That is,
To violate or breake fayth, is a thing detestable.
That only inscription made him to pause a while. For it was the Poesie that Dom Diego bore ordinarily in his armes, which moued him to think that without doubt one of those Pilgrimes was the very same man to whom that Saddle did appertayne. And therefore he bent himselfe very attentiuely afterwardes to behold first the one, and then the other of those desert Citizens. But they were so altered, as hee was not able to know them agayne. Dom Diego seeing his Freende so neare him, and the desire that he had to knowe hym, chafed very mutch in hys mynde, and the more his Rage began to waxe, when hee saw Roderico approch neare vnto hym more aduisedly to looke vpon hym, for hee had not his own Affections so mutch at commaundement, but hys Bloude mooued hys Entrailes, and mounting into the most knowen place, caused outwardly the alteration which hee endured, to appeare. Roderico seeing hym to chaunge colour, was assured of that which before hee durst not suspect: and that which made him the sooner beleeue that he was not deceived, was a lyttle tuft of haire, so yelow as Gold, which Dom Diego had vpon his Necke, whereof Dom Roderico takyng heede, gaue ouer all suspition, and was well assured of that he doubted. And therefore displaying himselfe with hys armes opened vpon the necke of his friend, and imbracing him very louingly, his face bedewed with tears, sayd vnto him: “Alas, my Lord Dom Diego, what euill lucke from Heauen hath departed you from the good company of them which dye for sorrow, to see themselues berieued of the Beauty, lyght and ornament of their felowship? What are they that haue giuen you occasion thus to Eclipse the bryghtnesse of your name, when it oughte most clearely to shyne, both for theyr present pleasure, and for the honour of your age? Is it from me sir, that you oughte thus to hide yourselfe? Do you think me so to be blynd, that I know not ryght well, that you are Dom Diego, that is so renoumed for vertue and prowesse? I would not haue tarried here so longe, but to carry away a power to reioyce two persons, you being the one, by withdrawing your selfe from this heauy and vnseemely Wyldernesse, and my selfe the other, to enioy your Company, and by bearyng newes to your fryends, who sith your departure, do bewaile and lament the same.” Dom Diego seeing that he was not able to conceyle the truth of that which was euidently seene, and the louing imbracements of his best Friende, began to feele a certayne tendernesse of heart lyke vnto that whych the Mother conceyueth, when she recouereth hir Sonne that is long absent, or the chaste wyfe, the presence of hir deare Husband, when she clepeth him betwene hir armes, and frankely culleth and cherisheth hym at hir pleasure. For whych cause not able to refrain any longer for ioy and sorrow together, weping and sighing began to imbrace him wyth so good and hearty affection, as with good wyl the other had sought and longed to knowe where he was. And being come againe to himself, he sayd to his faithfull and most louinge friend: “Oh God, how vneasy and difficult be thy iudgments to comprehend? I had thought to liue here miserably, vnknowen to al the world, and behold, I am here discouered, when I thought least of it. I am indeede” (quod he to Roderico) “that wretched and vnfortunate Dom Diego, euen that thy very great and louing fryend, who weary of his lyfe, afflycted wyth his vnhap, and tormented by fortune, is retyred into these desertes to accomplysh the ouerplus of the rest of his il luck. Now sith that I haue satisfied you herein, I beseech you that being content wyth my sighte, yee wyll get you hence and leaue me heere to performe that lyttle remnant whych I haue to lyue, without telling to any person that I am aliue, or yet to manifeste the place of my abode.” “What is that you say sir,” (sayd Roderico) “are you so farre straught from your ryght wits, to haue a minde to continue this brutal Lyfe, to depryue al your friends from the ioy whych they receiue by inioying your company? Think I pray you that God hath caused vs to be born noble men, and hauing power and authority not to lyue in Corners, or be buryed amid the slauery of the popular sort, or remain idle within great palaces or secrete Corners, but rather to illustrat and giue lyght with the example of our vertue to those that shal apply themselues to our dexterity of good behauior, and do lyue as depending vpon our edicts and commaundments: I appeale to your faith, what good shall succede to your subiects, who haue both heard and also knowne the benefit bestowed vppon them by God, for that hee gaue them a Lord so modest and vertuous, and before they haue experimented the effect of his goodnesse and Vertue, depriued of him, that is adorned and garnished with sutch perfections? What comfort, contentation and ioy shall the Lady your mother receiue, by feelyng your losse to