Chapter XXXV: The King of Morocco (11)

In the countrie of Aquitane, there was sometime a Lord, whose lands and lordships laye betweene Lismosine and Poictou, and for the antiquitye of his house was renowmed both for bloude and wealth, amonges the chiefe of all the Countrie. Being allied in kindred wyth the best, hee had full accesse and fauour as well in the houses of the aunciente Dukes of Guienne, and Countes of Poictou, as in the Royall Courtes of the French kinges. This Lorde (whom Bandello the aucthour of this history affirmeth to be Signor de la Rocca Soarda, but the translatour and augmentor of the same in French called Francois de Belle Forest, leaueth out his name, for good respect as he alleageth) kept a great Court and liberal household, and singularlie delighted (after the maner of the French nobilitie) in huntinge and hawking. His house also was had in greater admiracion (the rudenes and ignoraunce of that tyme was such) because he had gotten beastes of straunge countries, cheflie Lions, wherein he had great pleasure aswell for the rarenesse of that beast in Fraunce, as for a certain generositie that he knew to be in the same, which resembled the magnanimitie and courage of noble men, whose minds and spirites doe not esteeme thinges that be vaine and cannot be affraide in doing of deedes, whereunto honour is offred for reward. This Lord maried a Ladie, the doughter of one of his neighbours, a woman worthie for such a husbande: whose beautie was so rare as there was none comparable vnto her: which the more increased for that shee was indued with perfite vertue, and furnished with so good behauiour as right good mindes and wittes should be occupied, naie rather put to their shiftes to decide, whether gifte were greatest, either the exquisite workemanshippe of her excelling beautie, or whether nature had imploied al her cunning, to frame a body to appeare before men miraculous, or els her honest porte, her good grace, curtesie and graue mildnes, accompanied with vertue, not vulgare or common to many men, which made this Ladie to shine like the glisteringe Planet of Mars, amonges other the wanderinge starres. In such wife as the very sauage and brute were forced with splendent fame, to praise her to be such a woman whose equall they neuer knew to be in all their Countrie, who made the house of her husband glorious and him a contented man, to beholde such a starre to lie by his side, which sufficed to illustrate and beautifie a whole countrie by her onely presence, and to nobilitate a race, althoughe the bloud of auncestours did faile, for the accomplishmente of their perfection. Such is the great force of vertue which not onely did aduaunce her aboue other creatures, but also did constraine the enuious to haue her in admiration. But these admiratours and praisers of vertue, doe not vse like indeuour for the merites of vertue, rather they imploie their onely industrie to gather some profite of vertue and then (followinge the nature of the dogge) they retourne to their vomite, and vomite forth their venime hidden in their serpent’s breast. As it came to passe and was euident in a certaine man, that was Stewarde of this nobleman’s house (truly a very happye house, as well for the honest loue betwene the Lord and the Lady, as for the vertue and clemency wherewith both the one and the other were accompanied) who in the beginninge, as honestie and dutie did require, was a louer of good maners and commendable demeanour of his Lady and maistresse, afterwardes (forgetting the fidelitie which he did owe vnto his Lorde, the nobilitie of his predecessours, and the perill of his owne life) began to loue her and serue her in harte, and to wishe for the fairest thing which outwardlye did appeare to be in her, where he oughte not so much as with the loke of his eye, to giue any atteint of liking, for the reuerence of him which was the right owner and iuste possessor of the same. This maister foole then, not measuring his forces, and lesse followinge the instincte of reason, became so amourous of his Madame, as continually he imagined by what meanes he mighte giue her to understand the paines and languores wherein he liued for the loue of her. But (alas) these deuises vanished, like a litle dispersed cloude at the rysinge of the Sunne: for thinking vppon the vertue of his maistresse, his desires were soner remoued from his hart, then he was able to impresse them in the seat of his iudgement, therby to take anye certaine assuraunce. Notwithstandinge his heade ceased not to builde Castels in the ayre, and made a promise to himselfe to enjoye her whom he worshipped in his hart. For he toke such paynes by his humble seruice, that in the ende he acquired some part of his Laydes good grace and fauour. And for that he durste not be so bolde to manifest vnto her the vehemence of his griefe, he was contented a long time to shew a counterfaict ioy, which raised vnto him a liuely spring of sorowes and displeasures, which ordinarily did frette and boyle his minde so muche: as the force of his weping for vaine hope, was able to suffocate the remnant of life, that rested in his tormented hart, which caused certaine litle brokes of teares to streame downe, assailing the minde of this foolishe Louer. This faire and chaste Ladie was so resolued in the loue of her husbande, that she toke no regarde of the countenaunces and foolishe fashiones of this maister Louer. Who seing his mishappe to growe to dispaire, and from thence foorthe no remedie, that whether by reioyse, well hoping of better lucke, or for sodaine and miserable death, he determined to proue Fortune: and to see if the water of his hope coulde finde any