Ouid. lib. 2. & Eleg. 10. The substance of which Elegie is this. Grecinus, well I wot thou told'st me once, I could not be in Loue with two at once; By thee deceiu'd, by thee surpris'd am I, For now I Loue two Women equally: Both are well fauoured, both rich in aray, And which the lou'liest is, t'is hard to say, This seemes the fairest, so doth that to me, And this doth please me most, and so doth she: Euen as a Boat tost by contrary Winde, So with this Loue, and that wauers my Minde. Grecinus, that hee liked and loued two women, and [Page] (both of them) at one time: my opinion, vnder correction) is, hee mistooke himselfe in the name, although greater matters than these are tollerable, and passe for currant amongst Poets, whereupon our amorous Master This man was borne in Pratolino, a small Village in Tuscanie, not farre from Florence, he wrote many sorts of Poemes, especially, Elegies, in which hee is counted, and (as others write) preferred before Ouid. Hee had two Kinsemen, that were Schollers, the one Baptista Allemanni, Bishop of Macone, a little Towne in Lombardie, and of inward acquaintance with this Author Benedisto Varchi, and the other called Antonio Allemanni, who wrote many pretty and witty workes, in the Italian tongue, imitating Burchiello, in his manner of Verse, called BVRCHIELLESCA, and had acquaintance with most of the learned men of his time, whom he mentioneth very often, especially, in this Sonnet following. Io, non inu [...]co Apollo, o altro Iddio, E veggio che le Muse'launo troppo n [...]ia, L'a iuto Orrinzo, el, Fedele, el, Pistoia, Pietro, Pamfilo, Sasso, el, Tibaldeo, E frai nostri Toscani, il Vnice, e Ceo, Questi versacchi miei, son loro a noia, E come Marzia, io prenderei la quoia, Che io non son con costor bu [...]n Cetaro. Lewes Allemanni sayth, imitating his most witty Shoolemaster Ouid, in one of his dainty and sweet Tuscan Elegies, thus.

Per qual cagion auien crudel Amore,

Che fuor d'ogn' uso human per Cinthia & Flora,

Porto due fiamme, & non hà più d'un cuore?

What is the reason (tell me) cruell Loue,

That gainst all common sence I wretch should proue,

And beare two fires, when I haue but one hart,

For Cinthia and for Flora, more to make me smart?

Now if the woman that is beloued, should affect another, (when there cannot be any Loue true, but of one alone) it must then of necessitie follow, that she should not care for her first friend or Louer, this being the principall point required of her. Besides, the According to that saying: Loue doth desire the thing belou'd to see, That like it selfe in lou'ly shape may be. And as another very wittily writeth: LOVES greatest powerfull Force and Excellence, Is to transforme the very Soule and Essence Of the Louer into the thing belou'd, For so by deepe Philosophy t' is prou'd. Louer coueting and desiring to beget of his Mistresse a thing like vnto himselfe, it must follow by this rule, that he should not obtaine his purpose, hauing his she-Friend [Page] common to another. And whosoeuer beleeueth, or is of opinion, that a man may (truly) and from the heart, loue and affect more then one, at one and the selfe-same time, is very much mistaken, as (besides the authoritie of Aristotle aforesaid) we haue proued (euen now) in this place: neither doth he rightly vnderstand how that partie who loueth indeed, loueth his Friend as his owne proper and best good, hee crauing and desiring nothing so much than that twaine should become one, as Plato reporteth, those two Louers answered Vulcan very well, and to this purpose Lodouicq Martelli spake excellent well, saying:

Nessun può far, di queich' al mondo sono,

A più d' una di se gradito dono.

No man (for present) can himselfe bestow,

But on one woman, if he honest show.

And (me thinkes) he spake as well, when he said thus:

Et poco e'ldon, ch'un di se stesso fece, &c.

Thinke you that man doth giue but little wealth,

When (gift-wise) he bestoweth All himselfe?

Hauing sayd before.

Et quei ch'ama diuoi, (donne) piu d'una, &c.

Fayre Ladies, he that shall loue more

Than one of any you;

And at one time dissembler is,

His Loue can not be true:

His mind's beyond his might, like he

That with his daring eye

Stands staring on the Sunny beames,

And blinded is thereby:

Wee will then, for conclusion, say, that wheresoeuer With which opinion these Verses agree well. The trewest Loue (sometim's) suspicious, And feedes on Cares and Feares most amorous; Nor can LOVE liue without some IEALOVSIE, Which tane away, it strait begins to dye. true Loue is, there indeed some IEALOVSIE must most necessarily be, and where no IEALOVSIE is, there of necessitie can be no true Loue indeed; as a certaine Gentleman [Page] (a friend of mine) wrote to his Mistresse, (who tooke some exceptions against him, because hee seemed to be a little yellow of her) when amongst other things he wrote thus vnto her.

