Chapter XXI: Part 21

_Angelina_ making little or no account of such a losse, entreated them for charities sake, to conduct her to that Castle, which accordingly they did, and arrived there betweene seven and eight of the clocke. The Castle belonged to one of the _Orsini_, being called, _Liello di Campo di Fiore_, and by great good fortune, his wife was then there, she being a very vertuous and religious Lady. No sooner did shee looke upon _Angelina_, but shee knew her immediately, and entertaining her very willingly, requested, to know the reason of her thus arriving there: which shee at large related, and moved the Lady (who likewise knew _Pedro_ perfectly well) to much compassion, because he was a kinsman and deare friend to her Husband; and understanding how the Theeves had surprized him, shee feared, that he was slaine among them, whereupon shee spake thus to _Angelina_. Seeing you know not what is become of my kinsman _Pedro_, you shall remaine here with me, untill such time, as (if we heare no other tidings of him) you may with safety be sent backe to _Rome_.

_Pedro_ all this while sitting in the Tree, so full of griefe, as no man could be more; about the houre of midnight (by the bright splendour of the Moone) espied about some twenty Wolves, who, so soone as they got a sight of the Horse, ran and engirt him round about. The Horse when he perceived them so neere him, drew his head so strongly back-ward, that breaking the reines of his bridle, he laboured to escape away from them. But being beset on every side, and utterly unable to helpe himselfe, he contended with his teeth & feete in his owne defence, till they haled him violently to the ground, and tearing his body in peeces, left not a jot of him but the bare bones, and afterward ran ranging thorow the Forrest. At this sight, poore _Pedro_ was mightily dismayed, fearing to speed no better then his Horse had done, and therefore could not devise what was best to be done; for he saw no likelihood now, of getting out of the Forrest with life. But day-light drawing on apace, and he almost dead with cold, having stood quaking so long in the Tree; at length by continuall looking every where about him, to discerne the least glimpse of any comfort; he espied a great fire, which seemed to be about halfe a mile off from him.

By this time it was broade day, when he descended downe out of the Tree, (yet not without much feare) and tooke his way towards the fire, where being arrived, he found a company of Shepheards banquetting about it, whom he curteously saluting, they tooke pity on his distresse, and welcommed him kindly. After he had tasted of such cheare as they had, and was indifferently refreshed by the good fire; hee discoursed his hard disasters to them, as also how he happened thither, desiring to know, if any Village or Castle were neere thereabout, where he might in better manner releeve himselfe. The Shepheards told him, that about a mile and an halfe from thence, was the Castle of _Signior Liello di Campo di Fiore_, and that his Lady was now residing there; which was no meane comfort to poore _Pedro_, requesting that one of them would accompany him thither, as two of them did in loving manner, to ridde him of all further feares.

When he was arrived at the Castle, and found there divers of his familiar acquaintance; he laboured to procure some meanes, that the Damosell might be sought for in the Forrest. Then the Lady calling for her, and bringing her to him; he ran and caught her in his armes, being ready to swoune with conceit of joy, for never could any man be more comforted, then he was at the sight of his _Angelina_, and questionlesse, her joy was not a jot inferior to his, such a simpathy of firme love was sealed between them. The Lady of the Castle, after shee had given them very gracious entertainement, and understood the scope of their bold adventure; shee reproved them both somewhat sharpely, for presuming so farre without the consent of their Parents. But perceiving (notwithstanding all her remonstrances) that they continued still constant in their resolution, without any inequality on either side; shee saide to her selfe. Why should this matter be any way offensive to me? They love each other loyally; they are not inferiour to one another in birth, but in fortune; they are equally loved and allied to my Husband, and their desire is both honest and honourable. Moreover, what know I, if it be the will of Heaven to have it so? Theeves intended to hang him, in malice to his name and kinred, from which hard fate he hath happily escaped. Her life was endangered by a sharpe pointed Javeline, and yet her fairer starres would not suffer her so to perish: beside, they both have escaped the fury of ravenous wild beasts, and all these are apparant signes, that future comforts should recompence former passed misfortunes; farre be it therefore from me, to hinder the appointment of the Heavens.

Then turning her selfe to them, thus shee proceeded. If your desire be to joyne in honourable marriage, I am well contented therewith, and your nuptials shall here be sollemnized at my Husbands charges. Afterward both he and I will endeavour, to make peace between you and your discontented Parents. _Pedro_ was not a little joyfull at her kind offer, and _Angelina_ much more then he; so they were maried together in the Castle, and worthily feasted by the Lady, as Forrest entertainment could permit, and there they enjoyed the first fruits of their love. Within a short while after, the Lady and they (well mounted on Horse-backe, and attended with an honourable traine) returned to _Rome_; where her Lord _Liello_ and shee prevailed so wel with _Pedroes_ angry Parents: that all variance ended in love and peace, and afterward they lived lovingly together, till old age made them as honourable, as their true and mutuall affection formerly had done.

Ricciardo Manardy, _was found by_ Messer Lizio da Valbonna, _as he sate fast asleepe at his Daughters Chamber window, having his hand fast in hers, and shee sleeping in the same manner. Whereupon, they were joyned together in marriage, and their long loyall love mutually recompenced._

The fourth Novell.

