Chapter XIV: Part 14

There dwelt sometime in _Florence_, one who was generally called by the name of _Guiotto_, a man being the greatest Gourmand, and grossest feeder, as ever was seene in any Countrey, all his meanes & procurements meerly unable to maintaine expences for filling his belly. But otherwise he was of sufficient and commendable carriage, fairely demeaned, and well discoursing on any argument: yet, not as a curious and spruce Courtier, but rather a frequenter of rich mens Tables, where choice of good cheere is sildome wanting, & such should have his company, albeit not invited, yet (like a bold intruder) he had the courage to bid himselfe welcome.

At the same time, and in our City of _Florence_ also, there was another man, named _Blondello_, very low of stature; yet comly formed, quicke witted, more neat and brisk then a Butter flye, alwaies wearing a wrought silke cap on his head, and not a haire staring out of order, but the tuft flourishing above the forehead, and he such another trencher-fly for the table, as our forenamed _Guiotto_ was. It so fel out on a morning in the Lent time, that hee went into the Fish-market, where he bought two goodly Lampreyes, for _Messer Viero de Cherchi_, and was espied by _Guiotto_, who (comming to _Blondello_) said. What is the meaning of this cost, and for whom is it? Whereto _Blondello_ thus answered. Yesternight, three other Lampries, far fairer and fatter then these, and a whole Sturgeon, were sent unto _Messer Corso Donati_, and being not sufficient to feede divers Gentlemen, whom hee hath invited this day to dine with him, hee caused me to buy these two beside: Doest not thou intend to make one among them? Yes I warrant thee, replied _Guiotto_, thou knowst I can invite my selfe thither, without any other bidding.

So parting; about the houre of dinner time, _Guiotto_ went to the house of the saide _Messer Corso_, whom he found sitting and talking with certain of his neighbours, but dinner was not (as yet) ready, neither were they come thither to dinner. _Messer Corso_ demaunded of _Guiotto_, what newes with him, and whither he went? Why Sir (said _Guiotto_) I come to dine with you, and your good company. Whereto _Messer Corso_ answered, That he was welcome, & his other friends being gone, dinner was served in, none els thereat present but _Messer Corso_ and _Guiotto_: al the diet being a poore dish of Pease, a little piece of Tunny, & a few small dishes fried, without any other dishes to follow after. _Guiotto_ seeing no better fare, but being disapointed of his expectation, as longing to feed on the Lampries and Sturgeon, and so to have made a full dinner indeed: was of a quick apprehension, & apparantly perceived, that _Blondello_ had meerly guld him in a knavery, which did not a little vex him, and made him vow to be revenged on _Blondello_, as he could compasse occasion afterward.

Before many daies were past, it was his fortune to meete with _Blondello_, who having told this jest to divers of his friends, and much good merriment made thereat: he saluted _Guiotto_ in ceremonious manner, saying. How didst thou like the fat Lampreyes and Sturgeon, which thou fedst on at the house of _Messer Corso Donati_? Wel Sir (answered _Guiotto_) perhaps before eight dayes passe over my head, thou shalt meet with as pleasing a dinner as I did. So, parting away from _Blondello_, he met with a Porter or burthen-bearer, such as are usually sent on errands; and hyring him to deliver a message for him, gave him a glasse bottle, and bringing him neere to the Hal-house of _Cavicciuli_, shewed him there a knight, called _Signior Phillippo Argenti_, a man of huge stature, stout, strong, vainglorious, fierce and sooner mooved to anger then any other man. To him (quoth _Guiotto_) thou must go with this bottle in thy hand, and say thus to him. Sir, _Blondello_ sent me to you, and courteously entreateth you, that you would enrubinate this glasse bottle with your best Claret Wine; because he would make merry with a few friends of his. But beware he lay no hand on thee, because he may bee easily induced to misuse thee, and so my businesse be disappointed. Well Sir replied the Porter, shall I say any thing else unto him? No (quoth _Guiotto_) only go and deliver this message, and when thou art returned, Ile pay thee for thy paines.

The Porter being gone to the house, delivered his message to the knight, who being a man of no great civill breeding, but furious, rash, and inconsiderate: presently conceived, that _Blondello_ (whom he knew well enough) sent this message in meere mockage of him, and starting up with fiery lookes, said: What enrubination of Claret should I send him? and what have I to do with him, or his drunken friends? Let him and thee go hang your selves together. So he stept to catch hold on the Porter, but he (being well warnd before) was quicke and nimble, and escaping from him, returned backe to _Guiotto_ (who observed all) and told him the answer of Signior _Phillippo. Guiotto_ not a little contented, paied the Porter, and taried not in any place till he met with _Blondello_, to whom he said. When wast thou at the Hall of _Cavicciuli_? Not a long while, answerd _Blondello_, but why dost thou demand such a question? Because (quoth _Guiotto_) Signior _Phillippo_ hath sought about for thee, yet knowe not I what he would have with thee. Is it so? replied _Blondello_, then I will walke thither presently, to understand his pleasure.

When _Blondello_ was thus parted from him, _Guiotto_ folowed not farre off behind him, to behold the issue of this angry businesse; and Signior _Phillippo_, because he could not catch the Porter, continued much distempred, fretting and fuming, in regard he could not comprehend the meaning of the Porters message: but onely surmized, that _Blondello_ (by the procurement of some body else) had done this in scorne of him. While he remained thus deeply discontented, he espied _Blondello_ comming towards him, and meeting him by the way, he stept close to him, and gave him a cruell blow on the face, causing his nose to fall out a bleeding. Alas Sir, said _Blondello_, wherefore do you strike me? Signior _Phillippo_, catching him by the haire of the head, trampled his wrought night-cap in the dirt, & his cloke also; when, laying many violent blowes on him, he said. Villanous Traitor as thou art, Ile teach thee what it is to enrubinate with Claret, either thy selfe, or any of thy cupping companions: Am I a child, to be jested withall?