be so sodaine, after your good and delycate bryngyng up, instructed with sutch great diligence and vtterly berieued of the fruict of that education? It is you sir, that may commaund obedience to Parents, succor to the afflicted, and do iustice to them that craue it: Alas, they be your poore subiectes that make complaints, euen of you, for denying them your due presence. It is you of whom my good madame doth complayne, as of him that hath broken and violated his faith, for not comming home at the promised day.” Now as he was about to continue his oration, Dom Diego vnwilling to heare him, brake of his talk saying: “Ah sir, and my great Friend: It is an easy matter for you to iudge of mine affayres, and to blame myne absence, not knowing peraduenture the cause thereof. But I esteeme you a man of so good iudgement, and so great a fryend of thinges that be honeste, and a Gentleman of great fidelity, as by vnderstanding my hard luck, when you be aduertised of the cause of my withdrawing into this solitarie place, you wyll rightly confesse, and playnely see that the wisest and most constant haue committed more vaine follies than those don by mee, forced with like spirite that now moueth and tormenteth me.” Hauing sayd, he tooke aside Roderico, where he dyd tell vnto hym the whole discourse both of his Loue, and also of the rigor of hys Lady, not without weepyng, in sutch abundaunce and with sutch frequent sighes and sobs interruptyng so hys speach, as Roderico was constrained to keepe him company, by remembryng the obstinacie of hir that was the Mistresse of his heart, and thinkynge that already he had seene the effect of lyke missehap to fal vpon his owne head, or neare vnto the lyke, or greater distresse than that which he sawe his deare and perfect Fryend to endure. Notwythstanding he assayed to remoue him from that desperate minde and opinion of continuance in the desert. But the froward penitente swore vnto him, that so long as he liued (without place recouered in the good graces of his Gineura,) he would not returne home to his house, but rather change his being, to seke more sauage abode, and lesse frequented than that was. “For” (quod hee) “to what purpose shall my retourne serue where continuinge mine affection, I shall fele lyke cruelty that I dyd in time past, which wil bee more painful and heauy for me to beare than voluntary exile and banyshment, or bring me to that end wherein presently I am.” “Contente your self I beseech you, and suffer me to be but once vnhappy, and do not perswade mee to proue a second affliction, worsse than the first.” Roderico hearing his reasons so liuely and wel applied would not reply, onely content that he would make him promyse to tarry there two monthes, and in that time attempt to reioyse himselfe so wel as he could. And for hys owne part, he swore vnto him, that he would bee a meanes to reconcile Gineura, and brynge them to talke together. Moreouer, he gaue him assurance by othe, that hee shoulde not bee discouered by hym, nor by any in his Company. Wherewith the knyght somewhat recomforted, thanked him very affectuously. And so leauyng wyth him a fielde bed, two seruaunts, and Money for his Necessities, Roderico tooke hys leaue, tellyng hym that shortely he would visite him againe, to his great contentation, as euer he was left and forsaken with gryefe and sorrow, himselfe makyng great mone for the vnseemely state and myserable plyght of Dom Diego. And God knoweth whether by the way, he detested the cruelty of pitilesse Gineura, blasphemyng a million of times the whole sexe of Womankynd, peraduenture not without iust cause. For there lieth hydden (I know not what) in the brests of Women, which at times like the Wane and increase of the Moone, doth chaunge and alter, whereof a man can not tell on what foote to stand to conceiue the reasons of the same: whych fickle fragility of theirs (I dare not say mobility) is sutch, as the subtillest wench of them al best skilled in Turner’s Art, can not (I say deface) or so mutch as hide or colour that naturall imperfection. Roderico arriued at his house, frequented many times the lodging of Gineura, to espy hir fashions, and to see if any other had conquered that place, that was so well assayled and besieged by Dom Diego. And this wyse and sage knyght vsed the matter so well, that he fell in acquaintance wyth one of the Gentlewoman’s Pages, in whom she had so great trust, as she conceyled from him very few of hir greatest secretes, not well obseruing the preceipte of the wyse man, who councelleth vs not to tell the secretes of the mynde to those, whose iudgement is but weake, and tongue very lauish and frank of speach. The Knyght then familiar with this Page, dandled him so with faire words, as by lyttle and lytle he wrong the Wormes out of his Nose, and vnderstode that when Gineura began once to take Pepper in snuffe against Dom Diego, she fell in loue wyth a Gentleman