“Now in regard, that you neuer had any, and myselfe (for my part) haue but onely one, I stand not exempt from those lawes which are common to other mothers. And being compelled to obey the power of those lawes, contrary to mine owne will, and those duties which reason ought to maintaine, I am to request a gift of you, which I am certaine that you doe make most precious account of, as in manly equity you can doe no lesse. For fortune hath bin so extreamly adverse to you, that she hath robbed you of all other pleasures, allowing you no comfort or delight, but only that poore one, which is your faire faulcone. Of which bird, my sonne is become so strangely desirous, as if I doe not bring it to him at my comming home, I feare so much the extreamity of his sicknesse, as nothing can ensue thereon but the losse of life. Wherefore, I beseech you, not in regard to the love you have borne me, for therby you stande no way obliged, but in your owne true gentle nature (the which hath always declared itselfe ready in you, to do more kinde offices generally than any other gentleman that I know), you will be pleased to giue her me, or at least, let me buy her of you. Which if you doe, I shall freely confesse that onely by your means my sonne’s life is saued, and we both shall for ever remaine engaged to you.”
When Frederigo had heard the ladies request, which was now quite out of his power to graunt, because it had bene her service at dinner, he stood like a man dulled in his sences, the teares trickling amain downe his cheekes, and he not able to vtter one word. Which she perceiving began to conjecture immediately, that these tears and passions proceeded rather from greefe of minde, as being loather to part with his faulcone then any other kinde of manner, which made her ready to say that she would not haue it. Neuerthelesss she did not speake but rather tarried to attend his answer; which, after some small respite and pause, he returned in this manner:
“Madam, since the houre when first my affection became soly deuoted to your seruice, fortune hath bene crosse and contrary to me in many occasions, as iustly, and in good reason I may complaine of her: yet all seemed light and easie to be indured in comparison of her present malicious contradiction, to my vtter ouerthrow, and perpetual mollestation. Considering that you are come hither to my poore house, which (while I was rich and able) you would not so much as vouchsafe to looke on; and now you haue requested a small matter of me wherein she hath also crookedly thwarted me, because she hath disabled me in bestowing so mean a gift, as your selfe will confesse when it shall be related to you in a few words.
“So soone as I heard that it was your pleasure to dine with me, hauing regard to your excellency, and what (by merit) is justly due vnto you, I thought it a part of my bounden duty to entertaine you with such exquisite viands as my poore power could any way compasse, and farre beyond respect or welcome to other common and ordinary persons. Whereupon remembering my faulcone, which now you aske for, and her goodnesse excelling all other of her kinde, I supposed that she would make a dainty dish for your dyet; and, hauing drest her so well as I could deuise to do, you haue fed heartily on her, and I am proud that I haue so well bestowne her. But perceiuing now that you would haue her for your sicke sonne, it is no mean affliction to me that I am disabled of yeelding you contentment which all my lifetime I haue desired to doe.”
To approve his words, the feathers, feete and beake were brought in; and when she saw this, she greatly blamed him for killing so rare a faulcone, to content the appetite of any woman whatsoeuer. Yet she commended his height of spirit which poverty had no power to abase. Lastly, her hopes being frustrate, for enjoying the faulcone, and fearing besides the health of her sonne, she thanked Frederigo for his honorable kindnesse, returning home againe sad and melancholly. Shortly after, her sonne, either greeuing that he could not hauve the faulcone, or by extreamity of his disease, chanced to die, leauing his mother a most woeful lady.
After so much time was expired, as conveniently might agree with sorrow and mourning, her brethren made many motions to her to joyne herself in marriage againe, because she was extraordinarily rich and as yet but yong in years. Now, although she was well contented neuer to be married any more, yet, being continually importuned by them, and remembring the honourable honesty of Frederigo,—his last poore, yet magnificent dinner, in killing his faulcone for her sake,—she saide to her brethren: “This kinde of widdowed estate doth like me so well, as willingly I would neuer leave it: but seeing you are so earnest for my second marriage, let me plainly tell you, that I will neuer accept of any other husband but onely Frederigo di Alberino.”
CONCLUSION.
Such are facts, from which the nature and strength and delicacy of affection may be seen.
Dear, dear Woman!—Let me,—indebted as I am to your tenderness and love for every blessing of my life,—let me say, in the words of the sweet Northern poet:
“Long since, this world’s thorny ways