Nor let not this (Lady) your minde once moue:

Iealous to be (in some sort) is true Loue.

And of this opinion was Petrarcq, as you may perceiue in the beginning of that his Sonnet so often, by peece-meale, repeated by vs, although (in the end therof) he to insinuate into her fauour, (and to commend his Mistres Laura the more) faineth like a right Poet, that there was no IEALOVSIE in him, which neuerthelesse, he yeeldeth to be in any other Louer else; and which our familiar acquaintance Master Lewes Allemanni, knowing to be but too true, added (therefore) those speeches (set downe a little before by mee) Fuor d'ogni vso humano. Meaning hereby, as if it were a thing against nature any liuing man, should not haue some small spice of IEALOVSIE in him.

Another doubt is, whether IEALOVSIE be (naturally) in Louers or no, many affirming it is, and withall, alleadging the same likewise to be in euery bruit Beast, as well as in man, Considering the great Plagues and Afflictions which many (too too Iealous ouer their Wiues) inflict most worthily vpon themselues, the voluntary Cuckolds, and kinde Wittols, are to be counted wise, in respect of the other, because they are neuer tortured with such frightfull and sensible punishment: for, Most certaine t' is, where IEALOVSIE is bred, HORNES in the Mind, are worse then HORNES on the Head. Nay more, I holde Cockolds for their patience (herein) to be the only true happie & wise men indeed, for if (according to Seneca in his Epistles) hee that is Temperate, is Constant; who is Constant is vntroubled, who is vntroubled is without sorrow; who is without sorrow, is happy, wherefore he that is such a one is Happy, & wisedome is sufficient to a happy man: then say I, that all these Qualities coueriuing in a Cuckold, hee must needes be both Wise and Happy. excepting onely in those kinde of ouerkinde Creatures, to whom our language hath giuen a strange name, by reason they are carelesse and respectlesse of their owne honours, accounting it a small matter for their Wiues to be of the common gender, and more courteous then indeed ciuility or good manners require they should be.

And certainely it cannot be denied, but that That Beastes participate of this plague, the Shepheard Cratis found too much to his cost, who being falne in Loue with a shee-Goat, her Buck (through meere Iealousie) beat out his braines, as he lay asleepe. many sencelesse and brute beastes are Iealous, [Page] as is apparantly seene in Buls, in The Tale of the Swanne about Windsor, finding a strange Cocke with his Mate, and how farre hee swam after the other to kill it, and then returning backe, slew his Hen also (this being a certaine truth, & not many yeers done vpon this our Thames) is so well knowne to many Gentlemen, and to most Watermen of this Riuer, as it were needlesse, to vse any more words about the same; yet are there two brethren that I know, who (should any such strange thing be reported vnto them, especially by a Traueller) they would but scoffe at him for his labour, so peremptory and yet simple are they in their owne conceits; yea, they will not sticke to laugh and gibe thereat, as if it were a loud lye, onely because they themselues haue neuer seene nor knowne the like: but these silly animals, and iolly crowing Cocks on their owne Dung-hill, Ariosto taxeth excellently well in the beginning of his seauenth Canto, of his Orlando Furioso, but this being out of their element, I will tell them, in their owne naturall and Mother tongue, what our Countrey man young Master Withers writes: (Whose pleasing Satyres neuer shall decay, But flourish greene, like Laurell and the Bay.) T'is grosse, sayth hee, and vaine for to vpholde That all reports which Trauellers vnfolde Of forraine Lands, are lyes; because they see No such strange things in their owne Parish be, And if I may not tearme such Fellowes vaine, Ile say, they are dull, and of a shallow braine. And him I count no wiseman that imparts To men of such base misconceiuing hearts Any rare matter; for their brutish wit Will very quickly wrong both him and it: For thus the saying is, and I hold so, Ignorance onely is true Wisedomes foe. Swannes, in Lyons, in Doues, in Hennes, and such like. Besides, mee thinkes, it is as naturall a thing for a man to be Iealous, as to desire to engender, and beget that which is like to himselfe, which is the most naturall thing (as Aristotle auoucheth in his second Booke De Anima) that liuing Creatures can doe. And this they doe, that they might (as hee alleadgeth oftentimes) in some sort, participate and come neere vnto diuine Nature, as much, and after the best manner they shall be able.