passage, stedfastlye determined that if he were throwen downe hedlong into the bottome of Refusal, and contempned for his seruice, not to retire againe, but rather further to plondge for the accelerating of the ruine of him self, and his desires: for he thought it impossible that his harte could indure more intollerable heate of that invisible fier, then it had felt alreadie, if he founde no meanes for the smoke to haue some vent and issue. For whiche consideration, cleane besides him selfe, bewitched with foolish Loue, like a beast throughly transformed into a thing, that had no sense of a a reasonable man (such as they be accustomably, that be inrolled in the muster bookes of Venus’ sonne) was purposed to open to the Ladie (when occasion serued) both the euill, and also the griefe that he susteined in bearing towarde her, so great and extreme affection. Behold here one of the effects of humane follie: this was the firste acte of the Tragedie, wherein loue maketh this brainlesse man to playe the first and principall parte vpon the Stage. This poore gentleman (otherwyse a good seruaunt, and carefull for the profite and honoure of his maister) is nowe so voyde of him selfe and blinde in vnderstanding as hee maketh no conscience to assaile her (to defraude her of her greatest vertue) the simple name of whom ought to haue made him tremble for feare, and to blushe for shame, rather then for her beautie sake and naturall curtesie, to dispoyle her of her honestie, and to attempte a thing vncertaine to winne and also more daungerous to practise. Nowe whiles he liued in the attemte of his hoped occasion, it chaunced that the Lady (thinking no malice at all) began to beholde the Stewarde with a better eie and looke more familier, then any of the gentlemen and domesticall seruauntes of the house, as well for the painted honestie of this Galant, as to se him so prompte and readie to obey her: and therefore vpon a daye as she walked in the Gallerie she called him vnto her, and verie familierly communicated certaine affaires touching the profite of the house. He that marched not but vpon one foote, and burned with Loue, and whose harte leapte for ioye, and daunced for gladnesse, thought that he had nowe obteined the toppe of his felicitie, and the whole effect of his desire: sodainly he cast away the dispaire of his former conceiptes, obiecting him selfe to the daunger wherin he was to bee ouerwhelmed, if the Ladie accepted not his request with good digestion. In the end, recouering force, he discoursed in minde this wicked opinion, wherwith foolish and wilfull fleshly louers doe blason and displaye the honour and chastitie of Ladies, when they make their vaunte that there is no woman, be she neuer so chaste, continente, or honest, but in the ende yeldeth, if she be throughly pursued. O, the wordes and opinion of a beast, rather then of a man knowing vertue. Is the nomber of chaste women so diminished that their renowme at this daye is like a Boate in the middes of some tempestious sea, whereunto the mariners do repaire to saue them selues? It is the only vertue of Ladies which doeth constraine them to vomite foorthe their poyson, when they see them selues deceiued, of their fonde and vncomely demaundes. A man shall neuer heare those woordes precede, but from the mouthes of the moste lasciuious, which delight in nothing els, but to corrupte the good names of Ladies, afterward to make them ridiculous to the worlde. Retourne we then to our purpose, this valiaunt souldier of loue, willing to geue the first onset vpon his swete enemie, began to waxe pale and to tremble like the Reede blowen with the wynde, and knoweth not in what part, or by what meanes, to bestowe the firste strokes of his assault. At length with foltring tongue and trembling voyce, he speaketh to his Ladie in this wyse. “Alas, madame, how happie were the course of our transitorie life, if the common passions received no increase of troubles, by newe and diuers accidents, which seme to take roote in vs, for the very great diminution of that libertie, which euery man doth studie so much to conserue. But truly that studie is vain, and the paine thereof vnprofitablie bestowed: for he inforceth him selfe to liue free from passion, which in the middes of his inforcement, feeleth him selfe to be violently constrained, and seeth the taking away of his libertie, to be a certaine impeachemente, whiche thereunto hee would geue. Alacke, I haue proued that mischiefe, and am yet in the greatest excesse and pangues of my disease. I fele (alas) a diuersitie of anguishes, and a sea of troubles, which tormente my minde, and yet I dare not discouer the cause, seing that the thing, which is the fountaine of my grief, to be of suche desert as my seruice paste, and all that is to come, is not able to geue the proofe, if one speciall grace and fauour, do not inlarge, the litle power that is in mee, to counteruaile the greatnesse, and perfection of that which thus doth variat and alter bothe my thoughtes and passions. Pardon mee (madame) if I doe speake obscurelye, for the confusion of my minde maketh my woordes correspondent to the qualitie of the same. Notwithstanding I wyll not kepe silente from you that whiche I doe suffer, and muche lesse dissemble what passion I indure, beyng assured for your vertue and gentlenes, that you (moued with compassion) will succour me so muche as shall lie in you, for preseruacion of the life of him that is the best and most obedient seruaunt amonges them all that do you humble seruice.” The Lady which neuer thought of the wickednesse which this insensate man began to imagine, aunswered him verye curteously: “I am sorie trulye