Nor was he more furious in words, then in strokes also, beating him about the face, hardly leaving any haire on his head, and dragging him along in the mire, spoyling all his garments, and he not able (from the first blow given) to speake a word in defence of himselfe. In the end, Signior _Phillippo_ having extreamly beaten him, and many people gathering about them, to succour a man so much misused, the matter was at large related, and manner of the message sending. For which, they all present, did greatly reprehend _Blondello_, considering he knew what kinde of man _Phillippo_ was, not any way to be jested withall. _Blondello_ in teares constantly maintained, that he never sent any such message for wine, or intended it in the least degree: so, when the tempest was more mildly calmed, and _Blondello_ (thus cruelly beaten and durtied) had gotten home to his owne house, he could then remember, that (questionles) this was occasioned by _Guiotto_.

After some few dayes were passed over, and the hurts in his face indifferently cured; _Blondello_ beginning to walke abroade againe, chanced to meet with _Guiotto_: who laughing heartily at him, sayde. Tell me _Blondello_, how doost thou like the enrubinating Clarret of Signior _Phillippo_? As well (quoth _Blondello_) as thou didst the Sturgeon and Lampreyes at _Messer Corso Donaties_. Why then (sayde _Guiotto_) let these two tokens continue familiar betweene thee and me, when thou wouldst bestow such another dinner on mee, then will I enrubinate thy nose with a bottle of the same Claret. But _Blondello_ perceived (to his cost) that hee had met with the worser bargaine, and _Guiotto_ got cheare, without any blowes: and therefore desired a peacefull attonement, each of them (alwayes after) abstaining from flouting one another.

_Two yong Gentlemen, the one named_ Melisso, _borne in the City of_ Laiazzo: _and the other_ Giosefo _of_ Antioche, _travailed together unto_ Salomon, _the famous King of_ Great Britaine. _The one desiring to learne what he should do, whereby to compasse and winne the love of men. The other craved to be enstructed, by what meanes hee might reclaime an headstrong and unruly wife. And what answeres the wise King gave unto them both, before they departed away from him._

The Ninth Novell.

_Containing an excellent admonition, that such as covet to have the love of other men, must first learne themselves, how to love: Also, by what meanes such women as are curst and self-willed, may be reduced to civill obedience._

Upon the conclusion of Madame _Laurettaes_ Novell, none now remained to succeede next in order, but onely the Queene her selfe, the priviledge reserved, granted to _Dioneus_; wherefore, after they had all smiled at the folly of _Blondello_, with a chearfull countenance thus the Queene began.

Honourable Ladies, if with advised judgement, we do duly consider the order of all things, we shall very easily perceyve, That the whole universall multiplicitie of Women, by Nature, custome, and lawes, are & ought to be subject to men, yea, and to be governd by their discretion. Because every one desiring to enjoy peace, repose and comfort with them, under whose charge they are; ought to be humble, patient and obedient, over and beside her spotlesse honesty, which is the crowne and honour of every good woman. And although those lawes, which respect the common good of all things, or rather use & custome (as our wonted saying is) the powers whereof are very great, and worthy to be referenced, should not make us wise in this case. Yet Nature hath given us a sufficient demonstration, in creating our bodies more soft and delicate, yea, and our hearts timorous, fearefull, benigne and compassionable, our strength feeble, our voyces pleasing, and the motion of our members sweetly plyant; all which are apparant testimonies, that wee have neede of others government.

Now, it is not to be denyed, that whosoever hath need of helpe, and is to bee governed: meerely reason commandeth, that they should bee subject and obedient to their governour. Who then should we have for our helps and governours, if not men? Wherefore, we should be intirely subject to them, in giving them due honour and reverence, and such a one as shall depart from this rule: she (in mine opinion) is not onely worthy of grievous reprehension, but also severe chastisement beside. And to this exact consideration (over and above divers other important reasons) I am the rather induced, by the Novel which Madame _Pampinea_ so lately reported, concerning the froward and wilfull wife of _Talano_, who had a heavier punishment inflicted on her, then her Husband could devise to doe. And therefore it is my peremptory sentence, that all such women as will not be gracious, benigne and pleasing: doe justly deserve (as I have already said) rude, rough and harsh handling, as both nature, custome and lawes have commanded.

To make good what I have said, I will declare unto you the counsell & advise, given by _Salomon_, the wise and famous King of Great Britaine, as a most wholesome and soveraigne medicine for the cure of such a dangerous disease, in any woman so fouly infected. Which counsell (notwithstanding) all such women as have no need of this Phisicke, I would not have them to imagine, that it was meant for them, albeit men have a common Proverbe, to wit.

_As the good horse and bad horse, doe both need the spurre.
So a good wife and bad wife, a wand will make stirre._

Which saying, whosoever doth interpret it in such pleasing manner as they ought, shall find it (as you al will affirm no lesse) to be very true: especially in the morall meaning, it is beyond all contradiction. Women are naturally all unstable, and easily enclining to misgovernment; wherefore to correct the iniquity of such a distemperature in them that out-step the tearmes and bounds of womanhood, a wand hath been allowed for especiall phisicke. As in the like manner, for support of vertue, in those of contrary condition, shaming to be sullyed with so grosse a sinne: the correcting Wand may serve as a walking staffe, to protect them from all other feares. But, forbearing to teach any longer; let mee proceed to my purpose, and tell you my Novell.