Now if any shall doubt whether IEALOVSIE be a naturall thing or no, or (if it being so) why then should it be condemned and blamed so much (considering that according to Aristotles rule, none ought eyther to be praised or blamed for any thing, they do through the secret instinct of Nature, they being as it were indifferent (as we may terme them;) To them I answere thus: wee condemne not IEALOVSIE it selfe, but the [Page] Here the Author sheweth his opinion as concerning IEALOVSIE, because hee would not be mistaken, condemning this foolish and suspitious Humor; taken or conceited vpon no occasion or cause giuen, by many men ouer-rashly, and to the vtter ouerthrow, many times of themselues, and of such as they loue & affect most deerely, wishing the golden Meane, that is, the Mediocritie or Vertue herein, to be vsed by euery one, and that also with great Discreation and Iudgement, remembring alwayes this Lesson. T' is fast good-will, and gentle curtesies, Reclaimes a Woman, and not watching eyes; For where Suspect directeth forward wils, Beauties sweet dalliance with despight it kils: And where a Man is Iealous without cause, The Woman good, for to be bad (oft) drawes. Excesse, and the too-too much of the same, as we find not fault with eating & drinking moderately, and other such naturall desires; but the abuse thereof, through too much glutonie. Surfetting, Quaffing, and Drunkennesse, being that which wee blame and disallow of, and therefore if any shall be Iealous with discretion, (and not without great and important cause,) obseruing a true and temperate decorùm in the Time, the place, the person, and the cause, as is fit and conuenient for him; especially, if it shall concerne his owne reputation and credit, or the good name of his Mistresse, or Wife, he is not to be discommended at all.

Another doubt is, whether this Disease is to be holpen, And yet vnder correction, and by the Authors leaue, it is hardly cured, if it haue once taken any deepe roote, especially (as Montagnie writeth) in the Femall Sexe, whom to aduise, to distaste and giue ouer this franticque Passion, were but time and labour lost. Their Essence, as he affirmeth, (for I will not in any wise subscribe to such an Hereticall opinion as this is, and therefore I alledge authoritie, Certissima omnium regula) being so much infected with IEALOVSIE, with Vanitie, and Curiositie, that there is no hope to cure them by any lawfull meanes, they often recouering of this infirmitie, by a forme of health, much more to be feared, than the disease it selfe: for euen as some Enchantment cannot ridde away an euill spirit, but with laying it vpon another, so when they loose it, they transferre and bestow this Malady vpon their husbands. But (holla) pardon mee, (fayre-Ladies and Gentlewomen) to whose lot it shall fall by chance to read this Note. Had it not beene but that I should haue left this part Defectiue, and a meere Heteroclite, I would not haue proceeded so farre as I did: and now for amends, (yet not to flatter you at all,) speake Mounsieur Montagnie in French what he list, yet could I, and can alledge as much, if not more, against our owne Male-kinde, the Italian and others, and (I am sorry so to say) some here in our owne Countrey of England, testifying as much, who are and haue beene as violent, and virulent in this Bedlam-like Humour, as any Woman Virago whatsoeuer. or else be a wound immortall, and incurable, as Ariosto affirmeth, with diuers others, who all subscribe to his opinion. To which I answere, that as the occasions which first bred the [Page] same, shall decrease or increase, so shall IEALOVSIE it selfe, eyther decay or continue, and so when the cause shall be quite remoued,Some say I, and some say No, But few the Truth as yet doe know. Gramatici certant & adhuc sub Iudice lis est, The Maior part thinke this Iealosie to be like the Zwitzers in Germany, who if they once get entertainement in some good Castle or Holde, they will hardly, or neuer out: resembling such as keepe possession of a place, frō whence they are seldome remoued, but by some great danger, or bloodshed: for as of little Brookes proceed great Riuers, so from small sparkes of IEALOVSIE arise great flames of distemperature, and then to trouble; such a one with good counsell, is but to augment his paine with suspition the more: and as a certaine writer speakes very well. No thraldome like the yoake of IEALOVSIE, A yoake that makes the liuing (still) to dye: It is the gnawing Vultur of the minde, For which nor Wit, nor Counsell, helpe can finde. IEALOVSIE it selfe shall be quite taken away, as the saying is, Sublata causa tollitur Effectus, I meane the Effects thereof, & that which is more than needeth, for as we see that in a sicke body wee may expell all superfluities, with purgations, and all grosse humors from thence, eyther by fit Medicine, or by abstinence from Meates, or by forbearing of Drinkes, or such like good and wholesome kinde of Diet: Euen so, with Wisedome, Discretion, and Patience is the Mother of Opportunitie, shee presenting her selfe to them that nourish her Daughter carefully, when (before Rashnesse and Anger) she goeth inuisibly, and hindereth them from what they most thirst after, and therefore Patience preuailes gainst wrongs; effects them All In Time; when Haste headlong makes Men to fall. And to this effect another writeth thus. The Mindes afflictions, Patience can appease, It Passions kils, and healeth each Disease. And a third man thus. Patience is praise, Forbearance is a Treasure, Suffrance an Angell, Rage a Fiend sans measure: Let gentle Patience profit thee, for Patience is a thing, Whereby a Beggar gaineth of a discontented King. Patience, may wee easily driue away and expell the Force and Rage of IEALOVSIE, eyther more or lesse, according to the orders before appointed; and so againe by the contrary reasons (wanting the foresaid discreet remedies) it sometimes bursteth out so farre, and exceedeth beyond her bounds so much, as it turneth it selfe into extream Hatred, and from thence falleth into a Frensie, and Madnesse, not alone against the partie it loueth, or his aduersary or Riuall, but as well against all such, who, as he thinkes, may be any way an obstacle [Page] or let, to hinder or crosse him in his dissigne and purpose, whereupon haue ensued most cruell reuengements, and most horrible and sauage murthers, beyond all common sense and reason; yea, many times against their owne reputations and Honours, and against their owne proper selfes, and lifes, as we may see and read in Histories, as well Auncient as Moderne, and as Poets in their fictions and shadowes, show more at large, as when they faine how See Ouids Metamorphosis, for this History, and the other of Calisto at large, which to set downe were tedious. Io was turned into a Cow, through meere IEALOVSIE, and Calisto into a Beare, and the Tale of Procris, who by chance was slaine by her owne Husband Cephalus.

