Chapter XVIII: Part 18

It came to passe, that _Andreana_ sleeping in her bed, dreamed, that she met with _Gabriello_ in the Garden, where they both embracing lovingly together, she seemed to see a thing blacke and terrible, which sodainely issued forth of his body, but the shape thereof she could not comprehend. It rudely seized upon _Gabriello_, & in despight of her utmost strength (with incredible force) snatched him out of her armes, and sinking with him into the earth, they never after did see one another; whereuppon, overcome with extremity of greefe and sorrow, presently shee awaked, being then not a little joyfull, that she found no such matter as shee feared, yet continued very doubtfull of her dreame. In regard whereof, _Gabriello_ being desirous to visite her the night following: she laboured very diligently to hinder his comming to her; yet knowing his loyall affection toward her, and fearing least he should grow suspitious of some other matter: she welcommed him into the Garden, where gathering both white and Damaske Roses (according to the nature of the season) at length, they sate downe by a goodly Fountaine, which stoode in the middst of the Garden.

After some small familiar discourse passing betweene them, _Gabriello_ demanded of her upon what occasion shee denied his comming thither the night before, and by such a sodaine unexpected admonition? _Andreana_ told him, that it was in regard of a troublesome dreame, wherewith hir soule was perplexed the precedent night, and doubt what might ensue thereon. _Gabriello_ hearing this, began to smile, affirming to her, that it was an especiall note of folly, to give any credit to idle dreames: because (oftentimes) they are caused by excesse of feeding, and continually are observed to be meere lies. For (quoth hee) if I had any superstitious beleefe of dreames, I should not then have come hither nowe: yet not so much as being dismayed by your dreame, but for another of mine owne, which I am the more willing to acquaint you withall.

Me thought, I was in a goodly delightfull Forrest, in the Noble exercise of sportfull hunting, and became there possessed of a yong Hinde, the verie loveliest and most pleasing beast that was ever seene. It seemed to be as white as snow, and grew (in a short while) so familiar with mee, that by no meanes it would forsake me. I could not but accept this rare kindnesse in the beast, and fearing least (by some ill hap) I might loose it, I put a coller of Gold about the necke thereof, and fastned it into a chain of Gold also, which then I held strictly in my hand. The Hind afterward couched downe by mee, laying his head mildely in my lap; and on a sudden, a blacke Grey-hound bitch came rushing on us (but whence, or how I could not imagine) seeming halfe hunger-starved, and very ugly to look upon. At me she made her full carriere, without any power in me of resistance: and putting her mouth into the lefte side of my bosome, griped it so mainly with her teeth, that (me thought) I felt my heart quite bitten through, and she tugged on still, to take it wholly away from me; by which imagined paine and anguish I felt, instantly I awaked: Laying then my hand upon my side, to know whether any such harme had befaln me, or no, and finding none at all, I smiled at mine owne folly, in making such a frivolous and idle search. What can be said then in these or the like cases? Divers times I have had as ill seeming dreames, yea, and much more to be feared: yet never any thing hurtfull to me followed thereon; and therefore I have alwaies made the lesse account of them.

The yong Maiden, who was still dismayed by her owne dreame, became much more afflicted in her minde, when shee had heard this other reported by _Gabriello_: but yet to give him no occasion of distast, she bare it out in the best manner she could devise to doe. And albeit they spent the time in much pleasing discourse, maintained with infinite sweete kisses on either side: yet was she still suspitious, but knew not whereof; fixing her eies oftentimes upon his face, and throwing strange lookes to all parts of the Garden, to catch hold on any such blacke ugly sight, whereof he had formerly made description to her. As thus she continued in these afflicting feares, it fortuned, that _Gabriello_ sodainly breathing forth a very vehement sighe, and throwing his armes fast about her, said: O helpe me deare Love, or elsee I dye; and, in speaking the words, fell downe uppon the ground. Which the yong Damosell perceiving, and drawing him into her lappe, weeping saide: Alas sweete Friend, What paine dost thou feele?

_Gabriello_ answered not one word, but being in an exceeding sweate, without any ability of drawing breath, very soone after gave up the ghost. How greevous this strange accident was to poore _Andreana_, who loved him as deerely as her owne life: you that have felt loves tormenting afflictions, can more easily conceive, then I relate. Wringing her hands, & weeping incessantly, calling him, rubbing his temples, and using all likely meanes to reduce life: she found all her labour to be spent in vain, because he was starke dead indeed, and every part of his body as cold as ice: whereupon, she was in such wofull extremity, that she knew not what to do or say. All about the Garden she went weeping, in infinite feares and distraction of soule, calling for her Chamber-maid, the only secret friend to their stolne meetings, and told her the occasion of this sudden sorrow. After they had sighed and mourned awhile, over the dead body of _Gabriello, Andreana_ in this manner spake to her maid.

Seeing Fortune hath thus bereft me of my Love, mine owne life must needs be hatefull to me: but before I offer any violence to my selfe, let us devise some convenient meanes, as may both preserve mine honour from any touch or scandall, and conceale the secret love passing betweene us: but yet in such honest sort, that this body (whose blessed soule hath too soone forsaken it) may be honourably enterred. Whereto her Mayde thus answered: Mistresse, never talke of doing any violence to your self, because by such a blacke and dismall deed, as you have lost his kind company here in this life, so shall you never more see him in the other world: for immediately you sinke downe to hell, which foule place cannot bee a receptacle for his faire soule, that was endued with so many singular vertues. Wherefore, I holde it farre better for you, to comfort your selfe by all good meanes, and with the power of fervent prayer, to fight against all desperate intruding passions, as a truly vertuous minde ought to doe. Now, as concerning his enterrement, the meanes is readily prepared for you heere in this Garden, where never he hath bene seene by any, or his resorting hither knowne, but onely to our selves. If you will not consent to have it so, let you and I convey his bodye hence, and leave it in such apt place, where it may be found to morrow morning: and being then carried to his owne house, his friends and kindred will give it honest buriall.

