The Palace of Pleasure, Volume 1

by Unknown

[ THE FORTY-THIRD NOUELL.]

Wantones and pleasaunt life being guides of insolencie, doth bring a miserable end to a faire ladie of Thurin, whom a noble man aduaunced to high estate: as appereth by this historie, wherein he executeth great crueltie vpon his sayde ladie, taken in adulterie.

The auncient and generall custome of the gentlemen, and gentlewomen of Piedmonte, was daily to abandon famous cities and murmures of common wealthes to retire to their Castels in the countrie, and other places of pleasure, of purpose to beguile the troublesome turmoyles of life, with greatest rest and contentation. The troubles and griefes wherof they do feele, that intermedle with businesse of common wealth, which was with great care obserued before the warres had preposterated the order of auncient gouernement, til which time a harde matter it had ben to finde an idle gentleman in a hole citie. Who rather did resort to their countrie houses with their families, which were so well gouerned and furnished, that you should haue departed so well satisfied and instructed, from a simple gentleman’s house as you should haue doen from a great citie, were it neuer so wel ruled by some wife and prouident Senatour. But sithens the world began to waxe olde, it is come again to very infancie, in suche sorte that the greatest nomber of cities are not peopled in these dayes but with a many of Carpet Squiers, that make their refiance and abode there, not to profite, but to continew their delicate life, and they do not onely corrupt themselues, but (which is worse) they infecte them that keepe them companie, whiche I will discourse somewhat more at large, for so much as the gentlewoman, of whome I describe this historie, was brought vp al the time of her youth, in one of the finest and most delicate cities of Piedmonte. And feeling as yet some sparke of her former bringing vp, she could not be reformed (being in the countrie with her husbande) but that in the ende she fill into great reproche and shame, as you shall vnderstande by the content of that whiche foloweth. In the time that Madame Margaret of Austriche, doughter of Maximilian the Emperour, went in progresse into Sauoie, towardes her husbande: there was a great Lorde, a valiaunt and courteous gentleman, in a certaine countrie of Piedmonte, whose name I will not disclose, aswell for the reuerence of his nerest kynne, which doe yet liue, as for the immoderate cruell punishemente, that he deuised towards his wife, when he toke her in the fault. This great Lorde, although he had goodly reuenues and Castelles in Piedmonte, yet for the most parte of his time, he followed the Courte, by commaundement of the Duke, that interteyned him next his owne persone, vsing commonly his aduise in all his greatest affaires. This Lorde at that tyme maried a mayden in Thurin, of meane beautie, for his pleasure, not esteming the place from whence shee came. And because he was well nere fiftie yeares of age when he maried her, she attired her selfe with such modestie, as she was more like a wydow then a maried woman: and knewe so well how to vse her husbande, the space of a yere or two, as he thought him selfe the happiest man aliue, that he had founde out so louing a wyfe. This woman being serued, and reuerenced with great honour, waxed werie of to muche reste and quiet, and began to be inamoured of a Gentleman her neighbour, whom in a litle tyme she knewe so well to vse by lookes, and other wanton toies, as he did easely perceiue it, notwithstanding for the honour of her husband, he would not seme to knowe it, but a farre of. Nowe this warme loue by litle and litle, afterwardes began to grow hot, for the yong woman wearie of such long delay, not able to content her self with lookes, vpon a day finding this yong gentleman in conuenient place, as he was walking harde by her house, began to reason with him of termes, and matters of loue: telling hym that he liued to solitarie, in respect of his yong yeares, and howe shee had alwayes bene brought vp in Townes, and places of great companie and resorte, in such wyse as now being in the Countrie, shee could not easely digeste the incommoditie of being a lone, specially for the continuall absence of her husbande, who scarce three monethes in a yeare remayned at home in his owne house. And so falling from one matter to another, loue pricked them so sore, as in fine they opened a waye to that whiche troubled them so mutch, and specially the woman: who forgetting her honour, which ordinarily dothe accompanie great Ladies, priuely she told hym the loue that she had borne hym of long tyme, whiche notwithstanding shee had dissembled, wayting when hee should haue geuen the fyrst onsette, for that Gentlemen ought rather to demaunde, then to be requyred of Ladies. This Gentleman vnderstanding (by halfe a woorde) the cause of her disease, told her: “That although his loue was extreme, neuerthelesse, deming himself vnworthy of so high degree, he stil concealed his grief, which because he thought it coulde not come to passe, feare forced him to kepe it silent. But sithe it pleased her so much to abase her selfe, and was disposed to doe him so much honour to accepte him for her seruaunte, he would imploye his indeuour, to recompence that with humilitie and humble seruice, whiche fortune had denied hym in other thinges.” And hauing framed this foundacion to their loue, for this tyme they vsed no other contentment one of an other but onely deuise. But they so prouyded for their affaires to come, that they neded not to vse longer oration. For beyng neyghbours, and the husbande manye tymes absent, the hyghe waye was open to bryng their enterpryses to desired affecte. Which they full well acquieted, and yet vnable wysely to maister and gouerne their passions, or to moderate theim selues by good discretion, the seruauntes of the house (by reason of the frequented communication of the Gentleman with the Gentlewoman) began to suspecte theim, and to conceiue sinister opinion of their maistresse, although none of theim durste speake of it, or make other semblaunce of knowledge. Loue holding in full possession the hartes of these twoo louers, blynded theim so muche, as leauing the brydle to large for their honour, they vsed theimselues priuely and apertlye at all tymes one with an other, without anye respect. And when vpon a tyme, the Lorde retourned home to his owne house (from a certayne voyage, wherein he had bene in the Duke’s seruice) he found his wyfe to be more fine and gorgeous then she was wont to be, whiche in the beginning dyd wonderfully astonne him. And perceiuing her sometimes to vtter wanton woordes, and to applie her mynde on other thynges, when he spake vnto her, he began diligently to obserue her countenaunce and order, and being a man broughte vp in courtlye trade, and of good experience, hee easely was perswaded that there was some ele vnder that stone, and to come to the trouthe of the matter, hee made a better countenaunce, then he was wonte to doe, which she knewe full well howe to requite and recompence: and liuing in this simulation, either of them attempted to beguile the other, that the simplest and leste craftie of them both could not be discouered. The yong gentleman, neighbour of the Lord, grieued beyond measure, for that he was come home, passed and repaired many tymes before his Castell gate, thinking to get some looke of his Ladie’s eye: but by any meanes she could not for feare of her husbande, who was not so foolishe, that after he sawe him goe before his gate so many times, without some occasion, but that he easely iudged there was a secret amitie betwene them. Certaine dayes after, the gentleman to insinuate himselfe into the Lord’s fauour, and to haue accesse to his house, sent him a very excellent Tercelet of a Faucon, and at other times he presented him with Veneson, and vmbles of Dere, which he had killed in hunting. But the Lorde (which well knew that flatterie many times serued the torne of diuerse, to beguile foolish husbands of their faire wiues) that he might not seme vngrateful, sent him also certain straung things. And these curtesies continued so long, that the Lorde desirous to lay a baite, sent to praye him to come to dyner: to which requeste the other accorded liberally, for the deuocion he had to the sainct of the Castell. And when the table was taken vp, they went together to walk abroade in the fieldes. And that more frendly to welcome him, he prayed his wife to goe with them, whereunto she made no great deniall. And when they had debated of many thinges, the Lord said vnto him: “Neighbour and frende, I am an old man and Melancholie, as you know, wherfore I had neede from henceforth to reioyce my self. I pray you hartely therefore to come hither many times, to visit vs and therewithal to participate such fare as God doth send. Vsing the thinges of my house, as they were your owne.” Whiche the other gratefully accepted, humblie praying that his Lordshyp would commaunde him and that he had, when he pleased, and to commaunde him as his very humble and obedient seruaunt. This Pantere layed, the yong gentleman ordinarely came ones a daye to visite the Lorde and his wife. So long this pilgrimage continued, vntill the Lorde (vpon a time, faining himselfe to be sicke) commaunded that no man should come into his chamber, because all the night before he was ill at ease, and could take no reste. Whereof the gentleman was incontinently aduertised by an old woman hired of purpose for a common messenger, of whom a none we purpose to make remembraunce. Being come to the Castell, he demaunded how the Lord did, and whether he might go see him, to whom aunswer was made, that he could not, for that he was fallen into a slomber. Madame now was in the garden alone, roming vp and down for her pleasure, and was aduertised that the Gentleman was come. Who being brought into the gardeine, and certified of the Lordes indisposition, began to renew his old daliaunce with the Ladie, and to kisse her many times, eftsones putting his hand into her bosome, and vsing other pretie preparatifes of loue, which ought not to be permitted but only to the husband. In the meane time, while they twoo had ben there a good space, the husband slept not, but was departed out of his chamber, the space of two houres and more, and was gone vp to the highest place of all his Castell, wher at a very litle window, he might discrie al that was done, within the compasse of his house. And there seing al their curteous offers and proffers, hee waited but when the gentleman should haue indeuoured himself to precede further, that he might haue then discharged his mortal malice vpon them both. But they fearing that their long abode in the gardein might ingender some displeasure, retourned into the Castell, with purpose in time to content their desires, so sone as opportunitie serued. The Lorde noting all the demeanour betwene them, retourned to his chamber, and so went againe to his bed, faining to be sicke, as he did all the daye before. Supper time come, the lady went to know his pleasure, whether he would sup in his chamber or in the hall: he answered (with a disguised cherefull face) that he began to feele himselfe well, and that he had slept quietly sithens diner, and was determined to suppe beneth, sending that night for the gentleman, to beare him companie at supper: and could so well disemble his iust anger, as neither his wife, nor the Gentleman perceiued it by any meanes. And so the Lorde with his Lady still continued, the space of fiftene dayes, or three wekes, making so much of her (as though it had ben the firste moneth that he maried her) in suche sorte, as when the poore miserable woman thought to haue gotten victorie ouer her husband and frend, it was the houre that fortune did weaue the toyle and nette to intrappe her. The Lorde which no longer could abide this mischief, driuen into an extreame choler, seing that he was able to finde no meanes to take them (himselfe being at home) deliberated either sone to die or to prouide for the matter: and the better to execute his determination, he counterfaited a letter from the Duke of Sauoie, and bare it secretly to the post him selfe alone, and commaunded him next daye to bring it to his Castell, whereby he fained that the Duke had sent the same vnto him. Whiche matter the post did handle so well, as he brought the letter, when he was at supper, with botes on his legges all durtie and raied, as though he were newly lighted from his horse. And the better to maintain his wife in her error, after he had reade the letter, he gaue it to her to reade: which conteined no other thing but that the Duke commaunded