The like tragicall Tale may you read in Platoes Moral discourses, of this Cyanippus, and of another called Emilius, where the Curious may content himselfe euery way. Plato likewise, a most graue and veritable writer, affirmeth such an other disastre to haue happened vnto the Wife of one called Cyanippus, and of a second man ycleped Emilius: but the most These two first Tragedies, the one of a Captaine of Nocera, a Towne belonging to the Dukedome of Spoleto in Italy: and the other of a Knight of Millane, you shall find in diuers Italian Authors, diuersly set downe, and as well translated (but that hee is a little too tedious in his phrase of speech) into English by Sir Geffery Fenton Knight, one of our late Queene Elizabeths (of euerliuing memory) priuy Counsell in Ireland. strangest and horrible murthers committed in these our dayes, through the furie of IEALOVSIE, were these three: the one by a Captaine of Nocer [...] (a Citie in Italy) vpon his Lord and Master, by reason of his Wife: the second more execrable than the other, was of a Knight of Millan, a follower of the Lord Trivultio, who causelesse (through the diuelish instinct of this hellish IEALOVSIE) slew his faire and vertuous wife, onely because he could not endure that any man should match with her, after his owne death: and that done, He, with the selfe-same bloody dagger, stabbed himselfe through his owne heart. The third and last, was, (as I haue beene credibly enformed by a Venetian Merchant, a friend of mine, traffiking in the famous City of London,) perpetrated by a This was W. C. of C. in the Countie of Yorke Esquire; who practised murther vpon his fayre and vertuous Wife, but committed the same vpon two young Infants, his Sonnes, the 23. of Aprill (then S. Georges day) in Anno 1605. For which he was executed on Monday the 5. day of May, next following. young Gentleman of a great [Page] House in ENGLAND, who left his fayre Wife for dead, after hee had butchered two louely Babes, his owne little Sonnes, and entending to haue killed the third, but that hee was by great good fortune, preuented of this his bloudy purpose.

But leauing to speake any more of such Tragicall and vnmanly attempts as these, I say, there are some that deserue to be reprehended, in the sharpest manner that may be, who, knowing that Loue is in God, nay rather, that hee is the first Loue, and the occasion of all other good Affections whatsoeuer, are so sottish as to suppose, that their is IEALOVSIE, after the same manner in him, as there is in vs, which is meere and monstrous Blasphemy, for one (but in thought) to conceit as much, they not knowing, or at least-wise forgetting, that all things in God, or which are attributed vnto him, are in him, after another different manner, then they are in vs, because, that Loue which is in God, is meere Pietie and Of the marriage of Charitie with her other two Sisters Faith and Hope, there is a pretty Tale, which is this: About the Beginning of the world, these three Sisters, left Heauen, to come downe here to the earth, to get good Husbands: and such was Faiths good fortune, as shee stayed not long, but sped of her purpose: for Abraham, who was the Father of the Faithfull, tooke her quickely to Wife. Hope seeing her Sisters good hap, had good hope to meete with the like good match, yet stayed shee somewhat long, before shee could speede; but in the end Dauid tooke her to his Spouse: for hee alwayes hoped in God, and as hee saith, My Soule hopeth in the Lord. But poore Charitie had the worst lucke of the three; for euer since her first comming hither, she hath wandered vp and downe and none would entertaine her, nor as yet will; so that (by reason the world is so colde in Charitie,) she is like to remayne a Virgin still, and so returne to the better place, from whence shee first came. Charitie, and is in him endlesse, whereas the Affection and Loue, which men beare one to another, hath his End as well as his Beginning: But this Subiect, is too deepe and bottomlesse a Sea, for the light plummet of my Shallow wit to sound, and too high a Mistery for my slender conceit to diue or search into the secrets thereof: [Page] And therefore rendering most humble thankes vnto that Almightie Wee will in our Notes, as wee began, so conclude with God, who as hee is the Beginning of All things, so is he the End, ALPHA and OMEGA; He is the First LOVE, and the Last LOVE, and is CHARITIE it selfe: than which nothing more precious, since hee that dwelleth in CHARITIE, dwelleth in God, and what more secure? and God in him, then, what more delectable? and to conclude: God is all Loue, Affection, Charity, Which hath no end but is eternally. Power, who is All in All, knoweth All, and can doe All; and acknowledging my selfe much beholding vnto All here, for your extraordinary and vndeserued Patience, I rest,

