Chapter II: Part 2

At Bologna, whiche is the noblest citie of Lombardie, the mother of studies, and accomplished with al things nedefull and requisite for sutch a florishing state, there was a yong scholler, a Gentleman of the countrie of Crete named Philenio Sisterno, of very good grace and behauiour. It chanced that in his time, there was a great feast made in the citie, wherunto were bidden the fayrest dames, and beste of reputation there: there was likewyse many Gentlemen and Schollers of Bologna, amonges whom was this Philenio Sisterno: who followyng the manner of young men, dallying sometime with one, sometime with another, and perceiuing them for his purpose determined to daunce with one of them: and comming to one whiche was called Emerentiana, the wyfe of sir Lamberto Bentiuoglia, hee prayed her to daunce: who, beyng verie gentle and of no less audacitie than beautiful, refused not. Then Philenio leading forth the daunce very softly, sometymes wrynging her by the hand, spake somewhat secretly vnto her these wordes: "Madame, your beautie is so great, that without doubt it surmounteth all that ever I sawe, and there is no woman in the world to whome I beare so great affection, as to your persone, whiche if it were correspondent to me in Loue, I would thinke myself the beste contented man in the world, otherwyse I shall in shorte tyme bee depriued of life, and then you shall be the cause of my death: and louing you (Madame) as I doe, and as my dutie requireth, you ought to take me for your seruaunt, vsing me and those litle goodes whiche I haue as your owne: and I doe assure you, that it is impossible for me to receiue greater fauour from heauen, then to see myselfe subiecte to sutch a gentlewoman, as you be, whiche hath taken me in a nette lyke a byrde." Nowe Emerentiana, whiche earnestly had marked those sweet and pleasaunt woordes, like a wyse gentlewoman, semed to geue no eare thereunto, and made him no aunswere at all. The daunce ended, and Emerentiana being set down in her place, this young scholler went to take another gentlewoman by the hand, and began to daunce with her: whiche was not so sone begonne, but thus he said vnto her: "It nedeth not Madame, that by woordes I doe expresse the feruant Loue which I beare you, and will so doe, so long as my poore spirite shall gouerne and rule my members: and if I could obtaine you for my Maistresse and singuler Ladye, I would thinke myself the happiest man aliue. Then louing you as I do, and being wholly yours, as you may easely vnderstand, refuse me not I besech you for your humble seruaunt, sithe that my life and all that I haue dependeth vpon you alone." The yong gentlewoman, whose name was Panthemia, perceiuing his meaning, did not aunswere him any thing at that time: but honestly proceded in her daunce: and the daunce ended, smyling a litle, she sat downe with the other dames. This done, amorous Philenio rested not vntil he had taken the thirde by the hand, (who was the gentlest, fairest, and trimmest dame in all Bologna,) and began to daunce with her, romyng abrode, to shewe his cunning before them that came to behold him. And before the daunce was finished, he saide thus vnto her: "Madame, it may so be, as I shall seme vnto you very malapert to manifest the secret Loue that I haue and doe beare you at this instant, for which you ought not to blame me but your beautie, which rendreth you excellent aboue al the rest, and maketh me your slaue and prysoner. I speake not of your commendable behauiour, of your excellent and maruellous vertues, which be such and of so great effect, as they would make the gods descend to contemplate the same. If then your excellent beautie and shape, so well fauoured by nature, and not by art, may seeme to content the immortall Gods, you ought not to be offended, if the same do constraine me to loue you, and to inclose you in the priuie cabane of my harte: I beseeche you then, gentle Madame (the onely comfort of my life) to haue pitie vpon him that dieth a thousand times a daye for you. In so doing, my life shall be prolonged by you, commending me humbly vnto your good grace." This faire gentlewoman called Simphorosia, vnderstanding the sweete and pleasaunt woordes vttered from the very harte of Philenio, could not dissemble her sighes, but waying her honor, because she was maried, gaue him no answere at all. And the daunce ended, she retourned to her place. Nowe it chaunced, as these three ladies did sit together iocundly disposed to debate of sundrie mery talke, behold Emerentiana, the wife of Seignior Lamberto, not for any euill, but in sporting wise said vnto her companions: "Gentlewomen, I haue to tell you a pleasaunt matter which happened to this day." "What is that?" said her companions. "I haue gotten this night, (said she) in dauncing, a curteous louer, a very faire Gentleman, and of so good behauiour as any in the worlde: who said that he was so inflamed with my beauty that he tooke no