him presently with all diligence, himselfe and his traine to come vnto him, to be dispatched vpon ambassage into Fraunce. That doen he said vnto her: “Wife, you see how I am constrayned to depart with spede (to my great grief) bid my men therfore to be ready in the morning, that they may go before and wayte for me at Thurin, where my Lord the Duke is at this present. I my self will departe from hence to morow at night after supper, and will ride in post in the freshe of the night.” And the better to deceiue this poore vnhappie woman, he went into his Closet, and took his caskette, wherin was the moste parte of his treasure, and deliuering the same vnto her, sayde: “That fearing leste hee shoulde tarie long in Fraunce, he would leaue the same with her to help her when she wanted.” And after all this traine was gone, hee caused one of the yeomen of his chamber to tary behynde, whose fidelitie he had at other times proued: and all that daye he ceased not to cherishe and make much of his wyfe. But the poore soule did not forsee, that they were the flatteries of the Crocodile, which reioyseth when he seeth one deceiued. When he had supped, he made a particuler remembraunce to his wife how the affaires of his house should be disposed in his absence: and then toke his leaue, giuing her a Iudas kisse. The lorde vnethes had ridden twoo or thre miles, but that his wife had sent the olde woman to carye worde to her louer, of the departure of her husband, and that he might saufly come and lie with her in the castell, for that all the seruauntes were ridden forth with their maister, sauing one yeoman and her twoo maydes, whiche doe neuer vse to lie in her chamber. Vpon this glad newes the Gentleman thought no scorne to appeare vppon that warning, and the old woman knew the way so well, as she brought him straight into the ladies chamber, whom loue inuegled in such wise, as they lay together in the bedde where the lord was wont to lye. And the olde woman laye in an other bed in that chamber, and shut the dore within. But while these twoo poore passionate louers thought they had attayned the toppe of all felicitie, and had inioyed with full saile the fauours of the litle God Cupide, Fortune desirous to departe them, for the last messe of the feast prepared so bitter Comfettes, as it cost them both their liues, with such cruell death, as if they which make profession of semblable things doe take example, wyues will get them better names, and husbandes shalbe lesse deceiued. The Lorde that night made no longer tracte of time, but lighted from his horse, at the keper of one of his Castles houses, whom he knewe to be faythfull. To whome in the presence of the yeoman of his chamber, he discoursed the loue betwene the gentleman and his wyfe, and commaunded them with all spede to arme themselues, and with a case of pistolets to follow him, whom they obeyed. And beyng come to the Castell gate he saide to the keper of his castell: “Knocke at the gate, and fayne thy selfe to be alone, and saye that I passing by thy house did leaue a remembraunce with thee, to cary to my ladie. And because it is a matter of importaunce, and requireth hast, thou were compelled to bring it this night.” Knocking at the gate somewhat softely (for feare lest they whiche were in the chambers should heare) a yeoman rose whiche laye in the courte, knowing the voyce of the keper (because he was one, whome his lorde and maister dyd greatly fauour) opened the gate, and the firste thyng they did, they lyghted a torche, and wente vp all three to the Lordes chamber, not sufferyng anye man to cary newes to the Ladie, of theyr approche. Being come to the chamber doore, the keeper knocked, whiche immediatly the olde woman hearde, and without opening the doore, asked who was there. “It is I (quod the keeper,) that haue brought a letter to my ladie, from my Lorde my maister, who ryding this nyght in post to Thurin, passed by my house, and very earnestly charged me by no meanes to fayle but to deliuer it this night.” The Ladie aduertised hereof, who could not mistruste that her owne man (whome she tooke to bee simple, and voyde of guyle) would haue framed a platte for suche a treason, sayde to the olde woman: “Receiue the letter at the doore, but in any wyse let him not come in, and I will accomplishe the contentes.” The olde woman, which thought onely but to receiue the letter betwene the doore, was astoned when the keper who (giuing her a blow with his foote vpon the stomacke) threwe her backward, where she laie more then a quarter of an houre, without speaking or mouing. And then they three entring the chamber in great rage, with their pistolets in their handes, found the two miserable louers starke naked, who seing them selues surprysed in that state, were so sore ashamed as Eue and Adam were, when their sinne was manifested before God. And not knowing what to doe, reposed their refuge in lamenting and teares, but at the verie same instaunt, they bounde the armes and legges together, of the poore gentleman with the chollers of their horse, which they brought with them of purpose. And then the Lorde commaunded that the twoo maydes, which were in the Castell, and the reste of the seruantes, should be called to assiste them, to take example of that faire fight. And all the meane people being gathered in this sort together, the lorde tourning him self vnto his wife, saied vnto her: “Come hither thou vnshamefast, vile, and detestable whore, like as thou hast had a harte so traiterous and vnfaithfull, to bring this infamous ruffian in the night into my castell, not only to robbe and dispoile me of mine honour, which I preferre and esteme more then life: but also (whiche is more to be abhorred) to infring and breake for euer, the holie and precious bande of mariage, wherewithall wee be vnited and knit together. So will I forthwith, that with these thyne owne handes, with whiche thou gauest me the firste testimonie of thy faith, that he presently shalbe hanged and strangled in the presence of all menne, not knowing howe to deuise anye other greater punishimente, to satisfie thyne offence, then to force thee to murder hym, whome thou haste preferred before thy reputation, aboue myne honour, and estemed more then thine owne life.” And hauing pronounced this fatall iudgement, he sent one to seeke for a greate naile of a Carte, which he caused to be fastened to the beame of the chamber, and a ladder to be fetched, and then made her to tie a Coller of the order belonginge to theeues and malefactours, about the necke of her sorowfull louer. And because she alone was not able to do that greuous and waightie charge, hee ordayned that like as the olde woman had bin a faithfull minister of his wiue’s loue, so shee should put her hand in performing the vttermost of that worke. And so these two wretched women, were by that meanes forced to suche extremitie, as with their owne handes, they strangled the infortunate Gentleman: with whose death the Lord not yet satisfyed, caused the bedde, the clothes, and other furnitures (wherupon they had taken their pleasures past) to be burned. He commaunded the other vtensiles of the chamber to be taken away, not suffring so much straw, as would serue the couche of two dogges, to be left vnconsumed. Then he said to his wife: “Thou wicked woman, amonges al other most detestable: for so much as thou hast had no respecte to that houourable state, whereunto fortune hath aduaunced thee, being made by my meanes of a simple damosell, a greate Ladie, and because thou hast preferred the lasciuious acquaintaunce of one of my subiects, before the chast loue, that thou oughtest to haue borne me: my determination is, that from henceforth thou shalt kepe continuall company with him, to the vttermost day of thy life: because his putrified carcase hath giuen occasion to ende thy wretched body.” And then hee caused all the windowes and doores to be mured, and closed vp in such wyse, as it was impossible for her to go oute, leauing onely a litle hole open, to giue her bread and water: appointing his Steward to the charge thereof. And so this poore miserable woman, remained in the mercie of that obscure and darke prison, without any other company, then the deade body of her louer. And wheu shee had continued a certaine space in that stinking Dongeon, without aire or comfort, ouercome with sorrow and extreme paine, she yelded her soule to God.

[ THE FORTY-FOURTH NOUELL.]

The loue of Alerane of Saxone, and of Adelasia the daughter of the Emperour Otho the thirde of that name. Their flight and departure into Italie, and how they were known againe, and what noble houses of Italie descended of their race.

The auncient histories of Princes (as wel vnder the name of kinge, as of the title of Duke, which in time paste did gouerne the Countrie of Saxone) do reporte that Otho the seconde of that name, which was the first Emperour that lawfullye raigned (after the Empire ceassed in the stock of Charles the great) had of his wife Matilde doughter of the king of Saxone, one sonne which succeded him in the Imperial crowne, called Otho the third, who for his vertuous education and gentle disposition, acquired of all men the surname of The loue of the world. The same Emperour was curteous and mercifull, and neuer (to any man’s knowledge) gaue occasion of griefe to any person, he did good to euery man, and hurt none: likewise he thought that kingdome to be well gotten, and gotten to be better kept, where the king, Prince or Ruler therof, did studie and seeke meanes to be beloued, rather then feared, sith loue ingendreth in it selfe a desire of obedience in the people. And contrary wise, that Prince which by tyrannic maketh himself to be feared, liueth not one houre at rest, hauing his conscience tormented indifferently, both with suspition and feare, thinking stil that a thousand swords be hanging ouer his head, to kill and destroye him. Otho then vnder his name of Emperour, couered his clemencie with a certaine sweete grauite and Princely behauiour. Who notwithstanding declared an outward shew of curtesie, to make sweete the egreness of displeasure, which they feele and taste that be subiect to the obeysaunce of any new Monarchie. Man being of his owne nature so louing of himselfe, that an immoderate libertie seemeth vnto him sweeter, more iust and indurable, than aucthorities rightly ordained, the establishment whereof seemeth to represente the onely gouernment of that first kinge, which from his high throne, giueth being aud mouing to al thinges. That good Emperour then knowinge verye well the mallice of men, who although he was a good man of warre, hardye of his hands, and desirous of glorie, yet moderated so well the happie successe of his enterprises, as his grace and gentlenes principally appeared, when he had the vpper hand, for that he cherished and well vsed those whom he had subdued vnder his obedience: his force and felicitie was declared when he corrected and chastised rebells, and obstinate persons, which wilfully would proue the greate force of a Princes arme iustly displeased, and to others what fauour a king could vse towards them, whom he knew to be loyal and faithfull: giuing cause of repentaunce to them which at other times had done him displeasure. And to say the truth, he mighte be placed in the ranke of the most happie princes that euer were, if the priuate affaires of his owne house had so happily succeeded, as the renowme which hee wanne in the science of warfare, and in the administration of the common wealth. But nothing being stable in the life of man, this emperour had in him, that which diminished the glorie of his wisedome, and (resembling an Octauius Augustus) the vnhappie successe of his owne house did somewhat obscure the fame of his noble factes, and those insolent doinges serued vnto him as a counterpoyse to prosperous fortune, which may be easely perceiued, by the progresse and continuation of this historie. This good Prince had one daughter, in whom nature had distributed her giftes in such wise, as she alone might haue vaunted her self to attaine the perfection of all them, which euer had any thing, worthy of admiration, were it in the singularitie of beauty, fauour and courtesie, or in her disposition and good bringing vp. The name of this fayre Princesse was Adelasia. And when this Ladie was very yong, one of the children of the Duke of Saxone, came to the Emperour’s seruice, whose kinsman he was. This yonge Prince, besides that he was one of the fayrest and comliest gentlemen of Almaigne, had therwithall, together with knowledge of armes, a passing skill in good sciences, which mitigated in him the ferocitie both of his warlike knowledge, and of the nature of his