for your mishap, and do marueile what should be the effect of that passion which as you say, you feele with such dimunicion of that which is perfect and accomplished in you: for I do see no cause that ought to moue you to so straunge infirmitie, whereof you told mee, and wherewith I had alreadie found fault although you had said nothing. I would to God I knew which way to helpe you, aswel for my lord my husbandes sake, whoe I am sure doth beare you good will, as for the honestie which hetherto I haue knowen to be in you, wherein I thincke all other resembling you, for vertue and good conditions doe deserue that accompt and consideration.” He that thought her already to be taken in his nettes, seing so faire a waye open and cleare, to disclose that which he had kept couerte so long, in the depth of his hart, aunsweared. “Ah, madame, are ye ignoraunte of the forces of Loue, and how much his assaultes can debilitate the liuelihoode of the bodies and spirites of men? Knowe ye not that he is blinde and naked, not caring whither hee goeth; manifesting himselfe there, wher occasion is offred? Alas, madame, if you haue not pitie vppon mee, and doe not regard that, which I do suffer for the loue of you, I know not how I am able to auoyde death, which will approche so sone to cutte of, and abridge my yeares, as I shall vnderstande a refusall of that which the extreme Loue I beare you (madame) forceth mee to require: which is to receiue a new seruice of your auncient and faithfull seruiture: who inflamed by the brighte beames of your diuine face, knoweth not how to chaunge his affection, and much lesse to receiue helpe, but of the place where hee receiued the pricke. Excuse (madame I beseech you) my rashnesse, and pardon my follie: accuse rather, either your celestiall beautie, or els that tyrant Loue who hath wounded me so luckelie, as I esteme mine euill fortunate, and my wounde happie: sithe by his meane my thoughtes and cogitations doe onelye tende to do you seruice, and to loue you in mine hart, which is the Phenix of the fairest and moste curteous Ladies within all our Prouince. Alas, that excellencie, which thus maketh me your seruaunt shall one daye be my ruine, if by your good grace (speaking it with weaping teares) you doe not fauour him, which liueth not, but to obey you, and which lesing your good grace, will attempte to depriue him selfe of life, which being depriued through your crueltie, will go to complaine of his bolde attempt, and also of your rigor amonges the ghostes and shadowes of them that bee alreadie dead for like occassion.” The chaste Ladie was so wrapt of wittes for the straungenes of the case, and for the griefe whiche she concerned, to see the vnshamefast hardinesse of the varlette, as she could not tell how to make him aunswere: but in the ende breaking silence, and fetching a great sighe from the bottome of her harte, her face stayned with a freshe Vermilion rudde, which beautified her colour, by reason of disdaine conceiued against this impudent Orator, she aunswered him verie seuerely. “O God, who would haue thought, that from a hart nobly brought vp, and deriued from an honourable race, a vilanie so greate could haue taken roote and spring vp with such detestable fruite? What maister Stewarde? have ye forgotten the dutie of a seruaunt towarde his Lorde and maister? Haue ye forgotten I saye, the dutie of a vertuous gentleman, wel nourished and trayned vp towarde suche and so great a ladie as I am? Ah, Thefe and Traitour! Is this the venime which thou kepest so couert and secrete, vnder the swetenesse of thy counterfaicte vertue? A vaunte varlet, a vaunt: goe vtter thy stuffe to them that be like thy self, whose honour and honestie is so farre spent, as thy loialtie is light and vayn. For if I heare thee speake any more of these follies be assured that I wil mortifie that raging flame, which burneth thy light beleuing harte, and wil make thee feele by effecte what manner of death that is, wherein thou reposest the reste of thy trauell.” As this deceiued Oratour was framing his excuse, and about to moderate the iust wrath of his Ladie, displeased vpon good occasion, she not able to abyde any more talke, sayde further. “And what signes of dishonestie haste thou seen in mee, that moue thee to perswade a thing so wicked, and vncomely for mine estate: yea and so preiudiciall to me, to my frendes, and the house of thy maister, my Lorde and spouse? I can not tell what it is that letteth me, from causing thee to be caste foorthe amonges the Lions (cruell and capitall enemies of adulterie, amonges themselues) sithe thy pretence is, by violating my chastitie to dishonour the house, whereunto thou owest no lesse, then al the aduancements thou hast: from the taste whereof thou hast abandoned Vertue, the best thing wherwith thou were affected. Auoyde nowe, therefore, let me heare no more of this, vppon paine of thy life, otherwyse thou shalt feele the rewarde of thy temerite, and vnderstande the bitternesse of the litle pleasure, whiche I haue conceiued of thy follies.” So the good Ladie held her peace, reseruing in her harte, that whiche should bee her helpe in time and place: howbeit she sayde nothing hereof vnto her husbande, aswell for raising offence or slaunder, as for prouoking him against him whiche susteined the punishement him selfe, sithe that this refuse, did more straungely pinche him, nerer at the harte then euer the Egle of Caucasus (whereof the Poetes haue talked so muche) did tier the mawe of the subtile thefe Prometheus. And yet the vnhappie stewarde not contented, with the mischiefe committed against the honour of his maister, seing that it was but lost time to