A most deuoted Seruant vnto you All, B. V.

FINIS.

[Page]

§

§

[Page]

THE BLAZON OF IEALOVSIE. A Subiect not written of by any heretofore. First written in Italian, by that learned Gentleman BENEDETTO VARCHI, sometimes Lord Chauncelor vnto the Signorie of Venice: AND Translated into English, with speciall Notes vpon the same; by R. T. Gentleman.

ARIOST. in Orl. Furio. Cant. 31. Stanz. 1.

Che dolce piu, che piu giocondo Stato,

Saria, di quel, d'vn amoroso cuore?

Che viuer piu felice, e piu beato?

Che ritrouarsi in seruitu d' Amore?

Se non fosse l' huomo sempre stimulato

Da quel Sospetto rio, da quel Timore,

Da quel Martir, da quella Frenesia,

Da quella Rabbia, detta GELOSIA?

LONDON: Printed by T. S. for Iohn Busbie, and are to be sould at his Shop in S. Dunstans Church-yard in Fleetstreet, 1615.

TO MY HONOVRABLE FRIEND, Sir EDWARD DIMMOCK Knight, the most worthy and generous Champion vnto the Sacred Maiestie of Great BRITAINE, &c.

[Page]

[Page]

SIR, I present vnto your iudicious view, the Plague of Men, and the auncient Disease of Women: a Subiect knowne, but too-too well, to many, and yet not written of by any heretofore, as farre as I can finde. Tasso toucheth it (here and there) in his Workes: and Ariosto glanceth at it (a little) in his ORLANDO FVRIOSO; onely this graue Author BENEDETTO VARCHI, hath discoursed of it at large. The draught is both Philosophicall and pleasant; If it like you I esteeme the lesse what Others distaste therein. The auncient Romanes vsed to set forth the portratures of their best Friends in the formost front of their Pallaces; and so I hope you will vouchsafe that I may blaze your name, in the frontispice of my Booke. Neyther doubt I but that [Page] you will as kindly entertayne it, as it is heartily recommended vnto you, considering my meaning, and learded Martials, is all one in this point:

Quod non argentum, quod non tibi misimus aurum,

Hoc faecimus causa (Stella diserte) tua

Quisquis magra dedit, voluit sibi magna remitti,

Fictilibus nostris exoner atus eris.

That we no Gold nor Siluer doe thee send,

Twas for thy sake (kinde Stella) courteous Friend.

Who great things giue, doe looke for great againe,

Our trifting toyes shall ease thee of that paine.

This Worke then being but a trifle, my labour therein cannot be much, which, neuerthelesse, if it be any, is onely due to your true, courteous, and bountifull Nature; to which not my selfe alone, but diuers other Gentlemen, as well English as Strangers, were beholding for the kinde Entertainment you gaue vs at our being in Italy together. Accept then, this small Mite in part of a greater amends. It is some comfort to an honest minde, to render what (to his power) he can, although not what he should; and better to repay a small Interest, then keepe backe Principall and All, as many Banckerupts (of good Manners) vse now a dayes to doe. And thus with my best wishes for the good of your Worthy selfe, and of your vertuous Lady, the true Paralell of all Courtly Perfection, I end,

From my Lodging in Holborne, this 7. of Nouember, 1614.

Ingeniously deuoted to your Worship, R. T.

TO THE IVDICIOVS VNDERSTANDER: To the Ignorant READER: and to the base CARPER whatsoeuer.

[Page]

LEarned) to you, whose true Gentilitie

Is match't with Vertue in Affinitie,

Into whose fluent Vaine, the Muses nine

Distill all Knowledge, Humane and Diuine,

Who haue the gifts of Tongues to vnderstand,

(Pure Linguists right) the state of euery Land:

VVhose Eglets Spirits to mount on high are found,

And not as fearefull Swallow, lowe on ground:

VVhose boundlesse Ocean of Intelligence,

Containes (of Artes) the subtile Quintessence.

