Chapter VII: Part 7

Honourable Father, you have raised my contentment to the highest degree, and have heaped also many gracious favours on my noble Mother; but now in the finall conclusion, that nothing may remaine uneffected, which consisteth in your power to performe: I would humbly entreate you, to honour my Mother with your company, at a Feast of my making, where I would gladly also have my Brother present. _Messer Gasparino d'Oria_ (as I have once heretofore told you) questing as a common Pyrate on the Seas, tooke us, and sent us home to his house as slaves, where (as yet he detaineth him.) I would have you likewise send one into _Sicilie_, who informing himselfe more amply in the state of the Country; may understand what is become of _Henriet_ my Father, and whether he be living or no. If he remaine alive, to know in what condition he is; and being secretly instructed in all things, then to returne backe againe to you.

This motion made by _Geoffrey_, was so pleasing to _Conrado_, that without any reference to further leysure, hee dispatched thence two discreete persons, the one to _Genewaye_, and the other to _Sicilie_: he which went for _Geneway_, having met with _Gasparino_, earnestly entreated him, (on the behalfe of _Conrado_) to send him the _Poore expelled_; and his Nurse recounting every thing in order, which _Conrado_ had tolde him, concerning _Geoffrey_ and his Mother: when _Gasparino_ had heard the whole discourse, he marvelled greatly thereat, and saide; True it is, that I will doe any thing for _Messer Conrado_, which may be to his love and liking, provided, that it lie in my power to performe; and (about some foureteene yeeres since) I brought such a Lad as you seeke for, with his Mother home to my house; whom I will gladly send unto him. But you may tell him from me, that I advise him from over-rash crediting the fables of _Jehannot_, that now tearms himselfe by the name of _Geoffrey_, because hee is a more wicked boy, then he taketh him to be, and so did I find him.

Having thus spoken, and giving kinde welcome to the Messenger, secretly he called the Nurse unto him, whom he heedfully examined concerning this case. Shee having heard the rebellion in the Kingdome of _Sicilie_, and understanding withall, that _Henriet_ was yet living; joyfully threw off all her former feare, relating every thing to him orderly, and the reasons moving her, to conceale the whole businesse in such manner as shee had done. _Gasparino_ well perceiving, that the report of the Nurse, and the message received from _Conrado_, varied not in any one circumstance, beganne the better to credit her wordes. And being a man most ingenious, making further inquisition into the businesse, by all the possible meanes he could devise, and finding every thing to yeeld undoubted assurance; ashamed of the vile and base usage, wherein hee had so long time kept the Ladde, and desiring (by his best meanes) to make him amends; he had a faire Daughter, aged about thirteene yeeres, and knowing what manner of man he was, his father _Henriet_ also yet living, he gave her to him in marriage, with a very bountifull and honourable dowry.

The joviall dayes of feasting being past, he went aboard a Galley, with the _Poore expelled_; his Daughter, the Ambassadour, and the Nurse, departing thence to _Lericy_, where they were nobly welcommed by _Messer Conrado_, and his Castle being not farre from thence, with an honourable traine they were conducted thither, and entertained with all possible kindnesse. Now concerning the comfort of the Mother, meeting so happily with both her Sonnes, the joy of the Brethren and Mother together, having also found the faithfull Nurse, _Gasparino_ and his Daughter, in company now with _Conrado_ and his Wife, friends, familiars, and all generally in a Jubilee of rejoycing: it exceedeth capacity in me to expresse it, and therefore I referre it to your more able imagination.

In the time of this mutuall contentment, to the ende that nothing might be wanting, to compleat and perfect this universall joy; our Lord, a most aboundant bestower where he beginneth, added long wished tydings, concerning the life and good estate of _Henriet Capece_. For, even as they were feasting, and the concourse great of worthy guests, both of Lords and Ladies: the first service was scarcely set on the Tables, but the Ambassador which was sent to _Sicilie_, arrived there before them. Among many other important matters, he spake of _Henriet_, who being so long a time detained in prison by King _Charles_, when the commotion arose in the City against the King; the people (grudging at _Henriets_ long imprisonment) slew the Guards, and let him at liberty. Then as capitall enemy to King _Charles_, he was created Captaine generall, following the chase, and killing the French.

By meanes whereof, he grew great in the grace of King _Pedro_, who replanted him in all the goods and honours which he had before, with very high and eminent authority. Hereunto the Ambassadour added, that he was entertained with extraordinary grace, and delivery of publike joy and exaltation, when his Wife and Sonne were knowne to be living, of whom no tydings had at any time beene heard, since the houre of his surprizall. Moreover, that a swift winged Barke was now sent thither (upon the happy hearing of this newes) well furnished with noble Gentlemen, to attend till their returning backe. We neede to make no doubt concerning the tydings brought by this Ambassadour, nor of the Gentlemens welcome, thus sent to Madam _Beritola_ and _Geoffrey_; who before they would sit downe at the Table, saluted _Messer Conrado_ and his kinde Lady (on the behalfe of _Henriet_) for all the great graces extended to her and her Sonne, with promise of any thing, lying in the power of _Henriet_, to rest continually at their command. The like they did to _Signior Gasparino_, (whose liberall favours came unlooked for) with certaine assurance, that when _Henriet_ should understand what hee had done for his other Sonne, the _Poore expelled_; there would be no defailance of riciprocall courtesies.