continue his pursute, and that his gaine would bee no lesse then death, if she according to her promised threates did therof aduertise her husband, being a cholericke man, and lighte of beliefe, and because the said Steward for such an enterprise had receiued a simple recompence, althoughe correspondent to his desert, premeditated worse mischiefes, more noisome then the first. He was in doubte, whether it were better for him to tarie or to departe, sith two thinges in a maner, were intollerable for him to suffer. For he coulde not forsake the house where from his cradle he had been so finely brought vp, the lord wherof made so much of him, as of his owne person. On the other side, he knewe that so long as the Lady was aliue, he could haue no maner of ioy or contentation. For that cause, conuerting extreeme loue (which once he bare to the lady) into cruel hatred, vnseemly for a brutal beaste, and into an insaciable desire of reueng, he determined to addresse so strong an ambushe, trained with so great subteltie, that she was not able to escape without daunger of her life and honour, whereof she declared herselfe to be so carefull. Alas, what blindnes is that, which captiuateth the wittes and spirite of him, that feedeth himselfe of nothing els, but vpon the rage of fantastical despite and vpon the furie of dispaire. Do wee not see, that after Reason giueth place to desired reuenge of wrong thought to be receiued, man dispoyleth himselfe of that, which appertayneth to the kinde of man, to put on the fierce nature of the moste brute and cruell beastes, to runne headlonge without reason toward the place wher the disordinate appetite of affections, doth conduct him? whereof I will not aduouche any other example, but of this traitour, who passionated not with Loue, but rather with rage and fury, ceaseth not to espie all the actions and behauiour of his Ladie, to the intente he mighte bringe to ende his deuised treason against her, that thoughte (perchaunce) no more of his follies, but honestlie to passe the time with her deare and wel beloued husbande. Truly, if this Lady had been of the disposition of some women (that care not to moleste theyr husbands, for the first Flie that buzzeth before their eyes, conceyuing a friuolous and sodaine opinion of their chastitie, not so much assailed, or to sharpely defended, chaunting glorious Hympnes and high prayses of their victorie) certainly she had not tombled herselfe into the daunger, wherunto afterwards she fell. Not for that I will blame them that do reueale to theyr husbandes the assaults which they receiue of importunate suters, that doe assaie to deflower their Chastitie. Yet I will saye that Modestie in the same (as in euery other humaine action) is greatly to be required, sith that such a one, by thincking to extolle her honour and honestie, and to make proofe of her Chastitye, rendreth the same suspicious, and giueth occasion to talke to the people that is more apt and redie to slaunder and defame, then by good report to prayse them, which by vertue do deserue commendation, bringing the lyfe and fame of her husband, to such extremitie, as it had been better vertuously to haue resisted the force of Loue, and the flattering sute of such louers, then to manifest that which might haue been kept secrete without preiudice of eyther. And truly that woman deserueth greater glorie, which of herselfe defendeth her honestie, and quencheth the flames liuelye kindled in the hartes of other, with the coldnes of continencie, by that meanes vanquishing two, then she doth, which manifesting the vice of an other, discloseth as it were, a certaine apparaunce of her frailtie, and the litle reason wherewith she is indewed, to vanquish him that confesseth to be her seruaunt, and whose wil dependeth at her commaundement. And when the whole matter shalbe rightlye iudged, shee that reuealeth imperfection of a Suter, sheweth her opinion and minde to be more pliant to yelde, then indewed with reason to abandone pleasure and to reiect the insolencie of the same, sith Reason’s force doth easely vanquish light affections of sensuall partes, whose fancies imprinted wyth ficklenes, do make them so inconstant, as they perswade themselues to be so puissaunte and mightie, as all thinges be, and rest at their commaundement. Retourning nowe then to our former discourse, the Steward so laboured with might and maine, till he had found meanes to be reuenged of the receiued refusall, with such subtilty and Diuelish inuention as was possible for man to deuise, which was this. Among the seruauntes of this greate Lorde there was one no lesse yonge of witte and vnderstanding, then of age. And albeit that he was fare and comely, yet so simple and foolishe as hee had much a do to tell the nomber of sixe. This foole by reason of his follye and simplicitye, was the onelye sporte and pastime of the Lord and Lady. The Lady many times toke pleasure, to talke with this maister foole, to bring him into a choler and chaufe, thereby to prouoke laughter. And therefore all the houshold vsed to call him in mockerie, my Ladyes darlinge. In whom the Lorde toke singular pleasure and delighte, esteeming him so well as any of his other seruaunts. The malicious Steward, seing the familiaritie of the lady with the foole (like one that had already catched his pray within his snares) began also to make much of that yonge Cockescome, in such wyse as he had brought him into such fooles paradise, as he mighte make him do and saye what he liste. Who seing him diligent to his desire, one day toke him aside, and after he had whitled him well, he sayd vnto him. “Dicke, I can tell thee a knacke, that thou shalt make my