In those ancient and reverend dayes, whereof I am now to speake, the high renowne and admirable wisedome of _Salomon_, King of Great Brittain, was most famous throughout all parts of the world; for answering all doubtfull questions and demaunds whatsoever, that possibly could be propounded to him. So that many resorted to him, from the most remote and furthest off countreyes, to heare his miraculous knowledge and experience, yea, and to crave his counsell, in matters of greatest importance. Among the rest of them which repaired thither, was a rich yong Gentleman, honourably descended, named _Melisso_, who came from the City of _Laiazzo_, where he was both borne, and dwelt.

In his riding towards _France_, as he passed by _Naples_, hee overtooke another yong Gentleman, a native of _Antioch_, and named _Giosefo_, whose journey lay the same way as the others did. Having ridden in company some few dayes together, as it is a custome commonly observed among Travellers, to understand one anothers Countrey and condition, as also to what part his occasions call him: so happened it with them, _Giosefo_ directly telling him, that he journyed towards the wise King _Salomon_, to desire his advise what meanes he should observe, in the reclaiming of a wilfull wife, the most froward and selfe-willed woman that ever lived; whom neither faire perswasions, nor gentle courtesies could in any manner prevaile withall. Afterward he demaunded of _Melisso_, to know the occasion of his travell, and whither.

Now trust me Sir, answered _Melisso_, I am a native of _Laiazzo_, and as you are vexed with one great misfortune, even so am I offended with another. I am young, wealthy, well derived by birth, and allow liberall expences, for maintaining a worthy table in my house, without distinguishing persons by their rancke and quality, but make it free for all commers, both of the city, & all places els. Notwithstanding all which bounty and honourable entertainement, I cannot meet with any man that loveth me. In which respect, I journey to the same place as you doe, to crave the counsell of so wise a King, what I should doe, whereby I might procure men to love me. Thus like two well-met friendly companions, they rode on together, untill they arrived in Great Britaine, where, by meanes of the Noble Barons attending on the King; they were brought before him. _Melisso_ delivered his minde in very few words, whereto the King made no other answere, but this: Learne to love. Which was no sooner spoken, but _Melisso_ was dismissed from the Kings presence.

_Giosefo_ also relating, wherefore he came thither; the King replyed onely thus; Goe to the Goose Bridge: and presently _Giosefo_ had also his dismission from the King. Comming forth, he found _Melisso_ attending for him, and revealed in what manner the King had answered him: whereupon, they consulted together, concerning both their answeres, which seemed either to exceed their comprehension, or else was delivered them in meere mockery, and therefore (more then halfe discontented) they returned homeward againe.

After they had ridden on a few dayes together, they came to a River, over which was a goodly Bridge, and because a great company of Horses and Mules (heavily laden, and after the manner of a _Caravan_ of Camels in _Egypt_) were first to passe over the saide Bridge; they gladly stayed to permit their passe. The greater number of them being already past over, there was one shie and skittish Mule (belike subject to fearefull starting, as oftentimes we see horses have the like ill quality) that would not passe over the Bridge by any meanes, wherefore one of the Muletters tooke a good Cudgell, and smote her at the first gently, as hoping so to procure her passage. Notwithstanding, starting one while backeward, then againe forward, side-wayes, and every way indeed, but the direct Road way she would not goe.

Now grew the Muletter extreamely angry, giving her many cruell stroakes, on the head, sides, flancks and all parts else, but yet they proved to no purpose, which _Melisso_ and _Giosefo_ seeing, and being (by this meanes) hindred of their passage, they called to the Muletter, saying. Foolish fellow, what doest thou? Intendest thou to kill the Mule? why dost thou not leade her gently, which is the likelier course to prevaile by, then beating and misusing her as thou dost? Content your selves Gentlemen (answered the Muletter) you know your horses qualities, as I doe my Mules, let mee deale with her as I please. Having thus spoken, he gave her so many violent strokes, on head, sides, hippes, and every where else, as made her at last passe over the Bridge quietly, so that the Muletter wonne the Mastery of his Mule.

When _Melisso_ and _Giosefo_ had past over the Bridge, where they intended to part each from other; a sudden motion happened into the minde of _Melisso_, which caused him to demaund of an aged man (who sate craving almes of Passengers at the Bridge foot) how the Bridge was called: Sir, answered the old man, this is called, The Goose Bridge. Which words when _Giosefo_ heard, hee called to minde the saying of King _Salomon_, and therefore immediately saide to _Melisso_. Worthy friend, and partner in my travell, I dare now assure you, that the counsell given me by King _Salomon_, may fall out most effectuall and true: For I plainely perceive, that I knew not how to handle my selfe-will'd-wife, untill the Muletter did instruct me. So, requesting still to enjoy the others Company, they journeyed on, till at the length they came to _Laiazzo_, where _Giosefo_ retained _Melisso_ still with him, for some repose after so long a journey, and entertained him with very honourable respect and courtesie.

One day _Giosefo_ said to his Wife: Woman, this Gentleman is my intimate friend, and hath borne me company in all my travell: such dyet therefore as thou wilt welcome him withall, I would have it ordered (in dressing) according to his direction. _Melisso_ perceiving that _Giosefo_ would needs have it to be so; in few words directed her such a course, as (for ever) might be to her Husbands contentment. But she, not altring a jote from her former disposition, but rather farre more froward and tempestuous: delighted to vexe and crosse him, doing every thing, quite contrary to the order appointed. Which _Giosefo_ observing, angerly he said unto her. Was it not tolde you by my friend, in what manner he would have our Supper drest? She turning fiercely to him, replyed. Am I to be directed by him or thee? Supper must and shall bee drest as I will have it: if it pleaseth mee, I care not who doth dislike it; if thou wouldst have it otherwise, goe seeke both your Suppers where you may have it.