As the longest joyes have no perpetuity of lasting, so all these gracefull ceremonies had their conclusion, with as many sighes and teares at parting, as joyes abounded at their first encountring. Imagine then, that you see such aboard, as were to have here no longer abiding, Madam _Beritola_ and _Geoffrey_, with the rest, as the _Poore expelled_, the so late married Wives, and the faithfull Nurse bearing them company. With prosperous windes they arrived in _Sicilie_, where the Wife, Sonnes, and Daughters, were joyfully met by _Henriet_ at _Palermo_, and with such honourable pompe, as a case so important equally deserved. The Histories make further mention, that there they lived (a long while after) in much felicity, with thankfull hearts (no doubt) to Heaven, in acknowledgement of so many great mercies received.

_The Soldan of Babylon sent one of his Daughters, to be joyned in marriage with the King of_ Cholcos; _who by divers accidents (in the space of foure yeeres) happened into the custody of nine men, and in sundry places. At length being restored backe to her Father, shee went to the saide King of_ Cholcos, _as a Maide, and as at first shee was intended to be his wife._

The seaventh Novell.

_A lively demonstration, that the beauty of a Woman, (oftentimes) is very hurtfull to her selfe, and the occasion of many evils, yea, and of death, to divers men._

Peradventure the Novell related by Madam _Æmilia_, did not extend it selfe so farre in length, as it moved compassion in the Ladies mindes, hearing the hard fortunes of _Beritola_ and her Children, which had incited them to weeping: but that it pleased the Queene (upon the Tales conclusion) to command _Pamphilus_, to follow (next in order) with his discourse, and hee being thereto very obedient, beganne in this manner.

It is a matter of no meane difficulty (vertuous Ladies) for us to take intire knowledge of every thing we doe, because (as oftentimes hath beene observed) many men, imagining if they were rich, they should live securely, and without any cares. And therefore, not onely have their prayers and intercessions aimed at that end, but also their studies and daily endeavours, without refusall of any paines or perils have not meanely expressed their hourely solicitude. And although it hath happened accordingly to them, and their covetous desires fully accomplished; yet at length they have met with such kinde of people, who likewise thirsting after their wealthy possessions, have bereft them of life, being their kinde and intimate friends, before they attained to such riches. Some other, being of low and base condition, by adventuring in many skirmishes and foughten battels, trampling in the bloud of their brethren and friends, have beene mounted to the soveraigne dignity of Kingdomes, (beleeving that therein consisted the truest happinesse) but bought with the dearest price of their lives. For, beside their infinite cares and feares, wherewith such greatnesse is continually attended, at their royall Tables, they have drunke poyson in a golden pot. Many other in like manner (with most earnest appetite) have coveted beauty and bodily strength, not foreseeing with any judgement, that these wishes were not without perill; when being endued with them, they either have beene the occasion of their death, or such a lingering lamentable estate of life, as death were a thousand times more welcome to them.

But because I would not speake particularly of all our fraile and humane affections, I dare assure ye, that there is not any one of these desires, to be elected among us mortals, with entire foresight or providence, warrantable against their ominous issue. Wherefore, if we would walke directly, wee should dispose our willes and affections, to be ordered and guided onely by him, who best knoweth what is needfull for us, and will bestow them at his good pleasure. Nor let me lay this blamefull imputation upon men onely, for offending in many things through over lavish desires: because you your selves (gracious Ladies) sinne highly in one, as namely, in coveting to be beautifull. So that it is not sufficient for you, to enjoy those beauties bestowne on you by Nature: but you practise to encrease them, by the rarities of Art. Wherefore, let it not offend you, that I tell you the hard fortune of a faire Sarrazines, to whom it happened (by strange adventures) within the compasse of foure yeares, nine severall times to be maried, and onely for her beauty.

It is now a long time since, that there lived a Soldane in _Babylon_, named _Beminidab_, to whom (while he lived) many things happened, answerable to his owne desires. Among divers other children both male and female, he had a daughter, called _Alathiella_, and shee (according to the common voyce of every one that saw her) was the fayrest Lady then living in all the world. And because the King of _Cholcos_ had wonderfully assisted him, in a valiant foughten battaile, against a mighty Armie of _Arabes_, who on a suddaine had assailed him: hee demaunded his faire daughter in marriage, which likewise was kindly granted to him. A goodly and well armed Ship was prepared for her, with full furnishment of all necessary provision, and accompanied with an honourable traine, both Lords and Ladies, as also most costly and sumptuous accoustrements; commending her to the mercy of heaven, in this manner was shee sent away.

The time being propitious for their parting thence, the Mariners hoised their sayles, leaving the part of _Alexandria_, and sayling prosperously many dayes together. When they had past the Country of _Sardignia_, and (as they imagined) were well neere to their journeyes end: suddainly arose boisterous and contrary windes, which were so impetuous beyond all measure, and so tormented the Ship wherein the Lady was; that the Mariners, seeing no signe of comfort, gave over all hope of escaping with life. Neverthelesse, as men most expert in implacable dangers, they laboured to their uttermost power, and contended with infinite blustring tempests, for the space of two dayes and nights together, hoping the third day would prove more favourable. But therein they saw themselves deceived, for the violence continued still, encreasing in the night time more and more, being no way able to comprehend, either where they were, or what course they tooke, neither by marivall judgement, or any apprehension else whatsoever, the heavens were so clouded, and the nights darknesse so extreame.