Lady laugh wel, but thou must say nothing, till she do perceiue it.” The poore idiot glad to please his maistres, was desirous to knowe what it was, and promised to doe whatsouer he would bidde him. “Thou must (sayd the steward) in the eueninge before she go into her chamber, hyde thy selfe vnder her bedde, and tarry there till it be an hower or two before day, and then I wil tell thee what thou must doe besides.” This plat deuised the foole the same euening executed the deuise of hys diuelish counsaylour, who seing his desire to take effecte, went to an olde gentleman, that was of great honestie and vertue, for which he was of all men so wel knowen, as they esteemed his word so true as the Gospell. To that gentleman this craftie villaine, full of poison and malice, wholy bent to mischiefe, told and reported the facte, not as it was in deede, but to the great preiudice and dishonour of the Lady, geuing him to vnderstand how much she had forgotten herselfe, how without the feare of God, reuerence of her husband, and respect of her owne honesty, she had filthely giuen herselfe ouer to him which was called her Dareling. The good gentleman hearing this straung case, was astonned like one that had been stroken with a flashe of lightening, then drawing nere to the accuser, he aunswered. “Is it possible that suche wickednes can lye hidden in the breast of our Madame? I sweare vnto thee by God, that if any other had told it me besides you, I would not haue beleued it, and truly yet I am in doubt thereof.” “No, no,” said this wicked blasphemer, “I will make you see that, which you cannot beleue:” and hauing lessoned his foole, in his conceiued follie, the next day he procured the gentleman thyther, who seing the Ladies minion, going out of her chamber (which many times lay seuerally from her husband) could not refraine weeping, lamenting the ill fortune of his Lord, who thinkinge that he had had an honest wyfe, was abused with an impudent and vnshamefast whore. Then he began to frame a long Oracion, against the incontinencie of women, moued rather through the good will hee bare to his mayster, then to the truth of the matter, which vndiscretely he spake against the order of women kynd. So ignorant was he of the treason and indeuour of the Steward, who demaunded of him what was to be done in that matter? “What,” sayd the old gentleman, “such wickednesse ought not to be vnpunished. My Lorde must be aduertised hereof, that the house maye be purged of suche a plague and infection, that he maye euidentlye vnderstande the hypocrisye of her that so longe time hath kept close her incontinencie, vnder the vaile of fayned chastitie. But the righteous God made openly to appeare before mens eyes the secrete sinnes of the wicked, to thintent greater slaunders should not increase.{”} The steward very ioyful that he had gotten so honeste a man to be a witnesse of his accusation, approued his aduise, for that it agreed wel with his intent. So they two together went to the Lord, with countenaunce sad and heauie, correspondent to their minde, and specially the Traitour, whose sense was so confounded with gladnesse, that thinking to begin his tale his wordes so stucke in his mouth as he was not able to vtter a word. Whereat the Lorde was wonderfully abashed, marueyling what that timidite did meane, till he had heard the vnfaithfull Stewarde tell his tale, who sayde to him in this maner. “My Lord, I am sory that it is my lotte to declare vnto you a matter hitherto vnknowen and not marked or taken heede of by any, which wyl so much offend you, as any pleasure that euer till this day, did please and content you. And God knoweth what griefe it is to me (in your presence) to be an accuser of a person in the world, which I haue esteemed nexte vnto you aboue anye other creature that lyueth: but being in that place I am, I might (by good deserte) be accused of treason and felonie if concealing such a detestable crime, I should leaue the dutie of fidelitie to an other, lesse desirous to do you seruice then I am. Who beleueth there is no second person, that desireth better to acquite the goodnes and preferment which I haue receyued of your Lordship, then I do. This it is my Lord: my lady misprising her duty to your Lordship, and the honour of the house whereof shee came, hath not disdayned to receiue into her chamber at inconuenient time, the foole that is called her Darelinge, and in the place into which none but your honour, ought to haue peaceable entrie: whereof this gentleman present (whom you know to be without comparison) shalbe witnesse: touching myselfe the fayth and trust, which alwayes I haue vsed in all vour affayres, and the litle affection which I haue to things contrary to vertue, shal giue true testimonie of that which I haue saide.” The Lorde hearing these pitiful newes, which pearced his harte more deepe then anye two edged sword, at the first was so astonied, that he could not tell what to say or do, sauing the ardente furie of Cholere made him distill a certaine Melancholique humour into his eyes, which receyued the superfluous vapours of his braine. At length breakinge that forth, which troubled him within, and grindinge his teethe for furie, with stutteringe and vncertaine voice, fetching sighes betweene, saide: “O God, what newes be these that I heare? Is it possible, that the fairest and chastest Lady that liueth, hath in this wise defaced her honour: and so wickedly blemished my reputation? Alas, if it so be, that she hath in this wise disparaged herselfe, no trust is to be reposed in any other, what soeuer she bee. Ah, God! vnder what Planet was I borne, that after so longe pleasure receiued with my