_Melisso_ marvelling at her froward answere, rebuked her for it in very kind manner: whereupon, _Giosefo_ spake thus to her. I perceive wife, you are the same woman as you were wount to be: but beleeve me on my word, I shall quite alter you from this curst complexion. So turning to _Melisso_, thus he proceeded. Noble friend, we shall try anone, whether the counsell of King _Salomon_ bee effectuall, or no; and I pray you, let it not be offensive to you to see it; but rather hold all to be done in merriment. And because I would not be hindered by you, doe but remember the answere which the Muletter gave us, when we tooke compassion on his Mule. Worthy friend, replyed _Melisso_, I am in your owne house, where I purpose not to impeach whatsoever you doe.

_Giosefo_, having provided a good Holly-wand, went into the Chamber, where his wife sate railing, and despitefully grumbling, where taking her by the haire of her head, he threw her at his feete, beating her entreamely with the wand. She crying, then cursing, next railing, lastly fighting, biting and scratching, when she felt the cruell smart of the blowes, and that all her resistance served to no end: then she fell on her knees before him, and desired mercy for charities sake. _Giosefo_ fought still more and more on head, armes, shoulders, sides, and all parts else, pretending as if he heard not her complaints, but wearied himselfe wel neere out of breath: so that (to be briefe) she that never felt his fingers before, perceived and confessed, it was now too soone. This being done, hee returned to _Melisso_, and said: To morrow we shall see a miracle, and how availeable the councell is of going to the Goose Bridge. So sitting a while together, after they had washed their hands, and supt, they withdrew to their lodgings.

The poore beaten woman, could hardly raise her selfe from the ground, which yet (with much adoe) she did, and threw her selfe upon the bed, where she tooke such rest as she could: but arising early the next morning, she came to her Husband, and making him a very low courtesie, demaunded what hee pleased to have for his dinner; he smiling heartely thereat, with _Melisso_, tolde her his mind. And when dinner time came, every thing was ready according to the direction given: in which regard, they highly commended the counsell, whereof they made such an harsh construction at the first.

Within a while after, _Melisso_ being gone from _Giosefo_, and returned home to his owne house: hee acquainted a wise and reverend man, with the answere which king _Salomon_ gave him, whereto hee received this reply. No better or truer advise could possibly be given you, for well you know, that you love not any man; but the bountiful banquets you bestow on them, is more in respect of your owne vaine-glory, then any kind affection you beare to them: Learne then to love men, as _Salomon_ advised, and you shall be beloved of them againe. Thus our unruly Wife became mildely reclaimed, and the yong Gentleman, by loving others, found the fruits of reciprocall affection.

John de Barolo, _at the instance and request of his Gossip_ Pietro da Trefanti, _made an enchantment, to have his wife become a Mule. And when it came to the fastening on of the taile; Gossip_ Pietro _by saying she should have no taile at all, spoyled the whole enchantment._

The Tenth Novell.

_In just reproofe of such foolish men, as will be governed by over-light beleefe._

This Novell reported by the Queene, caused a little murmuring among the Ladies, albeit the men laughed heartely thereat: but after they were all growne silent, _Dioneus_ began in this manner. Gracious Beauties, among many white Doves, one blacke Crow will seeme more sightly, then the very whitest Swanne can doe. In like manner, among a multitude of wise men, sometimes one of much lesse wisedome and discretion, shall not onely increase the splendour and Majestie of their maturity, but also give an addition of delight and solace.

In which regard, you all being modest and discreet Ladies, and my selfe more much defective in braine, then otherwise able: in making your vertues shine gloriously, through the evident apparance of mine owne weakenesse, you should esteeme the better of mee, by how much I seeme the more cloudy and obscure. And consequently, I ought to have the larger scope of liberty, by plainely expressing what I am, and be the more patiently endured by you all, in saying what absurdly I shall; then I should be if my speeches favoured of absolute wisdome. I will therefore tell you a Tale, which shall not be of any great length, whereby you may comprehend, how carefully such things should be observed, which are commanded by them, as can effect matters by the power of enchantment, and how little delayance also ought to be in such, as would not have an enchantment so be hindered.

About a yeare already past since, there dwelt at _Barletta_, an honest man, called _John de Barolo_, who because he was of poore condition; for maintenance in his contented estate, provided himselfe of a Mule, to carry commodities from place to place, where Faires and Markets were in request, but most especially to _Apuglia_, buying and selling in the nature of a petty Chapman. Travelling thus thorow the Countreyes, he grew into great and familiar acquaintance, with one who named himselfe _Pietro da Trefanti_, following the same Trade of life as he did, carrying his commodities upon an Asse. In signe of amitie, according to the Countreyes custome, he never tearmed him otherwise, then by the name of Gossip _Pietro_ and alwayes when he came to _Barletta_, he brought him to his own house, taking it as his Inne, entreating him very friendly, and in the best manner he could devise to doe. On the other side, Gossip _Pietro_ being very poore, having but one simple habitation in the village of _Trefanti_, hardly sufficient for him, and an handsome young woman which he had to his wife, as also his Asse: evermore when _John de Barolo_ came to _Trefanti_, he would bring him to his poore abiding, with all his uttermost abilitie of entertainement, in due acknowledgement of the courtesie he afforded to him at _Barletta_. But when he came to take repose in the night-season, Gossip _Pietro_ could not lodge him as gladly he would: because he had but one silly bed, wherein himselfe and his wife lay; so that _John de Barolo_ was faigne to lie on a little straw, in a small stable, close adjoyning by his owne Mule and the Asse.