Being (unknowne to them) neere the Isle of _Majorica_, they felt the Ship to split in the bottome, by meanes whereof, perceiving now no hope of escaping (every one caring for himselfe, and not any other) they threw forth a Squiffe on the troubled waves, reposing more confidence of safety that way, then abiding any longer in the broken Ship. Howbeit, such as were first descended downe, made stout resistance against all other followers, with their drawne weapons: but safety of life so farre prevailed, that what with the tempests violence, and over-lading of the Squiffe, it sunke to the bottome, and all perished that were therein. The Ship being thus split, and more then halfe full of water, tossed and tormented by the blustring windes, first one way, and then another: was at last driven into a strand of the Isle _Majorica_, no other persons remaining therein; but onely the Lady and her women, all of them (through the rude tempest, and their owne conceived feare) lying still, as if they were more then halfe dead. And there, within a stones cast of the neighbouring shore, the Ship (by the rough surging billowes) was fixed fast in the sands, and so continued all the rest of the night, without any further molestation of the windes.

When day appeared, and the violent stormes were more mildly appeased, the Lady, who seemed well-neere dead, lifted up her head, and began (weake as she was) to call first one, and then another: but she called in vaine, for such as she named were farre enough from her. Wherefore, hearing no answere, nor seeing any one, she wondered greatly, her feares encreasing then more and more. Raysing her selfe so well as shee could, she beheld the Ladies that were of her company, and some other of her women, lying still without any stirring: whereupon, first jogging one, and then another, and calling them severally by their names; shee found them bereft of understanding, and even as if they were dead, their hearts were so quailed, and their feare so over-ruling, which was no meane dismay to the poore Lady her selfe. Neverthelesse, necessity now being her best counsallour, seeing her selfe thus all alone, and not knowing in what place she was, she used such meanes to them that were living, that (at the last) they came better to knowledge of themselves. And being unable to guesse, what was become of the men and Mariners, seeing the Ship also driven on the sands, and filled with water: she began (with them) to lament most grievously, and now it was about the houre of mid-day, before they could descry any person on the shore, or any else to pitty them in so urgent a necessity.

At length, noone being past, a Gentleman, named _Bajazeth_, attended by divers of his followers on horseback, and returning from a Country house belonging to him, chanced to ride by on the sands. Upon sight of the Ship lying in that case, he imagined truely what had happened, and commanded one of his men to enter aboord it, which (with some difficulty) hee did, to resolve his Lord what remayned therein. There hee found the faire young Lady, with such small store of company as was left her, fearefully hidden under the prow of the Ship. So soone as they saw him, they held up their hands, wofully desiring mercy of him: but he perceiving their lamentable condition, and that hee understoode not what they said to them; their affliction grew the greater, labouring by signes and gestures, to give him knowledge of their misfortune.

The servant, gathering what he could by their outward behaviour, declared to his Lord, what hee had seene in the Ship: who caused the women to be brought on shore, and all the precious things remaining with them, conducting them with him to a place not farre off, where, with foode and warmth he gave them comfort. By the rich garments which the Lady was cloathed withall, hee reputed her to be a Gentlewoman well derived, as the great reverence done to her by the rest, gave him good reason to conceive. And although her lookes were pale and wan, as also her person mightily altered, by the tempestuous violence of the Sea: yet notwithstanding, she appeared faire and lovely in the eye of _Bajazeth_, whereupon forthwith he determined, that if she were not maried, he would enjoy her as his owne in mariage, or if he could not winne her to be his wife, yet (at the least) shee should be his friend, because shee remained now in his power.

_Bajazeth_ was a man of sterne lookes, rough and harsh both in speech and behaviour: yet causing the Lady to be honourably used divers dayes together, she became thereby well comforted and recovered. And seeing her beauty to exceede all comparison, he was afflicted beyond measure, that he could not understand her, nor she him, whereby hee could not know, of whence or what she was. His amorous flames encreasing more and more; by kinde, courteous, and affable actions, hee laboured to compasse what he aymed at. But all his endeavour proved to no purpose, for shee refused all familiar privacie with him, which so much the more kindled the fury of his desire. This being well observed by the Lady, having now remayned there a moneth & more, and collecting by the customes of the Countrey, that she was among Turkes, and in such a place, where although she were knowne, yet it would little advantage her, beside, that long protraction of time would provoke _Bajazeth_, by faire meanes or force to obtaine his will: she propounded to her selfe (with magnanimity of spirit) to tread all misfortunes under her feete, commaunding her women (whereof she had but three now remaining alive) that they should not disclose what she was; except it were in some such place, where manifest signes might yeeld hope of regaining their liberty. Moreover, shee admonished them, stoutly to defend their honour and chastity, affirming, that shee had absolutely resolved with her selfe, that never any other should enjoy her, but her intended husband; wherein her women did much commend her, promising to preserve their reputation, according as she had commanded.

Day by day were the torments of _Bajazeth_ wonderfully augmented, yet still his kinde offers scornefully refused, and he as farre off from compassing his desires, as when hee first began to moove the matter: wherefore, perceiving that all faire courses served to no effect, hee resolved to compasse his purpose by craft and subtilty, reserving rigorous extremity for his finall conclusion. And having once observed, that wine was very pleasing to the Lady, she being never used to drinke any at all, because (by her Countries law) it was forbidden her, and no meane store having beene lately brought to _Bajazeth_ in a Barke of _Geneway_: hee resolved to surprize her by meanes thereof, as a chiefe Minister of _Venus_, to heate the coolest blood. And seeming now in his outward behaviour, as if he had given over his amorous pursuite, and which she strove by all her best endeavours to withstand: one night, after a very majestick and solemne manner, he prepared a delicate and sumptuous supper, whereto the Lady was invited: and hee had given order, that hee who attended on her Cup, should serve her with many wines compounded and mingled together, which hee accordingly performed, as being cunning enough in such occasions.