rest day nor night:" and from point to point, rehearsed vnto them, all that he had said. Which Panthemia and Simphorosia vnderstanding, answered that the like had chaunced vnto them, and they departed not from the feaste before eche of theim knewe him that was their louer: whereby they perceiued that his woordes proceded not of faithfull Loue, but rather of follie and dissimulation, in suche wise as they gaue so lyghte credite thereunto, as of custome is geuen to the woordes of those that bee sicke. And they departed not from thence vntill all three with one accorde, had conspired euery one to giue him mocke. Philenio continuing thus in Loue, sometime with one, sometime with another, and perceiuing that euery of them seemed to Loue him, hee determined with himselfe, if it were possible to gather of them the last frute of his Loue. But he was greatly deceyued in his desire, for that all his enterprise was broken: and that done, Emerentiana whiche could not any longer dissemble the loue of the foolishe scholer called one of her maydes, which was of a fayre complexion and a ioly wenche, charging her that she should deuise meanes to speake with Philenio, to geue him to vnderstande the loue which her maistresse bare vnto him: and when it were his pleasure she willingly would one night haue him at home at her house. Which newes when Philenio heard, he greatly reioyced, and said to the maid: "Returne to your Maistresse, faire maide, and commend me vnto her, telling her in my behalf, that I doe praye her to loke for me this euening, if her husband be not at home." During which time, Emerentiana caused a certaine number of fagots of sharpe thornes to be made, and to be layd vnder her bedde still wayting for her minion. When night was come, Philenio toke his sworde, and went to the house of his enemy, and calling at the dore with the watchworde the same incontinently was opened: and after that they had talked a litle while together, and banketted after the best maner, they withdrew themselues into the chamber to take their reste. Philenio had no soner put of his clothes to goe to bedde, but Seignior Lamberto her husband came home: which the Maistresse of the house perceiuing, made as though she had bene at her wittes ende, and could not tell whether to conuey her minion, but prayed him to hide himself vnder the bedde. Philenio seeing the daunger, wherein both he and the wife were, not taking with him any other garmentes, but only his shirte, crept vnder the bed where he was so cruelly prickt and scratched with the thornes, as there was no parte of his body (from the toppe of his head to the sole of his foote) free from bloud, and the more he sought to defende himselfe in that darke place, the more sharpely and piteously he was tormented, and durst not crie for feare least Seignior Lamberto would kill him. I will leaue to your consideration in what plight this poore wretche was in, who by reason of his miserable being, as he was brechelesse in that terrible purgatorie, even so was he speachlesse and durst not speake for his life. In the morning when Segnior Lamberto was gone forth, the poore scholler put on his clothes so well as he could, and all bloudy as he was, returning to his lodging, was like to die: but being deligently cured by phisicians, in short time he recouered his former health. Shortly after, Philenio began to pursue again his loue towardes the other two, that is to say, Panthemia and Simphorosia, and found conuenient time one euening to speake to Panthemia, to whom he rehearsed his griefes and continuall tormentes, praying her to haue pitie vpon him. The subtile and wise wenche Panthemia, fayning to haue compassion vppon him, excused her selfe by lacke of meanes to content his desire, but in thend vanquished with faire supplications and maruellous sighes, shee made him to come home to her house, and being vnready, dispoyled of al his apparell to go to bed with his Lady she required hym to go with her into a litle closet, wher all her swete smels and perfumes were, to the intent he might be well perfumed before he went to bedde. The yong dolt not doubting the subtiltie of this wicked woman, entred the closet and setting his foote vpon a borde vnnnayled from the ioyst, fell so depe into a store house where marchauntes vse to lay there cottons and wolles, as he thought he had broken his necke and his legges, notwithstanding as fortune would he had no hurt. This poore scholler being in that darke place, began to seke for some dore or ladder to go out, and finding nothing for his purpose he cursed the houre and time that euer he knew Panthemia. When the dauning of the day began to appeare, the simple sot discried in one place of the storehouse certain ventes in the wall, which gaue some light, because they wer old and couered ouer with mosse, in such wise, as he began with maruelous force, to pluck out the stones in the moste decaied place of the wall, and made so great a hole, as he