of Biskaye, very poore, but Beautyfull, young and lustye, whych was the Stewarde of the house: and the Page added further that hee was not then there, but woulde returne wythin three Dayes, as he had sent Woorde to hys mystresse, and that two other Gentlemen woulde accompany him to cary away Gineura into Biskaye, for that was their last conclusion: “And I hope” (quod he) “that she will take me with hir, bicause I am made priuy to their whole intent.” Roderico hearing the treason of this flight and departure of the vnfaithful daughter, was at the first brunt astonned, but desirous that the Page should not marke his altered Countenaunce, said vnto him: “In very deede meete it is, that the Gentlewoman should make hir owne choice of husband, sith hir mother so little careth to prouide for hir. And albeit that the Gentleman be not so riche and Noble as hir estate deserueth, hir affection in that behalfe ought to suffise and the honesty of his person: for the rest Gineura hath (thanks be to God) wherewith to intertaine the state of them both.” These wordes he spake, farre from the thought of his hearte. For being alone by himself, thus he said: “O blessed God, how blinde is that loue, which is vnruled, and out of order: and what dispayre to recline to them, which (voide of reason) doe feede so foolishly of vayne thoughts and fond desires, in sutch wise as two commodities, presented vnto them, by what ill lucke I know not, they forsake the beste, and make choise of the worst. Ah Gineura, the fairest Lady in all this Countrey, and the moste vnfaithfull Woman of oure time, where be thine eyes and iudgement? Whither is thy mynde straied and wandred, to acquite thyselfe from a great Lord, faire, rich, noble, and vertuous, to be giuen to one that is poore, whose parents be vnknowne, his prowesse obscure, and birth of no aparant reputation. Behold, what maketh me beleue, that loue (so wel as Fortune) is not onely blynd, but also dazeleth the sight of them that hee imbraceth and captiuateth vnder his power and bondage. But I make a vowe (false woman) that it shal neuer come to passe and that this Biskaye gentleman shall neuer enioy the spoyles whych iustely bee due vnto the Trauaile and faithfull seruice of the valyaunt and vertuous knyght Dom Diego. It shal be hee, or else I wil dye for it, whych shall haue the recompense of his troubles, and shall feele the caulme of that tempest, whych presently holdeth hym at Anker, amyd the most daungerous rockes that euer were.” By this meanes Roderico knew the way how to keepe promise wyth his friende, which liued in expectation of the same. The two dayes past, whereof the Page had spoken, the beloued of Gineura, fayled not to come, and with him two Gallants of Biskaye, valiaunt Gentlemen, and well exercysed in Armes. That Nighte Roderico wente to see the olde Wydowe Lady, the Mother of the Mayden, and fyndyng oportunity to speak to the Page, hee said vnto hym: “I see my Friend, accordingly as thou diddest tell mee, that ye are vppon departing, the steward of the house beeing now retourned. I pray the tel mee, if thou haue neade of mee, or of any thyng that I am able doe for thee, assuring thee that thou shalt obtaine and haue what so euer thou requirest. And therewithall I haue thought good to tel thee, and giue the warning (for thine owne sake specially) that thou keepe all thynges close and secrete, that no slaunder or dishonour do followe, to blot and deface the Same and prayse of thy Mistresse. And for my selfe I had rather dye, than once to open my mouth, to discouer the least intent of this enterpryse. But tell mee, I praye thee, when do ye depart?” “Sir” (quod the Page) “as my Mistresse saieth, to morow about ten or eleuen of the Clocke in the Euening, when the Lady hir Mother shall bee in the sound of hir first sleepe.” The knight hearyng that, and desirous of no better time, tooke hys leaue of the Page, and went home, where he caused to bee sente for tenne or twelue Gentlemen, his Neighbours and Tenaunts, whom he made priuy of his secretes, and partakers of that he went about, to deliuer out of Captiuity and miserie the chiefest of all his Friends. The Nighte of those two Louers departure being come, Dom Roderico, which knewe the way where they should passe, bestowed him selfe and his Company in Ambush, in a little Groue, almost three Miles of the Lodging of this fugitiue Gentlewoman: where they hadde not long tarried but they hearde the tramplinge of Horsse, and a certaine whispring noise of People riding before them. Nowe the Nighte was somwhat cleare, which was the cause, that the Knighte amonges the thronge, knew the Gentlewoman, besides whome rode the Miserable Wretche that hadde stolne hir awaye. Whome so soone as Roderico perceyued full of despyte, moued wyth extreme passion, welding his launce into his rest, brake in the nearest way vpon the infortunate louer, with sutch vehemency, as neither coate