_Declaring the discreete providence of Parents, in care of their Childrens love and their owne credit, to cut off inconveniences, before they doe proceede too farre._

Madam _Eliza_ having ended her Tale, and heard what commendations the whole company gave thereof; the Queene commanded _Philostratus_, to tell a Novell agreeing with his owne minde, who smiling thereat, thus replyed. Faire Ladies, I have beene so often checkt & snapt, for my yester dayes matter and argument of discoursing, which was both tedious and offensive to you; that if I intended to make you any amends, I should now undertake to tell such a Tale, as might put you into a mirthfull humour. Which I am determined to doe, in relating a briefe and pleasant Novell, not any way offensive (as I trust) but exemplary for some good notes of observation.

Not long since, there lived in _Romania_, a Knight, a very honest Gentleman, and well qualified, whose name was _Messer Lizio da Valbonna_, to whom it fortuned, that (at his entrance into age) by his Lady and wife, called _Jaquemina_, he had a Daughter, the very choycest and goodliest gentlewoman in all those parts. Now because such a happy blessing (in their olde yeeres) was not a little comfortable to them; they thought themselves the more bound in duty, to be circumspect of her education, by keeping her out of over-frequent companies, but onely such as agreed best with their gravity, & might give the least ill example to their Daughter, who was named _Catharina_; as making no doubt, but by this their provident and wary respect, to match her in mariage answerable to their liking. There was also a young Gentleman, in the very flourishing estate of his youthfull time, descended from the Family of the _Manardy da Brettinoro_, named _Messer Ricciardo_, who oftentimes frequented the House of _Messer Lizio_, and was a continuall welcome guest to his Table, _Messer Lizio_ and his wife making the like account of him, even as if he had beene their owne Sonne.

This young Gallant, perceiving the Maiden to be very beautifull, of singular behaviour, and of such yeeres as was fit for mariage, became exceedingly enamoured of her, yet concealed his affection so closely as he could; which was not so covertly caried, but that she perceived it, and grew in as good liking of him. Many times he had an earnest desire to have conference with her, which yet still he deferred, as fearing to displease her; till at the length he lighted on an apt opportunity, and boldly spake to her in this manner. Faire _Catharina_, I hope thou wilt not let me die for thy love? _Signior Ricciardo_ (replyed shee suddenly againe) I hope you will extend the like mercy to me, as you desire that I should shew to you. This answere was so pleasing to _Messer Ricciardo_, that presently he saide. Alas deare Love, I have dedicated all my fairest fortunes onely to thy service, so that it remaineth soly in thy power, to dispose of me as best shall please thee, and to appoint such times of private conversation, as may yeeld more comfort to my poore afflicted soule.

_Catherina_ standing musing awhile, at last returned him this answere. _Signior Ricciardo_, quoth shee, you see what a restraint is set on my liberty, how short I am kept from conversing with any one, that I hold this our enterparlance now almost miraculous. But if you could devise any convenient meanes, to admit us more familiar freedome, without any prejudice to mine honour, or the least distaste of my Parents; doe but enstruct it, and I will adventure it. _Ricciardo_ having considered on many wayes and meanes, thought one to be the fittest of all; and therefore thus replyed. _Catharina_ (quoth he) the onely place for our more private talking together, I conceive to be the Gallery over your Fathers Garden. If you can winne your Mother to let you lodge there, I will make meanes to climbe over the wall, and at the goodly gazing window, we may discourse so long as we please. Now trust me deare Love (answered _Catharina_) no place can be more convenient for our purpose, there shall we heare the sweete Birds sing, especially the Nightingale, which I have heard singing there all the night long; I will breake the matter to my Mother, and how I speede, you shall heare further from me. So, with divers parting kisses, they brake off conference, till their next meeting.

On the day following, which was towards the ending of the moneth of _May, Catharina_ began to complaine to her Mother, that the season was over-hot and tedious, to be still lodged in her Mothers Chamber, because it was an hinderance to her sleeping; and wanting rest, it would be an empairing of her health. Why Daughter (quoth the Mother) the weather (as yet) is not so hot, but (in my minde) you may very well endure it. Alas Mother, said shee, aged people, as you and my Father are, doe not feele the heates of youthfull bloud, by reason of your farre colder complexion, which is not to be measured by younger yeeres. I know that well Daughter, replyed the Mother; but is it in my power, to make the weather warme or coole, as thou perhaps wouldst have it? Seasons are to be suffered, according to their severall qualities; and though the last night might seeme hot, this next ensuing may be cooler, and then thy rest will be the better. No Mother, quoth _Catherina_, that cannot be; for as Summer proceedeth on, so the heate encreaseth, and no expectation can be of temperate weather, untill it groweth to Winter againe. Why Daughter, saide the Mother, what wouldest thou have me to doe? Mother (quoth shee) if it might stand with my Fathers good liking and yours, I would be lodged in the Garden Gallery, which is a great deale more coole, and temperate. There shall I heare the sweete Nightingale sing, as every night shee useth to doe, and many other pretty Birds beside, which I cannot doe, lodging in your Chamber.

The Mother loving her Daughter dearely, as being some-what over-fond of her, and very willing to give her contentment; promised to impart her minde to her Father, not doubting but to compasse what shee requested. When shee had moved the matter to _Messer Lizio_, whose age made him somewhat froward and teasty; angerly he said to his wife. Why how now woman? Cannot our Daughter sleepe, except shee heare the Nightingale sing? Let there be a bed made for her in the Oven, and there let the Crickets make her melody. When _Catharina_ heard this answere from her Father, and saw her desire to be disappointed; not onely could shee not take any rest the night following, but also complained more of the heate then before, not suffering her Mother to take any rest, which made her goe angerly to her Husband in the morning, saying. Why Husband, have we but one onely Daughter, whom you pretend to love right dearely, and yet can you be so carelesse of her, as to denie her a request, which is no more then reason? What matter is it to you or me, to let her lodge in the Garden Gallery? Is her young bloud to be compared with ours? Can our weake and crazie bodies, feele the frolicke temper of hers? Alas, shee is hardly (as yet) out of her childish yeeres, and Children have many desires farre differing from ours: the singing of Birds is rare musicke to them, and chiefly the Nightingale; whose sweete notes will provoke them to rest, when neither art or physicke can doe it.