countrey. His name was Alerane, who seing himsefe the yongest of his house, and his inheritaunce very small, indeuoured to conciliate every man’s fauour and good will, to remoue his owne fortune, and to bring himselfe in esteemation with the Emperour, wherein all thinges hee imployed so well his indeuour, as through his worthines he wanne commendation and report, to be the most valiaunte and stoutest gentleman in all the Emperour’s Court, which praise did greatly commend the tendernes of his yong yeares, and was therewithall so sober, and of so gentle spirite, that although he excelled his companions in all things, yet he auoyded cause of offence (shewinge himselfe familiar amonge all the Courtiers.) Euery man (which is a greate matter) praised him and loued him, and he thought himself most happie, that by any meanes could fashion himself to imitate the vertue that made Alerane’s name so renowmed. And that which made him fuller of admiracion, and brought him into fauour with his Lord and maister was, that vpon a day the Emperour being in hunting alone in the middes of a launde, and in a desert place, it chaunced that a Beare issuinge out of her caue, was assayled of Hunters: the fierce beaste, auoyding the toyles and flyinge the pursute of the dogges, came with greate vehemencie and speede from a mountaine, and was vpon the Emperour or he was ware, separated from his companie and without his sword. But Alerane by good fortune was at hand, who more careful for the safetie of his Prince than for his owne life, encountred the beare, and killed him in the presence of the Emperour and many other. All which beholding (to their great astonishmente) the dexteritie and hardines of Alerane at those small yeares, (for then hee was not aboue the age of XVII.) the Emperour imbracing him, did highly commende him, tellinge them that were by, that his life was saued chiefely by God’s assistaunce, and nexte by the prowesse of Alerane. The newes hereof was so bruted abroade, as there was no talke but of the valiaunce and stoutenes of this yong man of warre, which caused fair Adelasia (moued by naturall instigation, and with the opinion and reporte of the vertue toward in that yonge Prince) to feele a certaine thing (I cannot tell what) in her minde, which inflamed her senses and hart. And she had no sooner cast her eyes vpon Alerane, but loue, which had prepared the ambushe, so pearsed her delicate breast, as he toke ful possession of her: in such wyse as the Princesse was so straungelye in loue wyth the yonge Prince, that she neuer founde pleasure and contentment but in that which was done or said by her louer, whom she accompted the chiefe of all the men of his time. In this burning heate, she felt the passions of Loue so vehement, and his pricks so sharpe, that she could not euaporate the cloudes which darkened her spirites and continually tormented her minde. And albeit that the little occasion, which she saw, for their comminge together in time to come, did disswade her from pursuing the thing which she most desired: yet the tyrant Loue shewed himselfe very extreame in that diuersitie of thoughts, and variety of troubles which vexed the spirite of the Princesse: for shee could not so well dissemble that, which honour and age commaunded her to keepe secrete, but that Alerane which was (as we haue alreadie said) well expert and subtile, perceiued the inwarde disease of Adelasia. Moreouer there was betweene them a naturall conformitie and likelyhode of conditions, which made them to agree in equall desires, to feede of like meates, their passionate mindes were martired with equall sorowe and paine, departed as wel in the one as in the other. For Alerane by taking careful heede to the lookes which the Princesse continually did stealingly cast vpon him, saw the often and sodaine chaunces of colour, wherein sometimes appeared ioye, which by and by did ende with infinite nomber of sighes, and with a countenance agreeable to that, which the hart kept secrete and couert, whereby he assured himselfe vnfainedly to be beloued, which caused him to do no lesse (for satisfaction of such like merite and desert done by Adelasia) but to beare vnto her like affection, forcinge her by all diligence and seruice to continue still that good will toward him, yelding himselfe a pray to the selfe same Loue. Who ruling thaffections of the Princesse, (as braue and pleasaunt as she was) made her sorowfull and pensife, and altered her in such wise as she thought the companie wherein she was did impeach her ioy, which companie she imagined to conceiue the like pleasure that she did, when at libertie and alone shee reuolued her troubles, and fansied her contentation in her minde. Alerane on the other side slept not, but as though he had receiued the first wound by the handes of the blinde little archer Cupide, ceassed not to thincke of her, whose image ordinarelye appeared before his eyes, as engrauen more liuely in his minde than anye forme may be insculped vppon mettall or marble. And yet neither the one nor the other, durste discouer the least passion of a greate nomber which oppressed their besieged hartes, and which suffered not to liue in anye reste this faire couple of loyall louers. The eyes alone did thoffice of the handes and tongue, as trustie secretaries, and faithful messengers of the effects of the minde. That which kindled the fier moste, was their frequente talke together, which was but of common matters, withoute vtteraunce of that which the hart knewe well enoughe, and whereof the eyes gaue true testimonie. A passion truly most intollerable for a yonge Princesse, as well because she neuer had experience of semblable sorow, as for her tender age, and yet more for a naturall abashmente and shame, which with the vaile of honor doth serue, or ought to serue for a bridle, to euery Ladie couetous of fame, or like to be the ornament or beauty of her race. Adelasia then floting in the tempestuous seas of her appetites, guided by a maister which delighteth in the shipwracke of them he carieth, vanquished with an immoderate rage of loue, tormented with grief vnspeakeable, offended with her owne desires, beinge alone in her chamber, began to complaine her sorowes, and saide: “Ah, what passion is it that is vnknowen vnto me, that ingendreth an obliuion of that which was wont to delighte and contente me? From whence commeth this new alteration, and desire vnaccustomed, for solitarie being alone, is the reste and argumente of my troubles? What diuersities and chaunges be these that in this sorte do poise and weigh my thought? Ah, Adelasia, what happie miserie dost thou finde in this free prison, where pleasure hath no place till the enemies haue disquieted the life, with a Million of painefull aud daungerous trauailes? What is this to say, but that againste the nature of maidens of my yeres I will not, or cannot be quiet day nor night, but take my repast and feeding vpon cares and thoughtes? Alacke, I thought then to finishe my sorowes and griefes, when (being alone) I began to frame the plot of my tormentes and paines, with so many formes and deuises in my fansie, as I do make wishes and requestes vpon the thing I loue and esteeme aboue all, vppon which all mine affections do depende and take their beginning. What is this to saye, but that my maydes do offende mee, when with discrete wordes they go about to diuert me from my follies and pleasaunt noysome thoughtes? Wherefore should not I take in good part the care which they haue of my health, and the paine which they take to remember me of my torment? Alas, they know not wherein consisteth the force of mine euil, and much lesse is it in their power to remedie the same. Euen so I would haue none other plaister but him that hath giuen me the wound, nor none other meate but the hunger that drieth me vp, I craue none other comfort but the fire which burneth mee continuallye, the force wherof pearceth the sucke and marie within my bones. Ah Alerane, Alerane, the floure and mirror of all prowesse and beautie: it is thou alone that liueste in mee, of whom my minde conceyueth his hope, and the hart his nourishment. Alas: that thy worthines should be the ouerthrow of mine honour, and thy perfection the imperfection of my life. Ah Loue, Loue, how diuersly thou dealest with mee. For seing mine Alerane, I am attached with heate in the middes of ise that is full oolde. In thinking of him, I do both rest and trauaile continually. Nowe I flee from him, and sodainly againe I desire him. In hearing him speake, the suger and hony, that distilleth from his mouth, is the contentmente of my minde, till such time as his words appeare to be different from my desire. For then, ah Lord: my rest is conuerted into extreme trauaile, thy honye into gall, and wormewoode more bitter than bitternes it selfe, the hope of my minde is become dispayre so horrible, as the same onely wil breede vnto me, (if God haue not pittie vpon me) a short recourse of death.” After these wordes, shee rested a longe time without speaking, her armes a crosse, and her eyes eleuate on highe, which ranne downe like a Ryuer of teares, and seemed to be so rauished, as a man would haue iudged her rather a thing withoute life, than a creature sensible, and labouring for life, till, recouering her spirites againe, as comming from an extasie and sounde, she beganne her plaintes againe in this sort: “What? must such a Princesse as I am, abase my selfe to loue her owne subiect, yea and her kinseman, and specially not knowing yet how his minde is disposed? Shall I be so vnshamefast, and voyde of reason, to surrender my selfe to anye other but to him, whom God and fortune hath promised to be my espouse? Rather death shall cut of the threde of my yeres, than I wil contaminate my chastitie, or that any other enioy the floure of my virginitie, than he to whom I shal be tied in mariage. Ah: I say and promise muche, but there is a tormenter in my minde which dealeth so rigorouslie with my reason, as I cannot tel wherupon wel to determine. I dare not thincke (which also I ought not to do) that Alerane is so foolish to despise the loue of one, that is the chiefeste of the doughters of the greatest Monarches of the world, and much lesse that hee should forget himselfe, in such wise to forsake mee, hauing once enioyed the best and dearest thing that is in mee, and whereof I meane to make him the onelye and peaceable possessor. Truly the vertue, gentlenes, and good nurriture of Alerane, doe not promise suche treason in him, and that great beautie of his, cannot tell how to hyde such rigor as hee will refuse one that is no deformed and ill fauoured creature, and which loueth him with such sinceritie, as wher she shall lose the meanes to inioy him, there shee shal feele, euen forthwith, the miserable ende of her sorowfull dayes.” And then againe she helde her peace, tossed and turmoiled with diuers thoughtes fleetinge betweene hope and feare: by and by she purposed to deface from her hart the memorie of Loue, which alreadie had taken to faste footinge, and would not be separated from the thing, which heauen himselfe seemed to haue prepared, for the perfection and glorie of his triumphe. Loue then constrayned her, to resolue vppon her laste determination. Then continuinge her talke, sighing without ceasing, she said: “Chaunce what may to the vttermost, I can but wander like a Vagabonde and fugitiue with mine owne Alerane (if hee will shew me so much pleasure to accept mee for his own): for sure I am, the Emperour wil neuer abide the mariage, which I haue promised: and sooner will I die, than another shall possesse that which Alerane alone deserueth: hauinge a long time vowed and dedicated the same vnto him. And afterwards let the vulgar sort blabbe what they liste of the bolde and foolishe enterprises of Adelasia, when my harte is contented and desire satisfied, and Alerane enioyeth her that loueth him more than her selfe. Loue verily is not liable to the fansie of the parentes, nor yet to the will euen of them that subiungate themselues to his lawes. And besides that I shall not be alone amongest Princesses, that haue forsaken parentes and countries, to folow their loue into straunge regions. Faire Helena the Greeke, did not she abandon Menelaus her husbande and the rich citie of Sparta, to follow the faire Troian, Alexander sailing to Troie? Phedria and Ariadne, despised the delicates of Creta, lefte her father a very old man, to go with the Cecropian Theseus. None forced Medea the wise furious lady (but loue) to departe the isle of Colchos, her owne natiue countrey, wyth the Argonaute Iason. O good God, who can resist the force of loue, to whom so many kinges, so many Monarches, so many wise men