of Maile or Placard was able to saue his lyfe, or warraunt him to keepe company wyth that troupe which banded vnder loue’s Enseigne, was miserably slayne, by the guide of a blynd, naked, and thieuish litle boy. And when he saw he had done that he came for, he sayd to the rest of the Company: “My Friends, thys man was carelesse to make inuasion vpon other mens ground.” These poore Biskayes surprysed vpon the sodayne, and seeyng the ambushment to multiply, put spurres to theyr horsse to the best aduantage they could for expedition, leauing their Conduct or guid gaping for breath and geuing a signe that he was dead. Whiles the other were making themselues ready to runne away, two of Roderico his men, couered with Skarfes, armed, and vnknowne, came to sease vppon sorrowfull Gineura, who beholdyng her fryende deade, began to weepe and crye so straungely, as it was maruell that hir breath fayled not. “Ah trayterous Theeues,” (said she) “and bloudy Murderers, why do ye not addresse your selues to execute cruelty vppon the rest, sith you haue done to death hym, that is of greater value than you all? Ah my deare Fryend, what crooked and grieuous Fortune haue I, to see thee grouelyng dead on ground and I abyding in life, to be the pray of murderous Theeues and thou so cowardly beryued of lyfe.” Roderico wyth his face couered, drew neare vnto her, and sayde: “I beseech you Gentlewoman, to forget these straunge fashions of complaynt, sith by them ye bee not able to reuiue the dead, ne yet make your ende of gryefes.” The maiden knowing the voyce of hym, that had slayne hir fryende, began to cry out more fiercely than before. For whych cause one of the gentlemen in company with Roderico, hauing a blacke counterfait beard with two lunets, in manner of spectacles, very large and great, that couered the moste part of his Face, approched neare the bashful maiden, and with bigge voice and terrible talk, holding his dagger vpon hir white and delicate breast, said vnto hir: “I sweare by the Almighty God, if I heare thee speake one word more, I wil sacrifice thee vnto the ghost of that varlet, for whome thou makest thy mone, who deserued to end his daies vpon a gallow tree rather than by the hands of a gentleman. Holde thy peace therefore thou foolysh girle, for greater honour and more ample Benefite is meant to thee, than thou hast deserued. Ingratitude onely hath so ouerwhelmed thy good Nature, as thou art not able to iudge who be thy friends.” The gentlewoman fearing death, whych as she thought was present, held hir peace, downe alonges whose Eyes a ryuer of Teares dyd run, and the passion of whose heart appeared by assiduall sighes, and neuer ceassing sobbes, whych in end so quallifyed hir cheare, that the exteriour sadnesse was wholy inclosed wythin the mynd and thought of the afflicted Gentlewoman. Then Roderico caused the body of the dead to be buryed in a lyttle Countrey Chappell, not farre out of theyr way. Thus they trauayled two dayes before Gineura knew any of them, that had taken hir away from hir louer: who permytted none to speake vnto hir nor she to any of hir company, beyng but a waiting maid, and the page that hadde dyscouered al the secretes to Dom Roderico. A notable example surely for stolne and secrete mariages, whereby the honour of the contracted partes, is most commonly blemyshed, and the Commaundement of God violated, whose word enioyneth obedience to Parents in all ryghtfull causes, who if for any lyght offence, they haue power to take from vs the inheritance whych otherwyse naturall law would giue vs, what ought they of duety to doe, where rebellyous Chyldren abusing theyr goodnesse, do consume without feare of Liberty, the thynge that is in theyr free wyll and gouernement. In like maner diuers vndiscrete and folysh mothers are to be accused, which suffer their daughters of tender and chyldysh age to be enamored of theyr seruants, not remembryng how weake the flesh is, how prone and ready men be to do euyl, and how the seducyng spirite wayting stil vpon us, is procliue and prone to surpryse and catch vs wythin his Snares, to the intent he may reioyce in the ruine of soules washed and redeemed wyth the bloud of the Son of God. This troupe drawing neare to the caue of Dom Diego, Roderico sent one of his men to aduertise him of their comming, who in the absence of his fryende, fylled and susteined with hope, shortely to see the onely Lady of hys hearte, accompanyed wyth a merry and ioyfull Trayne, so soone as hee had somewhat chaunged his wilde maner of Lyfe, he also by lyttle and lyttle gayned a good part of hys lusty and fresh coloure, and almost had recouered that beauty, which he had when he firste became a Citizen of those desertes. Now hauiug vnderstanded the message sent vnto him by Roderico, God knoweth if with that pleasaunt tydings he felt a motion of Bloud, sutch as made all his members to leape and daunce, whych rendred hys Mynde