_Alathiella_, mistrusting no such trecherie intended against her, and liking the wines pleasing taste extraordinarily; dranke more then stoode with with her precedent modest resolution, and forgetting all her passed adversities, became very frollick and merry: so that seeing some women daunce after the manner observed therein _Majorica_, she also fell to dauncing, according to the _Alexandrian_ custome. Which when _Bajazeth_ beheld, he imagined the victory to be more then halfe wone, and his hearts desire very neere the obtaining: plying her still with wine upon wine, and continuing this revelling the most part of the night. At the length, the invited guests being all gone, the Lady retired then to her chamber, attended on by none but _Bajazeth_ himselfe, and as familiarly, as if hee had beene one of her women, shee no way contradicting his bold intrusion, so faire had wine over-gone her sences, and prevailed against all modest bashfulnesse. These wanton embracings, strange to her that had never tasted them before, yet pleasing beyond measure, by reason of his trecherous advantage: afterward drew on many more of the like carowsing meetings, without so much as a thought of her passed miseries, or those more honourable and chaste respects, that ever ought to attend on Ladies.

Now, Fortune envying these their stolne pleasures, and that she, being the purposed wife of a potent King, should thus become the wanton friend of a much meaner man, whose onely glory was her shame: altered the course of their too common pastimes, by preparing a farre greater infelicity for them. This _Bajazeth_ had a Brother, aged about five and twenty yeares, of most compleate person, in the very beauty of his time, and fresh as the sweetest smelling Rose, he being named _Amurath_. After he had once seene this Lady (whose faire feature pleased him beyond all womens else) she seemed in his suddaine apprehension, both by her outward behaviour and civill apparancie, highly to deserve his very best opinion, for she was not meanely entred into his favour. Now he found nothing to his hinderance, in obtayning the height of his hearts desire, but onely the strict custody and guard, wherein his brother _Bajazeth_ kept her: which raised a cruell conceit in his minde, whereon followed (not long after) as cruell an effect.

It came to passe, that at the same time, in the Port of the Citie, called _Caffa_, there lay then a Ship laden with Merchandize, being bound thence for _Smirna_, of which Ship two _Geneway_ Merchants (being brethren) were the Patrones and owners, who had given direction for hoysing the sayles, to depart thence when the winde should serve. With these two _Genewayes Amurath_ had covenanted, for himselfe to goe abord the Ship the night ensuing, and the Lady in his company. When night was come, having resolved with himselfe what was to be done: in a disguised habite hee went to the house of _Bajazeth_, who stood not any way doubtfull of him, and with certaine of his most faithfull confederates (whom he had sworne to the intended action) they hid themselves closely in the house. After some part of the night was over-past, hee knowing the severall lodgings both of _Bajazeth_ and _Alathiella_: slew his brother soundly sleeping, and seizing on the Lady, whom hee found awake and weeping, threatned to kill her also, if shee made any noyse. So, being well furnished, with the greater part of costly Jewels belonging to _Bajazeth_, unheard or undescried by anybody, they went presently to the Port, and there, without any further delay, _Amurath_ and the Lady were received into the Ship, but his companions returned backe againe; when the Mariners, having their sayles ready set, and the winde aptly fitting for them, launched forth merrily into the maine.

You may well imagine, that the Lady was extraordinarily afflicted with griefe for her first misfortune, and now this second chancing so suddainly, must needes offend her in greater manner: but _Amurath_ did so kindly comfort her, with milde, modest, and manly perswasions; that all remembrance of _Bajazeth_ was quickly forgotten, and shee became converted to lovely demeanour, even when Fortune prepared a fresh misery for her, as not satisfied with those whereof shee had tasted already. The Lady being enriched with unequalled beauty (as wee have often related before) her behaviour also in such exquisite and commendable kinde expressed: the two brethren, owners of the Ship, became so deepely enamoured of her, that forgetting all their more serious affaires, they studied by all possible meanes, to be pleasing and gracious in her eye, yet with such a carefull cariage, that _Amurath_ should neither see or suspect it.

When the brethren had imparted their loves extremity each to the other, and plainely perceived, that though they were equally in their fiery torments, yet their desires were utterly contrary: they began severally to consider, that gaine gotten by Merchandize, admitted an equall and honest division, but this purchase was of a different quality, pleading the title of a sole possession, without any partner or intruder. Fearefull and jealous were they both, least either should ayme at the others intention, yet willing enough to shake hands, in ridding _Amurath_ out of the way, who onely was the hinderer of their hopes. Whereupon they concluded together, that on a day, when the Ship sayled on very swiftly, and _Amurath_ was sitting upon the deck, studiously observing, how the billowes combatted each with other, and not suspecting any such treason in them towards him: stealing softly behinde him, suddainly they threw him into the Sea, the Ship fleeting on above halfe a leagues distance, before any perceived his fall into the Sea.