Is it even so Wife? answered _Messer Lizio_. Must your will and mine be governed by our Daughter? Well be it so then, let her bed be made in the Garden Gallerie, but I will have the keeping of the key, both to locke her in at night, and set her at libertie every morning. Woman, woman, young wenches are wily, many wanton crochets are busie in their braines, and to us that are aged, they sing like Lapwings, telling us one thing, and intending another; talking of Nightingales, when their mindes run on Cocke-Sparrowes. Seeing Wife, shee must needes have her minde, let yet your care and mine extend so farre, to keepe her chastity uncorrupted, and our credulity from being abused. _Catharina_ having thus prevailed with her Mother, her bed made in the Garden Gallery, and secret intelligence given to _Ricciardo_, for preparing his meanes of accesse to her window; old provident _Lizio_ lockes the doore to bed-ward, and gives her liberty to come forth in the morning, for his owne lodging was neere to the same Gallery.

In the dead and silent time of night, when all (but Lovers) take their rest; _Ricciardo_ having provided a Ladder of Ropes, with grapling hookes to take hold above and below, according as he had occasion to use it. By helpe thereof, first he mounted over the Garden wall, and then climbde up to the Gallery window, before which (as is every where in _Italie_) was a little round engirting Tarras, onely for a man to stand upon, for making cleane the window, or otherwise repairing it. Many nights (in this manner) enjoyed they their meetings, entermixing their amorous conference with infinite kisses and kinde embraces, as the window gave leave, he sitting in the Tarras, and departing alwayes before breake of day, for feare of being discovered by any.

But, as excesse of delight is the Nurse to negligence, and begetteth such an over-presuming boldnesse, as afterward proveth to be sauced with repentance: so came it to passe with our over-fond Lovers, in being taken tardy through their owne folly. After they had many times met in this manner, the nights (according to the season) growing shorter and shorter, which their stolne delight made them lesse respective of, then was requisite in an adventure so dangerous: it fortuned, that their amorous pleasure had so farre transported them, and dulled their sences in such sort, by these their continued nightly watchings; that they both fell fast asleepe, he having his hand closed in hers, and shee one arme folded about his body, and thus they slept till broade day light. Old _Messer Lizio_, who continually was the morning Cocke to the whole House, going foorth into his Garden, saw how his Daughter and _Ricciardo_ were seated at the window. In he went againe, and going to his wives Chamber, saide to her. Rise quickly wife, and you shall see, what made our Daughter so desirous to lodge in the Garden Gallery. I perceive that shee loved to heare the Nightingale, for shee hath caught one, and holds him fast in her hand. Is it possible, saide the Mother, that our Daughter should catch a live Nightingale in the darke? You shall see that your selfe, answered _Messer Lizio_, if you will make haste, and goe with me.

Shee, putting on her garments in great haste, followed her Husband, and being come to the Gallery doore, he opened it very softly, and going to the window, shewed her how they both sate fast asleepe, and in such manner as hath been before declared: whereupon, shee perceiving how _Ricciardo_ and _Catharina_ had both deceived her, would have made an outcry, but that _Messer Lizio_ spake thus to her. Wife, as you love me, speake not a word, neither make any noyse: for, seeing shee hath loved _Ricciardo_ without our knowledge, and they have had their private meetings in this manner, yet free from any blamefull imputation; he shall enjoy her, and shee him. _Ricciardo_ is a Gentleman, well derived, and of rich possessions, it can be no disparagement to us, that _Catharina_ match with him in mariage, which he neither shall, or dare denie to doe, in regard of our Lawes severity; for climbing up to my window with his Ladder of Ropes, whereby his life is forfeited to the Law, except our Daughter please to spare it, as it remaineth in her power to doe, by accepting him as her husband, or yeelding his life up to the Law, which surely shee will not suffer, their love agreeing together in such mutuall manner, and he adventuring so dangerously for her.

Madam _Jaquemina_, perceiving that her husband spake very reasonably, and was no more offended at the matter; stept aside with him behinde the drawne Curtaines, untill they should awake of themselves. At the last, _Ricciardo_ awaked, and seeing it was so farre in the day, thought himselfe halfe dead, and calling to _Catharina_, saide. Alas deare Love! what shall we doe? we have slept too long, and shall be taken here. At which words, _Messer Lizio_ stept forth from behind the Curtaines, saying. Nay, _Signior Ricciardo_, seeing you have found such an unbefitting way hither, we will provide you a better for your backe returning. When _Ricciardo_ saw the Father and Mother both there present, he could not devise what to doe or say, his sences became so strangely confounded; yet knowing how hainously hee had offended, if the strictnesse of Law should be challenged against him, falling on his knees, he saide. Alas _Messer Lizio_, I humbly crave your mercy, confessing my selfe well worthy of death, that knowing the sharpe rigour of the Law, I would presume so audaciously to breake it. But pardon me worthy Sir, my loyall and unfeined love to your Daughter _Catharina_, hath beene the onely cause of my transgressing.