astonned, for the onely memorye of the thynge that poysed hys mynd vp and downe, not able to be wayed in equall Balaunce whereof rather he ought to haue made reioyse than complayne, being assured to see hir, of whome he demaunded onely grace and pardon, but for recouery of hir, he durst not repose any certayne Iudgement. In the Ende hoystyng vp hys head lyke one rysen from a long and sound sleepe, hee sayd: “Praise be to God, who yet before I dye, hath done me great pleasure, to suffer me to haue a syght of hir, that by causing my Matirdome, continueth hir stubburne manner of Lyfe, whych shall procure in like sort myne vtter ruine and decay. Vpon the approch of whom I shall goe more ioyfull, charged with incomparable loue, to vysit the ghosts beneath, in the presence of that cruel swete, that now tormenteth me with the ticklysh tentation, and who sometimes hath made me tast a kind of Hony sugred with bytter Gal, more daungerous than the suck of Poyson and vnder the vermyllion rudde of a new sprouted Rose diuiuely blowen forth, hath hydden secrete Thornes the pryckes whereof hath me so lyuely touched, as my Wound cannot well bee cured, by any Baulme that may be thereunto applyed, without enioying of that myne owne missehappe, moste happy or wythout that remedy, whych almost I feele restyng in death, that so long and oftentymes I haue desired as the true remedy of all my paynes and gryefe.” In the meane whyle Dom Roderico, whych tyll that tyme was not knowen vnto Gineura, drew neare vnto hir by the way as he rode, and talked wyth hir in this sorte: “I doubt not (Gentlewoman) but that you think your self not wel contented to se me in this place, in sutch company and for occasion so vnseemely for my degre, and state, and moreouer knowying what iniury I seeme to do vnto you, that euer was, and am so affectionate and friendly to the whole stocke of your race and Lynage, and am not ignoraunte that vppon the firste brunte you may iudge my cause vniust to carry you away from the handes of your fryend, to bring you into these desertes, wylde, and solitary places. But if ye considred the force of that true amity, which by vertue sheweth the common Bondes of hearts and myndes of Men, and shall measure to what end this acte is done, without to mutch staying vpon the lyght apprehension of Choler, for a beginnynge somewhat troublesom, I am assured then (that if you be not wholly depryued of reason) you shall perceiue that I am not altogether worthy blame nor your selfe vtterly voyde of fault. And bycause we draw neare vnto the place, whether (by the help of God) I meane to conduct you, I beseech you to consider, that the true Seruaunt whych by all seruice and duety studieth to execute the commaundementes of him that hath puissance ouer him, doth not deserue to bee beaten or driuen away from the house of his maister, but to be fauored and cherished, and ought to receyue equal recompense for his seruice. I speake not this for my selfe, my deuotion beinge vowed elsewhere, but for that honest affection which I beare to all vertuous and chaste persons. The effect whereof I will not deny to tell you in tyme and place, where I shall use sutch modesty towards you, as is meete for a maiden of your age and state. For the greatnesse of Noble Men and puisant, doth most appeare and shew forth it self, when they vse Mildenesse and Gentlenesse vnto those, to whom by reason of their Authority they mighte execute cruelty and malice. Now to the end that I do not make you doubtfull long, al that which I haue done and yet meane to doe, is for none other purpose but to ease the grieuous paines of that moste faithful louer that loueth at thys Daye vnder the Circle of the Moone. It is for the good Knighte Dom Diego, that loueth you so dearely and still worshippeth your Noble fame, who bicause he wil not shew himself disobedient, liueth miserably amonge bruite beasts, amid the craggy rocks and mountaines, and in the deepe solitudes of comfortlesse dales and valleis. It is to him I say that I do bryng you, protesting vnto you by othe (Gentlewoman) that the misery wherein I saw him, little more than VI. Wekes past, toucheth me so neare the heart, as if the Sacrifice of my lyfe sufficed alone, (and without letting you to feele this painfull voyage) for the solace of his martirdome I would spare it no more, than I do mine owne endeuor and honor, besides the hazarding of the losse of your good grace and fauour. And albeit I wel perceiue, that I do grieue you, by causing you to enter this painfull iourney, yet I besech you that the whole displeasure of this fact may bee imputed vnto my charge, and that it would please you louingly to deale with him, who for your sake vseth so great violence against himself.” Gineura as a woman half in despayre for the death of hir friend, behaued hir selfe like a mad woman void of wit and sense, and the simple remembraunce of Dom Diego his name so astonned