went out. And being in a lane hard by the great streate, barefoote and bare legged, and in his shirt, he went home to his lodging vnknowen of any. A litle whyle after Simphorosia vnderstanding of the deceits whiche the other twoo had done to Philenio, attempted to geue hym the thirde, whiche was not inferior to the other twayne. And for that purpose, she began a farre of to caste her amorous lokes vpon him, letting hym to knowe that shee was in great distresse for his Loue. This poore soule hauing already forgotten his fortune paste, began to walke vp and downe before her house, like a man altogether tormented and pained with Loue. Then Simphorosia, seing him to be farre in loue with her, sent hym a letter by an old woman, whereby she aduertised hym, that his beautie and good behauior, so puissantly did gouerne her affections as she could take no rest night nor day, for the earnest loue that she bare him: wherefore she praied him if it were his pleasure to come and speake with her. Philenio receiuing that letter, and perusing the contentes, not considering the deceite prepared for him, ne yet any longer remembring the iniuries past, was more ioyfull and glad then euer he was before: who taking pen and paper, aunswered her againe, that he for his parte suffered no lesse tormentes for her sake, yea and in respect of vnfayned Loue, that he loued her farre better than she did hym, and at al tymes when shee pleased, hee woulde be at her commaundement to doe her seruice: the aunswere read, and oportunitie found, Simphorosia caused him to come home to her house, and after many false sighes, she saide vnto him: "My deare frend Philenio, I knowe none other in all the world, that hath brought me into this state and plighte wherein presently I am, but you, because your beautie, good grace and pleasaunt talke, haue so sette my harte on fyre as I feele it to kindle and burne like drye woode." Which talke Maister scholler hearing, thought assuredly that she consumed for loue of him: this poore Nodgecock, contriuing the time in sweete and pleasaunt woordes, with his dareling Simphorosia, the time approched that he should go to bed with his faire lady, who said vnto him: "My swete frend Philenio, abide a whyle, and let vs make some banket and collation:" who taking him by the hande, caried him into her closet adioyning, wher was a table ready furnished with exquisit conficts and wynes of the best. This gentlewoman had made a composition in the wyne, to cause this yong gallant to sleepe for a certain time. Philenio thinking no hurte, toke the cup and filled it with the wyne, and dranke it vp at one draught. His spirits reuiued with this refreshing, after he had bene very well perfumed and washed in swete waters, he went to bedde and within a while after this drinke began to woorke, and hee slepte so soundly, as canon shot, or the greatest gonnes of the worlde were not able to wake hym: then Simphorosia perceiuing the drinke beginne to woorke, called one of her sturdy maides that wel was instructed in the game of this pageant: both whiche carying this poore sleepy scholler by the feete and armes, and opening the dore very softlye, they fayre and well bestowed hym in the middeste of the streete, a good stone's caste of from the house, where he lay all the nighte. But when the dawning of the daye dyd appeare, or an houre before, the drynke lost his vertue, and the poore soule began to awake, and thinking that he had bene a bedde with the gentlewoman he perceiued hymself brechelesse and in his shirt more dead then aliue, through the colde that he had endured, by lying starke naked vppon the earth. The poore wretche was not able to help himselfe so much as with his armes and legges, ne yet to stande vppon his feete without great paine: notwithstanding, through creping and sprawling, hee got home to his house, vnseene of anye, and prouided so well as hee could for recouery of his health: and had it not been for his youth, which did helpe him at that instant, his sinewes had been benommed for euer. In the ende, hauing atteined his former state of health he still remembred the iniuries past, and without shewing any signe of anger or displeasure, made as though he loued them all three better then euer he did before, and sometime seemed to be in loue with the one, and sometime with an other: they againe for their part nothing mistrusting the malice of Philenio, set a good face on the matter, vsinge amorous cheere and countenance towards him, but when his backe was tourned, with mockes and floutes they toke their pleasure. He bearing in his brest secrete despite, was still desirous with his hand to marke them in the face, but like a wise man, waying the natures of women, he thought it woulde redounde to his greate shame and reproche, if hee did them any hurt: and therefore restrayning the heate of his choler vsed pacience. And yet by deuising and practising, how he might be euen with them and reuenged, hee was in