When the Lady heard thereof, and saw no likely meanes of recovering him againe, she fell to her wonted teares and lamentations: but the two Lovers came quickly to comfort her, using kinde words and pithie perswasions (albeit shee understood them not, or at the most very little) to appease the violence of her passions; and, to speake uprightly, shee did not so much bemoane the loss of _Amurath_, as the multiplying of her owne misfortunes, still one succeeding in the necke of another. After divers long and well delivered Orations, as also very faire and courteous behaviour, they had indifferently pacified her complaynings: they began to discourse and commune with themselves, which of them had most right and title to _Alathiella_, and (consequently) ought to enjoy her. Now that _Amurath_ was gone, each pleaded his priviledge to be as good as the others, both in the Ship, goods, and all advantages else whatsoever happening: which the elder brother absolutely denied, alleadging first his propriety of birth, a reason sufficient, whereby his younger ought to give him place; likewise his right and interest both in ship and goods, to be more then the others, as being heire to his Father, and therefore in justice to be highest preferred. Last of all, that his strength onely threw _Amurath_ into the Sea, and therefore gave him the full possession of his prize, no right at all remaining to his brother.

From temperate and calme speeches, they fell to frownes and ruder language, which heated their blood in such violent manner, that forgetting brotherly affection, and all respect of Parents or friends, they drew forth their Poniards, stabbing each other so often and desperately, that before any in the shippe had the power or meanes to part them, both of them being very dangerously wounded, the younger brother fell downe dead, the elder being in little better case, by receiving so many perilous hurts, remained (neverthelesse) living. This unhappy accident displeased the Lady very highly, seeing her selfe thus left alone, without the help or counsell of any body, and fearing greatly, least the anger of the two Brethrens Parents and Friends, should now be laide to her charge, and thereon follow severity of punishment. But the earnest entreaties of the wounded surviver, and their arrivall at _Smirna_ soone after, delivered him from the danger of death, gave some ease to her sorrow, and there with him shee went on shore.

Remaining there with him in a common Inne, while he continued in the Chirurgians cure, the fame of her singular and much admired beauty was soone spread abroade throughout all the City; and amongst the rest, to the hearing of the Prince of _Ionia_, who lately before (on very urgent occasions) was come to _Smirna_. This rare rumour, made him desirous to see her, and after he had seene her, shee seemed farre fairer in his eye, then common report had noysed her to be, and suddenly grew so enamored of her, that shee was the onely Idea of his best desires. Afterward, understanding in what manner shee was brought thither, he devised how to make her his owne; practising all possible meanes to accomplish it: which when the wounded brothers Parents heard of, they not onely made tender of their willingnesse therein, but also immediately sent her to him: a matter most highly pleasing to the Prince, and likewise to the Lady her selfe; because shee thought now to be freed from no meane perill, which (otherwise) the wounded Merchants friends might have inflicted on her.

The Prince perceiving, that beside her matchlesse beauty, shee had the true character of royall behaviour; greeved the more, that he could not be further informed of what Countrey shee was. His opinion being so stedfastly grounded, that (lesse then Noble) shee could not be, was a motive to set a keener edge on his affection towards her, yet not to enjoy her as in honourable and loving complement onely, but as his espoused Lady and Wife. Which appearing to her by apparant demonstrations, though entercourse of speech wanted to confirme it; remembrance of her so many sad disasters, and being now in a most noble and respected condition, her comfort enlarged it selfe with a setled hope, her feares grew free from any more molestations, and her beauties became the onely theame and argument of private and publike conference in all _Natolia_, that (welneere) there was no other discourse, in any Assembly whatsoever.

Hereupon the Duke of _Athens_, being young, goodly, and valiant of person, as also a neere Kinsman to the Prince, had a desire to see her; and under colour of visiting his noble Kinsman, (as oftentimes before he had done) attended with an honourable traine, to _Smirna_ he came, being there most royally welcommed, and bounteously feasted. Within some few dayes of his there being, conference passed betweene them, concerning the rare beauty of the Lady; the Duke questioning the Prince, whether shee was of such wonder, as fame had acquainted the World withall? Whereto the Prince replied; Much more (noble Kinsman) then can be spoken of, as your owne eyes shall witnesse, without crediting any words of mine. The Prince solliciting the Duke thereto very earnestly, they both went together to see her; and shee having before heard of their comming, adorned her selfe the more majestically, entertaining them with ceremonious demeanour (after her Countries custome) which gave most gracious and unspeakable acceptation.

At the Princes affable motion, shee sate downe betweene them, their delight being beyond expression, to behold her, but abridged of much more felicity, because they understood not any part of her language: so that they could have no other conference, but by lookes and outward signes onely; and the more they beheld her, the more they marvelled at her rare perfections, especially the Duke, who hardly credited that shee was a mortall creature. Thus not perceiving, what deepe carowses of amorous poyson, his eyes dranke downe by the meere sight of her, yet thinking thereby onely to be satisfied; he lost both himselfe and his best sences, growing in love (beyond all measure) with her. When the Prince and he were parted from her, and hee was at his owne private amorous meditations in his Chamber; he reputed the Prince far happier then any man else whatsoever, by the enjoying of such a peerelesse beauty.