Your curteous Nature, being so sweetly fram'd,

As it commends, what's worthier to be blam'd:

To you alone, and vnto none but you,

I offer vp my Selfe, and Booke, as due.

As for that golden Skonse with leaden VVit,

I scorne, for scorne, doth Ignorance best fit.

Rich dunghill Midas with his Asses eares,

VVho (with his Heeles) not with Discretion heares:

The perfum'd gilt-Spurre Muske-Cat, Valours shame,

VVho is not (as he counterseits) the same:

[Page]Wearing a siluer Sword for fashion sake,

And yet disgracefull Blowes and words will take:

Whose Speech and Ruffe seeme Both, as One to be,

Of the new Set, (Twins in Formalitie,)

Where, if you barre him from his Common places,

He is tongue-tide then, for therein his chiefe grace is,

Whose Apish Trickes and Nods, with ducking low,

The perfect Type of Vanitie doth show,

Whilst (capring for the nonce) his Coyne must ijngle,

His sole Attendance being his loathsome Ingle:

Thinking he should be prays'd for his pyde Cloathes,

(For he no better parts (than these are) showes:)

All such, I barre, and banish from my Booke,

Lest they profane it with vnhallowed Looke.

Their musty Scoffes I bandy them againe,

As strucken Ball flyes backe from whence it came.

These wry-mouth'd Curs that barke, but dare not bite;

(Their Mothers (but not Fathers) Children right;)

Ile scourge from hence, and gaule them to the quicke,

Whilst on themselues, not me, they poison spit.

But vnto you (Iudicious) all Respect,

Ass to the Scoffers Hate and base Neglect:

Nor (if they are marryed) doe I wish them worse,

Then to be plagu'd with IEALOVSIES blacke Curse.

And he that (causelesse) with my Booke findes fault,

I will maintaine with Vulcans Crest doth halt;

Iudge (mildely) with sober Discretion then,

So shall you be like Angels, and not Men.

R. T.

TO THE NO LESSE NOBLE, THEN FAIRE, and yet not more faire then learned, the Lady GASPARA STAMPA.

[Page]

CHaste, and matchlesse VIRGIN, I might iustly be taxed to haue forgot my selfe doubly, at one time: as well, concerning my bounden duety towards your beautious selfe, as in respect of the many Deserts, which that great Scholler learned Varchi, doth merit, if I should not (without lingring or temporising any longer) make a Present vnto the world, of this his admirable and dainty conceited Lecture, shadowed vnder your sweet and much prised Name; for then, like a malitious fore-stauling Merchant, I should engrosse vnto my selfe, that deare commoditie of Praise, which is onely due to such a worthy man alone, and like an vnthankefull person, shew but little, or rather nothing at all, how much I am beholding vnto you, as well in my thoughts, as in all other my proceedings whatsoeuer. Which Acknowledgement (although I must needes confesse I am to blame therein) enuiting, and as it were, wooing mee to make you some satisfaction for my backewardnesse in this poynt, to which your [Page] peerelesse Worth, and spotlesse Vertue draw mee on, and not knowing what fit course to take (considering I haue not (as now) any thing of mine owne, worthy of your gracious acceptance) yet hath it beene some comfort vnto mee, in that my minde giueth mee, that this Discourse following shall be sufficient to shew some part of my good meaning towards you: as likewise in some sort to satisfie the excellency of graue VARCHI'S selfe. And because I know that it is a meere vanitie of such, as praysing and extolling the Bountie and Goodnesse of God, imagine that by their many words (onely) they shall be able to commend it the more; therefore I hiding and concealing the prayses of VARCHI, and of Monsigor De la CASA, will onely say, that they (both) will hold themselues sufficiently commended, when they shall vnderstand, that this their much wisht-for Treatise, shall be read and esteemed of, by such a prayse-worthy Creature as is your selfe, your admirable wit and sound Iudgement in euery thing, being such as you farre exceede any one of your sexe, and therefore, counted one of our Italian Paragons, and that not vnworthily. I therefore make bold, to present you with this deepe and excellent Oration or Speech, and relying vpon the wonted Affabilitie of your courteous Nature, desire to be commanded by the same alwayes.

FRANCESCO SANSOVINO.

The Liues of the Authour of this VVorke, BENEDETTO VARCHI, and of FRANCESCO SANSOVINO, the publisher of the same, whose EPISTLE is before.