of al ages haue done their homage? Surely the same is the onely cause that compelleth me (in makinge my selfe bolde) to forget my dutie towardes my parentes, and specially mine honour, which I shall leaue to be reasoned vpon by the ignoraunt which considereth nothing but that which is exteriourly offred to the viewe of the sighte. Ah: how much I deceiue my selfe, and make a reckeninge of much without mine hoste: and what know I if Alerane (although hee do loue me) will loose the good grace of the Emperour; and forsake his goods, and (so it maye bee) to hazard his life, to take so poore and miserable a woman as I am? Notwithstanding I wil proue fortune, death is the worst that can chaunce, which I wil accelerate rather than my desire shall loose his effecte.” Thus the fayre and wise Princesse concluded her vnhappie state: and all this time her best frende Alerane, remained in greate affliction, and felt such feare as cannot be expressed with woordes, onely true louers know the force, altogether like to that wherof the yong Prince had experience, and durst not discouer his euill to her, that was able to giue him her allegeaunce, much lesse to disclose it to any deare frende of his, into whose secrecie he was wont to commit the most parte of his cares, which was the cause that made him feele his hart to burne like a litle fier in the middes of a cleare riuer, and saw him selfe ouerwhelmed within the waters, hotter than those that be intermixed with Sulphure, and do euaporate and sende forth ardente smokes in an Æthna hill or Vesuue mountaine. The Princesse impaciente to endure so long, could no longer keepe secrete the flames hidden within her, without telling and vtteringe them to some, whom her minde liked best, and there to render them wher she thought they toke their essense and beinge, casting away all shame and feare, which accustomablie doth associate Ladies of her estate and age. One day, she toke secretly aside, one that was her gouernesse named Radegonde, a gentlewoman, so vertuous, wise and sober, as anye other that was in the Emperour’s Courte, who for her approued manners and chaste life, had the charge of the bringing vppe and nourishing of Adelasia, from her infancie. To this gentlewoman then the amorous princesse deliberated to communicate her secretes, and to let her vnderstande her passion, that shee might find some remedie. And for that purpose they two retired alone within a closet, the poore louer tremblinge like a leafe (at the blaste of the westerne winde, when the Sunne beginneth to spread his beames) sighinge so strangely, as if her bodye and soule would haue departed, said thus: “The trust which euer I haue found in that naturall goodnes that appeareth to be in you, my mother and welbeloued Ladie, ioyned with discretion and fidelitie, wherwith all your actes and affayres be recommended, do presently assure me, and make me bolde in this my trouble, to participate vnto you my secretes, which be of greater importance without comparison, than anye that euer I tolde you, perswading my selfe that the thing which I shall tell you, whatsoeuer it be (be it good or ill) you will accept it in suche wyse, as your wysedome requireth, and to keepe it so close as the secrete of such a Ladie as I am doth deserue. And that I maye not holde you longe in doubte what it is, know ye, that of late the valor, prowesse, beautye, and curtesie, of Senior Alerane of Saxon, hath founde such place in my hart, as (in despite of my self) I am so in loue with him, that my life is not deare vnto me but for his sake, my hart taketh no pleasure but in his glorie and vertue, hauing chosen him so vertuous a Prince for my frend, and one day (by God’s sufferaunce) for my lawfull spouse and husband. I haue assaied a thousand meanes, and so many wayes, to cast him of and to blot him out of my remembraunce: but, alas! vnhappie caytife, fortune is so froward and so vnmercifull to my endeuour, as the more I labour and go aboute to extinguishe in me, the memorie of his name and commendable vertues, so much the more I do enlarge and augmente them, the flames of which loue do take such increase, as I do litle or nothinge esteeme my life without the enioyinge the effecte of my desire, and the taste of suche licour, which nourishing my hope in pleasure, may quenche the fier that doth consume me: otherwise I see no meanes possible but that I am constrayned, either to lose my good wittes (whereof already I feele some alienation) or to ende my dayes with extreme anguishe, and insupportable hartes sorowe. Alas, I know well that I shall loose my time, if I attempt to pray the Emperour my father to giue me Alerane to husbande, sith he doth already practise a mariage betwene the king of Hungarie and me: and also that Alerane (although he be a Prince of so noble bloud and honourable house, as the Saxon is) yet he is to base to be sonne in lawe to an Emperour. In these my distresses, it is of you alone, of whom I looke for ayde and counsaile, beinge certaine of your prudence and good iudgement: and therefore I pray you to haue pitie vpon mee, and haue remorse vpon this immoderate passion that doth tormente mee beyonde measure.” Radegonde hearing Adelasia disclose this talke, wherof she would neuer haue thought, was so confounded and astoned, that of long time she could not speake a word, holding her head downe, reuoluing a thousand diuers matters in her minde, knewe not well what to aunswere the Princesse. Finally gatheringe her spirites vnto her, shee aunswered her with teares in her eyes, saying: “Alas, madame, what is that you saye? Is it possible that the wisest, vertuous, and most curteous Princesse of Europa could suffer herselfe in this sort (through her onely aduise) to be transported to her owne affections and sensuall appetites? Is it well doen that you seing in me, a discretion and modestie, doe not imitate the puritie thereof? Be these the godly admonicions which heretofore I haue giuen you, that you will so lightly defile your father’s house with the blot of infamie, and your self with eternal reproch? Would you, Madame, that vpon the ende of my yeares I should begin to betraye my Lord the Emperour, who hath committed to my hands the most precious iewell of his house? Shal I be so vnconstant in mine old dayes to become an vnshamefast minister of your fonde and foolishe loue, a thing which I neuer did in the ardent time of youth? Alas, madame, forget I beseech you this foolish order, cast vnder your feete this determination wickedly begonne, such as to the blemishinge of the honourable brightnes of your fame, maye cause the ruine of vs all. Follow the counsell of your deare nourice Radegonde, whoe loueth you better than her owne soule. Quenche these noisome and parchinge flames which haue kindled, and throwen forth their sparkes into your chaste and tender harte. Take heede, I beseech you, that a vaine hope doe not deceiue you, and a foolishe desire abuse you. Alas, thincke that it is the parte of a sage and prudente minde, to restraine the first motions of euerye passion, and to resiste the rage that riseth in our willes, and the same very oft by succession of time, bringeth to it selfe to late and noysome repentance. This your thought procedeth not of loue: for hee that thincketh to sustain himselfe with venim sugred with that drogue, in the ende he seeth himselfe so desperately impoysoned, as onely death is the remedie for suche disease: a louer truly may be called the slaue of a tyrant most violent, cruell, and bloudie that may be found, whose yoke once put on, can not be put of, but with painful sorrowe and vnspeakeable displeasure. Do you not know Madame, that loue and follie be two passions so like one an other, that they engender like effectes in the minds of those that do possesse them: in such wise as the affection of the paciente cannot be concealed? Alas, what shall become of you and him that you loue so well, if the Emperour do know and perceiue your light and fond determinations. Shew Madame, for God’s sake, what you be. Let the ripe fruits of your prudence so long time tilled, appeare abrode to the worlde: expell from you this vnruled loue, which if you suffer frankly to enter into your hart, assure your selfe he wil take such holdfaste of the place, that when you thincke to extrude the enemie out, it is he that will driue away that small portion of force and reason that resteth in you: and then the comfort of your miseries, wil be the lamentation of your losses, and a folowing repentaunce for that which cannot be by any meanes recouered.” Adelasia burning in loue and fretting with anger, not able to abide contrarie replie to her minde, began to loke furiouslie vppon the Ladie that gave her suche holsome admonicion, to whom she said with more than womanly stoutnes, these words: “And what are you, good gentlewoman, that dare so hardly prescribe lawes to Loue that is not subiect or tied vnto the fantasie of men? Who hath giuen you commission to take the matter so hote against that I haue determined to doe, say you what you can? No, no, I loue Alerane and wil loue him whatsoeuer come of it: and sithe I can haue none other helpe at your handes, or meete counselle for mine ease and comfort: be assured that I will endeauour to finde it in my selfe: and likewise to prouide so well as I can for mine affaires, that eschewing the alliaunce which the Emperour prepareth, I will liue at hartes ease with him, whom (in vaine) you go about to put out of my remembraunce: and if so be I chaunce to fayle of my purpose, I haue a medicine for my calamities which is death, the laste refuge of all miseries: which will be right pleasaunt vnto me, ending my life, in the contemplation and memorie of the sincere and perfecte loue that I beare to mine Alerane.” Radegonde no lesse abashed, than surprised with feare, hearinge the resolution of the Princesse, could not at the first make any aunswere, but to make her recourse to teares, the most familiar weapons that women haue. Then seing by the countenaunces of Adelasia, that the passion had set in foote to deepe for any to attempt to plucke oute the rootes, from that time forth shee wiped her eyes, not without euident demonstration (for all that) of her great griefe conceyued, with infinite sighes, turning her face to the Ladie, shee said to her with pleasaunter countenaunce than before: “Madame, sith your mishap is such as withoute Alerane you cannot bee quiet or pacifyed in minde, appease your plaintes, wipe awaye your teares, shew your countenaunce ioyful, and setting aside all care, put on good corage, and repose in mee all your anguishe and trouble. For I doe promise you and sweare by the fayth that I do owe you Madame, come whatsoeuer shall vnto me, I will deuise in practising your rest to beginne mine owne sorow. And then you shall see how much I am your frend, and that the words which I haue spoken do not proceede els where, but from the desire that I haue to doe you seruice, seeking al wayes possible your aduauncement.” Adelasia at these last words felt such a motion in her minde, as much a doe she had for the exceeding great ioy and pleasure she conceiued, to staie her soule from leapinge forth of that corporall prison (like the spirite of that Romaine Ladie which once lefte the bodye to descende into the Elisien fields, to vse the perfection of her ioy with the blessed soules there, when she saw her sonne retorne safe and sounde from the battaile of Thrasimene besides the lake of Peruse, where the Consull Flaminius was ouercome by Hanniball): but in the ende, the hope to haue that which Radegonde had promised, made her to receiue hart againe, and to clepe her counseler, sayinge: “God forbid, deare mother, that the thing you do for me should rebound to your mishap or discontentmente, sithe the affection which you haue consisteth in the onely pitie and conseruation of a poore afflicted maiden. And your desire tendeth to the deliuerance of the most passionate Princesse that euer was borne of mother: and beleeue that fortune will bee so fauourable, that what mischiefe soeuer chaunce, you remayninge without paine, I shall be shee that alone shal beare the penaunce: wherefore once againe I beseech you, (sayd shee embracinge Radegonde) to bringe that to passe whereof you giue assured hope.” “Care not you Madame,” sayde Radegonde “I truste within a while to make you proue the effecte of my promise: and will cause you to speake vnto him whom you desire so muche: onely be meerye and forgette these straunge fashions, in tormentinge your selfe so muche before your maides, to the intente that, which hitherto hath bin kepte secrete, maye not be reueyled to your great shame and hinderaunce, and to the vtter ruine and