_Ricciardo_ (replyed _Messer Lizio_) the love I beare thee, and the honest confidence I doe repose in thee, step up (in some measure) to pleade thine excuse, especially in the regard of my Daughter, whom I blame thee not for loving, but for this unlawfull way of presuming to her. Neverthelesse, perceiving how the case now standeth, and considering withall, that youth and affection were the ground of thine offence: to free thee from death, and my selfe from dishonour, before thou departest hence, thou shalt espouse my Daughter _Catharina_, to make her thy lawfull wife in mariage, and wipe off all scandall to my House and me. All this while was poore _Catharina_ on her knees likewise to her Mother, who (notwithstanding this her bold adventure) made earnest suite to her Husband to remit all, because _Ricciardo_ right gladly condiscended, as it being the maine issue of his hope and desire; to accept his _Catharina_ in mariage, whereto shee was as willing as he. _Messer Lizio_ presently called for the Confessour of his House, and borrowing one of his Wives Rings, before they went out of the Gallery; _Ricciardo_ and _Catharina_ were espoused together, to their no little joy and contentment.

Now had they more leasure for further conference, with the Parents and kindred to _Ricciardo_, who being no way discontented with this sudden match, but applauding it in the highest degree; they were publikely maried againe in the Cathedrall Church, and very honourable triumphes performed at the nuptials, living long after in happy prosperity.

Guidotto _of Cremona, departing out of this mortall life, left a Daughter of his, with_ Jacomino _of Pavia._ Giovanni di Severino, _and_ Menghino da Minghole, _fell both in love with the young Maiden, and fought for her; who being afterward knowne, to be the Sister to_ Giovanni, _shee was given in mariage to_ Menghino.

The fifth Novell.

_Wherein may be observed, what quarrelse and contentions are occasioned by Love; with some particular discription, concerning the sincerity of a loyall friend._

All the Ladies laughing heartily, at the Novell of the Nightingale, so pleasingly delivered by _Philostratus_, when they saw the same to be fully ended, the Queene thus spake. Now trust me _Philostratus_, though yester-day you did much oppresse mee with melancholy, yet you have made me such an amends to day, as wee have little reason to complaine any more of you. So converting her speech to Madam _Neiphila_, shee commanded her to succeede with her discourse, which willingly she yeelded to, beginning in this manner. Seeing it pleased _Philostratus_, to produce his Novell out of _Romania_: I meane to walke with him in the same jurisdiction, concerning what I am to say.

There dwelt sometime in the City of _Fano_, two Lombards, the one being named _Guidotto_ of _Cremona_, and the other _Jacomino_ of _Pavia_, men of sufficient entrance into yeeres, having followed the warres (as Souldiers) all their youthful time. _Guidotto_ feeling sicknesse to over-master him, and having no sonne, kinsman, or friend, in whom he might repose more trust, then hee did in _Jacomino_: having long conference with him about his worldly affaires, and setled his whole estate in good order; he left a Daughter to his charge, about ten yeeres of age, with all such goods as he enjoyed, and then departed out of this life. It came to passe, that the City of _Faenza_, long time being molested with tedious warres, and subjected to very servile condition; beganne now to recover her former strength, with free permission (for all such as pleased) to returne and possesse their former dwellings. Whereupon, _Jacomino_ (having sometime beene an inhabitant there) was desirous to live in _Faenza_ againe, convaying thither all his goods, and taking with him also the young girle, which _Guidotto_ had left him, whom hee loved, and respected as his owne childe.

As shee grew in stature, so shee did in beauty and vertuous qualities, as none was more commended throughout the whole City, for faire, civill, and honest demeanour, which incited many amorously to affect her. But (above all the rest) two very honest young men, of good fame and repute, who were so equally in love addicted to her, that being jealous of each others fortune, in preventing of their severall hopefull expectation; a deadly hatred grew suddenly betweene them, the one being named, _Giovanni de Severino_, and the other _Menghino da Minghole_. Either of these two young men, before the Maide was fifteene yeeres old, laboured to be possessed of her in marriage, but her Guardian would give no consent thereto: wherefore, perceiving their honest intended meaning to be frustrated, they now began to busie their braines, how to forestall one another by craft and circumvention.

_Jacomino_ had a Maide-servant belonging to his House, somewhat aged, and a Man-servant beside, named _Grivello_, of mirthfull disposition, and very friendly, with whom _Giovanni_ grew in great familiarity; and when he found time fit for the purpose, he discovered his love to him, requesting his furtherance and assistance, in compassing the height of his desire, with bountifull promises of rich rewarding; whereto _Grivello_ returned this answere. I know not how to sted you in this case, but when my Master shall sup foorth at some Neighbours House, to admit your entrance where she is: because, if I offer to speake to her, shee never will stay to heare me. Wherefore, if my service this way may doe you any good, I promise to performe it; doe you beside, as you shall find it most convenient for you. So the bargaine was agreed on betweene them, and nothing elsee now remained, but to what issue it should sort in the end.

_Menghino_, on the other side, having entred into the Chamber-maides acquaintance, sped so well with her, that shee delivered so many messages from him, as had (already) halfe won the liking of the Virgin; passing further promises to him beside, of bringing him to have conference with her, whensoever her Master should be absent from home. Thus _Menghino_ being favoured (on the one side) by the olde Chamber-maide, and _Giovanni_ (on the other) by trusty _Grivello_; their amorous warre was now on foote, and diligently followed by both their sollicitors. Within a short while after, by the procurement of _Grivello, Jacomino_ was invited by a neighbour to supper, in company of divers his very familiar friends, whereof intelligence being given to _Giovanni_; a conclusion passed betweene them, that (upon a certaine signale given) he should come, and finde the doore standing ready open, to give him all accesse unto the affected Mayden.