[Page]

Benedetto Varchi

BENEDETTO VARCHI, borne in Florence, (the chiefe Citie for Beauty and Wealth, in all Tuscanie) had to his Schoole-master one Gasper Mar [...]scotto, of Maradi, (a small Towne in Lombardie) who taught him as wel Latine as Greeke, but could not by any meanes endure his Schollers should read any Booke in their owne Mother Language. As he grew in yeeres, so did hee profit in Learning, and in his youthfull time deuoted himselfe vnto the vertuous Seruice of a faire and learned Gentlewoman, called Gaspara Stampa, (as by the Epistle written before you may perceiue) hee making account of her, more for the beautie of her minde, than for that of her body; she being as much admired for her excellent Qualities, as any one Gentlewoman of her time in all Italy. Hee wrote many learned workes, especially, that called L'HERCOLANO, where hee discourseth of all Languages in generall; but especially of the Excellency of the Tuscane tongue. Hee liued in good credit all his life time, being very gratious with Cosmo, [Page] Duke of Florence, and with the Signorie of Venice: hauing a most bountifull pension from them, for being one of the chiefe Readers in their famous Vniuersitie of Padoa; about which time (he being the President of that learned Academic of the IMFIAMATI there) deliuered this Oration, in an honourable Assembly, before the Duke himselfe, and many other noble Personages, with great commendation, and kinde applause of them all. But after this (being growne in yeeres) hee returned backe into Tuscanie, his natiue Countrey, where after he had seene many fayre and happy yeeres: hee dyed at a Summer-house hee had, not farre from Florence, leauing Thomazo Lenzo, Bishop of Fermo, and Girolamo Razzi, a Carthusian Frier, his Executors; and lyeth buried in the Domo, the Cathedrall Church of Florence.

The Life of FRANCESCO SANSOVINO, the first Publisher of this Worke in the Italian tongue.

AS for FRANCESCO SANSOVINO, hee also was a Florentine borne; and besides his Schollership, was so notable an Architect, as for his skill hee was surnamed Archa de Noe, The Arke of NOAH. Hee was of familiar acquaintance with this Authour BENEDETTO VARCHI, and with a Brother of the foresaid Ladyes, Gaspara Stampa, called Balthazar Stampa, (a Sonnet of which Gentlemans I haue translated, and set downe amongst mine other Notes, in the Description of Care. To conclude, this [Page] Francis Sansouino liued (in his youth) much in Rome, but growing in yeeres, hee came to Venice, where the Signorie, imploying him about their buildings of St. Marke, bestowed an ancient pension on him, during his life: he dying about the yeere 1570. Hee had a Kinseman about that time liuing in Florence, called Iacomo Sansouino, so sincere and honest a man of life, as he was surnamed Spaeculum Florentiae, (the Mirrour, or Looking-glasse of Florence.) Hee dyed of the Gowte, and was buried in the same Graue his Cosin Francis Sansouino was enterred (who after his death was brought from Venice to Florence) in the famous Church of Saint Iohn Baptist, (called in Italian Il Battesimo,) the Saint and Patron of the aforesaid Citie.

To the Jealous Husband, vpon this Translation by his kinde Friend Mr. R. T.

[Page]

THou that beleeu'st no Female Virtue, Thou

Which so good lookes, and such false loue canst show

(Enough for fashion) but still doubt'st thy friend,

Least to thy choisest Piece he make his end.

Vnhappy soule! that to what's Good art blind,

That alwayes seekst, what thou fearst most to find.

That runst before thy Faire one in the street,

So, with foule mouths, that thy sly ears may meet,

Such as dare black the name of Goodnesse, such

As n'ere speake true but when they say, 'ts too much,

Thou shouldst enioy what Fortune, not thy worth

Hath giu'n thee in her. Thou that ne're go'st forth

But with a longing to heare what they talk

Of Euphys, Sophron, if they chance but walk,

Through thy faind kindnesse, to thy fairest home,

And then art gal'd to heare some fained dome

Which may concerne thy forehead, that's most free

For them to philip, who most like thee bee;

That's such as know nor Virtue, neither can

Nor wish to know; that haue the name of Man

Only because they Prate, or Get, or Tell

The fortune of their Voiage, buy and sell;

Can only these, and Fashion; or for worse,

If any be, then hee that's only Purse.

And, were not Basenesse by hir virtue scornd,

Lord how securely, Dyszel, thou'dst be hornd.

Thou that to

The God of Cuckolds Rablais in Hist. Pantagruel lib. 3. chap. 33.

Coquage sacrificest, when

The Calender of Gods was made, mongst men

Coquage was occupi'd, while Ioue assign'd

[Page]To all the other Gods what speciall kind

Of Sacrifices, and what Place, what Day

Their Tides should be on; none but he away

No room in Heauen left him; Ioue's Decree

Was that he sh [...]uld with Goddesse Iealousie

Partake in Tide, but that, on Earth alone,

(Excluded Heauen) his Dominion

Should be mongst those whose liberty was lost

By Female vnion, but of all, those most

Which blest were with the Fayrest, yet of them

Onely o're such as sacrific'd to him

With feare, suspicion, searching, spyes and doubt.

None should his Godlike presence Grace without

Such daily rites; no fauour, help, or aid,

To any from him, while those dues vnpaid.