After many intricate and distracted cogitations, which molested his braines incessantly, regarding more his loves wanton heate, then reason, kindred, and honourable hospitality; he resolutely determined (whatsoever ensued thereupon) to bereave the Prince of his faire felicity, that none but himselfe might possesse such a treasure, which he esteemed to be the height of all happinesse. His courage being conformable to his bad intent, with all hast it must be put in execution; so that equity, justice, and honesty, being quite abandoned, nothing but subtill stratagems were now his meditations. On a day, according to a fore compacted treachery, which he had ordered with a Gentleman of the Princes Chamber, who was named _Churiacy_; he prepared his horses to be in readinesse, and dispatched all his affaires else for a sudden departure. The night following, he was secretly conveyed by the said _Churiacy_, and a friend of his with him (being both armed) into the Princes Chamber, where he (while the Lady was soundly sleeping) stood at a gazing window towards the Sea, naked in his shirt, to take the coole ayre, because the season was exceeding hot. Having formerly enstructed his friend what was to be done, verie softly they stept to the Prince, and running their weapons quite thorow his body, immediately they threw him forth of the window.

Here you are to observe, that the Pallace was seated on the Sea shore, and very high, and the window whereat the Prince then stood looking foorth, was directly over divers houses, which the long continuance of time, and incessant beating on by the surges of the Sea, had so defaced and ruined them, as sildome they were visited by any person; whereof the Duke having knowledge before, was the easier perswaded, that the falling of the Princes body in so vaste a place, could neither be heard, or descried by any. The Duke and his companion having thus executed what they came for, proceeded yet in their cunning a little further; casting a strangling coard about the necke of _Churiacy_, seeming as if they hugged and embraced him: but drew it with so maine strength, that he never spake one word after, and so threw him downe after the Prince.

This done, and plainely perceiving that they were not heard or seene, either by the Lady, or any other: the Duke tooke a light in his hand, going on to the bed, where the Lady lay most sweetely sleeping; whom the more he beheld, the more he admired and commended: but if in her garments shee appeared so pleasing, what did shee now in a bed of such state and Majesty? Being no way daunted by his so late committed sinne, but swimming rather in surfet of joy, his hands all bloody, and his soule much more uglie; he laide him downe on the bed by her, bestowing infinite kisses and embraces on her, she supposing him to be the Prince all this while, nor opening her eyes to be otherwise resolved. But this was not the delight he aimed at, neither did he thinke it safe for him, to delay time with any longer tarying there: wherefore having his agents at hand fit and convenient for the purpose, they surprized her in such sort, that she could not make any noise or outcry, and carrying her thorough the same false posterne, whereat themselves had entred, laying her in a Princely litter; away they went with all possible speede, not tarrying in any place, untill they were arrived neere _Athens_. But thither hee would not bring her, because himselfe was a married man, but rather to a goodly Castle of his owne, not distant farre off from the City; where he caused her to be kept very secretly (to her no little greefe and sorrow) yet attended on and served in most honourable manner.

The Gentlemen usually attending on the Prince, having waited all the next morning till noone, in expectation of his rising, and hearing no stirring in the Chamber: did thrust at the doore, which was but onely closed together, & finding no body there, they presently imagined, that he was privately gone to some other place, where (with the Lady, whom he so deerely affected) hee might remaine some few dayes for his more contentment, and so they relied verily perswaded. Within some fewe dayes following, while no other doubt came in question, the Princes Foole, entering by chance among the ruined houses, where lay the dead bodies of the Prince and _Churiacy_: tooke hold of the corde about _Churiacyes_ necke, and so went along dragging it after him. The bodye being knowne to many, with no meane mervaile, how hee should bee murthered in so vile manner: by giftes and faire perswasions they wonne him, to bring them to the place where hee found it. And there (to the no little greefe of all the Cittie) they found the Princes body also, which they caused to bee interred with all the most majesticke pomp that might bee.

Upon further inquisition, who should commit so horrid a deed, perceyving likewise, that the Duke of _Athens_ was not to be found, but was closely gone: they judged (according to the truth) that he had his hand in this bloody businesse, and had carried away the Lady with him. Immediately, they elected the Princes brother to bee their Lord and Soveraigne, inciting him to revenge so horrid a wrong, and promising to assist him with their utmost power. The new chosen Prince being assured afterward, by other more apparant and remarkeable proofes, that his people informed him with nothing but truth: sodainly, and according as they had concluded, with the helpe of neighbours, kindred, and friends, collected from divers places; he mustred a goodly and powerful army, marching on towards _Athens_, to make war against the Duke.

No sooner heard he of this warlike preparation made against him, but he likewise levied forces for his owne defence, and to his succour came many great States: among whom, the Emperor of _Constantinople_ sent his Sonne _Constantine_, attended on by his Nephew _Emanuell_, with troopes of faire and towardly force, who were most honourably welcommed and entertained by the Duke, but much more by the Dutchesse, because she was their sister in law.

Military provision thus proceeding on daily more and more, the Dutches making choise of a fit and convenient houre, took these two Princes with her to a with-drawing Chamber; and there in flouds of teares flowing from her eyes, wringing her hands, and sighing incessantly, shee recounted the whole History, occasion of the warre, and how dishonourably the Duke had dealt with her about this strange woman, whom he purposed to keepe in despight of her, as thinking that she knew nothing thereof, and complaining very earnestly unto them, entreated that for the Dukes honour, and her comfort, they would give their best assistance in this case.