_Andreana_, although her soule was extraordinarily sorrowfull, & teares flowed abundantly from her eyes; yet she listned attentively to hir maids counsell; allowing her first advice against desperation, to be truly good; but to the rest thus she replied. God forbid (quoth she) that I shold suffer so deare a loving friend, as he hath alwayes shewed himselfe to mee; nay, which is much more, my husband; by sacred and solemn vowes passed betweene us, to be put into the ground basely, and like a dog, or elsee to be left in the open streete. He hath had the sacrifice of my virgin teares, and if I can prevaile, he shall have some of his kindred, as I have instantly devised, what (in this hard case) is best to be done. Forthwith she sent the maid to her Chamber, for divers elles of white Damaske lying in her Chest, which when she had brought, they spread it abroad on the grasse, even in the manner of a winding sheete, and therein wrapped the bodie of _Gabriello_, with a faire wrought pillow lying under his head, having first (with their teares) closed his mouth and eyes, and placed a Chaplet of Flowers on his head, covering the whole shrowd over in the same manner, which being done, thus she spake to her maide.

The doore of his owne house is not farre hence, and thither (between us two) he may be easily carried, even in this manner as we have adorned him; where leaving him in his owne Porch, we may returne back before it be day; and although it will be a sad sight to his friends; yet, because he dyed in mine armes, and we being so well discharged of the bodie, it will be a little comfort to me. When she had ended these words, which were not uttered without infinite teares, the Maid entreated her to make hast, because the night passed swiftly on. At last, she remembred the Ring on her finger, wherewith _Gabriello_ had solemnly espoused her, and opening the shroud againe, she put it on his finger, saying, My deare and loving husband, if thy soule can see my teares, or any understanding do remaine in thy body, being thus untimely taken from me: receive the latest guifte thou gavest me, as a pledge of our solemne and spotlesse marriage. So, making up the shroud againe as it should be, and conveighing it closely out of the Garden, they went on along with it, towardes his dwelling house.

As thus they passed along, it fortuned, that they were met and taken by the Guard or Watch belonging to the Potestate, who had bin so late abroad, about very earnest and important businesse. _Andreana_, desiring more the dead mans company, then theirs whom she had thus met withall, boldly spake thus to them. I know who and what you are, and can tel my selfe, that to offer flight will nothing availe me: wherefore, I am ready to go along with you before the Seigneurie, and there will tel the truth concerning this accident. But let not any man among you, be so bold as to lay hand on me, or to touch me, because I yeeld so obediently to you: neither to take any thing from this body, except he intend that I shal accuse him. In which respect, not any one daring to displease her, shee went with the dead bodye to the Seigneurie, there to answere all Objections.

When notice heereof was given to the Potestate, he arose; and shee being brought foorth into the Hall before him, he questioned with her, how and by what meanes this accident happened. Beside, he sent for divers Physitians, to be informed by them, whether the Gentleman were poysoned, or otherwise murthered: but al of them affirmed the contrary, avouching rather, that some impostumation had engendred neere his heart, which sodainly breaking, occasioned his as sodaine death. The Potestate hearing this, and perceiving that _Andreana_ was little or nothing at all faulty in the matter: her beauty and good carriage, kindled a villanous and lustfull desire in him towards her, provoking him to the immodest motion, that upon granting his request, he would release her. But when he saw, that all his perswasions were to no purpose, hee sought to compasse his will by violence; which, like a vertuous and valiant _Virago_, shee worthily withstood, defending her honour Nobly, and reprooving him with many injurious speeches, such as a lustfull Letcher justlie deserved.

On the morrow morning, these newes being brought to her Father, _Messer Negro da Ponte Cararo_; greeving thereat exceedingly, and accompanied with many of his friends, he went to the Palace. Being there arrived, and informed of the matter by the Potestate: hee demaunded (in teares) of his daughter, how, and by what meanes shee was brought thither? The Potestate would needs accuse her first, of outrage and wrong offered to him by her, rather then to tarry her accusing of him: yet, commending the yong Maiden, and her constancie, proceeded to say, that onely to prove her, he had made such a motion to her, but finding her so firmly vertuous, his love and liking was now so addicted to her, that if hir Father were so pleased, to forget the remembrance of her former secret husband, he willingly would accept her in marriage.

While thus they continued talking, _Andreana_ comming before her Father, the teares trickling mainly downe her cheekes, and falling at his feete, she began in this manner. Deare Father, I shall not neede to make an historicall relation, either of my youthfull boldnesse or misfortunes, because you have both seene and knowne them: rather most humblie, I crave your pardon, for another error by me committed, in that, both without your leave and liking, I accepted the man as my troth-plighted husband, whom (above all other in the world) I most intirely affected. If my offence heerein do challenge the forfeite of my life, then (good Father) I free you from any such pardon: because my onely desire is to die your daughter, and in your gracious favour; with which words, in signe of her humility, she kissed his feete. _Messer Negro da Ponte_, being a man well stept into yeares, and of a milde and gentle nature, observing what his daughter had saide: could not refraine from teares, and in his weeping, lovingly tooke her from the ground, speaking thus to her.

