In the time of this plague and dreadful visitation, the Lord President, his Lady, Sonnes, Daughters, Brothers, Nephewes, and Kindred dyed, none remaining alive, but one onely Daughter marriageable, a few of the houshold servants, beside Perotto, whom (after the sicknesse was more mildly asswaged) with counsaile and consent of the Country people, the young Lady accepted to be her husband, because hee was a man so worthy and valiant, and of all the inheritance left by her deceased Father, she made him Lord and sole commaunder. Within no long while after, the King of England, understanding that his President of Wales was dead, and fame liberally relating, the vertues, valour, and good parts of Perotto the Piccard: hee created him to be his President there, and to supply the place of his deceased Lord. These faire fortunes, within the compasse of so short a time, fell to the two innocent children of the Count D'Angiers, after they were left by him as lost and forlorne.
Eighteene yeares were now fully over-past, since the Count D'Angiers fled from Paris, having suffered (in miserable sort) many hard and lamentable adversities, and seeing himselfe now to be growne aged, hee was desirous to leave Ireland, and to know (if hee might) what was become of both his children. Hereupon, perceiving his wonted forme to be so altered, that such as formerly had conversed most with him, could now not take any knowledge of him, & feeling his body (through long labour and exercise endured in service) more lusty, then in his idle youthfull yeares, especially when he left the Court of France, hee purposed to proceede in his determination. Being very poore and simple in apparell, hee departed from the Irish Earle his Maister, with whom hee had continued long in service, to no advantage or advancement, and crossing over into England, travailed to the place in Wales, where he left Perotto: and where hee found him to be Lord Marshall and President of the Country, lusty and in good health, a man of goodly feature, and most honourably respected and reverenced of the people.
Well may you imagine, that this was no small comfort to the poore aged Countes heart, yet would he not make himselfe knowne to him or any other about him? but referred his joy to a further enlarging or diminishing, by sight of the other limme of his life, his dearely affected daughter Gianetta, denying rest to his body in any place, untill such time as he came to London. Making there secret enquiry, concerning the Lady with whom he had left his daughter: hee understoode, that a young Gentlewoman, named Gianetta, was married to that Ladies onely Son; which made a second addition of joy to his soule, accounting all his passed adversities of no value, both his children being living, and in so high honour.
Having found her dwelling, and (like a kinde Father) being earnestly desirous to see her; he dayly resorted neere to the house, where Sir Roger Mandavill (for so was Gianettaes husband named) chauncing to see him, being moved to compassion because he was both poore and aged: commaunded one of his men, to take him into the house, and to give him some foode for Gods sake, which (accordingly) the servant performed. Gianetta had divers children by her husband, the eldest of them being but eight yeares olde, yet all of them so faire and comely as could be. As the olde Count sate eating his meate in the Hall, the children came all about him, embracing, hugging, and making much of him, even as if Nature had truly instructed them, that this was their aged, though poore Grandfather, and hee as lovingly receiving these kinde relations from them, wisely and silently kept all to himselfe, with sighes, teares, and joyes entermixed together. So that the children would not part from him, though their Tutour and Maister called them often, which being tolde to their Mother, shee came foorth of the neere adjoining Parlour, and threatned to beate them, if they would not doe what their Maister commanded them.
Then the children began to cry, saying, that they would tarie still by the good olde man, because he loved them better then their Maister did; whereat both the Lady and the Count began to smile. The Count, like a poore beggar, and not as father to so great a Lady, arose, and did her humble reverence, because shee was now a Noble woman, conceiving wonderfull joy in his soule, to see her so faire and goodly a creature: yet could she take no knowledge of him, age, want and misery had so mightily altred him, his head all white, his beard without any comely forme, his garments so poore, and his face so wrinkled, leane and meager, that hee seemed rather some Carter, then a Count. And Gianetta perceiving, that when her children were fetcht away, they returned againe to the olde man, and would not leave him; desired their Maister to let them alone.
While thus the children continued making much of the good olde man, Lord Andrew Mandevile, Father to Sir Roger, came into the Hall, as being so willed to doe by the Childrens Schoolemaister. He being a hastie minded man, and one that ever despised Gianetta before, but much more since her mariage to his sonne, angerly said. Let them alone with a mischiefe, and so befall them, their best company ought to be with beggers, for so are they bred and borne by the Mothers side: and therefore it is no mervaile, if like will to like, a beggers brats to keepe company with beggers. The Count hearing these contemptible words, was not a little greeved thereat, and although his courage was greater, then his poore condition would permit him to expresse; yet, clouding all injuries with noble patience, hanging downe his head, and shedding many a salt teare, endured this reproach, as hee had done many, both before and after.