The appointed night being come, and neither of these hot Lovers knowing the others intent, but their suspition being alike, and encreasing still more and more; they made choyce of certaine friends and associates, well armed and provided, for eithers safer entrance when neede should require. _Menghino_ stayed with his troope, in a neere neighbouring house to the Mayden, attending when the signall would be given: but _Giovanni_ and his consorts, were ambushed somewhat further off from the House, and both saw when _Jacomino_ went foorth to supper. Now _Grivello_ and the Chamber-maide began to vary, which should send the other out of the way, till they had effected their severall intention; whereupon _Grivello_ said to her. What maketh thee to walke thus about the House, and why doest thou not get thee to bed? And thou (quoth the Maide) why doest thou not goe to attend on our Master, and tarry for his returning home? I am sure thou hast supt long agoe, and I know no businesse here in the House for thee to doe. Thus (by no meanes) the one could send away the other, but either remained as the others hinderance.

But _Grivello_ remembring himselfe, that the houre of his appointment with _Giovanni_ was come, he saide to himselfe. What care I whether our olde Maide be present, or no? If shee disclose any thing that I doe, I can be revenged on her when I list. So, having made the signall, he went to open the doore, even when _Giovanni_ (and two of his confederates) rushed into the House, and finding the faire young Maiden sitting in the Hall, laide hands on her, to beare her away. The Damosell began to resist them, crying out for helpe so loude as shee could, as the olde Chamber-maide did the like: which _Menghino_ hearing, he ranne thither presently with his friends, and seeing the young Damosell brought well-neere out of the House; they drew their Swords, crying out: Traytors, you are but dead men, here is no violence to be offered, neither is this a booty for such base groomes. So they layed about them lustily, and would not permit them to passe any further. On the other side, upon this mutinous noyse and out-cry, the Neighbours came foorth of their Houses, with lights, staves, and clubbes, greatly reproving them for this out-rage, yet assisting _Menghino_: by meanes whereof, after a long time of contention, _Menghino_ recovered the Mayden from _Giovanni_, and placed her peaceably in _Jacominoes_ House.

No sooner was this hurly-burly somewhat calmed, but the Serjeants to the Captaine of the City, came thither, and apprehended divers of the mutiners: among whom were _Menghino, Giovanni,_ and _Grivello_, committing them immediately to prison. But after every thing was pacified, and _Jacomino_ returned home to his House from supper; he was not a little offended at so grosse an injury. When he was fully informed, how the matter happened, and apparantly perceived, that no blame at all could be imposed on the Mayden: he grew the better contented, resolving with himselfe (because no more such inconveniences should happen) to have her married so soone as possibly he could.

When morning was come, the kindred and friends on either side, understanding the truth of the error committed, and knowing beside, what punishment would be inflicted on the prisoners, if _Jacomino_ pressed the matter no further, then as with reason and equity well he might; they repaired to him, and (in gentle speeches) entreated him, not to regard a wrong offered by unruly and youthfull people, meerely drawne into the action by perswasion of friends; submitting both themselves, and the offendors, to such satisfaction as he pleased to appoint them. _Jacomino_, who had seene and observed many things in his time, and was a man of sound understanding, returned them this answere.

Gentlemen, if I were in mine owne Countrey, as now I am in yours; I would as forwardly confesse my selfe your friend, as here I must needes fall short of any such service, but even as you shall please to command me. But plainely, and without all further ceremonious complement, I must agree to whatsoever you can request; as thinking you to be more injured by me, then any great wrong that I have sustained. Concerning the young Damosell remaining in my House, shee is not (as many have imagined) either of _Cremona_, or _Pavia_, but borne a _Faentine_, here in this Citie: albeit neither my selfe, shee, or he of whom I had her, did ever know it, or yet could learne whose Daughter shee was. Wherefore, the suite you make to me, should rather (in duty) be mine to you: for shee is a native of your owne, doe right to her, and then you can doe no wrong unto mee.

When the Gentlemen understood, that the Mayden was borne in _Faenza_, they marvelled thereat, and after they had thanked _Jacomino_ for his curteous answer; they desired him to let them know, by what meanes the Damosell came into his custody, and how he knew her to be borne in _Faenza_: when he, perceiving them attentive to heare him, began in this manner.

Understand worthy Gentlemen, that _Guidotto_ of _Cremona_, was my companion and deare friend, who growing neere to his death, tolde me, that when this City was surprized by the Emperour _Frederigo_, and all things committed to sacke and spoile; he and certaine of his confederates entred into a House, which they found to be well furnished with goods, but utterly forsaken of the dwellers, onely this poore Mayden excepted, being then aged but two yeeres, or thereabout. As hee mounted up the steps, with intent to depart from the House; she called him Father, which word moved him so compassionately: that he went backe againe, brought her away with him, and all things of worth which were in the House, going thence afterward to _Fano_, and there deceasing, he left her and all his goods to my charge; conditionally, that I should see her maried when due time required, and bestow on her the wealth which he had left her. Now, very true it is, although her yeeres are convenient for mariage, yet I could never find any one to bestow her on, at least that I thought fitting for her: howbeit, I will listen thereto much more respectively, before any other such accident shall happen.