ouerthrow of me.” During all this time, Alerane liued in despaire, and hardy cowardise, for although he saw the amorous gestes of Adelasia, yet he durst fixe no certain iudgement of his owne satisfaction, although his harte tolde him, that he was her onely fauoured friend, and promised him that, which almost he feared to thinke, whiche was to haue her one day for friend, if the name of spouse were refused. Thus tormented with ioye and displeasure, wandering betwene doubt and assuraunce of that he hoped, the selfe same daye that Adelasia pratised with Radegonde, for the obtaining of her ioye, and secrete ministerie of her loue, he entred alone into a garden, into whiche the Princesse chamber had prospect, and after he had walked there a good space in an Alley, viewing diligently the order of the fruitful trees of so diuers sortes, as there be varietie of colours, within a faire meade, during the verdure of the spring time, and of so good and sauorours taste as the harte of man could wyshe: he repaired vnder a Laurel tree so well spred and adorned with leaues, about whiche tree you might haue seene an infinite number of Myrtle trees of smell odoriferous and sweete, of Oringe trees laden with vnripe fruite, of pliable Mastickes and tender Tameriskes: and there he fetched his walkes a long the thycke and greene herbes, beholding the varietie of floures, whiche decked and beautified the place, with their liuely and naturall colours. He then rauished in this contemplation, remembring her which was the pleasure and torment of his minde, in sighing wise began to saye: “O that the heauens be not propitious and fauourable to my indeuours: sithe that in the middes of my iolities, I fele a new pleasaunt displeasure, which doth adnihilate all other solace, but that which I receiue through the Image painted in my harte, of that diuine beautie, whiche is more varieted in perfection of pleasures, than this paradise and delicious place, in varietie of enamel and painting, although that nature and art of man, haue workemanlye trauailed to declare and set forth their knowledge and diligence. Ah, Adelasia, the fairest Lady of al faire and most excellent Princesse of the earth: is it not possible for me to feede so well of the viewe and contemplation of thy heauenly and angelicall face, as I doe of the sight of these faire and sundry coloured floures? may it not be brought to passe that I may smell that sweet breath which respireth through thy delicate mouth, being none other thing than Baulme, Muske, and aumbre, yea and that which is more precious, and for the raritie and valour hath no name, euen as I do smell the Roses, Pincks, and Violets, hanging ouer my head, frankely offering themselues into my handes? Ah, infortunate Alerane, there is no floure that ought to be so handled, nor sauor, the sweetnesse whereof ought not to bee sented without desert merited before. Ah! Loue, Loue, that thou hast fixed my minde vpon so high thinges: alas I feare an offence so daungerous, which in the ende will breede my death: and yet I can not withdrawe my harte from that sincke of Loue, although I would force my selfe to expell it from me: alas, I haue red of him so many times, and haue heard talke of his force, as I am afraide to boorde him, and yet feare I shall not escape his gulfe. Alas, I knowe well it is he, of whom is engendred a litle mirth and laughing, after whiche doth followe a thousand teares and weapinges, which for a pleasure that passeth away so sone as the whirlewinde, doth giue vs ouer to great repentaunce, the sorowe whereof endureth a long time, and sometimes his bitternesse accompanieth vs euen to the graue. The pacientes that be tainted with that amorous feuer, although continually they dye, yet they can not wholy see and perceiue the default and lacke of their life, albeit they do wyshe and desire it still. But, alas, what mishap is this that I doe see the poyson whiche causeth my mischiefe, and doe knowe the waye to remedye the same, and yet neuerthelesse I can not or will not recouer the helpe: did euer man heare a thing so straunge as a sicke man seking helpe and fynding recouerie, should yet reiecte it?” Saying so, he wepte and syghed so piteously as a litle chylde threated by his mother the nourice. Then roming vp and downe vppon the grasse, he seemed rather to be a man straught and bounde with chaines, than like one that had his wittes and vnderstanding. Afterwardes being come againe to himselfe, hee retourned to his first talke, saying: “But what? am I more wyse, more constant and perfecte, than so many Emperours, kynges, Princes, and greate lordes, who notwithstanding their force, wisedome, or riches, haue bene tributarie to loue? The tamer and subduer of monsters and tyrants, Hercules (vanquished by the snares of loue), did not he handle the distaffe in stead of his mightie mace? The strong and inuincible Achilles, was not he sacrificed to the shadowe of Hector vnder the colour of loue, to celebrate holy mariage with Polixena, doughter to king Priamus? The great dictator Iulius Cæsar, the Conquerour of so many people, Armies, Captaines, and Kinges, was ouercome with the beautie and good grace of Cleopatra, Queene of Egipt. Augustus his successour, attired lyke a woman, by a yoeman of his chamber, did he not take away Liuia from him that was first maried vnto her? and that common enemy of man and of all curtesie, Claudius Nero, appeased yet some of his furie for the loue of his Ladie? What straunge things did the learned, wise, and vertuous Monarche Marcus Aurelius indure of his well beloued Faustine? and that greate Captaine Marcus Antonius the very terror of the Romaine people and the feare of straung and barbarous nations did homage to the child Cupido for the beautie of Queene Cleopatra, which afterwardes was the cause of his vtter ouerthrow. But what meane I to alledge and remember the number of louers, being so infinite as they be? Wherefore haue the poetes in time past fained in their learned and deuine bookes the loues of Iupiter, Apollo, and Mars, but that euery man may knowe the force of loue to be so puissaunt as the Gods themselues have felt his force to be inuincible and ineuitable? Ah: if sometimes a gentleman be excused for abassing himself to loue a woman of base birth and bloud, why should I bee accused or apprehended for louing the daughter of the chiefest Prince of Europe? Is it for the greatnesse of her house and antiquitie of her race? Why, that is all one betwene vs twoo, and toke his original of the place, whereof at this daye, my father is the chiefe and principall. And admitte that Adelasia be the doughter of an emperour: ah, loue hath no regarde to persons, houses, or riches, rather is he of greater commendation whose enterpryses are most famous and haute gestes extende their flight farre of. Now resteth then to devise meanes how to make her vnderstand my payne: for I am assured that she loueth me, sauing that her honour and yong yeres doe let her to make it appeare more manifest: but it is my propre dutie to make requeste for the same, considering her merites and my small desertes in respect of her perfections. Ah: Alerane, thou must vnlose the tongue which so long time hath ben tied vp, through to much fonde and fearful shame. Set aside the feare of perill, whatsoeuer it be, for thou canst not employe thy selfe more gloriously than vpon the pursuit of suche a treasure that semeth to be reserued for the fame of thy mind so highly placed, which can not attaine greater perfections, except the heauens do frame in their impressions a second Adelasia (of whom I think dame nature her selfe hath broken the moulde) who can not shake of Alerane from the chiefest place, in whom he hath laid the foundation of his ioye that he hopeth to finde in Loue.” During these complaintes, Radegonde, that sawe him rauished in that extasie, coniecturing the cause of his being alone, caused him to be called by a page: who hearing that, was surprised with a new feare intermixt with a secrete pleasure, knowing very well, that she being the gouernesse of his lady, vnderstode the greatest priuities of her harte, hoping also that she brought him gladsome newes, and setting a good chere vpon his face all mated and confused for troubles past, hee repayred to the lady messanger, who was no lesse ashamed, for the tale that she must tell, than he was afeard and dombe, by sight of her whom he thought did bring the areste and determination, either of ioye or of displeasure. After curtesie and welcoms done betwene them, the lady preambled a certayne short discourse touching the matter, to do the Saxone Prince to vnderstande the good will and harty loue of Adelasia towarde him, praying him that the same might not be discouered, sith the honor of his lady did consiste in the secrecie thereof, assuring him, that he was so in fauour with the Princesse as any true and faithfull louer could desire to be for his content. I leaue to your consideration, in what sodayne ioye Alerane was, hearing suche gladsome newes whiche he loked not for, and thought he was not able to render sufficient thankes to the messanger, and much lesse to extolle the beautie and curtesie of his Lady, who without any of his merites done before, (as he thought) had him in so good remembraunce. Beseching moreouer Radegonde, that she would in his name do humble commendations to his Lady, and therewith to confirme her in the assuraunce of his perfect good will, and immutable desire, euerlastingly at her commaundement, onely praying her that he might saye vnto Adelasia three wordes in secrete, to thintent shee might perceiue his harte, and see the affection wherewith he desired to obey her al the dais of his life. The messanger assured him of al that he required, and instructed him what he had to doe for the accomplishement of that he loked for, which was, that the next day at night she would cause him to come into her warderobe, which was adioyning to the Chamber of his Lady, to the ende that when her maydes were a bed, he might repaire to the place where he might easely visite his maistresse, and say vnto her what he thought good. The compact thus made, the Lady returned to the Princesse, that wayted with good deuotion for the newes of her beloued. And hearing the reporte of Radegonde, shee was not contente that she should make repeticion of the same, twise or thrise but a Million of times and euen till nighte, that she slept vpon that thought with the greatest rest, that she had receiued in long time before. The morrowe at the houre that Alerane should come, Adelasia fayning her self to be ill at ease, caused her maydes to goe to bed, making her alone to tarie with her that was the messanger of her loue, who a litle while after went to seeke Alerane, whiche was a building of Castels in the ayre, fantasying a thousand deuises in his minde: what might befall of that enterprise he went about: notwithstanding he was so blinded in folly, as without measuring the fault which he committed, he thought vpon nothing but vppon the present pleasure, which semed to him so great as the chambre wherein hee was, seemed not sufficient to comprehend the glory of his good houre. But the Princesse on the other part, felte a maruellous trouble in her minde, and almoste repented that she had so hardely made Alerane to come into a place vndecent for her honour, and at a time so inconuenient. Howbeit seing that the stone was throwen, shee purposed not to pretermitte the occasion, which being balde can not easely be gotten againe if she be once let slip. And whiles she traueiled in these meditations and discoursed vppon that shee had to doe, Radegonde came in, leading Alerane by the hande, whom she presented to the Princesse, saying to her with a verie good grace: “Madame, I deliuer you this prysoner, whom euen nowe I founde here, betwene your chambre and that wherin your maydes lye: now consider what you haue to doe.” Alerane in the meane tyme, was fallen downe vpon his knees before his sainct, wholly bent to contemplate her excellent beautie and good grace, which made him as dumbe as an Image. Shee lykewyse beholding hym that made her thus to erre in her honestie, forced through shame and loue, could not forbeare to beholde him, the power of her mynde wholy transferred into her eyes, that then yelded contentation of her harte whiche shee so long desired. In the ende Alerane holding the handes of Adelasia many tymes did kisse them, then receiuing courage, he brake of that long silence and began to saye thus: “I neuer thought (madame) that the sight of a thing so long desired, had bene of such effect, as it would haue rauished both the mynde and bodye of their propre duties and naturall actions, if nowe I had not