The two young Lords knew all this matter, before shee thus reported it to them; and therefore, without staying to listen her any longer, but comforting her so wel as they could, with promise of their best employed paines: being informed by her, in what place the Lady was so closely kept, they tooke their leave, and parted from her. Often they had heard the Lady much commended, and her incomparable beauty highly extolled, yea, even by the Duke himselfe; which made them the more desirous to see her: wherefore earnestly they solicited him, to let them have a sight of her, and he (forgetting what happened to the Prince, by shewing her so unadvisedly to him) made them promise to grant their request. Causing a magnificent dinner to be prepared, & in a goodly garden, at the Castle where the Lady was kept: on the morrow morning, attended on by a small train, away they rode to dine with her.

_Constantine_ being seated at the Table, he began (as one confounded with admiration) to observe her judiciously, affirming secretly to his soule that he had never seene so compleat a woman before; and allowing it for justice, that the Duke, or any other whosoever, if (to enjoy so rare a beauty) they had committed treason, or any mischiefe else beside, yet in reason they ought to be held excused. Nor did he bestow so many lookes upon her, but his prayses infinitely surpassed them, as thinking that he could not sufficiently commend her, following the Duke step by step in affection: for being now growne amorous of her, and remembrance of the intended warre utterly abandoned; no other thoughts could come neerer him, but how to bereave the Duke of her, yet concealing his love, and not imparting it to any one.

While his fancies were thus amorously set on fire, the time came, that they must make head against the Prince, who already was marching within the Dukes Dominions: wherefore the Duke _Constantine_ and all the rest, according to a counsell held among them, went to defend certaine of the frontiers, to the end that the Prince might passe no further. Remaining there divers dayes together, _Constantine_, who could thinke on nothing else, but the beautifull Lady, considered with himselfe, that while the Duke was now so far off from her, it was an easie matter to compasse his intent: hereupon, the better to colour his present returne to _Athens_, he seemed to be surprized with a sudden extreame sicknesse, in regard whereof (by the Dukes free lisence, and leaving all his power to his Cousen _Emanuel_) forthwith he journeyed backe to _Athens_. After some conference had with his sister, concerning her dishonourable wrongs endured at his hands only by the Lady: he solemnly protested, that if shee were so pleased, he would aide her powerfully in the matter, by taking her from the place where she was, and never more afterward, to be seene in that Countrey any more.

The Dutchesse being faithfully perswaded, that he would doe this onely for her sake, and not in any affection he bare to the Lady, made answer that it highly pleased her; alwayes provided, that it might be performed in such sort, as the Duke her Husband should never understand, that ever shee gave any consent thereto, which _Constantine_ sware unto her by many deep oathes, whereby she referred all to his owne disposition. _Constantine_ hereupon secretly prepared in readinesse a subtill Barke, sending it (in an evening) neere to the garden where the Lady resorted; having first informed the people which were in it, fully in the businesse that was to be done. Afterward, accompanied with some other of his attendants, hee went to the Palace to the Lady, where he was gladly entertained, not only by such as waited on her, but also by the Lady her selfe.

Leading her along by the arme towards the Garden, attended on by two of her servants, and two of his owne, seeming as if he was sent from the Duke, to conferre with her: they walked alone to a Port opening on the Sea, which standing ready open, upon a signe given by him to one of his complices, the Barke was brought close to the shore, and the Lady being suddenly seized on, was immediately conveyed into it; and he returning backe to her people, with his sword drawne in his hand, saide: Let no man stirre, or speake a word, except he be willing to loose his life: for I intend not to rob the Duke of his faire friend, but to expel the shame and dishonour which he hath offered to my Sister, no one being so hardy as to returne him any answer. Aboard went _Constantine_ with his consorts, and sitting neer to the Lady, who wrung her hands, and wept bitterly; he commanded the Marriners to launch forth, flying away on the wings of the wind, till about the breake of day following, they arrived at _Melasso_. There they tooke landing, and reposed on shore for some few dayes, _Constantine_ labouring to comfort the Lady, even as if shee had been his owne Sister, shee having good cause to curse her infortunate beauty.

Going aboard the Barke againe, within few dayes they came to _Setalia_, and there fearing the reprehension of his Father, and least the Ladie should be taken from him; it pleased _Constantine_ to make his stay, as in a place of no meane security. And (as before) after much kinde behaviour used towards the Lady, without any meanes in her selfe to redresse the least of all these great extremities: shee became more milde and affable, for discontentment did not a jot quaile her.

While occurrences passed on in this manner, it fortuned, that _Osbech_ the King of _Turky_ (who was in continuall war with the Emperour) came by accident to _Laiazzo_: and hearing there how lasciviously _Constantine_ spent his time in _Setalia_, with a Lady which he had stolne, being but weake and slenderly guarded; in the night with certaine well provided ships, his men & he entred the Towne, & surprized many people in their beds, before they knew of their enemies comming, killing such as stood upon their defence against them, (among whom was _Constantine_) and burning the whole Towne, brought their booty and prisoners aboard their ships, wherewith they returned backe to _Laiazzo_. Being thus come to _Laiazzo, Osbech_, who was a brave and gallant young man, upon a review of the pillage; found the faire Lady, whom hee knew to be the beloved of _Constantine_, because shee was found lying on his bed. Without any further delay, he made choyse of her to be his Wife; causing his nuptials to be honourably sollemnized, and many moneths hee lived there in great joy with her.