It came to passe, that in the reporting of this discourse, there was then a Gentleman in the company, named _Guillemino da Medicina_, who at the surprizal of the City, was present with _Guidotto_ of _Cremona_, and knew well the House which he had ransacked, the owner whereof was also present with him, wherefore taking him aside, he saide to him. _Bernardino_, hearest thou what _Jacomino_ hath related? yes very wel, replyed _Bernardino_, and remember withall, that in that dismall bloody combustion, I lost a little Daughter, about the age as _Jacomino_ speaketh. Questionlesse then, replied _Guillemino_, shee must needes be the same young Mayden, for I was there at the same time, and in the House, whence _Guidotto_ did bring both the girle and goods, and I doe perfectly remember, that it was thy House. I pray thee call to minde, if ever thou sawest any scarre or marke about her, which may revive thy former knowledge of her, for my minde perswades me, that the Maide is thy Daughter.

_Bernardino_ musing a while with himselfe, remembred, that under her left eare, shee had a scarre, in the forme of a little crosse, which happened by the byting of a Wolfe, and but a small while before the spoyle was made. Wherefore, without deferring it to any further time, he stept to _Jacomino_ (who as yet staied there) and entreated him to fetch the Mayden from his house, because shee might be knowne to some in the company: whereto right willingly he condiscended, and there presented the Maide before them. So soone as _Bernardino_ beheld her, he began to be much inwardly moved; for the perfect character of her Mothers countenance, was really figured in her sweete face, onely that her beauty was somewhat more excelling. Yet not herewith satisfied, he desired _Jacomino_ to be so pleased, as to lift up a little the lockes of haire, depending over her left eare. _Jacomino_ did it presently, albeit with a modest blushing in the maide, and _Bernardino_ looking advisedly on it, knew it to be the selfe same crosse; which confirmed her constantly to be his Daughter.

Overcome with excesse of joy, which made the teares to trickle downe his cheekes, he proffered to embrace and kisse the Maide: but she resisting his kindnesse, because (as yet) shee knew no reason for it, he turned himselfe to _Jacomino_, saying. My deare brother and friend, this Maide is my Daughter, and my House was the same which _Guidotto_ spoyled, in the generall havocke of our City, and thence he carried this child of mine, forgotten (in the fury) by my Wife her Mother. But happy was the houre of his becomming her Father, and carrying her away with him; for elsee she had perished in the fire, because the House was instantly burnt downe to the ground. The Mayden hearing his words, observing him also to be a man of yeeres and gravity: shee beleeved what he saide, and humbly submitted her selfe to his kisses & embraces, even as instructed thereto by instinct of nature. _Bernardino_ instantly sent for his wife, her owne mother, his daughters, sonnes, and kindred, who being acquainted with this admirable accident, gave her most gracious and kind welcome, he receiving her from _Jacomino_ as his childe, and the legacies which _Guidotto_ had left her.

When the Captaine of the City (being a very wise and worthy Gentleman) heard these tydings, and knowing that _Giovanni_, then his prisoner, was the Son to _Bernardino_, and naturall Brother to the newly recovered Maide; he bethought himselfe, how best he might qualifie the fault committed by him. And entring into the Hall among them, handled the matter so discreetly, that a loving league of peace was confirmed betweene _Giovanni_ and _Menghino_, to whom (with free and full consent on all sides) the faire Maide, named _Agatha_, was given in marriage, with a more honourable enlargement of her dowry, and _Grivello_, with the rest, delivered out of prison, which for their tumultuous riot they had justly deserved. _Menghino_ and _Agatha_ had their wedding worthily sollemnized, with all due honours belonging thereto; and long time after they lived in _Faenza_, highly beloved, and graciously esteemed.

Guion di Procida, _being found familiarly conversing with a young Damosell, which he loved; and had been given (formerly) to_ Frederigo, _King of Sicilie: was bound to a stake; to be consumed with fire. From which danger (neverthelesse) he escaped, being knowne by_ Don Rogiero de Oria, _Lord Admirall of Sicilie, and afterward married the Damosell._

The sixth Novell.

_Wherein is manifested, that love can leade a man into numberlesse perils: out of which he escapeth with no meane difficulty._

The Novell of Madam _Neiphila_ being ended, which proved very pleasing to the Ladies: the Queene commanded Madam _Pampinea_, that shee should prepare to take her turne next, whereto willingly obeying, thus shee began. Many and mighty (Gracious Ladies) are the prevailing powers of love, conducting amorous soules into infinite travelse, with inconveniences no way avoidable, and not easily to be foreseene, or prevented. As partly already hath beene observed, by divers of our former Novelse related, and some (no doubt) to ensue hereafter; for one of them (comming now to my memory) I shall acquaint you withall, in so good tearmes as I can.

_Ischia_ is an Iland very neere to _Naples_, wherein (not long since) lived a faire and lovely Gentlewoman, named _Restituta_, Daughter to a Gentleman of the same Isle, whose name was _Marino Bolgaro_. A proper youth called _Guion_, dwelling also in a neere neighbouring Isle, called _Procida_, did love her as dearely as his owne life, and she was as intimately affected towards him. Now because the sight of her was his onely comfort, as occasion gave him leave; he resorted to _Ischia_ very often in the day time, and as often also in the night season, when any Barque passed from _Procida_ to _Ischia_; if to see nothing elsee, yet to behold the walles that enclosed his Mistresse thus.

While this love continued in equall fervency, it chanced upon a faire Summers day, that _Restituta_ walked alone upon the Sea-shoare, going from Rocke to Rocke, having a naked knife in her hand, wherewith shee opened such Oysters as shee found among the stones, seeking for small pearles enclosed in their shelles. Her walke was very solitary and shady, with a faire Spring or well adjoining to it, and thither (at that very instant time) certaine Sicilian young Gentlemen, which came from _Naples_, had made their retreate. They perceiving the Gentlewoman to be very beautifull (shee as yet not having any sight of them) and in such a silent place alone by her selfe: concluded together, to make a purchase of her, and carry her thence away with them; as indeed they did, notwithstanding all her out-cryes and exclaimes, bearing her perforce aboard their Barque.