But honourable Sir Roger, perceiving what delight his children tooke in the poore mans company; albeit he was offended at his Fathers harsh words, by holding his wife in such base respect; yet favoured the poore Count so much the more, and seeing him weepe, did greatly compassionate his case, saying to the poore man, that if hee would accept of his service, he willingly would entertaine him. Whereto the Count replied, that very gladly he would embrace his kinde offer: but hee was capable of no other service, save onely to be an horse-keeper, wherein he had imployed the most part of his time. Heereupon, more for pleasure and pitty, then any necessity of his service, he was appointed to the keeping of one Horse, which was onely for his Daughters saddle, and daily after he had done his diligence about the Horse, he did nothing else but play with the children. While Fortune pleased thus to dally with the poore Count D'Angiers, & his children, it came to passe, that the King of France (after divers leagues of truces passed between him & the Germaines) died, and next after him, his Son the dolphin was crowned King, and it was his wife that wrongfully caused the Counts banishment. After expiration of the last league with the Germains, the warres began to grow much more fierce and sharpe, and the King of England, (upon request made to him by his new brother of France) sent him very honourable supplies of his people, under the conduct of Perotto, his lately elected President of Wales, and Sir Roger Mandevile, Son to his other Lord high Marshall; with whom also the poore Count went, and continued a long while in the Campe as a common Souldier, where yet like a valiant Gentleman (as indeed he was no lesse) both in advice and actions; he accomplished many more notable matters, then was expected to come from him.
It so fell out, that in the continuance of this warre, the Queen of France fell into a grievous sicknes, and perceiving her selfe to be at the point of death, shee became very penitently sorrowfull for all her sinnes, earnestly desiring that shee might be confessed by the Archbishop of Roane, who was reputed to be an holy and vertuous man. In the repetition of her other offences, she revealed what great wrong she had done to the Count D'Angiers, resting not so satisfied, with disclosing the whole matter to him alone; but also confessed the same before many other worthy persons, and of great honour, entreating them to worke so with the King; that (if the Count were yet living, or any of his Children) they might be restored to their former honour againe.
It was not long after, but the Queene left this life, and was most royally enterred, when her confession being disclosed to the King, after much sorrow for so injuriously wronging a man of so great valour and honour: Proclamation was made throughout the Camp, and in many other parts of France beside, that whosoever could produce the Count D'Angiers, or any of his Children, should richly be rewarded for each one of them; in regard he was innocent of the foule imputation, by the Queenes owne confession, and for his wrongfull exile so long, he should be exalted to his former honour with farre greater favours, which the King franckely would bestow upon him. When the Count (who walked up and downe in the habite of a common servitor) heard this Proclamation, forth-with he went to his Master Sir Roger Mandevile, requesting his speedy repaire to Lord Perotto, that being both assembled together, he would acquaint them with a serious matter, concerning the late Proclamation published by the King. Being by themselves alone in the Tent, the Count spake in this manner to Perotto. Sir, S. Roger Mandevile here, your equal competitor in this military service, is the husband to your naturall sister, having as yet never received any dowry with her, but her inherent unblemishable vertue & honour. Now because she may not still remain destitute of a competent Dowry: I desire that Sir Roger, and none other, may enjoy the royall reward promised by the King. You Lord Perotto, whose true name is Lewes, manifest your selfe to be nobly borne, and sonne to the wrongfull banished Count D'Angiers: avouch moreover, that Violenta, shadowed under the borrowed name of Gianetta, is your owne Sister; and deliver me up as your Father, the long exiled Count D'Angiers. Perotto hearing this, beheld him more advisedly, and began to know him: then, the tears flowing abundantly from his eyes, he fell at his feete, and often embracing him, saide: My deere and noble Father! a thousand times more deerely welcome to your Sonne Lewes.
Sir Roger Mandevile, hearing first what the Count had said, and seeing what Perotto afterward performed; became surprized with such extraordinary joy and admiration, that he knew not how to carry himselfe in this case. Neverthelesse, giving credite to his words, and being somewhat ashamed, that he had not used the Count in more respective manner, & remembring beside, the unkinde language of his furious Father to him: he kneeled downe, humbly craving pardon, both for his fathers rudenes and his owne, which was courteously granted by the Count, embracing him lovingly in his armes.