The woman understanding, what good and honest welcome, Gossip _John_ afforded her husband, when he came to _Barletta_, was often very willing to goe lodge with an honest neighbour of hers, called _Carapresa di Giudice Leo_, because the two Gossips might both lie together in one bed; wherewith divers times she acquainted her Husband, but by no meanes he would admit it.

At one time among the rest, as she was making the same motion againe to her Husband, that his friend might be lodged in better manner: Gossip _John_ thus spake to her. Good _Zita Carapresa_, never molest your selfe for me, because I lodge to mine owne contentment, and so much the rather, in regard that whensoever I list: I can convert my Mule into a faire young woman, to give mee much delight in the night-season, and afterward make her a Mule againe: thus am I never without her company.

The young woman wondring at these words, and beleeving he did not fable in them: she told them to her Husband, with this addition beside, _Pietro_ (quoth she) if he be such a deare friend to thee, as thou hast often avouched to me; with him to instruct thee in so rare a cunning, that thou maist make a Mule of me; then shalt thou have both an Asse and a Mule to travell withall about thy businesse, whereby thy benefit will be double: and when we returne home to our house; then thou maist make mee thy wife againe, in the same condition as I was before. Gossip _Pietro_, who was (indeed) but a very Coxecombe; beleeved also the words to be true, yeelding therefore the more gladly to her advise; and moving the matter to his Gossip _John_, to teach him such a wonderfull secret, which would redound so greatly to his benefit: but _John_ began to disswade him from it, as having spoken it in merriment, yet perceiving, that no contradiction would serve to prevaile, thus he began.

Seeing you will needs have it so, let us rise to morrow morning before day, as in our travell we use to doe, and then I will shew you how it is to be done: onely I must and doe confesse, that the most difficult thing of all the rest, is, to fasten on the taile, as thou shalt see.

Gossip _Pietro_ and his wife, could hardly take any rest all the night long, so desirous they were to have the deed done; and therefore when it drew towards day, up they arose, and calling Gossip _John_, he came presently to them in his shirt, & being in the Chamber with them, he said. I know not any man in the world, to whom I would disclose this secret, but to you, and therefore because you so earnestly desire it, I am the more willing to doe it. Onely you must consent, to doe whatsoever I say, if you are desirous to have it done. Faithfully they promised to performe all, whereupon _John_ delivering a lighted Candle to Gossip _Pietro_, to hold in his hand, said. Marke well what I doe, and remember all the words I say: but be very carefull, that whatsoever thou hearest or seest, thou doe not speake one word, for then the enchantment will be utterly overthrowne, onely wish that the taile may be well set on, for therein consisteth all the cunning.

Gossip _Pietro_ holding the Candle, and the woman being prepared as _John_ had appointed her, she bowed her selfe forwardes with her hands set to the ground, even as if she stood upon foure feete. First with his hands he touched her head and face, saying, Heere is the goodly head of a Mule: then handling her disheveld haire, termed them the goodly mane of a Mule. Afterwardes, touching the body, armes, legs, and feete, gave them all the apt names (for those parts) belonging to a Mule, nothing else remaining, but onely the forming of the taile, which when _Pietro_ perceived, how _John_ was preparing to fasten it on (having no way misliked all his former proceeding) he called to him, saying: Forbeare Gossippe _John_, my Mule shall have no taile at all, I am contented to have her without a taile. How now Gossip _Pietro_? answered _John_, What hast thou done? Thou hast mard all by this unadvised speaking, even when the worke was almost fully finished. It is no matter Gossip (answered _Pietro_) I can like my Mule better without a taile, then to see it set on in such manner.

The fond yong woman, more covetously addicted to gayne and commodity, then looking into the knavish intention of her Gossip _John_; began to grow greatly offended. Beast as thou art (quoth she to her Husband) why hast thou overthrowne both thine own good Fortune and mine? Diddest thou ever see a Mule without a taile? Wouldst thou have had him made me a monster? Thou art wretchedly poore, and when we might have bin enriched for ever, by a secret knowne to none but our selves, thou art the Asse that hast defeated all, and made thy friend to become thine enemy. Gossippe _John_ began to pacifie the woman, with solemne protestations of his still continuing friendship, albeit (afterwards) there was no further desiring of any more Mule-making: but Gossip _Pietro_ fel to his former Trading onely with his Asse, as he was no lesse himselfe, and hee went no more with Gossip _John_ to the Faires in _Apuglia_, neyther did he ever request, to have the like peece of service done for him.

* * * * *

Although there was much laughing at this Novell, the Ladies understanding it better, then _Dioneus_ intended that they should have done, yet himselfe scarsely smiled. But the Novels being all ended, and the Sunne beginning to loose his heate; the Queene also knowing, that the full period of her government was come: dispossessing her selfe of the Crowne, shee placed it on the head of _Pamphilus_, who was the last of all to be honoured with this dignity; wherefore (with a gracious smile) thus she spake to him.