But, as an Appanage, his Deity

Should to the Iealous still companion be.

Thou that vnable fram'st thy policy

Gainst the Braguettes, and with Treachery

Vainly resists what the sweet sex would doe

With him they call on, great

Much worship't in Sheeland, and his Castle Chappel, or Shrine is the Braguettes.

St. Balletron.

Thou that deserust it, nor hadst so long mist

What thou so seekst for, if a Spagirist

Could saue hir Honors indiuiduall part,

Yet giue the blow, thou knowst, would neuer smart.

You that are n'ere at rest but when you wear

Hans Caruel's Ring. Thou eldest Child of Fear,

That of thy Madnesse first by Varchi done

See here made ours, to vs our Friend alone

Is as first AVTHOR. His desert must haue

What Censure to first Authors euer gaue.

Il Incognito.

The Censure of a Friend, vpon this Translation, done by R. T. Gentleman.

[Page]

WHat of this Booke the best Wits censure will,

My reach of apprehension hath not skill

To presuppose. The reason's ordinary:

Because mens Iudgements with their Mindes doe vary:

And for th'opinion of the Vulgar kinde,

(My selfe being one) they sure are of my minde,

Who, if my sense makes not my censure erre,

This subiect doth on each degree conferre

A benefit. The Iealous here may view,

(As in a Glasse) what of himselfe is true.

The Man or Wise from this pollution free,

(For derestation thereof) here may see,

The substance and successe of Iealousie.

Vnmarryed Youth (of eythe sexe) are here

Prescrib'd a Caution, and a course to cleare

Themselues of this. The auncient may collect

Prime Principles to dispossesse Suspect,

Not ouer-growne in any hee or shee,

Discouering but th'Effects of Iealousie.

Thus haue I th'Information of my wit,

And shallow Iudgement spent in prayse of it,

Which here my Friend translates: if more be fit

In laud of him (so that with truth't agrees)

Thankes to the Writer, more then I, hee sees.

ANTH. MAR.

To his Friend Mr. R. T. vpon the Translation of this Worke.

[Page]

SO many write: some for the fame of Prayse,

And some their empty houres to entertaine:

That Bookes are held but in these later dayes,

Th'abortiue Issue of an idle Braine.

And hence proceedes the generall disesteeme,

The great Neglect of Learning and of Wit;

When men proue not in action what they seeme,

But write their fancyes rather then what's fit.

Which Errour thou obseruing, and our age

Fallen into an incurable Disease,

Walk'st not with those in common Equipage,

But writ'st as well to profit as to please.

This little Booke shewes Wit and Learning to,

A great deale more than greater Volumes doe.

W. L.

§

§

[Page]

GEntle Reader, Linxes sight was not so sharpe, but that now and then it ouer-saw; and Argus, for all his hundred eyes, was ouer-taken in the end: Be one neuer so curious or carefull, yet may a man mistake. [...]ome few faults haue escaped in the Printing of this Booke, as in fol. 34. for lusty reade lazy: the rest I hope thine owne discretion will guide thee to correct. And so fare thou well.

Information about this book

Title statement

The blazon of iealousie· A subiect not written of by any heretofore· First written in Italian, by that learned gentleman Benedetto Varchi, sometimes Lord Chauncelor vnto the Signorie of Venice: and translated into English, with speciall notes vpon the same; by R.T. Gentleman.Lettura sopra un sonetto della gelosia di mons. Dalla Casa. English

Varchi, Benedetto, 1503-1565.

Edition statement

1615

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

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Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2005-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A14277

ID [STC]

STC 24593

ID [STC]

ESTC S119026

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99854233

ID [PROQUEST]

99854233

ID [VID]

19642

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(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A14277)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 19642)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 979:3)

Source

— The blazon of iealousie· A subiect not written of by any heretofore· First written in Italian, by that learned gentleman Benedetto Varchi, sometimes Lord Chauncelor vnto the Signorie of Venice: and translated into English, with speciall notes vpon the same; by R.T. Gentleman., Lettura sopra un sonetto della gelosia di mons. Dalla Casa. English, Varchi, Benedetto, 1503-1565., Tofte, Robert, 1561-1620. aut.

Extent

[16], 87, [1] p.

Printed by T[homas] S[nodham] for Iohn Busbie, and are to be sould at his shop in S. Dunstans Church-yard in Fleetstreet,. London :: 1615.. (A translation by Robert Tofte of: Lettura sopra un sonetto della gelosia di mons. Dalla Casa.) ("The fruits of iealousie", in verse, p. 65-end, signed: R.M., i.e. Robert Tofte.) (Reproduction of the original in the University of Illinois (Urbana-Champaign Campus). Library.) (Imperfect. Lacks all after page 62.)

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The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines.

Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements).

Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site.