Daughter, I could have wished, that thou hadst taken such an husband, as (in my judgement) had bene best fitting for thee, and yet if thou didst make election of one, answerable to thine owne good opinion & liking: I have no just reason to be therewith offended. My greatest cause of complaint, is, thy too severe concealing it from me, and the slender trust thou didst repose in me, because thou hast lost him, before I knew him. Neverthelesse, seeing these occasions are thus come to passe, and accidents alreadie ended, cannot by any meanes be re-called: it is my will, that as I would gladly have contented thee, by making him my Sonne in Law, if he had lived; so I will expresse the like love to him now he is dead. And so turning himself to his kindred and friends, lovingly requested of them, that they would grace _Gabriello_ with most honourable obsequies.

By this time, the kindred and friends to the dead man (uppon noise of his death bruited abroad) were likewise come to the Pallace, yea, most of the men and women dwelling in the City, the bodie of _Gabriello_ beeing laide in the midst of the Court, upon the white Damaske shrowde given by _Andreana_, with infinite Roses and other sweet Flowers lying thereon: and such was the peoples love to him, that never was any mans death, more to be bemoaned and lamented. Being delivered out of the Court, it was carried to buriall, not like a Burgesse or ordinary Citizen, but with such pompe as beseemed a Lord Baron, and on the shoulders of very noble Gentlemen, with very especiall honour and reverence.

Within some few dayes after, the Potestate pursuing his former motion of marriage, and the Father moving it to his daughter; she wold not by any meanes listen thereto. And he being desirous to give her contentment, delivered her and her Chamber-maid into a Religious Abbey, very famous for devotion and sanctity, where afterwardes they ended their lives.

_Faire_ Simonida _affecting_ Pasquino, _and walking with him in a pleasant garden, it fortuned, that_ Pasquino _rubbed his teeth with a leafe of Sage, and immediately fell downe dead._ Simonida _being brought before the bench of Justice, and charged with the death of_ Pasquino: _she rubbed her teeth likewise with one of the leaves of the same Sage, as declaring what shee saw him do: and thereon she dyed also in the same manner._

The seaventh Novell.

_Whereby is given to understand, that Love & Death do use their power equally alike, as well upon poore and meane persons, as on them that are rich and Noble._

_Pamphilus_ having ended his Tale, the King declaring an outward shew of compassion, in regard of _Andreanaes_ disastrous Fortune: fixed his eye on Madam _Emillia_, and gave her such an apparant signe, as expressed his pleasure, for her next succeeding in discourse; which being sufficient for her understanding, thus she began: Faire assembly, the Novel so lately delivered by _Pamphilus_, maketh me willing to report another to you, varying from it, in any kinde of resemblance; onely this excepted: that as _Andreana_, lost her lover in a Garden, even so did shee of whome I am now to speake. And being brought before the seate of Justice, according as _Andreana_ was, freed her selfe from the power of the Law; yet neither by force, or her owne vertue, but by her sodaine and inopinate death. And although the nature of Love is such (according as wee have oftentimes heeretofore maintained) to make his abiding in the houses of the Noblest persons; yet men and women of poore and farre inferiour quality, do not alwayes sit out of his reach, though enclosed in their meanest Cottages; declaring himselfe sometimes as powerfull a commaunder in those humble places, as he doth in the richest and most imperious Palaces. As will plainly appeare unto you, either in all, or a great part of my Novell, whereto our Citie pleadeth some title; though, by the diversity of our discourses, talking of so many severall accidents; we have wandred into many other parts of the world, to make all answerable to our owne liking.

It is not any long time since, when there lived in our City of _Florence_, a young and beautifull Damosell, yet according to the nature of hir condition; because she was the Daughter of a poore Father, and called by the name of _Simonida_. Now, albeit shee was not supplied by any better meanes, then to maintaine her selfe by her owne painfull travell, & earne her bread before shee could eate it, by carding and spinning to such as employed her; yet was she not of so base or dejected a spirit, but had both courage and sufficient vertue, to understand the secret solicitings of love, and to distinguish the parts of well deserving, both by private behaviour and outward ceremony. As naturall instinct was her first tutor thereto, so wanted she not a second maine and urging motion; a chip hewed out of the like Timber, one no better in birth then her selfe, a proper young springall, named _Pasquino_, whose generous behaviour, and gracefull actions (in bringing her daily wooll to spin, by reason his master was a Clothier) prevailed upon her liking and affection.

Nor was he negligent in the observation of her amorous regards, but the Tinder tooke, and his soule flamed with the selfe-same fire; making him as desirous of her loving acceptance, as possibly she could bee of his: so that the commanding power of love, could not easily be distinguished in which of them it had the greater predominance. For, everie day as he brought her fresh supply of woolles, and found her seriously busied at hir wheele: her soule would vent forth many deepe sighes, and those sighes fetch floods of teares from her eyes, thorough the singular good opinion she had conceyved of him, and earnest desire to enjoy him. _Pasquino_ on the other side, as leysure gave him leave for the least conversing with her: his disease was every way answerable to her, for teares stood in his eyes, sighes flew abroad, to ease the poore hearts afflicting oppressions, which though he was unable to conceale; yet would hee seeme to clowd them cleanly, by entreating her that his masters worke might be neatly performed, and with such speed as time would permit her, intermixing infinite praises of her artificiall spinning; and affirming withall, that the Quilles of Yearne received from her, were the choisest beauty of the whole peece; so that when other worke-women played, _Simonida_ was sure to want no employment.