Setting sayle thence, they arrived in _Calabria_, and then there grew a great contention betweene them, to which of them this booty of beauty should belong, because each of them pleaded a title to her. But when they could not grow to any agreement, but doubted greater disaster would ensue thereon, by breaking their former league of friendship: by an equall conformity in consent, they resolved, to bestow her as a rich present, on _Frederigo_ King of _Sicilie_, who was then young & joviall, and could not be pleased with a better gift; wherefore they were no sooner landed at _Palermo_, but they did according as they had determined. The King did commend her beauty extraordinarily, and liked her farre beyond all his other Loves: but, being at that time empaired in his health, and his body much distempered by ill dyet; he gave command, that untill he should be in more able disposition, shee must be kept in a goodly house of his owne, erected in a beautifull Garden, called the _Cube_, where shee was attended in most pompeous manner.

Now grew the noyse and rumor great in _Ischia_, about this rape or stealing away of _Restituta_; but the chiefest greevance of all, was, that it could not be knowne how, by whom, or by what meanes. But _Guion di Procida_, whom this injury concerned much more then any other; stood not in expectation of better tydings from _Ischia_, but hearing what course the Barke had taken, made ready another, to follow after with all possible speede. Flying thus on the winged minds through the Seas, even from _Minerva_, unto the _Scalea_ in _Calabria_, searching for his lost Love in every angle: at length it was tolde him at the _Scalea_, that shee was carried away by certaine _Sicillian_ Marriners, to _Palermo_, whither _Guion_ set sayle immediately.

After some diligent search made there, he understood, that she was delivered to the King, and he had given strict command, for keeping her in his place of pleasure; called the _Cube_: which newes were not a little greevous to him, for now he was almost quite out of hope, not onely of ever enjoying her, but also of seeing her. Neverthelesse, Love would not let him utterly despaire, whereupon he sent away his Barque, and perceiving himselfe to be unknowne of any; he continued for some time in _Palermo_, walking many times by that goodly place of pleasure. It chanced on a day, that keeping his walke as he used to doe, Fortune was so favourable to him, as to let him have a sight of her at her window; from whence also she had a full view of him, to their exceeding comfort and contentment. And _Guion_ observing, that the _Cube_ was seated in a place of small resort; approached so neere as possibly he durst, to have some conference with _Restituta_.

As Love sets a keene edge on the dullest spirit, and (by a small advantage) makes a man the more adventurous: so this little time of unseene talke, inspired him with courage, and her with witty advice, by what meanes his accesse might be much neerer to her, and their communication concealed from any discovery, the scituation of the place, and benefit of time duly considered. Night must be the cloud to their amorous conclusion, and therefore, so much thereof being spent, as was thought convenient, he returned thither againe, provided of such grappling-yrons, as is required when men will clamber, made fast unto his hands and knees; by their helpe he attained to the top of the wall, whence discending downe into the Garden, there he found the maine yard of a ship, whereof before shee had given him instruction, and rearing it up against her chamber window, made that his meanes for ascending thereto, shee having left it open for his easier entrance.

You cannot denie (faire Ladies) but here was a very hopefull beginning, and likely to have as happy an ending, were it not true Loves fatall misery, even in the very height of promised assurance, to be thwarted by unkind prevention, and in such manner as I will tell you. This night, intended for our Lovers meeting, proved disastrous and dreadfull to them both: for the King, who at the first sight of _Restituta_, was highly pleased with her excelling beauty; gave order to his Eunuches and other women, that a costly bathe should be prepared for her, and therein to let her weare away that night, because the next day he intended to visit her. _Restituta_ being royally conducted from her Chamber to the Bathe, attended on with Torch-light, as if shee had been a Queene: none remained there behind, but such women as waited on her, and the Guards without, which watched the Chamber.

No sooner was poore _Guion_ aloft at the window, calling softly to his Mistresse, as if she had beene there; but he was over-heard by the women in the darke, and immediately apprehended by the Guard, who forthwith brought him before the Lord Marshall, where being examined, and he avouching, that _Restituta_ was his elected wife, and for her he had presumed in that manner; closely was he kept in prison till the next morning. When he came into the Kings presence, and there boldly justified the goodnesse of his cause: _Restituta_ likewise was sent for, who no sooner saw her deare Love _Guion_, but shee ran and caught him fast about the necke, kissing him in teares, and greeving not a little at his hard fortune. Hereat the King grew exceedingly enraged, loathing and hating her now, much more then formerly he did affect her, and having himselfe seene, by what strange meanes he did climbe over the wall, and then mounted to her Chamber window; he was extreamely impatient, and could not otherwise be perswaded, but that their meetings thus had beene very many.

Forthwith he sentenced them both with death, commanding, that they should be conveyed thence to _Palermo_, and there (being stript starke naked) be bound to a stake backe to backe, and so to stand the full space of nine houres, to see if any could take knowledge, of whence, or what they were; then afterward, to be consumed with fire. The sentence of death, did not so much daunt or dismay the poore Lovers, as the uncivill and unsightly manner, which (in feare of the Kings wrathfull displeasure) no man durst presume to contradict. Wherefore, as he had commanded, so were they carried thence to _Palermo_, and bound naked to a stake in the open Market place, and (before their eyes) the fire and wood brought, which was to consume them, according to the houre as the King had appointed. You need not make any question, what an huge concourse of people were soone assembled together, to behold such a sad and wofull spectacle, even the whole City of _Palermo_, both men and women. The men were stricken with admiration, beholding the unequalled beauty of faire _Restituta_, & the selfe same passion possessed the women, seeing _Guion_ to be such a goodly and compleat young man: but the poore infortunate Lovers themselves, they stood with their lookes dejected to the ground, being much pittied of all, but no way to be holpen or rescued by any, awaiting when the happy houre would come, to finish both their shame and lives together.