proued it in beholding the diuinitie of your beautie moste excellent. And truely madame Radegonde dyd rightly terme this place here, my pryson, considering that of long tyme I haue partly loste this my libertie, of the whiche I feele nowe an intire alienation: of one thing sure I am, that being your prysoner as I am in deede, I may make my vaunt and boast, that I am lodged in the fairest and pleasauntest pryson that a man can wyshe and desire. For which cause Madame, be wel aduised how you do vse and entreate your captive and slaue, that humbly maketh petition vnto you, to haue pitie vpon his weakenesse, which he will accept as a grace vnspeakeable, if of your accustomed goodnesse it may please you to receiue him for your owne, for that henceforth hee voweth and consecrateth his life, goodes, and honour, to your commaundemente and seruice.” And saying so, his stomake panted with continuall sighes and from his eyes distilled a ryuer of teares, the better to expresse and declare the secret force, that made hym to vtter these woordes. Which was the cause that Adelasia embrasing hym very louingly made aunswere thus: “I knowe not (Lorde Alerane) what pryson that is, where the prisoner is in better case, than the pryson of whom he termeth himselfe to be the slaue, considering that I fele in me such a losse of my selfe, as I can not tell whether to go, or where to retire, but euen to him that craueth the same fredome, whereof I my selfe doe make requeste. Alas, my welbeloued Alerane, into what extremity am I brought: the very great loue that I beare you, forceth me to forget my dutie, and the ligneage wherof I come, yea and mine honor, which is more to bee estemed than all the reste. But I repose in you such affiance, as you will not deceiue so simple a Ladie as I am, vtterly voyde of guyle and deceit. Who, if you be tormented, liueth not without griefe and sorrowe altogether like vnto yours. If you doe sighe, I am wholly spent and consumed in teares. Do you desire reste? Alas: I wishe and craue the same vnto vs both, that be now sundred and deuided, whiche can not be aquired except they be vnited which before were wholly separated.” Radegonde interrupting their talke, smilingly said: “And how can this separation be combined, where the parties them selues do liue in such disiunctions?” “You say true, madame,” saide Alerane, “for the perfection of vnitie consisteth in the knitting of that which is separated. Wherfore madame (sayd he to Adelasia) I humbly besech you, aswel for your comfort as my rest, not to suffer this diuision to be to long, sith the outward bound shall combine the same so inwardly, as very death shall not bee able hereafter to deface or diminishe the same.” “If I may assure my selfe,” sayde she, “of your fidelitie, it so may come to passe, as I wold giue you a very great libertie, but hearing tell so many times of the inconstancie and fickle trust of men, I will be contented with my first fault, without adding any further aggrauation, to fasten and binde that, which I do specially esteme.” “Alas, madame,” sayd Alerane, “doe you thinke that the prouf of my fidelitie may receiue greater perfection, by enioying the pleasure, that I hope for than it doth alredy? No, no, madame, and therefore be sure of my harte and stedfastnesse: for soner shall my body fayle, than defaulte in me to serue and honor you, if not according to the worthinesse of your estate, yet by al meanes, so farre as my power shal stretch. And can you finde in your hart to conceiue, that your Alerane would play the traitour with her, for whose seruice he feareth not to aduenture a thousand liues if God had geuen him so many?” Adelasia be sprent all with teares, was in an extasy or traunce. Which Alerane perceiuing and saw that Radegonde was gone into the warderobe, to suffer them to talke their fill, he began to take possession of her mouthe, redoubling kisse vpon kisse, sometimes washed with teares, sometime dried vp, with frequent vse thereof, leauing neither eye nor cheke vnkissed: and seing the pacience of his Ladye, he seased vpon her white, harde, and round breastes, whose pappes with sighes moued and remoued, yelding a certaine desire of Alerane to passe further. Which Adelasia perceiuing, dissembling a swete anger and such a chase as did rather accende the flames of the amorous Prince, than with moiste licour extinguishe the same, and making him to geue ouer the enterprise, she fiercely sayd unto him: “How now, (Sir Alerane) how dare you thus malapertly abuse this my secret frendship, in suffering you to come so frankely into my chamber. Thinke not that although I haue vsed you thus familiarly, that I can be able to suffer you to attempt any further: for (if God be fauourable to conserue me in my right wittes) neuer man shal haue that aduauntage to gather the floure of my virginitie, but he with whom I shall be ioyned in mariage. Otherwyse I shall bee unworthy, bothe of my honourable state, and also of that man what soeuer he be, worthy of estimation and preferrement.” “So I thynke to Madame,” aunswered Alerane: “for if it woulde please you to doe me that honour, to receiue me for your faythfull and loyall espouse, I sweare vnto you by him that seeth and heareth all thynges, that neuer any other shall bee maistresse of Alerane’s harte, but the fayre Princesse Adelasia.” She that asked no better, after mutche talke betwene them, in the ende condescended that Alerane should geue his faith to marrie her, and to conuey her out of the Courte, till the Emperour were appeased for their committed fault. Thus had the Saxon Prince, the full possession of his desires, and carried away the pray so long time sought for. Radegonde was she, that receiued the othes of their espousalles, and capitulated the articles of their secrete mariage. And after the determination made of their flying awaye, and a daye thereunto appointed, the two louers entred the campe, to make proufe by combate of their hardinesse and assaye of their trauayle in time to come, wherein they thought for euer to perseuere and continue. Beyng a bedde then together, they did consumate the bande that strayghtly doth bynde the harte of louers together, intiring the vnion diuided, whiche before they thought imperfect and could not be accomplished but by inward affections of the minde. And God knoweth howe this new maried couple vsed their mutuall contentation: but sure it is, that they continued together vntil the morning had vncouered from the night her darkenes, euen to the point of day, that Alerane was somoned by Radegonde to depart, who to conclude his former ioye, very louingly kissed his newe wife, and sayd vnto her: “Madame, the felicitie that I fele nowe, by enioying that which vniteth me so nerely being indissoluble and neuer hereafter to be broken, semeth so great that no perill whatsoeuer doth happen, can make me forget the least part of my ioye. So it is that seing the state of our present affaires, and fearing the daunger that may chaunce, I will for this time take my leaue of you, and goe about to put the same in order, that no negligence may slacke your ioye and desired pleasure.” “Ah, sir,” (saith she) “that my harte forethinketh both the best and worste of our intended enterprise. But to the intent we may proue our fortune, by whose conduction we must passe, I doe submitte my selfe to the wisedome of your mynde, and to the good successe that hetherto hath accompaignied all your indeuours.” And then they kissed and embraced again, drinking vp one anothers teares, which distilled from them in such aboundaunce. Thus Alerane departed from his Ladies chamber, and went home to his owne house, where he solde all his goodes at small price, making men to vnderstand, that he would employ the money otherwise in things whereof he hoped to recouer greater gaine. With that money he bought precious stones, and pretie Iewels, that he might not be burdened with cariage of to much gold, or other money, and then he put his males and bougets in readinesse to go with his wife, either of them in the habite and apparell of pilgrimes, faire and softly a foote, that they might not be discouered: which was done in the night. The Princesse faining her selfe to be sicke, made her maydes to withdrawe themselues into their chamber, and then she went into the garden where Alerane firste made his plaintes, as you haue heard before: in whiche place her husbande taried for her. God knoweth whether they renewed their pastime begon the daye of their mariage, but fearing to be taken, they began to playe the comedie, the actes whereof were very long, and the scrolle of their miseries to prolixe to carie, before they came to the catastrope and ende of their comicall action. For leauing their sumptuous and riche apparell, they clothed themselves with pilgrims attire, taking the skallop shell and staffe, like to them that make their pilgrimage to S. Iames in Gallisia. The Princesse toke the personage of a yong wench, ruffling her heare whiche she had in time past so carefully kempt, curled, and trimmed with gold and Iewels of inestimable value, wherein consisteth the chiefest grace of the beautie and ornament of the woman. Who is able to deny, but that this naturall humour and passion, borne so sone as we, whiche they call Loue, is not a certayne essence and being, the force and vigor whereof, not able to abide comparison? Is it no small matter, that by the only instinction of loue’s force, the doughter of so great a Prince, as the Emperour of the Romaines was, shoulde wander like a vagabonde in dissembled tire, and poorely cladde, to experiment and proue the long trauaile of iourneyes, the intemperature of the ayre, the hazarde to meete with so many theeues and murderers, which wayte in all places for poore passengers, and moreouer, to feele the bitternesse of trauayle, neuer tasted before, the rage of hunger, the intollerable alteration of thirst, the heate of hotte Sommer, the coldenesse of wynter’s yce, subiect to raines, and stormy blastes: doth it not plainely demonstrate that loue hath either a greater perfection, than other passions, or els that they which feele that alteration, be out of the number of reasonable men, endued with the brightnesse of that noble qualitie. This fayre Lady recouering the fields with her husband, with determination to take their flight into Italie, was more ioyfull, freshe, and lusty, than when she liued at ease amonges the delicates and pleasures, which she tasted in her father’s court. See howe fortune and loue are content to be blinde, closing vp the eyes of them, that followe their trace, and subdue themselues to their edictes, and vnstable dispositions. And truely this rage of loue was the only meane to dulcorate and make swete the bitter gal of griefe whiche those twoo louers felte, defatigated almoste with tedious trauaile, iudging their wearinesse a pastime and pleasure, being guided by that vnconstante captaine, whiche maketh dolts and fooles wyse men, emboldeneth the weake hearted and cowardes, fortifieth the feeble, and to be shorte, vntieth the pursses and bagges of couetous Carles and miserable Misers. Nowe whyles our faire pilgrimes, without any vowed deuocion, were abrode at their pleasures (beyng wery with the waye they had traueyled all nighte) the morrowe after their departure, all the Emperour’s house was in a great hurly burly and stirre for the absence of Adelasia. The wayting maydes cried out, and raged without measure, with such shrichinges, that the Emperour moued with pitie, although his griefe and anger was great, yet he caused euery place there aboutes to be searched and sought, but all that labour was in vaine. In the ende, perceiuing the absence of Alerane, suspected that it was he that had stolen away his fayre doughter, whiche brought him into such passion and frensie, as he was like to runne out of his wyttes and transgresse the bondes of reason. “Ah, traytour,” sayd the good Prince, “is this the guerdon of good turnes, bestowed vpon thee, and of the honour thou hast receiued in my company? Do not thinke to escape scot free thus without the rigorous iustice of a father, deserued by disobedience, and of a Prince, against whom his subiect hath committed villany. If God geue me lyfe, I wyll take such order, as the posteritie shall take example by that iuste vengeaunce whiche I hope to take of thee (arrant theefe, and despoyler of my honor and consolation.) And thou vnkynde doughter shalte smartely feele the wrong done to thy kynde, and welbeloued father, who thought to prouide for thee, more honourably than thy disloyaltie and incontinencie, so farre as I see, doe merite and deserue, sythe that without my leaue, and respect of thy vocation, thou hast gotten