her, (which name she hated far more than the pangs of death) that she staied a long time, hir mouth not able to shape one word to speake. In the ende vanquished with impacience, burning with choler, and trembling for sorrow, loked vpon Dom Roderico with an Eye no lesse furious, than a Tigresse caught within the Net, and seeth before hir face hir young Fawnes murdered, wringing hir hands and beating hir delicate brest, she vsed these or sutch like woordes: “Ah bloudy traitor and no more Knight, is it of thee that I oughte to looke for so detestable a villany and treason? How darest thou be so hardy to entreat me for an other, that hast in myne owne presence killed him, whose death I will pursue vpon thee, so longe as I haue life within this body? Is it to thee false theefe and murderer, that I ought to render accompte of that which I meant to doe? Who hath appointed thee to be arbitrator, or who gaue thee commission to capitulate the Articles of my mariage? Is it by force then, that thou wouldest I should loue that vnfaithfull Knighte, for whom thou hast committed and done this acte, that so longe as thou liuest shal blot and blemish thy renoume, and shal be so wel fixed in my mind, and the wounds shal cleaue so neare my heart, vntill at my pleasure I be reuenged of this wrong? No, no, I assure thee no force done vnto mee, shall neuer make mee otherwyse dysposed, than a mortall Enimy both to thee which art a Theefe and rauisher of an other man’s wife, and also to thy desperate frend Dom Diego, which is the cause of this my losse: and now not satisfied with the former wrong done vnto me, thou goest about to deceiue me vnder the Colour of good and pure Friendship. But sith wicked Fortune hath made me thy Prysoner, doe with me what thou wylt, and yet before I suffer and endure that that Traytor Dom Diego doe enioy my Virginity, I will offer vp my lyfe to the shadowes and Ghostes of my faythful fryend and husband, whome thou hast so trayterously murdred. And therefore (if honestlye I may or ought entreate mine Enimy) I pray thee that by doynge thy duety, thou suffer vs in peace, and gyue lycence to mee, thys Page, and my two pore Maydens to depart whether we lyst.” “God forbid” (quod Roderico) “that I should doe a Trespasse so shamefull, as to depryue my dearest fryend of his ioy and contentation, and by falsifiing my faith be an occasion of hys death, and of your losse, by leauing you without company, wandring amids this wildernesse.” And thus he continued his former discourse and talk, to reclaime thys cruell Damosell to haue pity vpon hir poore penytent, but he gained as mutch thereby, as if he had gone aboute to number the Sands alongs the Sea Coastes of the maine Ocean. Thus deuising from one talke to an other, they arryued neare the Caue, which was the stately house of Dom Diego: where Gineura lyghted, and saw the pore amorous Knight, humbly falling downe at hir feete, all forworne, pale, and disfigured, who weeping with warme teares, said vnto hir: “Alas, my deare Lady, the alone and onely mistresse of my heart, do you not thinke that my penaunce is long inoughe for the sinne which ignorauntly I haue committed, if euer I haue don any fault at al? Behold [I beseech you (good ladie deare) what ioy] I haue conceiued in your absence, what pleasures haue nursed mine hope, and what consolation hath entertained my life: which truely had it not bene for the continual remembraunce of your diuine Beauty, I had of long time abreuiated the pains which do renew in me so many times the pangs of death: as oftentimes I think vpon the vnkindnes shewed vnto me by making so litle accompt of my fidelity: whych can nor shal receiue the same in good part, wer it so perfect as any assuraunce were able to make it.” Gineura swelling with sorrow and full of feminine rage, blushing with fury, hir eyes sparcklinge forth hir chollerick conceypts, vouchsafed not so mutch as to giue him one word for aunswere, and bicause she would not looke vppon him, she turned hir face on the other side. The poore and afflicted Louer, seeing the great cruelty of his felonous Mystresse, still kneeling vpon his knees, redoubling his armes, fetching Sighes with a voyce that seemed to bee drawne by force from the bottome of his heart, proceeded in these wordes: “Syth the sincerity of my fayth, and my long seruice madame Gineura, cannot persuade you that I haue beene most Obedient, Faythfull, and very Loyall seruaunt towards you, as euer any that hath serued Lady or Gentlewoman, and that without your fauour and grace it is vnpossible for mee any longer to liue, yet I doe very humbly beseech you, for that all other comfort is denied me, if there bee any gentlenesse and curtesie in you, that I may receyue this onely grace at your hands for the last that euer I hope to craue: which is, that you being thus greeuously offended with me, would do iustice vpon that vnfortunate man, that vpon his