beloued fere and companion, I should by her feele a displeasure, an hundred times worse then death? Is there no remedie but that my house muste receiue and see an enterprise so vilanous, but her onely meane, which ought rather to haue been the ornamente and beautie of the same?” Then he chaused vp and downe the chamber, without speaking any more wordes, with his eyes rolling in his heade, making straunge countenaunces, which did well expresse the griefe that vexed and tormented his minde. In the ende halfe pacifyed, he tourned his face toward the accuser, saying: “My frende, if this be true, which thou hast told mee, I sweare by God, that I will make her feele the smarte, of such greeuous punishmente, as shalbe spoken of for euer. But if my wyfe be slaundred, and accused wrongfully, assure thy selfe that I will be reuenged vppon thee. I know the vertue of this gentleman very well (hauing had good proofe thereof) and of thy fidelitie I am nothing at all in doubt. But, alas! the loue that I beare vnto my wife, and her former vertue, which maketh me to loue and esteeme her so much, doth throughlye pearce my hart, and much adoe I haue to liue hearing this reporte: which doth deface and blotte all the honestie and vertue that euer remaiued in mee.” “And that was it my Lord, (answeared the traitour) which did deceiue you. For the shewe of that painted vertue did so delude you, that you be almoste bewitched from vnderstanding the wronge, so manifestlye perpetrated against you, and all your house. Now to thend, that you thincke not the accusacion to be false, I trust (if it please you to assist me) to let you see the thing, whereof wee haue giuen you intelligence.” “I will do (sayd the Lord) what you will haue me, although it be to my great griefe and sorow.” “To morow morning then (answeared the Traitour) one hower before day, I will let you see the varlet goinge out of her chamber with so great ioy, as I do conceiue heauines and griefe for the simple remembraunce of so greate wickednes.” When they were agreed hereupon, this knaue most detestable, weauing the toile wherin he himselfe was caughte, wente to suborne the personage of his foole, holy made and instructed in his trumperie: leauinge the poore Lord with a hamer working in his head, that he was lyke to runne out of his wittes. So great is the furious force of the poison of Ialosie, whych ones hauing dispersed the vemine ouer the harte and intrayles of men, the wysest sorte haue lost the due discretion of their wittes. In the morning about the hower that the amourous foole (ignoraunt wherfore he went in) should issue out of his maistresse chamber, the Stewarde rauished with inexplicable ioye and gladnesse, like to the pleasure of hym that had attaynde the summe of his desires, called hys Lorde to see that heauye and dolourous sighte. The good gentleman, perceyuing the report to be true, and thincking that she had vsed the foole to be her bedfelowe, was like to haue dyed for sorow, or els to haue torne in peeces that vnhappy sotte, innocent of the euill suspected by the Lorde, who durst not so much as thincke to do such a wicked fact. In the ende geuing place to reason, he caused the poore foole to be apprehended, and put in the bottome of a dongeon, and beyonde measure was offended wyth his wyfe, for that he thought the simplicitie of the imprisoned wretche, had not the face to demaund the question, and therefore did verely beleeue that it was she that had induced him to do the deede to satisfie her vnbrideled and filthy lust, and therefore caused her to be shut vp, within a darke and stincking prison, not meaninge to see her, or to heare her speake for her iustification, ne yet woulde suffer that any man should take vppon hym to stand in her defence, to bring witnesse of her innocency. “For” (sayd he, replete wyth wrath and anger): “I do better beleue that which I haue seene, and knowen by myne owne presence, then your wordes, vayne reasons, and complaintes of no good ground and effecte as founden vppon her, that hath to muche forgotten herselfe, and her dutye towardes mee.” Moreouer vanquished with the Cholere (not without cause truly) of a husband that thought himselfe by her onely meanes deceyued and betrayed, sent word to the poore captiue, that she should then prouide for her soules health, sith he was determined the very same day to make her play a Tragedy, more cruell then that was pleasant, which she had already done wyth her beloued, in extruding her to be deuoured of hys Lions, which were the ministers for the execution of the Iustice ordayned against her, as thoughe she had bin the most lasciuious and detestable woman that euer the earth brought forth. The fayre and innocent lady, knowing the humour and Cholere of her husband, and likewyse seing (contrary to right order of all Iudgement) that she could not be heard or suffred to make aunsweare, passed through the rigorous law of hym, that thoughte her to be an Adultresse: and coulde not tell what to doe but to lamente her ill fortune, gushing forth teares in such abundance, as the most part of her attyre were wet and bedewed with the same, then fortefying herselfe in the hope of the mercifull hande of Almightye God the father of all consolacion, who neuer forgetteth them, which with intire faith do call vppon him, and appeale to the succour of the holy and precious name of his sonne Iesus Christe our sauiour, she with compunction of hart, and sincere deuocion, with ioyned handes and knees vppon the grounde, addressing her eyes to the heauens, prayed in this wyse: “Alas, my God, I do knowe and confesse, that the multitude of my sinnes do surpasse the sea sands, and am not ignoraunt, that