thee a husband worthy of thy folly, with whom I hope to make thee vnderstand thy fault, and my displeasure whiche I receiue through thy shamefull acte, so reprochfull, specially in her which is the doughter of such a father as I am, descended of the moste royall race within the circuit of Europe.” Many other things the Emperour sayd, in great rage and furie: and in thend commaunded, that one should go into Saxone, to knowe if Alerane had conueied his stolen doughter thither: but he could bring no newes at all from thence. He assaied then if he could learne any tidinges of them by other meanes, causing by sound of Trumpet to be cried in all the townes confining that if any persone could bring him worde, or do him to vnderstande certaine and sure newes of those twoo fugitiues, he would geue them that, wherewith they should be contented all the daies of their life. But he wan so much by this thirde serche, as he did by the firste twoo. Whiche thing the Maiestie of God, semed to permit and suffer as wel for the happie successe that chaunced afterwardes, as for the punishing of the rashe enterprise of two louers, whiche liued not very long in prosperitie and ioy, but that they felte the hande of God, who sometime suffereth the faithfull to fall, to make him acknowledge his imbecillitie, to the ende he may confesse, that all health, sustenaunce, reste, and comfort, is to be attended and looked for at the handes of God. When Alerane and his Lady were gone out of a citie with in the Emperour’s lande called Hispourge being come into a certaine wilde and desert place, they fell into the lapse of certaine theues, whiche stripped Alerane into his shirte, and had done as mutch to the poore princesse, if certaine Marchauntes had not come betwene, which forced the theues to flie. Alerane was succoured with some clothes to couer his bodie, and releued with a litle summe of money, which being spent, those twoo kinges children were constrained to begge, and aske for God’s sake reliefe to sustaine their infortunate life. Whiche distresse was so difficulte for Alerane to disgest, as he was like (standing vppon his feete) to die for sorrowe and want, not so mutch for the aduersitie whereunto he was brought through his owne fault, as the pitie that he toke vpon his deare beloued Lady, whome he sawe in so lamentable state, and knew that she might attaine her auncient dignitie and honour againe, if she listed to preferre rewarde or prise before his life, for which she spared not the very last drop of her bloud. She knowing the dolor and anguishe that her husband endured, comforted him very wisely with ioyfull countenaunce, saying: “Howe now, deare husband, thinke you that fortune is or ought to be still fauourable to Princes and greate Lordes? Do you not knowe that great bulkes and shippes do soner perishe and drowne in maine seas and riuers amiddes the raging waues and surges, than in narrow floudes and brookes, where the water is still and calme? Doe you not see great trees, whose toppes doe rise aloft, aboue high hilles and stepe mountaines, soner shaken and tossed with blustering windie blastes, than those that be planted, in fertile dales and low valleis? Haue you forgotten so many histories, by you perused and read with so great delight, when you were in the Emperour’s Court? Doe not they describe the chaunge of Monarches, the ruine of houses, the destruction of one realme acquired, by the establishing and raigne of an other? What Prince, Monarch or Captaine was euer so happy, as hath not felt some griefe and misfortune? Alas, sweete heart, thinke that God doth chastise vs with his roddes of tribulation, to make vs to know him: but in the meane time, he kepeth for vs a better fortune that wee looke not for. Moreouer he neuer forsaketh them which with a good heart do go vnto him, hauing their affiaunce in his great goodnesse and infinite mercie.” Alerane hearing the wise talke of his wife, could not forbear weeping, and sighing aunswered her in this maner: “Ah, Lady, in beautie and wisedom incomparable, it is not the present fortune that causeth my minde to wander and straye from the siege of constancie, knowing well the qualities and number of fortune’s snares, and how ielous she is of humaine ioye and felicitie. I am not ignorant that she layeth her ambushes, and doeth beset the endeuours, soner of personages that bee noble and of highe parentage, than of those whose heartes be base and vnnoble, and their victories not able to attain any iote of honour and fame. But, good God, (saide he, embracing his deare beloued spouse) it is for you, madame, that I endure tormente, hauing made you to abandon the pompe of your estate, and bereued from you a king to be your husband, causing you thus to feele an horrible and new kinde of punishmente, hunger and famine (I meane) in the middes of the deserts and wilde places, and therewithall haue ioyned you in companie with an infortunate felowshippe, who in stead of comfort and solace, ministreth teares and sighes. O God, most high and puissant, howe profounde and darke are thy iudgementes, and howe righteous is thy iustice. I acknowledge mine offence to be the cause of thyne anger, and the originall of our trespasse, and that this paine chauncheth to vs for our sinnes, which haue so wickedly betraied the best Prince of the world, and forsaken the companie of him, at whose bountifull handes I haue receiued better entertainement and greater honour, than I deserued. Ah, Emperour Otho, that thou art so well reuenged nowe, with cowardly fraude and deceipt committed against thee by Alerane of Saxone, taking away her from thee, which was the staffe and future staye of thy reuerend age.” And as he was perseuering in this talke, Adelasia (seeing him in that contemplation) plucked him by the arme, saying: “Sir, it is time to consider our own affaires: we haue trauailed I can not tell howe farre without rest, me think (our fortune being no better) that we ought to remaine in some place attending for the grace and mercy of God, who (I hope) wil not forsake vs.” They were then in Liguria in the desarts, betweene Ast and Sauonne, a countrie in that time well peopled, and furnished with huge and darke forestes, garnished with many trees, great and highe. By the aduise then of Adelasia, the Saxone Prince forced by necessitie (the maistresse of all artes) retired into those forestes where he practised the occupation of a Collier, and some said that nature taught him the order howe to cutte his woode, to make readie his pittes, and to knowe the season and tyme when his coales were burned enough. Great paines he susteined about his businesse, and went himself to sell his coales, which he bare vpon his shoulders, to the next market townes, tyll he had gayned so mutche as bought him an asse, wherewith he dayly trauailed to vtter his coales, and other deuises which neede had forced him to learne. In this time Adelasia was deliuered of a goodly child, whom they named William. And afterwards, by succession of time, she bare sixe sonnes more. For they dwelt almost XVIII. or XX. yeares in that poore and miserable life, and had dressed vp a litle lodging within a caue, that was faire and brode, wherein verye trimly and well they had bestowed themselues. When the eldest of their sonnes was growen to the stature of a pretie stripling, the father sent him sometime to Sauonne, and sometime to Ast, to sell their litle merchandise, for reliefe of their houshold. But the boy, whose bloud could not conceale and hide the nobilitie of his birth, hauing one day sold certaine burdens and loades of woode and coale: bought with that money a faire yong hauke, which he caried vnto his father. The good man gently rebuked his sonne, and said, that suche game belonged not to men of their degree, and that they had muche a do to liue, without employing their money vppon such trifles. Long time after, William being arriued to the age of XVI yeares, went to Sauonne, to sell certaine ware by his father’s commaundement, and with the money he bought a very fayre sword, which when his father saw, with teares in his eyes, he went aside and said to himselfe: “Ah vnfortunate ladde, that thy hard lucke should do thee this great wrong: truely neither the pouertie of thy parentes, nor the place of thy bringinge vp, can deface in thee the secrete shining brightnes of thine auncestors vertue, nor the prediction of thy courage and manhode in time to come, if God giue the grace to aduaunce thee, to the seruice of some noble Prince.” Notwithstanding for that time he ceassed not sharply to rebuke and threaten his sonne, in such wyse as the yong man hauing a harte greater than his force, determined secretly to depart from his parentes. Now fortune chaunced so wel and apt for his purpose as then and at the verye same time, the Hongarians were entred Italye to spoile and robbe the countrie, against whom the Emperour marched in greate expedicion, with an huge and goodly armie, of purpose to force them to leaue his lande in peace. William hauinge knowledge hereof, proceeded towarde the Emperour’s campe, where hee shewed in deede great hope (being of so smal yeares) of his future valiaunce and prowesse, by the deedes of armes that hee did, during that warre. Which ended and the enemie put to flighte, the Emperour wente into Prouance, to put in order his affaires in his realme of Arles, which then was subiecte to the Empire. Afterwards he retired into Italy with deliberation to seiorne at Sauonne for a certaine time, which displeased William nothing at all, because he should remaine harde by his parentes, who were very carefull for his well doing, vtterly ignoraunt where he was become. And notwithstanding a hope (what I knowe not) made them expect of their sonne som good fortune in time to come, who was now grown great and of goodly perfection, one of the most valiaunt souldiours that were in the wages and seruice of his Maiestie. Which very brauely he declared in a combate, that he fought man to man with an Almaine souldiour, that was hardy, big made, and feared of all men, whom neuerthelesse he ouercame in the presence of the Emperor his graundfather. Who, I know not by what natural inclination, daily fixed his eye vpon that yong champion, and began to bear him more good will than anye other in his courte, which was an occasion, that an auncient gentleman, serving in the Princes Courte, stedfastly beholding the face, behauiour and countenaunce of William, seemed to see a picture of the Emperour when he was of his age, which was more exactlye viewed by diuers other, that were broughte vp in their youth with Otho. Wherof being aduertised, he caused the yong man to be called forth, of whom he demaunded the names of his parentes, and the place where hee was borne. William that was no lesse curteous, humble and welmanered, than wise, valiant and hardie, kneeled before the Emperour with a stoute countenaunce, resemblinge the nobilitie of his auncestours, answered: “Most sacred and renowmed Emperour, I haue nothinge whereof to render thanckes to fortune, but for the honour that your Maiestie hath done vnto me, to receiue mee into your noble seruice. For the fortune and condition of my parentes, be so base, that I blushe for shame to declare them vnto you. Howbeit being your humble seruaunte, and hauing receiued fauour of your maiestie, not commonly emploied, your commaundement to tell you what I am, I will accomplish as well for my bounden dutie, wherewith I am tied to your maiestie, and to satisfie that which it pleaseth you to commaund me. Be it knowen therefore vnto your maiestie, that I am the sonne of two poore Almaines, who flying their owne countrie, withdrew themselues into the desarts of Sauonne, where (to beguile their hard fortune) they make coals, and sel them, to sustaine and relieue their miserable life: In which exercise I spent all my childhod, although it were to my great sorowe. For my hart thought (Sir) that a state so vile, was vnworthy of my coragious minde, which dailye aspired to greater thinges, and leauing my father and mother, I am come to your seruice, to learne chiualry and vse of armes, and (mine obedience saued to your maiestie) to find a way to illustrate the base and obscure education, wherein my parents haue brought me vp.” The Emperour seinge the courteous behauiour of the yonge man, by this wise aunswere, remembring the similitude of his face, which almoste resembled them both, suspected that he was the sonne of Alerane and his doughter Adelasia, whoe for feare to be knowen, made themselues citizens of those desertes, albeit that William had told him other names, and not the proper appellations of his father and mother. For which cause his hart began to