Sir, it is no meane charge which you are to undergo, in making amends (perhaps) for all the faults committed by my selfe and the rest, who have gone before you in the same authority; and, may it prove as prosperous unto you, as I was willing to create you our King. _Pamphilus_ having received the Honour with a chearfull mind, thus answered. Madam, your sacred vertues, and those (beside) remaining in my other Subjects, will (no doubt) worke so effectually for me, that (as the rest have done) I shall deserve your generall good opinion. And having given order to the Master of the Houshold (as all his predecessors had formerly done, for every necessary occasion) he turned to the Ladies, who expected his gracious favour, and said.

Bright Beauties, it was the discretion of your late Soveraigne & Queene, in regard of ease and recreation unto your tyred spirits, to grant you free liberty, for discoursing on whatsoever your selves best pleased: wherefore, having enjoyed such a time of rest, I am of opinion, that it is best to returne once more to our wonted Law, in which respect, I would have every one to speake in this manner to morrow. Namely, of those men or women, who have done any thing bountifully or magnificently, either in matter of amity, or otherwise. The relation of such worthy arguments, will (doubtlesse) give an addition to our very best desires, for a free and forward inclination to good actions, whereby our lives (how short soever they bee) may perpetuate an ever-living renowne and fame, after our mortall bodies are converted into dust, which (otherwise) are no better then those of bruite beasts, reason onely distinguishing this difference, that as they live to perish utterly, so we respire to reigne in eternity.

The Theame was exceedingly pleasing to the whole Company; who being all risen, by permission of the new King, every one fel to their wonted recreations, as best agreed with their owne disposition; untill the houre for Supper came, wherein they were served very sumptuously. But being risen from the Table, they began their dances, among which, many sweet Sonnets were enterlaced, with such delicate Tunes as moved admiration. Then the King commanded Madam _Neiphila_, to sing a song in his name, or how her selfe stood best affected. And immediatly with a cleare and rare voice, thus she began.

_THE SONG._

The Chorus sung by all the Companie.

_In the Spring season,
Maides have best reason,
To dance and sing;
With Chaplets of Flowers,
To decke up their Bowers,
And all in honour of the Spring._

_I heard a Nimph that sate alone,
By a Fountaines side:
Much her hard Fortune to bemone,
For still she cride:
Ah! Who will pitty her distresse,
That findes no foe like ficklenesse?
For truth lives not in men:
Poore soule, why live I then?
In the Spring season, &c._

_Oh, How can mighty Love permit,
Such a faithlesse deed,
And not in justice punish it
As treasons meed?
I am undone through perjury,
Although I loved constantly:
But truth lives not in men,
Poore soule, why live I then?
In the Spring season,&c._

_When I did follow Dyans traine,
As a loyall Maide,
I never felt oppressing paine,
Nor was dismaide.
But when I listened Loves alluring,
Then I wandred from assuring.
For truth lives not in men:
Poore soule, why live I then?
In the Spring season, &c._

_Adiew to all my former joyes,
When I lived at ease,
And welcome now those sad annoies
Which do most displease.
And let none pitty her distresse,
That fell not, but by ficklenesse.
For truth lives not in men,
Alas! why live I then?_

_In the Spring season,
Maides have best reason,
To dance and sing;
With Chaplets of Flowers,
To decke up their Bowers,
And all in honour of the Spring._

This Song, most sweetly sung by Madame _Neiphila_, was especially commended, both by the King, & all the rest of the Ladies. Which being fully finished, the King gave order, that everie one should repaire to their Chambers, because a great part of the night was already spent.

_The end of the Ninth Day._

The Tenth and last Day.

_Whereon, under the government of Pamphilus, the severall Arguments do concerne such persons, as either by way of Liberality, or in Magnificent manner, performed any worthy action, for love, favour, friendship, or any other honourable occasion._

The Induction.

Already began certaine small Clouds in the West, to blush with a Vermillion tincture, when those in the East (having reached to their full heighth) looked like bright burnished Gold, by splendour of the Sun beames drawing neere unto them: when _Pamphilus_ being risen, caused the Ladies, and the rest of his honourable companions to be called. When they were all assembled, and had concluded together on the place, whither they should walke for their mornings recreation: the King ledde on the way before, accompanied with the two Noble Ladies _Philomena_ and _Fiammetta_, all the rest following after them, devising, talking, and answering to divers demands both what that day was to be don, as also concerning the proposed imposition.

After they had walked an indifferent space of time, and found the rayes of the Sunne to be over-piercing for them: they returned backe againe to the Pallace, as fearing to have their blood immoderately heated. Then rinsing their Glasses in the coole cleare running current, each tooke their mornings draught, & then walked into the milde shades about the Garden, untill they should bee summoned to dinner. Which was no sooner over-past, and such as slept, returned waking: they mette together againe in their wonted place, according as the King had appointed, where he gave command unto Madame _Neiphila_, that shee should (for that day) begin the first Novell, which she humbly accepting, thus began.

_A Florentine knight, named Signior_ Rogiero de Figiovanni, _became a servant to_ Alphonso, _King of_ Spaine, _who (in his owne opinion) seemed but sleightly to respect and reward him. In regard whereof, by a notable experiment, the King gave him a manifest testimony, that it was not through any defect in him, but onely occasioned by the Knights ill fortune; most bountifully recompensing him afterward._

The First Novell.

_Wherein may evidently be discerned, that Servants to Princes and great Lords, are many times recompenced, rather by their good fortune, then in any regard of their dutifull services._

I doe accept it (Worthy Ladies) as no mean favour, that the King hath given me the first place, to speake of such an honourable Argument, as Bounty and Magnificence is, which precious Jewell, even as the Sunne is the beauty, or ornament and bright glory of al heaven; so is bounty and magnificence the Crowne of all vertues. I shall then recount to you a short Novell, sufficiently pleasing, in mine owne opinion, and I hope (so much I dare rely on your judgements) both profitable, and worthy to be remembred.