this vnhappie time is chaunced vnto me, for the punishment of my forepassed offences. Notwithstandinge (Lord) accordinge to thy greate goodnes, haue no respecte vnto my demerites and wickednes (whereof my life is ful) but rather extende thy fauour and mercy vppon thy poore creature, whose innocencie thou (which art the searcher of mennes hartes) doest well vnderstande and knowe, I do not desire prolongation of miserable lyfe, onely maye it please thee (O God) for thy goodnes and iustice sake, to saue mine honour, and to graunt that my husbande maye see with what integritie I haue alwayes honoured the holy band of mariage, by thee ordayned, to thintent he may liue from henceforth quiet of his suspicion conceyued of mee, and that my parentes may not sustaine the blot of ignominie, which will make theym blushe, when they shall heare reporte of my forepassed life.” She beinge in these contemplacions and holye prayers, preparinge herselfe to receyue death, her husband caused her to be conueyed into the Parke of Lions, which being straunge and terrible at the first sight, did marueylouslie affray her, but remembring how innocent she was, putting her hope in God, she went thither with such constancie and courage, as if she had bin ledde to some ioyous banquet, and the people which neuer heard tell before of suche a kinde of death, was assembled in great multitude, tarying to see the ende of that execution, and talking diuersly of that sodaine iudgement, prayed all with one voyce, for the preseruation of the Ladie, of whose chastitie they were alredy right well assured. Now as they attended for the time of execution, the Lady was placed in the mid of the Parke, not without teares and sighes of the Assistantes who murmured at the remembraunce of the horror of a sight so furious. The innocent Ladye kneeled downe vpon her knees, and both by gesture and mery countenaunce, shewed how ioyful she went to suffer that which she had neuer deserued: then recommending her soule to God, for whose saluation she stedfastly hoped, she pronounced this praier a loude: “O my Lorde God, whiche diddest ones deliuer Daniell from a daunger like to this, wherunto the false accusation of the wicked, haue wrongfully cast me hedlond: and diddest discharge Susanna from the slaunder of the peruerse and adulterous Iudges, pleaseth the pitifully to behold thy poore creature. Pardon, O Lorde! forgiue I humblie beseche thee, the simplicitie of my deare husband, who dealeth thus with mee, rather through the circumuention of deceiptfull cauilling slaunderers, then by his owne malice and crueltie. Receiue, O my God, and mercifull father, receiue my soule betwene thy blessed handes, which thou hast redemed by the bloudshedding of thy sonne Iesus, vpon the Tree of the Crosse!” As she had ended these wordes, she sawe the Lions come forth ramping, and bristling vp their heare, stretching forth their pawes with roaring voice, cruelly looking round about them, of whom the Lady thought to be the present pray. But the goodnesse of God, who is a iust Iudge, and suffreth his owne elect to be proued to the extremitie, of purpose to make their glorie the greater, and the ruine of the wicked more apparaunt, manifested there an euident miracle. For the Lions (being cruell of nature, and that time hungrie and gredie of pray) in lieu of tearing the Ladie in pieces, to gorge their rauening paunche, they fill to licking and fawning vppon her, making so much of her as if they had familiarly ben nourished with her own breastes. A thing no lesse pleasaunt to the Ladye then merueilous to all the people standing round about, who seing a chaunce so miraculous cried out, incontinently for the deliuerie of the Ladie, and for vengeaunce to be taken of him, which so wickedly had protruded her into that daunger: which for her vertue, ought to be extolled and praised of the whole world. When the noble man was certified of this straunge aduenture, hee caused his Steward to be apprehended and imprisoned, whose conscience forced great remorse, yet not knowing the ende of the Tragedie, condempned himselfe by his countenaunce. During his imprisonement the deposition of the beloued foole was taken, who saide: “That by the suggestion of the malicious Steward, many times (ignoraunt to the Lady) he conueied himself in her chamber, not knowing wherunto the intent of him that caused him so to do did tende.” The other gentleman made excuse (although he was blame worthy) that he was deceiued by the same false practise, that the Lorde himselfe was. The Steward openly confessed the treason, which he had deuised against the Ladie, and the whole occasion thereof, and thinking to be reuenged of the refusall of loue by her denied, he framed this slaunder to make her lose her life. Which the Lord hearing could not abide that his death should any longer be respected, but without other forme of Lawe, he was thrust out to the Lions, and was presently seased vpon, and torne in peeces by those beastes, which by God’s iuste iudgement, did absteine from the good ladie, for the punishement of the detestable sinne of this varlet. In the meane time the chaste and innocent Ladie, being brought before her husbande, after he had kissed and imbrased her, with humble reuerence she sayde vnto him: “My Lorde, I render my humble thankes to God, for that through his holy grace, and inscrutable Iustice, he hath let you to vnderstande, twoo diuers affections, in two seuerall persones of this worlde, which you loue so well. In one, the treason so pernicious, which prouoked you to soile and imbrue your handes (not without cause till this daye proued contrarie) in the bloud of your faithfull and dere