great perplexitie. Very shortly after it chaunced that the scholler had inuented a meane, easely to satisfie his desire, and so sone as hee had fully resolued what to do, fortune therunto was fauorable: who hyred in the citie of Bologna a very faire house which had a large hall, and comodious chambers: and purposed to make a greate and sumptuous feast, and to inuite many Ladies and Gentlewomen to the same: amongs whom these three were the first that should be bidden: which accordingly was done: and when the feast day was come the three gentlewomen that were not very wise at that instante, repaired thither nothing suspecting the scholler's malice. In the end a litle to recreate the Gentlewomen and to get them a stomacke, attendinge for supper time, the Scholler toke these his three louers by the hand, and led them friendly into a chamber, somewhat to refresh them. When these three innocent women were come into the Scholler's Chamber, hee shut fast the doore, and going towards them, he sayde: "Beholde faire ladies, now the time is come for me to be reuenged vpon you and to make you suffer the penaunce of the torment wherwith ye punished me for my great Loue." The Gentlewomen hearing those cruell woordes, rather dead then aliue, began to repent that euer they had offended him, and besides that, they cursed themselues, for giuinge credit vnto him whom they ought to haue abhorred. The Scholler with fierce and angry countenaunce commaunded them vpon paine of their liues to strippe themselues naked: which sentence when these three goddesses heard, they began to loke one vppon another, weeping and praying him, that although he woulde not for their sakes, yet in respect of his owne curtesie and naturrall humanitie, that hee woulde saue their honor aboue all thinges. This gallant reioysing at their humble and pitifull requestes was thus curteous vnto them, that he would not once suffer them to stand with their garmentes on in his presence: the women casting themselues downe at his feete wept bitterly, beseeching him that he woulde haue pitie vpon them, and not to be the occasion of a slaunder so great and infamous. But he whose hart was hardened as the Diamonde, said vnto them, that this facte was not worthy of blame but rather of reuenge. The women dispoyled of their apparel (and standing before him, so free from couering as euer was Eue before Adam) appeared as beautifull in this their innocent state of nakednes, as they did in their brauerie: in so much that the yong scholler viewing from toppe to toe, those fayre and tender creatures, whose whitenesse surpassed the snow, began to haue pitie vppon them: but calling to his remembraunce the iniuries past and the daunger of death wherein he was, he reiected all pitie and continued his harde and obstinate determination. Then he toke all their apparell, and other furnitures that they did weare, and bestowed it in a little chamber, and with threatning words commaunded all three to lie in one bed. The women altogether astonned, began to say to themselues: "Alas, what fooles be we? what wil our husbands and our frendes say, when they shal vnderstand that we be found naked and miserablie slaine in this bed? It had been better for vs to haue died in our cradels, than apprehended and found dead in this state and plight." The Scholler seeing them bestowed one by another in the bed, like husband and wyfe, couered them with a very white and large sheete, that no part of their bodies might be seene and knowen, and shutting the Chamber doore after him Philenio went to seeke their husbands, which were dauncing in the hall: and the daunce ended, he intreated them to take the paines to goe with him: who was their guide into the Chamber where the three Muses lay in their bedde, saying vnto them: "Sirs, I haue broughte you into this place to shewe you some pastime and to let you see the fayrest thinges that euer you saw in your liues.{"} Then approching neere the bed, and holding a torch in his hand, he began fayre and softly to lift vp the shete at the bed's feete, discouering these fayre ladies euen to the knees. Ye should haue seen then, how the hushands did behold their white legges and their wel proporcioned feete, which don he disclosed them euen to the stomack, and shewed their legges and thighes farre whiter than alablaster, which seemed like two pillers of fine marble, with a rounde body so wel formed as nothing could be better: consequently he tourned vp the sheete a litle further, and their stomackes appeared somewhat round and plumme, hauing two rounde breasts so firme and feate, as they would haue constrayned the great God Iupiter to imbrace and kisse them. Whereat the husbandes toke so great pleasure and contentmente, as coulde be deuised: I omitte for you to thincke in what plighte these poore naked women weare, hearinge theyr husbandes to mocke them: all this while they laye very quiet, and durst not so much as to hem or coughe, for feare to be