Knees doth instantly craue the same. Graunt (cruell mistresse) this my request, doe vengeaunce at your pleasure vpon him, which willingly yeldeth himselfe to death with the effusion of his poore innocent bloud to satisfy you, and verily farre more expedient it is for him thus to die, by appeasing your wrath, than to rest or liue to your discontentment or anoiaunce. Alas, shal I be so vnfortunate, that both life and death should bee denied me by one person of the world, whom I hoped to content and please by any sort or meanes what so euer restinge in mine humble obedience? Alas gentlewoman rid mee from this Torment, and dispatch your selfe from the griefe you haue to see this vnhappy Knight, who would say and esteeme himselfe most happy (his life being lothsome vnto you) if he may content you, by death done by your owne handes, sith other fauour he cannot expect or hope for.” The Mayden hardned in hir Opinion, stoode still immoueable mutch like vnto a Rocke in the midst of the Sea, disquieted with a tempest of billowes, and fomy Waues in sutch wise as one word could not be procured from hir mouth. Which vnlucky Dom Diego perceyuing, attached with the feare of present death, and faylinge his Naturall force fell downe to the Grounde, and faintyng saied: “Ah, what a recompence doe I receiue for this so faythfull Loue?” Roderico bebolding that rufull sight, whilest the others went about to relieue Dom Diego, repaired to Gineura, and full of heauinesse mingled with fury, said vnto hir: “By God (false fiendish woman) if so be that I doe chaunge my mind, I will make thee feele the smarte, no lesse than thou shewest thy selfe dishonourable to them that doe thee honour: Art thou so carelesse of so greate a Lord as this is, that humbleth himselfe so lowe to sutch a strumpet as thou art: who without regarde either to hys renoume, or the honour of his House, is content to bee abandoned from his noble state, to become a fugitiue and straunger? What cruelty is this for thee to mispryse the greatest humility that man can Imagin? What greater amends canst thou wysh to haue, yea though the offence which thou presupposest had ben true? Now (if thou be wyse) chaunge thy Opinion, except thou wouldest haue mee doe into so many pieces, thy cruel corpse and vnfaithful heart, as once this poore Knight did in parts the vnhappy hauke, which through thy folly did breede vnto him this distresse, and to thy self the name of the most cruell and disloyall Woman that euer lyued. But what greater benefite can happen vnto thee, than to see thys Gentleman vtterly to forget the fault, to conceiue no sinister suspition of thy running away, crauing pardon at thy Hands, and is contented to sacrifice him self vnto thine Anger, to appease and mytigate thy rage? Now to speake no more hereof, but to proceede in that which I began to say, I offer vnto thee then both death and Loue, choose whether thou lyst. For I sweare againe by hym that seeth and heareth all thinges, that if thou play the foole, that thou shalt feele and proue me to be the cruellest Ennimy that euer thou hadst: and sutch a one as shall not feare to imbrue his hands wyth the bloud of hir that is the death of the greatest friend I haue, and truest knight that euer bare armes.” Gineura hearing that resolute aunswere, shewed hir selfe to be nothing afrayde nor declared any token of feare, but rather seemed to haue encouraged Roderico, in braue and mannish sort, farre diuers from the simplicity of a young and tender Mayden, as a Man would say, sutch a one as had neuer felt the assaultes and troubles of adverse fortune. Wherefore frouncyng her Browes, and grating hir Teeth wyth closed fists, and Countenaunce very bold, she made him answere: “Ah thou Knight, whych once gauest assault to commit a villany and Treason thinkest thou now without remorse of conscyence to continue thy mischyefe: I speak it to thee Villayne, whych hauing shed the Bloud of an honester Man than thou art, fearest not now to make me a Companion of hys Death. Which thyng spare not hardily to accomplysh, to the intent that I liuinge, may not be sutch a one as thou falsly iudgest me to be: for neuer Man hitherto vaunted, and never shall, that hath had the spoyle of my dearest Iewell: from the Fruict whereof, like an arrant Thiefe, thou hast depryued my loyall Spouse. Now doe what you lyste: for I am farre better content to suffer death, be it as cruel as thou art mischieuous, and borne for the disquieting and vexation of honest Maidens then yelde vnto thy furies: notwithstanding I humbly beseech Almyghty God, to gyue thee so mutch pleasure, contentation and ioy in thy loue, as thou hast done to me, by hastening the death of my deare Husband. O God, if thou be a iust God, sutch a one, as from whom we thy poore Creatures do beleue al iustice to proceede, thou I say which art the Rampire and refuge of al iustice, poure downe thy vengeance and plague vpon these