beloued wife. In thother, a will and minde so good to obey you, and to persist in continuation of that effecte, which maketh her generally to be praysed, and worthy of your earnest loue, for so much as she is your very affectionate spouse. Notwithstanding, iustly may I make my complaint of you, for that without excuse for my discharge, or hearing any thing that might serue for my purgation, you condempned her, for whose honour and defence you ought to haue imployed both goodes and life. But God shalbe iudge betwene your litle discretion, and my righteousnesse, betwene mine obedience and your crueltie, wherewith you haue abused the nobilitie, of the race whereof I came.” The husbande hearing this wise and iust complaint, on the one side transported with ioye, leapt and rejoysed, to see his deare companion in libertie, and declared to be innocent, on the other part he blushed for shame, that hee had so lightly, and without better proofe and triall condempned her, whom God by his grace had preserued from the lions throates, and durste not lift vp his head, by reason his harte freated at the remembraunce of his light credite and furie immoderate. Finallie imbracing his wife, and kissing her louingly, said vnto her: “Madame, and deare beloued wife, I can not denye but foolishely I haue attempted to blemishe the honor of her, that whilome made me to shine and glister amongst the best and chief of al this countrey, but he that doth wel marke and beholde the galle and disdaine of a husband louing his wyfe, and then vnderstandyng her litle care and greate forgetfulnesse whiche shee hath, bothe of his honour and glorie of his comforte, will easely excuse and pardon my fault, whiche I will not by any meanes colour and cloke, but rather craue pardon at your handes, assuring you that I will amende and requite the same, so well and in suche wise as you and yours shall haue no cause but to be content and satisfied.” “It suffiseth me, sir, (quod she) that my giltlesse offence is knowen vnto you, and that I haue recouered place in your fauourable acceptation: for I doe accompte mine aduersitie well imployed, sith thereby you and your friendes may glorie, of the seuere iustice ministred against malefacters, and I reioyce in resistaunce of the assaultes of loue, and of death to guarde and kepe my chastitie pure and inuiolable: and may serue for example to euery honourable Ladie, being assailed with suche strong and mightie aduersaries, to kepe them selues honest. For the croune is not due but to her that shall lawfully combate to the ende.” After this the lorde by perswasion of his wife, commaunded that the foole should be auoided the house, that his presence might not grieue or torment her, ne yet renewe the memorie of a thing that neuer was thought or doen. And not without cause: for the Lorde, whiche reclined his eare to euery trifling report, and credited the woordes of euery whistling pikethanke, had much a do to escape from doing thinges unworthy his estate and calling. Of so great force truely is the venime of such Serpentes, that seasing by little and little, the harte of him disposed to receiue it in furie, maketh it to be in effect like the nature of poyson and drogues corrupt: whereof men ought to be no lesse, but rather more diligent and carefull then of meates, amonges persones whom they suspect and feare, sithens that maladies and infections of minde, be farre more daungerous then outward passions which torment the body. Whereunto if the said nobleman was not hedefull, he felt the dammage for penaunce of his inconsideration. Howbeit as thinges, both good and ill amonges men, bee not still durable and perpetuall. Certaine daies after, he began to solace hymselfe with his wife, and rode an huntinge abroade, visited his neighbours, and at home made great feastes and banquettes, whereunto his kindred and frends were inuited, to congratulate this newe alliaunce, indeuouring thereby to satifye the fault committed, and the better to gratifie and pleasure his wyfe, to make her know how much more hee esteemed and regarded her then before: hee caused the successe of his present historie to be ingrauen with great industrie, and marueilous cunning in Marble, which he placed ouer the gate of the first entrie into his Castell, aswell to immortalizate the great chastitie of this fayre and vertuous wife, as to set forth a Mirrour and example to euerye housholde seruaunt, and to all other whatsoeuer they bee, to beware how they attempt any thing against the honour of Ladies. For many times it chaunceth, that he which diggeth a ditch, and setteth vp a Gallowes, is the first that doth fall, or is stretched thereuppon. As you may see by this present discourse, which setteth before your eyes what ende the fonde loue of them ordinarily haue, which without reason, not measureing their owne ability, doe suffer themselues to be guided and led into their sensuall lustes and appetites: for ill successe faileth not in a beginning, the grounde whereof abhorring reason, is planted and layed vppon the sandie foundacion of pleasure, which is shaken and ouerthrowen, by the least winde and tempest that Fortune can bluster against such building.

THE FORTY-SECOND NOUELL.

_Didaco a Spaniarde, is in loue with a poore maiden of Valencia, and
secretly marieth her, afterwardes lothinge his first mariage, because
she was of base parentage, he marieth an other of noble birth. His
first wyfe, by secrete messenger prayeth his company, whose request
he accomplisheth. Beinge a bedde, shee and her maide killeth him. She
throweth him into the streate: shee in desperate wise confesseth the
facte before the Maiestrates, and is put to death._