Heereupon, the one soliciting, and the other taking delight in beeing solicited; it came to passe, that often accesse bred the bolder courage, & over-much bashfulnesse became abandoned, yet no immodestie passing betweene them: but affection grew the better setled in them both, by interchangeable vowes of constant perseverance, so that death onely, but no disaster elsee had power to divide them. Their mutuall delight continuing on in this manner, with more forcible encreasing of their Loves equall flame; it fortuned, that _Pasquino_ sitting by _Simonida_, tolde her of a goodly Garden, whereto hee was desirous to bring her, to the end, that they might the more safely converse together, without the suspition of envious eyes. _Simonida_ gave answer of her well-liking the motion, and acquainting her Father therewith, he gave her leave, on the Sunday following after dinner, to go serch the pardon of S. _Gallo_, and afterwards to visit the Garden.

A modest yong maiden named _Lagina_, following the same profession, and being an intimate familiar friend, _Simonida_ tooke along in her company, and came to the Garden appointed by _Pasquino_; where shee found him readily expecting her comming, and another friend also with him, called _Puccino_ (albeit more usually tearmed _Strambo_) a secret well-willer to _Lagina_, whose love became the more furthered by this friendly meeting. Each Lover delighting in his hearts chosen Mistresse, caused them to walke alone by themselves, as the spaciousnesse of the Garden gave them ample liberty: _Puccino_ with his _Lagina_ in one part, & _Pasquino_ with his _Simonida_ in another. The walke which they had made choise of, was by a long and goodly bed of Sage, turning and returning by the same bed as their conference ministred occasion, and as they pleased to recreate themselves; affecting rather to continue still there, then in any part of the Garden.

One while they would sit downe by the Sage bed, and afterward rise to walke againe, as ease or wearinesse seemed to invite them. At length, _Pasquino_ chanced to crop a leafe of the Sage, wherewith he both rubbed his teeth and gummes, and champing it betweene them also, saying; that there was no better thing in the world to cleanse the teeth withall, after feeding. Not long had he thus champed the Sage in his teeth, returning to his former kinde of discoursing, but his countenance began to change very pale, his sight failed, and speech forsooke him; so that (in briefe) he fell downe dead. Which when _Simonida_ beheld, wringing her hands, she cryed out for helpe to _Strambo_ and _Lagina_, who immediately came running to her. They finding _Pasquino_ not onely to be dead, but his bodie swolne; and strangely over-spred with foule black spots, both on his face, handes, and all parts elsee beside: _Strambo_ cried out, saying; Ah wicked maide, what hast thou poisoned him?

These words and their shrill out-cries also, were heard by Neighbours dwelling neere to the Garden, who comming in sodainly uppon them, and seeing _Pasquino_ lying dead, and hugely swoln, _Strambo_ likewise complaining, and accusing _Simonida_ to have poysoned him; shee making no answer, but standing in a gastly amazement, all her senses meerely confounded, at such a strange and uncouth accident, in loosing him whome she so dearely loved: knew not how to excuse her selfe, and therefore every one verily beleeved, that _Strambo_ had not unjustly accused her. Poore woful maide, thus was shee instantly apprehended, and drowned in her teares, they led her along to the Potestates Palace, where her accusation was justified by _Strambo, Lagina,_ and two men more; the one named _Atticciato_, and the other _Malagevole_, fellowes and companions with _Pasquino_, who came into the Garden also upon the out-cry.

The Judge, without any delay at all, gave eare to the busines, and examined the case very strictly: but could by no meanes comprehend, that any malice should appeare in her towards him, nor that she was guiltie of the mans death. Wherefore, in the presence of _Simonida_, hee desired to see the dead body, and the place where he fell downe dead, because there he intended to have her relate, how she saw the accident to happen, that her owne speeches might the sooner condemne her, whereas the case yet remained doubtfull, and farre beyond his comprehension. So, without any further publication, and to avoid the following of the turbulent multitude: they departed from the bench of Justice, and came to the place, where _Pasquinoes_ body lay swolne like a Tunne. Demanding there questions, concerning his behaviour, when they walked there in conference together, and, not a little admiring the manner of his death, while hee stood advisedly considering thereon.

She going to the bed of Sage, reporting the whole precedent history, even from the original to the ending: the better to make the case understood, without the least colour of ill carriage towardes _Pasquino_; according as she had seene him do, even so did she plucke another leafe of the Sage, rubbing her teeth therewith, and champing it as he formerly did. _Strambo_, and the other intimate friends of _Pasquino_, having noted in what manner she used the Sage, and this appearing as her utmost refuge, either to acquit or condemne her: in presence of the Judge they smiled thereat, mocking and deriding whatsoever shee saide, or did, and desiring (the more earnestly) the sentence of death against her, that her body might be consumed with fire, as a just punishment for her abhominable transgression.

Poore _Simonida_, sighing and sorrowing for her deere loves losse, and (perhappes) not meanly terrified, with the strict infliction of torment so severely urged and followed by _Strambo_ and the rest: standing dumb still, without answering so much as one word; by tasting of the same Sage, fell downe dead by the bed, even by the like accident as _Pasquino_ formerly did, to the admirable astonishment of all there present.