You are to know then, that among other valiant Knights, which of long have lived in our City, one of them, and (perhappes) of as great merit as any, was one, named Signior _Rogiero d'Figiovanni_. He being rich, of great courage, and perceiving, that (in due consideration) the quality belonging to life, and the customes observed among our _Tuscanes_, were not answerable to his expectation, nor agreed with the disposition of his valour; determined to leave his native Countrey, and belong in service (for some time) to _Alfonso_, King of _Spaine_, whose fame was generally noised in all places, for excelling all other Princes in those times, for respect of mens well deservings, and bountifull requitall of their paines. Being provided in honorable order, both of Horses, Armes, & a competent train, he travelled to _Spaine_, where he was worthily entertained.

Signior _Rogiero_ continuing there, living in honorable manner, and performing many admirable actions of arms; in short time he made himselfe sufficiently knowne, for a very valiant and famous man. And having remained there an indifferent long while, observing divers behaviours in the king: he saw, how he enclined himselfe first to one man, then to another, bestowing on one a Castle, a Towne on another, and Baronnies on divers, some-what indiscreetly, as giving away bountifully to men of no merit. And restraining all his favors from him, as seeming close fisted, and parting with nothing: he took it as a diminishing of his former reputation, and a great empayring of his fame, wherefore he resolved on his departure thence, & made his suit to the king that he might obtaine it. The king did grant it, bestowing on him one of the very best Mules, and the goodliest that ever was backt, a gift most highly pleasing to _Rogiero_, in regarde of the long journy he intended to ride. Which being deliverd, the king gave charge to one of his Gentlemen, to compasse such convenient meanes, as to ride thorow the country, and in the company of Signior _Rogiero_, yet in such manner, as he should not perceive, that the King had purposely sent him so to do. Respectively he should observe whatsoever he said concerning the king, his gesture, smiles, and other behavior, shaping his answers accordingly, and on the nexte morning to command his returne backe with him to the King.

Nor was the Gentleman slacke in this command, but noting _Rogieroes_ departing forth of the city, he mounted on horseback likewise, and immediatly after came into his company, making him beleeve, that he journied towards _Italy. Rogiero_ rode on the Mule which the king had given him, with diversity of speeches passing between them. About three of the clocke in the afternoone, the Gentleman said. It were not amisse Sir, (having such fit opportunitie) to Stable our horses for a while, till the heate be a little more overpast. So taking an Inne, and the horses being in the stable, they all staled except the Mule.

Being mounted againe, and riding on further, the Gentleman duely observed whatsoever _Rogiero_ spake, and comming to the passage of a small River or Brooke: the rest of the beasts dranke, and not the Mule, but staled in the River: which Signior _Rogiero_ seeing, clapping his hands on the Mules mane, hee said. What a wicked beast art thou? thou art just like thy Master that gave thee to mee. The Gentleman committed the words to memory, as he did many other passing from _Rogiero_, riding along the rest of the day, yet none in disparagement of the King, but rather highly in his commendation. And being the next morning mounted on horseback, seeming to hold on still the way for _Tuscane_: the Gentleman fulfilled the Kings command, causing Signior _Rogiero_ to turne back againe with him, which willingly he yeelded to doe.

When they were come to the Court, and the King made acquainted with the words, which _Rogiero_ spake to his Mule; he was called into the presence, where the King shewed him a gracious countenance, & demanded of him, why he had compared him to his Mule? Signior _Rogiero_ nothing daunted, but with a bold and constant spirit, thus answered. Sir, I made the comparison, because, like as you give, where there is no conveniency, and bestow nothing where reason requireth: even so, the Mule would not stale where she should have done, but where was water too much before, there she did it. Beleeve me Signior _Rogiero_, replyed the King, if I have not given you such gifts, as (perhaps) I have done to divers other, farre inferiour to you in honour and merit; this happened not thorough any ignorance in me, as not knowing you to be a most valiant Knight, and well-worthy of speciall respect: but rather through your owne ill fortune, which would not suffer me to doe it, whereof she is guilty, and not I, as the truth thereof shall make it selfe apparent to you. Sir, answered _Rogiero_, I complaine not, because I have received no gift from you, as desiring thereby covetously to become the richer: but in regard you have not as yet any way acknowledged, what vertue is remaining in me. Neverthelesse, I allow your excuse for good and reasonable, and am heartely contented, to behold whatsoever you please; although I doe confidently credit you, without any other testimony.

The King conducted him then into the great Hall, where (as hee had before given order) stood two great Chests, fast lockt; & in the presence of all his Lords, the King thus spake. Signior _Rogiero_, in out of these Chests is mine imperiall Crowne, the Scepter Royall, the Mound, & many more of my richest girdles, rings, plate, & Jewels, even the very best that are mine: the other is full of earth onely. Chuse one of these two, and which thou makest election of; upon my Royall word thou shalt enjoy it. Hereby shalt thou evidently perceive, who hath bin ingreatful to the deservings, either I, or thine owne bad fortune. _Rogiero_ seeing it was the kings pleasure to have it so; chose one of them, which the King caused presently to be opened, it approving to be the same that was full of earth, whereat the King smyling, said thus unto him.