But before occasions grew to this effect, the Emperour made a confederacy with _Bassano_, King of _Cappadocia_, that hee should descend with his forces; one way upon _Osbech_, and hee would assault him with his power on the other. But he could not so conveniently bring this to passe, because the Emperour would not yeeld to _Bassano_, in any unreasonable matter he demanded. Neverthelesse, when he understood what had happened to his Son (for whom his griefe was beyond all measure) he granted the King of _Cappadociaes_ request, solliciting him with all instancy, to be the more speedy in assailing _Osbech_. It was not long, before hee heard of this conjuration made against him; and therefore speedily mustered up all his forces, ere he would be encompassed by two such potent Kings, and marched on to meete the King of _Cappadocia_, leaving his Lady and Wife, (for her safety) at _Laiazzo_, in the custodie of a true and loyall servant of his.

Within a short while after, he drew neere the Campe belonging to the King of _Cappadocia_, where boldly he gave him battell; chancing therein to be slaine, his Army broken and discomfited, by meanes whereof the King of _Cappadocia_ remaining Conquerour, marched on towards _Laiazzo_, every one yeelding him obeysance all the way as he went. In the meane space, the servant to _Osbech_, who was named _Antiochus_, and with whom the faire Lady was left in guard; although hee was aged, yet seeing shee was so extraordinarily beautifull, he fell in love with her, forgetting the sollemne vowes he had made to his Master. One happinesse hee had in this case to helpe him, namely, that he understood and could speake her language, a matter of no meane comfort to her; who constrainedly had lived divers yeeres together, in the state of a deafe or dumbe woman, because every where else they understood her not, nor shee them, but by shewes and signes.

This benefit of familiar conference, beganne to embolden his hopes, elevate his courage, and make him seeme more youthfull in his owne opinion, then any ability of body could speake unto him, or promise him in the possession of her, who was so farre beyond him, and so unequall to be enjoyed by him; yet to advance his hopes a great deale higher, newes came, that _Osbech_ was vanquished and slaine, and that _Bassano_ made everie where havocke of all: whereon they concluded together, not to tarrie there any longer, but storing themselves with the goods of _Osbech_, secretly they departed thence to _Rhodes_. Being seated there in some indifferent abiding, it came to passe, that _Antiochus_ fell into a deadly sicknesse, to whom came a _Cyprian_ Merchant, one much esteemed by him, as being an intimate friend and kinde acquaintance, and in whom hee reposed no small confidence. Feeling his sicknesse to encrease more and more upon him dayly, hee determined, not onely to leave such wealth as hee had to this Merchant, but the faire Lady likewise; and calling them both to his beds side, he brake his minde unto them in this manner.

Deare Love, and my most worthily respected friend, I perceive plainly and infallibly, that I am drawing neere unto my end, which much discontenteth me; because my hope was, to have lived longer in this world, for the enjoying of your kinde and most esteemed company. Yet one thing maketh my death very pleasing and welcome to me, namely, that lying thus in my bed of latest comfort in this life: I shall expire and finish my course, in the armes of those two persons, whom I most affected in all this world, as you my ever dearest friend, and you faire Lady, whom (since the very first sight of you) I loved and honoured in my soule. Irksome and very grievous it is to me, that (if I dye) I shall leave you here a stranger, without the counsaile and helpe of any body: and yet much more offensive would it become, if I had not such a friend as you here present, who I am faithfully perswaded, will have the like care and respect of her (even for my sake) as of myselfe, if time had allotted my longer tarying here. And therefore (worthy friend) most earnestly I desire you, that if I dye, all mine affaires and she may remaine to your trusty care, as being (by my selfe) absolutely commended to your providence, and so to dispose both of the one and other, as may best agree with the comfort of my soule. As for you (choise beauty) I humbly entreate, that after my death you would not forget mee, to the end, I may make my vaunt in another world, that I was affected here, by the onely fairest Lady that ever Nature framed. If of these two things you will give me assurance; I shall depart from you with no meane comfort.

The friendly Merchant, and likewise the Lady, hearing these words, wept both bitterly, and after hee had given over speaking: kindly they comforted him, with promise and solemne vowes, that if hee dyed, all should be performed which he had requested. Within a short while after, he departed out of this life, and they gave him very honourable buriall, according to that Country custome. Which being done, the Merchant dispatching all his affaires at _Rhodes_, was desirous to returne home to _Cyprus_, in a Carrack of the Catelans then there being: moving the Lady in the matter, to understand how shee stood enclined, because urgent occasions called him thence to _Cyprus_. The Lady made answere, that she was willing to passe thither with him, hoping for the love hee bare to deceased _Antiochus_, that he would respect her as his Sister. The Merchant was willing to give her any contentment, but yet resolved her, that under the title of being his Sister, it would be no warrant of security to them both; wherefore hee rather advised her, to stile him as her husband, and hee would terme her his wife, and so hee should be sure to defend her from all injuries whatsoever.

Being abord the Carrack, they had a Cabine and small bed conveniently allowed them, where they slept together, that they might the better be reputed as man and wife; for, to passe otherwise, would have beene very dangerous to them both. And questionlesse, their faithfull promise made at _Rhodes_ to _Antiochus_, sicknesse on the Sea, and mutuall respect they had of each others credit, was a constant restraint to all wanton desires, and a motive rather to incite chastity, then otherwise, and so (I hope) you are perswaded of them. But howsoever, the windes blewe merrily, the Carrack sayled lustily, and (by this time) they are arrived at _Baffa_, where the _Cyprian_ Merchant dwelt, and where shee continued a long while with him, no one knowing otherwise, but that shee was his wife indeede.