During the time of this tragicall expectation, the fame of this publike execution being noysed abroade, calling all people farre and neere to behold it; it came to the eare of _Don Rogiero de Oria_, a man of much admired valour, and then the Lord high Admirall of _Sicily_, who came himselfe in person, to the place appointed for their death. First he observed the Mayden, confessing her (in his soule) to be a beauty beyond all compare. Then looking on the young man, thus he saide within himselfe: If the inward endowments of the mind, doe paralell the outward perfections of body; the World cannot yeeld a more compleate man. Now, as good natures are quickly incited to compassion (especially in cases almost commanding it) and compassion knocking at the doore of the soule, doth quicken the memory with many passed recordations: so this noble Admirall, advisedly beholding poore condemned _Guion_, conceived, that he had somewhat seene him before this instant, and upon this perswasion (even as if divine vertue had tutured his tongue) he saide: Is not thy name _Guion di Procida_?

Marke now, how quickly misery can receive comfort, upon so poore and silly a question; for _Guion_ began to elevate his dejected countenance, and looking on the Admirall, returned him this answere. Sir, heretofore I have been the man which you spake of; but now, both that name and man must die with me. What misfortune (quoth the Admirall) hath thus unkindly crost thee? Love (answered _Guion_) and the Kings displeasure. Then the Admirall would needs know the whole history at large, which briefly was related to him, and having heard how all had happened; as he was turning his Horse to ride away thence, _Guion_ called to him, saying. Good my Lord, entreate one favour for me, if possible it may be. What is that? replyed the Admirall. You see Sir (quoth _Guion_) that I am very shortly to breathe my last; all the grace which I doe most humbly entreate, is, that as I am here with this chaste Virgin, (whom I honour and love beyond my life) and miserably bound backe to backe: our faces may be turned each to other, to the end, that when the fire shall finish my life, by looking on her, my soule may take her flight in full felicity. The Admirall smyling, saide; I will doe for thee what I can, and (perhaps) thou mayest so long looke on her, as thou wilt be weary, and desire to looke off her.

At his departure, he commanded them that had the charge of this execution, to proceede no further, untill they heard more from the King, to whom hee gallopped immediately, and although hee beheld him to be very angerly moved; yet he spared not to speake in this manner. Sir, wherein have those poore young couple offended you, that are so shamefully to be burnt at _Palermo_? The King told him: whereto the Admirall (pursuing still his purpose) thus replyed. Beleeve me Sir, if true love be an offence, then theirs may be termed to be one; and albeit it did deserve death, yet farre be it from thee to inflict it on them: for as faults doe justly require punishment, so doe good turnes as equally merit grace and requitall. Knowest thou what and who they are, whom thou hast so dishonourably condemned to the fire? Not I, quoth the King. Why then I will tell thee, answered the Admirall, that thou mayest take the better knowledge of them, and forbeare hereafter, to be so over-violently transported with anger.

The young Gentleman, is the Sonne to _Landolfo di Procida_, the onely Brother to Lord _John di Procida_, by whose meanes thou becamest Lord and King of this Countrey. The faire young Damosell, is the Daughter to _Marino Bolgaro_, whose power extendeth so farre, as to preserve thy prerogative in _Ischia_, which (but for him) had long since beene out-rooted there. Beside, these two maine motives, to challenge justly grace and favour from thee; they are in the floure and pride of their youth, having long continued in loyall love together, and compelled by fervency of endeared affection, not any will to displease thy Majesty: they have offended (if it may be termed an offence to love, and in such lovely young people as they are.) Canst thou then find in thine heart to let them die, whom thou rather oughtest to honour, and recompence with no meane rewards?

When the King had heard this, and beleeved for a certainty, that the Admirall told him nothing but truth: he appointed not onely, that they should proceede no further, but also was exceeding sorrowfull for what he had done, sending presently to have them released from the Stake, and honourably to be brought before him. Being thus enstructed in their severall qualities, and standing in duty obliged, to recompence the wrong which he had done, with respective honours: he caused them to be cloathed in royall garments, and knowing them to be knit in unity of soule; the like he did by marrying them sollemnly together, and bestowing many rich gifts and presents on them, sent them honourably attented home to _Ischia_; where they were with much joy and comfort received, and lived long after in great felicity.

Theodoro _falling in love with_ Violenta, _the Daughter to his Master, named_ Amarigo, _and shee conceiving with childe by him; was condemned to be hanged. As they were leading him to the Gallowes, beating and misusing him all the way: he happened to be knowne by his owne Father, whereupon hee was released, and afterward enjoyed_ Violenta _in marriage._

The seventh Novell.

_Wherein is declared, the sundry travelse and perillous accidents, occasioned by those two powerfull Commanders, Love and Fortune, the insulting Tyrants over humaine life._

Greatly were the Ladies minds perplexed, when they heard, that the two poore Lovers were in danger to be burned: but hearing afterward of their happy deliverance, for which they were as joyfull againe; upon the concluding of the Novell, the Queene looked on Madam _Lauretta_, enjoyning her to tell the next Tale, which willingly she undertooke to doe, and thus began.