You see Signior _Rogiero_, that what I said concerning your ill fortune, is very true: but questionlesse, your valour is of such desert, as I ought to oppose my selfe against all her malevolence. And because I know right, that you are not minded to become a Spaniard; I will give you neither Castle nor dwelling place: but I will bestow the Chest on you (in meer despight of your malicious fortune) which she so unjustly tooke away from you. Carry it home with you into your Countrey, that there it may make an apparant testimoney, in the sight of all your well-willers, both of your owne vertuous deservings, and my bounty. Signior _Rogiero_ humbly receiving the Chest, and thanking his Majestie for so liberall a gift, returned home joyfully therewith, into his native Countrey of _Tuscane_.

Ghinotto di Tacco; _tooke the Lord Abbot of_ Clugni _as his prisoner, and cured him of a grievous disease, which he had in his stomacke, and afterward set him at liberty. The same Lord Abbot, when hee returned from the Court of Rome, reconciled_ Ghinotto _to Pope_ Boniface; _who made him a Knight, and Lord Prior of a goodly Hospitall._

The second Novell.

_Wherein is declared that good men doe sometimes fall into bad conditions, onely occasioned thereto by necessity: And what meanes are to be used, for their reducing to goodnesse againe._

The magnificence and Royall bounty, which King _Alphonso_ bestowed on the Florentine knight, passed through the whole assembly with no mean applause; & the King (who gave it the greatest praise of al) commanded Madame _Eliza_, to take the second turne in order; whereupon, thus she began.

Faire Ladies, if a king shewed himselfe magnificently minded, and expressed his liberall bounty to such a man, as had done him good and honourable services: it can be termed no more then a vertuous deed well done, and becomming a King. But what will we say, when we heare that a Prelate of the Church, shewed himselfe wondrously magnificent, and to such a one as was his enemy: can any malicious tongue speake ill of him? Undoubtedly, no other answere is to be made, but the action of the King was meerely vertue, and that of the Prelate, no lesse then a miracle: for how can it be otherwise, when they are more greedily covetous then women, and deadly enemies to all liberality? And although every man (naturally) desireth revenge for injuries and abuses done unto him: yet men of the Church, in regard that dayly they preached patience, and commaund (above all things else) remission of sinnes: it would appeare a mighty blemish in them, to be more froward and furious then other men. But I am to speake of a reverend Prelate of the Church, as also concerning his munificent bounty, to one that was his enemy, and yet became his reconciled friend, as you shall perceive by my Novell.

_Ghinotto di Tacco_, for his insolent and stout robberies, became a man very farre famed, who being banished from _Sienna_, and an enemy to the Countes _Disanta Fiore_: prevailed so by his bold and headstrong perswasions, that the Towne of _Raticonfani_ rebelled against the Church of Rome, wherein he remaining; all passengers whatsoever, travelling any way thereabout, were robde and rifled by his theeving Companions. At the time whereof now I speake, _Boniface_ the eight, governed as Pope at Rome, and the Lord Abbot of _Clugni_ (accounted to be one of the richest Prelates in the world) came to Rome, and there either by some surfeit, excesse of feeding, or otherwise, his stomacke being grievously offended and pained; the Phisitians advised him, to travell to the Bathes at _Sienna_, where he should receive immediate cure. In which respect, his departure being licenced by the Pope, to set onward thither, with great and pompous Cariages, of Horses, Mules, and a goodly traine, without hearing any rumour of the theevish Consorts.

_Ghinotto di Tacco_, being advertised of his comming, spred about his scouts and nettes, and without missing so much as one Page, shut up the Abbot, with all his traine and baggage, in a place of narrow restraint, out of which he could by no meanes escape. When this was done, he sent one of his most sufficient attendants, (well accompanyed) to the Lord Abbot, who said to him in his Masters name, that if his Lordship were so pleased, hee might come and visite _Ghinotto_ at his Castle. Which the Abbot hearing, answered chollerickly, that he would not come thither, because hee had nothing to say to _Ghinotto_: but meant to proceed on in his journy, and would faine see, who durst presume to hinder his passe. To which rough words, the messenger thus mildely answered. My Lord (quoth he) you are arrived in such a place, where we feare no other force, but the all-controlling power of heaven, clearely exempted from the Popes thunder-cracks, of maledictions, interdictions, excommunications, or whatsoever else: and therefore it would bee much better for you, if you pleased to do as _Ghinotto_ adviseth you.

During the time of this their interparlance, the place was suddenly round ingirt with strongly armed theeves, and the Lord Abbot perceiving, that both he and all his followers were surprized: tooke his way (though very impatiently) towards the Castle, and likewise all his company and carriages with him. Being dismounted, hee was conducted (as _Ghinotto_ had appointed) all alone, into a small Chamber of the Castle, it being very darke and uneasie: but the rest of his traine, every one according to his ranck and quality, were all well lodged in the Castle, their horses, goods and all things else, delivered into secure keeping, without the least touch of injury or prejudice. All which being orderly done, _Ghinotto_ himselfe went to the Lord Abbot, and said. My Lord, _Ghinotto_, to whom you are a welcome guest, requesteth, that it might be your pleasure to tell him, whither you are travelling, and upon what occasion?

The Lord Abbot being a very wise man, and his angry distemper more moderately qualified; revealed whither he went, and the cause of his going thither. Which when _Ghinotto_ had heard, hee departed courteously from him, and began to consider with himselfe, how he might cure the Abbot; yet without any Bathe. So, commanding a good fire to be kept continually in his small Chamber, and very good attendance on him: the next morning, he came to visite him againe, bringing a faire white Napkin on his arme, and in it two slices or toasts of fine Manchet, a goodly cleare Glasse, full of the purest white-Bastard of _Corniglia_ (but indeed, of the Abbots owne provision brought thither with him) and then hee spoke to him in this manner.