knowen: the husbands were earnest with the Scholler to discouer their faces, but hee wiser in other mennes hurtes than in his owne, would by no meanes consent vnto it. Not contented with this, the yong scholler shewed their apparel to their husbands, who seing the same were astonned, and in viewing it with great admiration, they said one to another: "Is not this the gowne that I once made for my wife? Is not this the coyfe that I bought her? Is not this the pendant that she weareth about her necke? be not these the rings that set out and garnisht her fingers?" Being gone out of the chamber for feare to trouble the feast, he would not suffer them to depart, but caused them to tarie supper. The Scholler vnderstandinge that supper was ready, and that the maister of the house had disposed all thinges in order, he caused the geastes to sit downe. And whiles they were remouing and placing the stooles and chayres, he returned into the chamber, wher the three dames lay, and vncouering them, he sayd vnto them: "Bongiorno, faire Ladies: did you heare your hushandes? They be here by, and do earnestly tarie for you at supper. What do ye meane to do? Vp and rise ye dormouses, rubbe your eyes and gape no more, dispatche and make you ready, it is time for you now to repayre into the hall, where the other gentlewomen do tarie for you." Behold now how this Scholer was reuenged by interteigning them after this maner: then the poore desolate women, fearing least their case would sorte to som pitiful successe, dispayring of their health, troubled and discomforted, rose vp expecting rather death than any other thing: and tourning them toward the scholler they said vnto him: "Maister Philenio, you haue had sufficient reueng vpon vs: the best for you to do now, is to take your sword, and to bereue us of oure life, which is more lothsome vnto vs than pleasaunt: and if you will not do vs that good tourne, suffer vs to go home to our houses vnknowen, that our honours may be saued." Then Philenio thinking that he had at pleasure vsed their persons, deliuered them their apparel, and so sone as they were ready, he let them out at a litle dore, very secretlye vnknowen of anye, and so they went home to their houses. So sone as they had put of their fayre furnitures, they folded them vp, and layd them in their chestes: which done, they went about their houshold busines, till their husbands came home, who being retourned they founde their wives sowing by the fire side in their chambers: and because of their apparell, their ringes and iewels, which they had seene in the Scholler's Chamber, it made them to suspect their wiues, euery of them demaunding his seuerall wife, where she had bin that nighte, and where their apparell was. They well assured of themselues, aunswered boldly, that they were not out of their house all the euening, and taking the keyes of their cofers shewed them their aparell, their ringes and other things, which their husbandes had made them. Which when their husbandes saw, they could not tell what to say, and forthwith reiected all suspicion, which they had conceiued: telling them from point to point, what they had seen that night. The women vnderstanding those woordes, made as though they knew nothing and after a little sport and laughter betweene them, they went to bed. Many times Philenio met his Gentlewomen in the streates and sayde vnto them: "Which of you was most afraide or worste intreated?" But they holding downe their heads, passed forth not speaking a word: in this maner the Scholler was requited so well as he could of the deceites done against him, by the three Gentlewomen aforesaid.

THE FIFTYETH NOUELL.

_The piteous and chaste death of one of the muleters wiues of the
Queene of Nauarre._

In the citie of Amboise, there was a muleter that serued the Queene of Nauarre, sister to king Fraunces the firste of that name, which was broughte a bedde of a sonne at Blois: to which towne the said muleter was gone to be paide his quarter's wages: whose wyfe dwelled at Amboise beyond the bridges. It chaunced that of long time one of her husband's seruauntes did so disordinately loue her, as vppon a certaine day he could not forbeare but he muste vtter the effect of his loue borne vnto her. Howbeit shee being a right honest woman, tooke her man's sute in very ill part, threatning to make her husband to beat him, and to put him away, and vsed him in suche wyse, that after that time he durst not speake thereof any more, ne yet to make signe or semblance: keeping yet that fier couered within his brest, vntill his Maister was ridden out of the towne, and that his Maistresse was at euensong at Saint Florentine's, a Church of the Castle, farre from her house: who now being alone in the house, began to imagine how he might attempt that thinge by force, which before by no supplication or seruice he was able to attaine. For which purpose, hee brake vp a borde betweene his Maistresse chamber and his: but because