Oh poore infortunate Lovers, whose Starres were so inauspicious to you, as to finish both your mortall lives, and fervent love, in lesse limitation then a dayes space. How to censure of your deaths, and happines to ensue thereon, by an accident so straunge and inevitable: it is not within the compasse of my power, but to hope the best, and so I leave you. But yet concerning _Simonida_ her selfe, in the common opinion of us that remaine living: her true vertue and innocency (though Fortune was other wise most cruell to her) would not suffer her to sinke under the testimony of _Strambo, Lagina, Atticciato_ and _Malagevole_, being but carders of wool, or perhaps of meaner condition; a happier course was ordained for her, to passe clearly from their infamous imputation, and follow her _Pasquino_, in the verie same manner of death, and with such a speedie expedition.

The Judge standing amazed, and all there present in his companie, were silent for a long while together: but, uppon better re-collection of his spirits, thus he spake. This inconvenience which thus hath hapned, and confounded our senses with no common admiration; in mine opinion concerneth the bed of Sage, avouching it either to bee venomous, or dangerously infected; which (neverthelesse) is seldom found in Sage. But to the end, that it may not be offensive to any more heereafter, I will have it wholly digd up by the rootes, and then to bee burnt in the open Market place.

Hereupon, the Gardiner was presently sent for, and before the Judge would depart thence, he saw the bed of Sage digged up by the roots, and found the true occasion, whereby these two poore Lovers lost their lives. For, just in the middest of the bed, and at the maine roote, which directed all the Sage in growth; lay an huge mighty Toad, even weltring (as it were) in a hole full of poyson; by meanes whereof, in conjecture of the Judge, and all the rest, the whole bed of Sage became envenomed, occasioning every leafe thereof to be deadly in taste. None being so hardie, as to approach neere the Toade, they made a pile of wood directly over it, and setting it on a flaming fire, threw all the Sage thereinto, and so they were consumed together. So ended all further suite in Lawe, concerning the deaths of _Pasquino_ and _Simonida_: whose bodies being carried to the Church of Saint _Paul_, by their sad and sorrowfull accusers, _Strambo, Lagina, Atticciato_ and _Malagevole_, were buried together in one goodlie Monument, for a future memory of their hard Fortune.

Jeronimo _affecting a yong Maiden, named_ Silvestra: _was constrained (by the earnest importunity of his Mother) to take a journey to_ Paris. _At his return home from thence againe, hee found his love_ Silvestra _married. By secret meanes, he got entrance into her house, and dyed upon the bed lying by her. Afterward, his body being carried to Church, to receive buriall, she likewise died there instantly upon his coarse._

The eight Novell.

_Wherein is againe declared, the great indiscretion and folly of them, that think to constraine love, according to their will, after it is constantly setled before: With other instructions, concerning the unspeakeable power of Love._

Madam _Emillia_ had no sooner concluded her Novell, but Madame _Neiphila_ (by the Kings command) began to speake in this manner. It seemeth to mee (Gracious Ladies) that there are some such people to be found, who imagine themselves to know more, then all other elsee in the world beside, and yet indeede doe know nothing at all: presuming (thorough this arrogant opinion of theirs) to imploy and oppose their senselesse understanding, against infallible grounded reason, yea, and to attempt courses, not only contrary to the counsell and judgment of men, but also to crosse the nature of divine ordination. Out of which fancy & ambitious presumption, many mighty harmes have already had beginning, and more are like to ensue uppon such boldnesse, because it is the ground of all evils.

Now, in regard that among all other naturall things, no one is lesse subject to take counsell, or can bee wrought to contrariety, then Love, whose nature is such, as rather to run upon his owne rash consumption, then to be ruled by admonitions of the very wisest: my memory hath inspired itself, with matter incident to this purpose, effectually to approve, what I have already said. For I am now to speake of a woman, who would appeare to have more wit, then either she had indeed, or appertained to her by any title. The matter also, wherein she would needs shew hir studious judgement and capacity, was of much more consequence then she could deserve to meddle withall. Yet such was the issue of her fond presuming; that (in one instant) she expelled both love, and the soule of her owne sonne out of his body, where (doubtlesse) it was planted by divine favour and appointment.

In our owne City (according to true & ancient testimony) there dwelt sometime a very worthy and wealthy Merchant, named _Leonardo Sighiero_, who by his wife had one onely Sonne, called _Jeronimo_, and within a short while after his birth, _Leonardo_ being very sicke, and having setled al his affaires in good order; departed out of this wretched life to a better. The Tutors and Governours of the Childe, thought it fittest to let him live with his Mother, where he had his whole education, though schooled among many other worthy neighbours children, according as in most Cities they use to do. Yong _Jeronimo_ growing on in yeares, and frequenting dayly the company of his Schoole-fellowes and others: hee would often sport (as the rest did) with the neighbours children, and much prety pastime they found together.