throbbe, and felte a desire to see his doughter, and to cherishe her with like affection, as thoughe he had neuer conceiued offence and displeasure. He caused then to be called vnto him a gentleman, the nere kinsmanne of Alerane, to whom he said with merie countenaunce and ioyful cheere: “You do know as I thincke, the wrong and displeasure that your cosin Alerane hath done me, by the rape and robberie committed vppon the person of my doughter: you are not ignoraunt also of the reproch wherwith he hath defiled all your house, committed a felonie so abhominable in my courte, and againste mine owne person, which am his so soueraigne Lorde. Notwithstanding, sith it is the force of Loue, that made me forget him till this time, rather than desire of displeasure, I am very desirous to see him, and to accepte him for my sonne in lawe, and good kinsman, verye willing to aduaunce him to that estate in my house, which his degree and bloud do deserue. I tell you not this without speciall purpose. For this yong souldiour, which this daye so valiantly and with such dexteritie vanquished hys aduersary, by the consente of all men, which haue knowen me from my youth, doth represente so well my figure and lineamentes of face, which I had when I was of his age, as I am persuaded, and do stedfastly beleeue, that he is my neuew, the sonne of your cosin Alerane and my doughter Adelasia. And therefore I will haue you to goe with this yonge man, into the place where hee shall bring you, and to see them that be his parents, because I purpose to do them good, if they be other than those whom I take them. But if they be those two that I so greatly desire to see, doe mee so much pleasure as I may satisfie my hart with that contentation, swearing vnto you by the crowne of my Empire, that I will do no worse to them, nor otherwise vse them, than mine own proper person.” The gentleman hearing the louing and gentle tearmes of the Emperour, saide vnto him: “Ah, Sir, I render humble thankes vnto your maiestie, for the pitie that you haue, vpon our dishonored race and ligneage of Saxone, dedecorated and blemished throughe Alerane’s trespasse against you. I pray to God to recompence it (we being vnable) and to giue you the ioye that you desire, and to mee the grace that I may do some agreeable seruice both in this and in all other things. I am readie (Sir) not onely to go seeke my cosin (if it be he that you thincke it is) to carie vnto him those beneficiall newes which your maiestie hath promised by word, but rather to render him into your hands, that you may take reuengement vppon him for the iniurie that he hath done to the whole Empire.” “No, no,” said the Emperour, “the desired time of reuenge is paste, and my mallice against Alerane hath vomited his gall. If in time paste I haue thristed to pursue the ruine and ouerthrowe of those two offenders, nowe I goe about to forsee and seeke their aduauncement and quiet, considering the longe penaunce they haue taken for their fault, and the fruite that I see before mine eyes, which is such that it maye by the smell and fragrant odour thereof, supporte the weaknesse and debilitie of my olde yeares, and constraineth mee (by the vertue thereof) to haue pittie vpon his parents, which (through their owne ouerthrowe) haue almost vtterly consumed me.” Those words ended the good Prince gaue euident testimonie of desire to see his onely doughter, by the liuely colour that rose in his face, and by certaine teares running downe along his hoare and frostie beard. Then he caused William to come before him, and commaunded him to conduct the gentleman to that part of the forest where his father dwelled. Whereunto the yonge man readily and with all his harte obeyed. Thus the Lorde Gunforde (for so was Alerane’s cosin called) accompanied with his litle cosin, and manye other gentlemen, went toward the place, wher the collier princes remained. And when they were neere the craggie caue, the lodging of Alerane, the whole companie lighted of their horse, and espied him busie about the lading of his coales to sende to Ast. For the arriuall of the Emperour to Sauonne, staied Alerane from going thither himselfe, by reason his conscience still grudged for his fault committed against him. Alerane seing this goodly companie, was abashed, as though hornes had sodenly started out of his head, and yet the sighte of his sonne richly furnished, and in the company of Gunfort his cosin, did more astonne him. For he suspected incontinentlye that hee was discouered, and that the Emperour had sente for him to be reuenged of the faulte so long time paste committed. And as he had imagined diuers thinges vppon his harde fortune within his fancie, his sonne came to embrace him vppon his knees, and to kisse his hands, with an honest and humble reuerence, saying to Gunfort: “Sir, this is he of whom I told the Emperour, and of him I toke my being: This is my father.” All this while the good father embraced his sonne very hard, and weeping for extreme ioy, said vnto him: “Alas, my sonne, if thy comming be so happie vnto mee as it is ioyfull, if thy newes be good and prosperous, which thou bringest: thou doest reuiue thy father half deade, and from lamentable despaire thou doest replenishe and fill him with suche hope, as one day shall be the staie of his age, and the recouery of his greatest losses.” The sonne not able to abide the discourse of his parents affaires, could not comprehend any thing at that pitiful meting: but stode stil so astonned, as though he had bin fallen from the clouds. Now during this time, that the father and the sonne thus welcomed one an other: Gunfort toke heede to al the countenaunce and gestures of Alerane. There was no part of the collier’s bodie that he forgat to view: and yet remembring the voyce of his cosin, and seing a wound that he had in his face, was sure that it was hee. And then with his armes stretched forth he came to clepe Alerane about the necke, whom he made to loke redde with his warme teares, saying: “Ah: Alerane, the present torment now, but in time past, the pleasaunce rest, of oure race. What eclipse hath so longe obscured the shining sunne of thy valiaunt prowesse? why haste thou concealed so longe time, thy place of retire from him, which desired so much thine aduauncement? Hast thou the harte to see the teares of thy cosin Gunfort running downe from his eies vppon thy necke, and his armes embracinge thee with such loue and amitie, as he cannot receiue the like, except he be something moued by thee, in seing thy louing entertainment? Wilt thou denie that, which I knowe, by a certaine instinct and naturall agreement, which is, that thou art Alerane the sonne of the Duke of Saxone, and so renowmed throughout all Germany? Doest thou pretende (throughe thine owne misfortune so rooted in thy harte by liuinge in these wildernesse) to depriue thy sonne of the honor, which the heauens and his good fortune haue prepared for him? Ah cruel and pitilesse father, to suffer thy progenie to be buried in the tombe of obliuion, with eternall reproche. O vnkinde kinsman toward thy kindred, of whom thou makest so small accompte, that wilt not vouchsafe to speake to thy cosin Gunfort, that is com hither for thy comfort, and the aduauncement of thy familie.” Alerane sore ashamed, as well for the remembrance of his auncient fault, as to see himselfe in so poore estate before the emperour’s gallants, answered Gunfort, saying: “My Lord and cosin, I beseech you to beleeue, that want of desire to make my complaint vnto you, and lacke of curtesie to entertaine you, haue not made me to forget my dutie towardes you, being as well my neare kinseman, as such one to whom I haue done wrong and very great iniurie by offending the Emperour. But you do knowe of what puissance the prickes of conscience bee, and with what worme she gnaweth the harte of them, which feele themselves culpable of crime. I am (as you saide) the present missehap of our house, for the opinion that the Emperour hath conceiued of my folly, and shal be the rest (if you wil do me so much pleasure to rid me out of this miserable life) both of you and of the minde of a father iustly displeased against his doughter, and the quiet of a Prince offended with his subiecte: for I sweare vnto you by my fayth, that I neuer soe much desired life, as I nowe do couet death, for that I am assured, that I being deade, my poore companion and welbeloued wife, shall liue at her ease, enioyinge the presence and good grace of her father.” “What meane you so to saye,” answered Gunfort, “the Emperour is so well pleased and appeased, as he hath sworne vnto mee to receiue you as his sonne in law, and my Lady your wife as his deare beloued doughter, whom I pray you to cause to come before vs, or to signifie vnto vs where shee is, that I may doe reuerence unto her as to my Princesse and soueraigne Ladie.” William was all amased, and almost besides himselfe, hearing this discourse, and thought hee was either in a dreame or els inchaunted, till that Alerane called his wife by her proper name, who was so appalled to hear the word of Adelasia, that her hart was sodainly attached with terror and feare, when she saw so great a company about her husband: and then her sonne came to doe his dutie, not as to his mother onely, but as to the doughter of an Emperour, and the wife of a Prince of Saxon. She againe embraced and kissed him, although shee was surprised with feare and shame, and so moued with that sodaine sighte, as she had much a doe to keepe herselfe from fainting and falling downe betweene the armes of her sonne, and thought that she had passed the place where Gunfort was, who going towarde her, after his reuerence and deutie done, made her vnderstand the charge hee had, and the good will of the Emperour, which determined to receiue her againe with so good order and entertainement as might be deuised. Which earnest words made them to resolue vppon the proufe of fortune, and to credite the promises that Gunfort made them in the Emperour’s behalfe. Thus they forsoke the Caue, their Coales and fornaces, to reenter their former delightes and pleasures. That nighte they lodged at a village not farre from the foreste, where they tarried certaine dayes, to make apparell for these straunge Princes, and so wel as they could to adorne and furnish Adelasia, (who being of the age almost of XXXIV. or XXXV. yeares, yet manifested some part of the perfection of that deuine beautie, and modest grauitie, which once made her marueilous and singuler aboue all them that liued in her dayes.) In the time that this royle company had furnished and prepared themselues in readinesse, Gunfort sente a gentleman of that troupe toward the Emperour, to aduertise him of the successe of their iourney. Wherof he was exceeding ioyful, and attended for the comming of his children, with purpose to entertaine them in louing and honourable wise. When all thinges were in readinesse and the traine of Adelasia in good order, according to the worthines of the house whereof she came, they rode toward Sauonne, which iourney seemed to them but a sport, for the pleasure mixte with compassion that eche man conceiued, in the discourse that Alerane made vpon his misfortunes and chaunces, as well in his iourneis, as of his abode and continuaunce in the desarts. Which William calling to remembraunce, praised God, and yelded him thanckes for that it had pleased him to inspire into his minde, the forsaking of his parentes, considering that the same onely fault, was the cause of their restitution, and of his aduauncement and glorie, being the sonne of such a father, and the neuew of so great a Monarche. The fame of whose name made all men quake and tremble, and who then had commaunded all the troupe of the Gentlemen of his Court, to go and seeke the forlorne louers, so long time lost and vnknowen. To be short, their entrie into Sauonne, was so royal and triumphant, as if the Emperor himself would haue receiued the honour of such estate, and pompe. Which he commaunded to be done as well for the ioy that he had recouered the thing, which he accompted lost, as to declare and acknowledge to euery wight, that vertue cannot make herselfe better knowen: than at that time, when the actions and deedes of great personages be semblable in raritie and excellencie to their nobilitie. For a Prince is of greater dignitie and admiration than he commonly sheweth himselfe, which can neuer enter into the heade of the popular sort, who waie the affections of other with the balance of their owne rude and beastly fansies. As the Greeke poet Euripides in his tragedie of Medea, doth say:

Ill luck and chaunce thou must of force endure,

Fortune’s fickle stay needs thou must sustaine: