The Palace of Pleasure, Volume 2

by Unknown

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

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

[ THE FIFTY-FIRST NOUELL.]

A king of Naples, abusing a Gentleman’s wife, in the end did weare the hornes himselfe.

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

These hornes I weare and beare for euery man to view,

But yet I weare them not in token they be trew.

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

Who said vnto him:

“If princesse secret things, be from the horned hart concealed,