the curteins of his maister and maistresse bed, and of the seruauntes of the other side couered and hid the walles betweene, it could not be perceyued, nor yet his malice discried vntill suche time as his Maistresse was gone to bed, with a litle wenche of XII. yeares of age: and so sone as the poore woman was fallen into her first sleepe, this varlet entred in at a hole which he had broken, and conueyed himself into her bed in his shirt, with a naked sworde in his hande: who so sone as she felt him layed downe by her, lepte out of her bed, perswading him by all possible meanes meete for an honest woman to do: and he indued with beastly loue, rather acquainted with the language of his mulets than with her honest reasons, shewed himselfe more beastly then the beasts with whom he had of long time bin conuersant: for seing her so oft to runne about the table that he could not catch her, and also that she was so strong, that twise she ouercame him, in dispaire that he should neuer enioy her aliue, hee gaue her a great blow with his sword ouer the raines of the back, thinking that if feare and force could not make her to yeld, paine and smart should cause her. Howbeit, the contrarie chaunced: for like as a good man of armes when he seeth his owne bloud, is more set on fier to be reuenged vpon his enemies to acquire honor: euen so the chaste hart of this woman, did reenforce and fortefie her courage in double wise, to auoyde and escape the hands of this wicked varlet, deuising by all meanes possible by fayre words to make him acknowledge his fault: but he was so inflamed with furie, there was no place in him to receiue good counsell. And eftsones with his sword, he gashed her tender bodye with diuers and sondry strokes, for the auoydiug wherof, so fast as her legges could beare her, she ran vp and downe the chamber: and when through want of bloud she perceiued death approch, lifting vp her eyes vnto heaven, and ioyning her hands together, gaue thanckes vnto God, whom she termed to be her force, her vertue, her pacience and chastitie, humblie beseeching him to take in good part the bloude whiche by his commandemente was sheade in honor of that precious bloude, which from his owne sonne did issue vppon the Crosse, whereby shee did beleeue, firmelye and stedfastlye that all her sinnes were wiped awaye and defaced from the memorye of his wrathe and anger, and in sayinge: "Lorde receiue my soule which was dearely bought and redeemed with thy bounty and goodnes:" shee fell downe to the ground vpon her face where the wycked villaine inflicted her bodye with manifold wounds: and after she had lost her speache and the force of her body, thys most wicked and abhominable varlet toke her by force, whiche had no more strength and power to defende herselfe: and when he had satisfied his cursed desire, he fled away in such hast, as afterwards for all the pursute made after him he could not be found. The yong wench which lay with her, for feare hid herselfe vnder the bed. But when she perceyued the villaine departed, shee came vnto her Maistresse and finding her speachlesse and without mouing, she cryed out at the window vnto the nexte neighbours to come to succour her: and they which loued her and esteemed her so wel as any woman in the towne, came presently vnto her, and brought diuers surgeons with them, who findinge vpon her body XXV. mortall woundes, they did so much as in them laye to helpe her: but it was impossible. Howbeit shee laye one houre without speache, makinge signes with hir eyes and hands, declaring that she had not lost her vnderstanding: being demaunded by the priest, of the fayth wherin she died, and of her saluacion, she aunswered by such euident signes, as her liuely speach and communication coulde not haue declared it better, howe that her trust and confidence was in the death of Iesus Christ, whom she hoped to see in the Celestiall citie, and so with a ioyfull countenaunce, her eyes erected vp to the heauens, she rendred her chast body to the earth, and her soule to her Creator: and when shee was shrouded ready to the buriall, as her neighbours were attending to followe her to the Church, her poore husbande came home, and the first sight he sawe, was the body of his dead wife before his doore, wherof before that instant hee had no newes. And when he vnderstode the order of her death, he then doubled his sorrowe, in such wyse that he was also like to die. In this sort was this marter of chastitie buried in the church of S. Florentine, where all the honest dames and wiues of the citie endeuoured themselues to accompany her, and to honour her with suche reuerence as they were able to do: accomptinge themselues most happie to dwell in that towne, where a woman of such vertuous behauiour did dwell. The foolish and wanton seing the honour done to that deade bodye, determined from that time forth to renue their former life, and to chaunge the same into a better.

THE FIFTY-FIRST NOUELL.