In the harmlesse recreations of youth, graver judgements have often observed, that some especiall matter received then such original, as greater effect hath followed thereon. And many times, parents and kindred have bene the occasion (although perhaps beyond their expectation) of very strange and extraordinary accidents, by names of familiarity passing betweene Boyes and Girles, as King and Queene, sweet heart and sweet heart, friend and friend, husband and wife, and divers other such like kind tearmes, prooving afterwards to be true indeede. It fell out so with our yong _Jeronimo_; for, among a number of pretty Damoselse, daughters to men of especiall respect, and others of farre inferiour qualitie: a Taylors daughter, excelling the rest in favour and feature (albeit her Father was but poore) _Jeronimo_ most delighted to sport withall; and no other titles passed betweene them, even in the hearing of their parents and friendes, but wife and husband: such was the beginning of their young affection, presaging (no doubt) effectually to follow.

Nor grew this familiarity (as yet) any way distasted, till by their dayly conversing together, and enterchange of infinite pretty speeches: _Jeronimo_ felt a strange alteration in his soule, with such enforcing and powerfull afflictions; as he was never well but in her company, nor she enjoyed any rest if _Jeronimo_ were absent. At the length, this being noted by his Mother, she beganne to rebuke him, yea, many times gave him both threatnings and blowes, which proving to no purpose, nor hindering his accesse to her; she complained to his Tutors, and like one that in regard of her riches, thought to plant an Orange upon a blacke thorne, spake as followeth.

This Sonne of mine _Jeronimo_, being as yet but fourteene years of age, is so deeply enamored of a yong Girle, named _Silvestra_, daughter unto a poore Tailor, our neere dwelling neighbour: that if we do not send him out of her company, one day (perhaps) he may make her his wife, and yet without any knowledge of ours, which questionlesse would be my death. Otherwise, he may pine and consume himselfe away, if he see us procure her marriage to some other. Wherefore, I hold it good, that to avoid so great an inconvenience, we shold send _Jeronimo_ some far distance hence, to remaine where some of our Factors are employed: because, when he shall be out of her sight, and their often meetings utterly disappointed; his affection to her will the sooner ceasse, by frustrating his hope for ever enjoying her, and so we shall have the better meanes, to match him with one of greater quality. The Tutors did like well of her advice, not doubting but it would take answerable effect: and therefore, calling _Jeronimo_ into a private Parlour, one of them began in this manner.

_Jeronimo_, you are now growne to an indifferent stature, and (almost) able to take government of your selfe. It cannot then seeme any way inconvenient, to acquaint you with your deceased Fathers affaires, and by what good courses he came to such wealth. You are his onely sonne and heire, to whom hee hath bequeathed his rich possessions (your Mothers moity evermore remembred) and travaile would now seeme fitting for you, as well to gaine experience in Traffick and Merchandize, as also to let you see the worlds occurrences. Your Mother therefore (and we) have thought it expedient, that you should journey from hence to _Paris_, there to continue for some such fitting time, as may grant you full and free opportunity, to survey what stocke of wealth is there employed for you, and to make you understand, how your Factors are furtherous to your affayres. Beside, this is the way to make you a man of more solid apprehension, & perfect instruction in civill courses of life; rather then by continuing here to see none but Lords, Barons, and Gentlemen, whereof wee have too great a number. When you are sufficiently qualified there, and have learned what belongeth to a worthy Marchant, such as was _Leonardo Sighiero_ your famous Father; you may returne home againe at your owne pleasure.

The youth gave them attentive hearing, and (in few words) returned them answer: That he would not give way to any such travaile, because hee knew how to dispose of himselfe in _Florence_, as well as in any other place he should be sent too. Which when his Tutors heard, they reproved him with many severe speeches: and seeing they could win no other answer from him, they made returne thereof to his Mother. Shee storming extreamly thereat, yet not so much for denying the journey to _Paris_, as in regard of his violent affection to the Maide; gave him very bitter and harsh language. All which availing nothing, she began to speake in a more milde and gentle straine, entreating him with flattering and affable words, to be governed in this case by his Tutors good advise. And so farre (in the end) she prevailed with him, that he yeelded to live at _Paris_ for the space of a yeare; but further time he would not graunt, and so all was ended.

_Jeronimo_ being gone to remain at _Paris_, his love daily increasing more and more, by reason of his absence from _Silvestra_, under faire and friendly promises, of this moneth and the next moneth sending for him home; there they detained him two whole yeares together. Whereuppon, his love was growne to such an extremity, that he neither would, or could abide any longer there, but home hee returned, before hee was expected. His love _Silvestra_, by the cunning compacting of his Mother and Tutors, he found married to a Tent-makers Sonne; whereat hee vexed and greeved beyond all measure. Neverthelesse, seeing the case was now no way to bee holpen; hee strove to beare it with so much patience, as so great a wrong, and his hearts tormenting greefe, would give him leave to doe.

Having found out the place where she dwelt, hee began (as it is the custome of yong Lovers) to use divers daily walkes by her door: as thinking in his minde, that her remembrance of him was constantly continued, as his was most intirely fixed on her. But the case was verie strangely altred, because she was now growne no more mindfull of him, then if she had never seene him before. Or if she did any way remember him, it appeared to be so little, that manifest signes declared the contrary. Which _Jeronimo_ very quickely perceived, albeit not without many melanchollie perturbations. Notwithstanding, he laboured by all possible meanes, to recover her former kindnesse againe: but finding all his paines frivouslie employed; he resolved to dye, and yet to compasse some speech with her before.

By meanes of a neere dwelling neighbour (that was his verie deare & intimate friend) he came acquainted with every part of the house, & prevailed so far, that one evening, when she and her husband supt at a neighbours house; he compassed accesse into the same bed chamber, where _Silvestra_ used most to lodge. Finding the Curtaines ready drawne, he hid himselfe behinde them on the further side of the bed, and so tarried there untill _Silvestra_ and her husband were returned home, and laide downe in bedde to take their rest. The husbands sences were soone overcome with sleepe, by reason of his painefull toyling all the day, and bodies that are exercised with much labour, are the more desirous to have ease. She staying up last, to put out the light, and hearing her husband sleepe so soundly, that his snoring gave good evidence thereof: layed her selfe down the more respectively, as being very loath any way to disease him, but sweetly to let him enjoy his rest.

_Silvestra_ lay on the same side of the bed, where _Jeronimo_ had hid himselfe behinde the Curtaines; who stepping softly to her in the darke, and laying his hand gently on her brest, saide: Deare Love, forbeare a little while to sleepe, for heere is thy loyall friend _Jeronimo_. The yong woman starting with amazement, would have cried out, but that hee entreated her to the contrary; protesting, that he came for no ill intent to her, but onely to take his latest leave of her. Alas _Jeronimo_ (quoth she) those idle dayes are past and gone, when it was no way unseemly for our youth, to entertaine equality of those desires, which then well agreed with our young blood. Since when, you have lived in forraine Countries, which appeared to me to alter your former disposition: for, in the space of two whole yeares, either you grew forgetfull of me (as change of ayre, may change affection) or (at the best) made such account of mee, as I never heard the least salutation from you. Now you know me to be a married wife, in regard whereof, my thoughts have embraced that chaste and honourable resolution, not to minde any man but my husband; and therefore, as you are come hither without my love or license, so in like manner I do desire you to be gone. Let this priviledge of my Husbandes sound sleeping, be no colour to your longer continuing heere, or encourage you to finde any further favour at mine hand: for if mine husband shold awake, beside the danger that thereon may follow to you, I cannot but loose the sweet happinesse of peacefull life, which hitherto we have both mutually embraced.

The yong man, hearing these wordes, and remembring what loving kindnesse he had formerly found, what secret love Letters hee had sent from _Paris_, with other private intelligences and tokens, which never came to her receite and knowledge, so cunningly his Mother and Tutors had carried the matter: immediately he felt his heart strings to break; and lying downe upon the beds side by her, uttered these his very last words. _Silvestra_ farewell, thou hast kilde the kindest heart that ever loved a woman: and speaking no more, gave up the ghost. She hearing these words delivered with an entire sighe, and deepe-fetcht groane: did not imagine the strange consequence following thereon; yet was mooved to much compassion, in regard of her former affection to him. Silent shee lay an indifferent while, as being unable to returne him any answer; and looking when he would be gone, according as before she had earnestly entreated him. But when she perceyved him to lye so still, as neither word or motion came from him, she saide: Kinde _Jeronimo_, why doest thou not depart and get thee gone? So putting forth her hand, it hapned to light upon his face, which she felt to be as cold as yce: whereat marvelling not a little, as also at his continued silence: shee jogged him, and felt his hands in like manner, which were stiffely extended forth, and all his body cold, as not having any life remaining in him, which greatly amazing her, and confounding her with sorrow beyond all measure, shee was in such perplexity, that the could not devise what to do or say.

In the end, she resolved to try how her husband would take it, that so strange an accident should thus happen in his house, and putting the case as if it did not concerne them, but any other of the neighbours; awaking him first, demaunded of him what was best to bee done, if a man should steale into a neighbours house, unknowne to him, or any of his family; & in his bed chamber to be found dead. He presently replyed (as not thinking the case concerned himselfe) that, the onely helpe in such an unexpected extremity, was, to take the dead body, and convey it to his owne house, if he had any; whereby no scandall or reproach would followe to them, in whose house he had so unfortunately dyed. Heereupon, shee immediately arose, and lighting a candle, shewed him the dead bodie of _Jeronimo_, with protestation of every particular, both of her innocencie, either of knowledge of his comming thither, or any other blame that could concerne her. Which hee both constantly knowing and beleeving, made no more ceremonie, but putting on his Garments, tooke the dead bodie upon his shoulders, and carried it to the Mothers doore, where he left it, and afterward returned to his owne house againe.

When day light was come, and the dead body found lying in the Porch, it moved very much greefe and amazement, considering, he had bin seene the day before, in perfect health to outward appearance. Nor neede we to urge any question of his Mothers sorrow upon this straunge accident, who, causing his body to bee carefully searched, without any blow, bruise, wound, or hurt uppon it, the Physitians could not give any other opinion, but that some inward conceyte of greefe had caused his death, as it did indeed, and no way otherwise. To the cheefe Church was the dead body carried, to be generally seene of all the people, his mother and friends weeping heavily by it, as many more did the like beside, because he was beloved of every one. In which time of universall mourning, the honest man (in whose house he dyed) spake thus to his wife: disguise thyselfe in some decent manner, and go to the Church, where (as I heare) they have laide the body of _Jeronimo_. Crowde in amongest the Women, as I will doe the like amongst the men, to heare what opinion passeth of his death, and whether wee shall bee scandalized thereby, or no.

_Silvestra_, who was now become full of pitty too late, quickely condiscended, as desiring to see him dead, whom sometime she dearly affected in life. And being come to the Church, it is a matter to bee admired, if advisedly we consider on the powerfull working of love; for the heart of this woman, which the prosperous fortune of _Jeronimo_ could not pierce, now in his wofull death did split in sunder; and the ancient sparks of love so long concealed in the embers, brake foorth into a furious flame; and being violently surprized with extraordinary compassion, no sooner did she come neere to the dead body, where many stoode weeping round about it; but strangely shrieking out aloud, she fell downe upon it: & even as extremity of greefe finished his life, so did it hers in the same manner. For she moved neither hand not foot, because her vitall powers had quite forsaken her. The women labouring to comfort her by al the best means they could devise; did not take any knowledge of her, by reason of her disguised garments: but finding her dead indeede, and knowing her also to be _Silvestra_, being overcome with unspeakable compassion, & danted with no meane admiration, they stood strangely gazing each upon other.

Wonderfull crowds of people were then in the Church; and this accident being now noysed among the men, at length it came to her Husbands understanding, whose greefe was so great, as it exceeded all capacitie of expression. Afterward, he declared what had hapned in his house the precedent night, according as his wife had truly related to him, with all the speeches, which past between _Silvestra_ and _Jeronimo_; by which discourse, they generally conceived, the certaine occasion of both their sodaine deaths, which moved them to great compassion. Then taking the yong womans body, and ordering it as a coarse ought to bee: they layed it on the same Biere by the yong man, and when they had sufficiently sorrowed for their disastrous fortunes, they gave them honourable buriall both in one grave. So, this poore couple, whome love (in life) could not joyne together, death did unite in an inseparable conjunction.

_Messer_ Guiglielmo _of_ Rossiglione _having slaine Messer_ Guiglielmo Guardastagno, _whom hee imagined to love his wife, gave her his heart to eate. Which she knowing afterward, threw her selfe out of an high window to the ground; and being dead, was then buried with her friend._

The ninth Novell.

_Whereby appeareth, what ill successe attendeth on them, that love contrarie to reason: in offering injurie both to friendship and marriage together._

When the Novell of Madam _Neiphila_ was ended, which occasioned much compassion in the whole assembly; the King who wold not infringe the priviledge graunted to _Dioneus_, no more remaining to speake but they two, began thus. I call to minde (gentle Ladies) a Novell, which (seeing we are so farre entred into the lamentable accidents of successelesse love) will urge you unto as much commisseration, as that so lately reported to you. And so much the rather; because the persons of whom we are to speake, were of respective quality; which approveth the accident to bee more cruell, then those whereof wee have formerly discoursed.

According as the people of _Provence_ do report, there dwelt sometime in that jurisdiction, two noble Knights, each well possessed of Castles & followers; the one beeing named _Messer Guiglielmo de Rossiglione_, and the other _Messer Guiglielmo Guardastagno_. Now, in regard that they were both valiant Gentlemen, and singularly expert in actions of Armes; they loved together the more mutually, and held it as a kinde of custom, to be seene in all Tiltes and Tournaments, or any other exercises of Armes, going commonly alike in their wearing garments. And although their Castles stood about five miles distant each from other, yet were they dayly conversant together, as very loving and intimate friends. The one of them, I meane _Messer Guiglielmo de Rossiglione_, had to wife a very gallant beautifull Lady, of whom _Messer Guardastagno_ (forgetting the lawes of respect and loyall friendshippe) became over-fondly enamoured, expressing the same by such outward meanes, that the Lady her selfe tooke knowledge thereof, and not with any dislike, as it seemed, but rather lovingly entertained; yet she grew not so forgetfull of her honour and estimation, as the other did of faith to his friend.

With such indiscretion was this idle love carried, that whether it sorted to effect, or no, I know not: but the husband perceived some such manner of behaviour, as hee could not easily digest, nor thought it fitting to endure. Whereuppon, the league of friendly amity so long continued, began to faile in very strange fashion, and became converted into deadly hatred: which yet hee very cunningly concealed, bearing an outwarde shew of constant friendshippe still, but (in his heart) hee had vowed the death of _Guardastagno_. Nothing wanted, but by what meanes it might best be effected, which fell out to bee in this manner. A publicke Just or Tourney, was proclaimed by sound of Trumpet throughout all France, wherewith immediately, _Messer Guiglielmo Rossiglione_ acquainted _Messer Guardastagno_, entreating him that they might further conferre thereon together, and for that purpose to come and visit him, if he intended to have any hand in the businesse. _Guardastagno_ being exceeding gladde of this accident, which gave him liberty to see his Mistresse; sent answer backe by the messenger, that on the morrow at night, he would come and sup with _Rossiglione_; who upon this reply, projected to himselfe in what manner to kill him.

On the morrow, after dinner, arming himselfe, and two more of his servants with him, such as he had solemnly sworne to secrecy, hee mounted on horseback, and rode on about a mile from his owne Castle, where he lay closely ambushed in a Wood, through which _Guardastagno_ must needs passe. After he had stayed there some two houres space and more, he espyed him come riding with two of his attendants, all of them being unarmed, as no way distrusting any such intended treason. So soone as he was come to the place, where he had resolved to do the deed; hee rushed forth of the ambush, and having a sharpe Lance readily charged in his rest, ran mainly at him, saying: False villain, thou art dead. _Guardastagno_, having nothing wherewith to defend himselfe, nor his servants able to give him any succour; being pierced quite through the body with the Lance, downe hee fell dead to the ground, and his men (fearing the like misfortune to befall them) gallopped mainely backe againe to their Lords Castle, not knowing them who had thus murthered their Master, by reason of their armed disguises, which in those martiall times were usually worne.