_A king of Naples, abusing a Gentleman's wife, in the end did weare
the hornes himselfe._

In the citie of Naples when king Alphonsus raigned, in whose time wantonnesse bare chiefest sway, there was a Gentleman so honest, beautifull and comely, as for his good conditions and wel knowen behauiour an old Gentleman gaue to him his daughter in mariage, which in beautie and good grace was passingly well beloued and comfortable to her husband. The Loue was great betwene them, till it chaunced vpon shrouetide that the king went a masking into the citie, where euery man endeuoured to intertaine him the best he could. And when he came to this Gentleman's house, he was best receyued of any place in all the towne, aswell for banqueting, as for musicall songes, and the Gentlewoman, the fayrest that the king sawe in all the citie to his contentacion. And vpon the end of the banket, she sang a song with her husbande, with a grace so good as it greatly augmented her beautie. The king seeing so many perfections in one body, conceyued not so great pleasure in the sweete accords of her husband and her, as he did howe to deuise to interrupt and breake them: and the difficultie for bringinge that to passe, was the great amitie that hee sawe betweene them, wherefore he bare in his hart that passion so couert, as he possibly could. But partly for his owne solace and comforte, and partly for good will of all, hee feasted all the Lords and Ladyes of Naples, where the Gentleman and his wife were not forgotten. And because man willingly beleeueth that he doth see, he thought that the lokes of that gentlewoman promised vnto him some grace in time to come, if the presence of her husband were no let therunto. And to proue whether his coniecture were true, he sent her husbande in commission to Rome, for the space of XV. dayes or III. wekes. And so sone as he was gone, his wyfe which hitherto had not felt any long absence from her husband, made great sorrow for the same, whereof she recomforted by the king, many times by sweete perswasions and by presents and gifts, in such sort, that she was not onely comforted, but contented with her husbande's absence. And before the three weekes were expired of his returne, she was so amorous of the king as she was no lesse sorowful of his comming home, then she was before for his departure. And to the intent the king's presence might not be loste, they agreed together, that when her husband was gone to his possessions in the countrie, she should send word to the king, that he might haue safe repair vnto her, and so secretly that his honour, (which he feared more then he did the fact) might not be impaired. Vpon this hope, this Ladie's hart was set on a merie pin: and when her husband was come home, shee welcomed him so wel, that albeit he knewe how the king made much of her in his absence, yet he would not beleeue that he so did for any dishonest fact. Howbeit by continuance of time, this fier that could not be couered, by litle and litle began to kindle, in such wise as the husband doubted much of the truth, and watched the matter so neere, as he was almost oute of doubt. But for feare, least the partie which did the wrong, should do him greater hurt, if he seemed to know it, he determined to dissemble the matter: for he thought it better to liue with some griefe, then to hazard his life for a woman that did not loue him: notwithstanding, for this displeasure, he thought to be euen with the king if it were possible. And knowinge that many times despite maketh a woman to do that which Loue cannot bring to passe, specially those that haue honourable harts and stoute stomacks, was so bold without blushing, vpon a day in speaking to the Queene, to say unto her, that he had pitie vpon her, for that shee was no better beloued of the king her husband. The Queene which heard tell of the loue betwene the king and his wife: "I cannot (quoth she) both enioy honour and pleasure together: I knowe well that honor I haue, whereof one receiueth the pleasure, and as she hath the pleasure, so hath not she the honor." He which knewe wel by whom those words were spoken, said vnto her: "Madame, honor hath waited vpon you euen from your birth, for you be of so good a house, as to be a queene or Empresse, you cannot augment your nobilitie, but your beautie, grace, and honestie, hath deserued so much pleasure, as she that depriueth you of that which is incident to your degree, doth more wrong to her self then to your person. For she for a glorie that hath turned her to shame, hath therewithall lost so much pleasure, as your grace or any Lady in the realme may haue. And I may saye vnto you (Madame) that if the kinge were no king as he is, I thincke that he could not excel me in pleasing of a woman: being sure that to satisfie such a vertuous personage as you be, he might exchaunge his complexion with mine." The Queene smiling, answered him: "Although the king be of more delicate and weaker complexion than you be, yet the loue that he beareth mee, doth so much content mee, as I esteeme the same aboue all thinges in the world." The gentleman said vnto her: "Madame, if it were so, I woulde take no pitie vpon you, for I know wel that the honest loue of your hart, would yeld vnto you great contentment, if the like were to be found in the king: but God hath foreseene and preuented the same, least enioyinge your owne desire, you would make him your God vppon earth." "I confesse vnto you (saide the Queene) that the Loue I beare him, is so great, as the like place he could not find in no woman's hart, as he doth in mine." "Pardon me, madame (saide the Gentleman) if I speake more francklye, your grace hath not sounded the depth of ech man's harte. For I dare be bold to say vnto you, that I do know one that doth loue you, and whose loue is so great, as your loue in respecte of his is nothing. And for so much as he seeth the kinge's loue to faile in you his doth grow and increase, in such sort, that if your loue were agreable vnto his, you should be recompensed of all your losses." The Queene aswel by his words as by his countenaunce, began to perceiue, that the talke proceded from the bottom of his hart, and called to her remembraunce that long time he had endeuored to do her service, with such affection, as for loue he was growen to be melancolike, which she thought before, to rise through his wiue's occasion, but now she assuredly beleued that it was for her sake. And thus the force of Loue, which is well discryed when it is not fayned, made her sure of that, which was vnknowen to all the world. And beholding the gentleman which was more amiable than her husband, and seing that he was forsaken of his wife, as she of the king, pressed with despite and ialousie of her husband, and prouoked with loue of the gentleman, began to say with finger in eye, and sighing sobbs: "O my God, must vengeaunce get and win that at my hand, which Loue cannot doe?" The gentleman well vnderstanding her meaning, aunsweared: "Madame, vengeance is sweete vnto him which in place of killinge an ennemye, giueth life to a perfecte freinde. I thincke it time that trouth doe remoue from you the foolishe loue, that you beare to him which loueth you not: and that iust and reasonable loue should expell from you the feare, which out not remaine in a noble and vertuous hart. But now madame, omittinge to speake of the greatnesse of your estate, let vs consider that we be both man and woman, the most deceiued of the world, and betrayed of them which we haue most dearely loued. Let vs now be reuenged (madame) not onely to render vnto them, what they deserue, but to satisfie the loue which for my part I can no longer beare, except I should die. And I thincke, that if your harte be not harder than flinte, or Diamont, it is impossible but you must perceiue som sparke of fier, which increaseth more than I am able to dissemble: and if pitie of me which dieth for your loue, doth not moue you to loue me, at least wyse let loue of your self constraine you, which (being so perfect a creature as you be) doth deserue to enioy the hartes of the noblest and most vertuous of the world. Suffer I say, the contempt and forsaking of him, [to] moue you, for whom you haue disdayned al other persons." The Queene hearing those wordes, was so rauished, as for feare to declare by her countenaunce the trouble of her spirite, leaning vppon the Gentleman's arme, went into a garden hard by her Chamber, where she walked a long time not able to speake a woord. But the Gentleman seeing her halfe wonne, when he was at the ende of the Alley where none could see them, hee certified her by effect, the loue which so long time he kept secrete from her. And both with one consent reioyced in reuenge, whereof the passion was importable. And there determined, that so oft as hee went into the Country, and the king from his Castell into the Citie, he should retourne to the Castel to see the Quene. Thus deceyuing the deceyuers, all foure were partakers of the pleasure, which two alone thought to enioy. The accord made, they departed, the Lady to her Chamber, and the Gentleman to his house, with such contentacion, as they had quite forgotten al theyr troubles past. And the feare which either of them had of the assembly of the king and of the Gentlewoman, was tourned to desire, which made the Gentleman to go more oft then he was wonte to doe into the countrye, being not past halfe a mile of. And so sone as the king knew therof, he fayled not to visite his Lady, and the gentleman the night following went to the Castle to salute the Queene, to do the office of the kinge's Lieutenaunt, so secretly as no man did perceiue it. This voyage endured long time, but the king because he was a publike person, could not so well dissemble his Loue, but all the worlde did vnderstand it, and all men pitied the gentleman's state. For diuers light persons behinde his backe would make hornes vnto him, in signe of mockerie, which he right well perceyued. But this mockerie pleased him so wel, as he esteemed his hornes better then the king's Crowne. The king and the Gentleman's wife one day, could not refraine (beholding a Stagge's head set vp in the Gentleman's house) from breaking into a laughter before his face, saying, how that head became the house very well. The gentleman that had so good a hart as he, wrote ouer that head these words.

_These hornes I weare and beare for euery man to view,_
_But yet I weare them not in token they be trew._

The king retourning againe to the Gentleman's house, finding this title newlye written, demaunded of the gentleman the signification of them.

Who said vnto him:

_"If princesse secret things, be from the horned hart concealed,_
_Why should like things of horned beastes, to Princes be revealed._

But content your selfe: all they that weare hornes be pardoned to weare their capps vpon their heads: for they be so sweete and pleasaunt, as they vncappe no man, and they weare them so light, as they thincke they haue none at all." The king knew well by his wordes that he smelled something of his doings, but he neuer suspected the loue betwene the Queene and him. For the Queene was better contented wyth her husbande's life, and with greater ease dissembled her griefe. Wherefore eyther parts lived long time in this loue, till age had taken order for dissolucion thereof. "Behold Ladyes (quoth Saffredante) this Historye which for example I have willinglye recited to thintente that when your husbands do make you hornes as big as a Goate, you maye render unto him the monstrous heade of a Stagge." "Peace (quoth Emarsuite smyling) no more wordes, least you reuiue some sleeping sweet soule, which without stur would not awake; with any whispring."

THE FIFTY-SECOND NOUELL.

_The rashe enterprise of a Gentleman against a Princesse of
Flaunders, and of the shame that he receyued thereof._