pestiferous Thieues and murderers, which prepared a worldely plague vpon me thine innocent damsel. Ah wycked Roderico, think not that death can be so fearful vnto me, but that with good heart, I am able to accept the same, trusting verily that one day it shal be the cause of thy ruine, and the ouerthrowe of him for whom thou takest al these paines.” Dom Roderico maruelously rapte in sense imagined the Woman to be fully bente against hym, who then had puissance (as he thought,) ouer hir own heart: and thinking, that he sawe hir moued with like rage against him, as she was against Dom Diego, stode stil so perplexed and voyde of ryghte minde, as he was constrained to sitte downe, so feeble he felt him self for the onely remembraunce of hir euyll demeanor. And whilest this Pageant was a doing, the handmayd of Gineura, and hir page, inforced to persuade their mystresse to haue compassion vpon the Knight that had suffred so mutch for hir sake, and that she would consent to the honest requests and good counsell of Roderico. But she which was stubbornely bent in hir fonde persuasions, made them aunsere: “What fooles? are you so mutch bewitched, eyther with the fayned teares of this disloyall Knight, whych colorably thus doth torment himselfe, or els are yee inchaunted with the venomous honny and tirannicall brauery of the Theefe which murdered my husbande, and your mayster? Ah vnhappy caytife mayden, is it my chaunce to endure the assault of sutch Fortune, when I thought to liue at my best ease, and thus cruelly to tomble into the handes of him, whom I hate so mutch as he fayneth loue vnto me? And moreouer my vnlucky fate is not herewith content, but redoubleth my sorrowe, euen by those that be of my trayne, who ought rather to incourage mee to dy, than consent to so vnreasonable requests. Ah loue, loue, how euill be they recompenced which faythfully doe Homage vnto thee? And why should not I forget all Affection, neuer hereafter to haue mynde on man to proue beginning of a pleasure, which tasted and felt bringeth more displeasure than euer ioy engendreth delight. Alas, I neuer knewe what was the fruicte of that which so straungely did attach me, and thou O trayterous and theeuishe Loue, haste ordayned a banket serued with sutch bitter dishes, as forced I am perforce to taste of their egre sweetes: Auaunt sweete folly, auaunt, I doe henceforth for euer let thee slip, to imbrace the death, wherein I hope to find my greatest rest, for in thee I finde noughte else but heapes of strayninge Passions. Auoyde from me all mishap, flee from me ye furious ghostes and Fayries most vnkinde, whose gaudes and toyes dame loue hath wrought to keepe occupied my louing minde, and suffer me to take ende in thee, that I may liue in an other life without thee, being now charged with cup of griefe, which I shall quaffe in venomous drincke soaked in the Sops of bitternesse. Sharpen thou thy selfe, (O death vnkinde) prepare thy Darte, to strike the Corpse of hir, that she may voyde the Quarelles shotte agaynst hir by hir Aduersary. Ah poore hearte, strip thy selfe from hope, and qualifie thy desires. Cease henceforth to wishe thy Lyfe, seeing, and feelinge the appoyncted sight of loue and Life, combattyng within my minde, els where to seeke my peace in an other world, with him to ioy, whych for my sake was sacrificed to the treason of varlets handes, who for the perfite hoorde of his desires, noughte else dyd seeke but to soile his bloudy fists with the purest bloude of my loyall friend. And I this floud of Teares do shead to saciate his felonous moode that is the iust shortening of my dolefull Dayes.” When she had thus complayned, she began horribly to torment hir selfe that the cruellest of the company were moued with compassion, to see hir thus strangely straught of hir wits: neuertheles they did not discontinue by duety to solicite hir to haue regard to that which poore fayntyng Dom Diego dyd endure: who so soone as wyth freshe Fountayn water hee was reuiued, seeing still the heauinesse of his Lady, and hir increased disdaine and choler againste hym vanished in diuers soundings: which moued Roderico from studye deepe, wherein he was, to ryse, whereunto the rage of Gineura had cast him downe, bicause forgetting all imaginarie affection of his Lady, and proposing his duety before his eyes, whych ech Gentleman oweth to Gentle Damsels [and womenkind], styll beholding with honorable aspect the gryefe of the martyred wyldernesse Knyght, sighing yet in former gryefes, he sayd vnto Gineura, “Alas, is it possyble, that in the heart of so young and delicate a maiden, there may bee harboured so straunge fury and vnreasonable rage? O God, the effect of the cruelty resting in this Woman, painting it selfe in the imaginatiue force of my mind, hath made me feare the like myssehappe to come to the cruell state of this disaduenturous gentleman? Notwithstanding (O thou cruell beast) thinke not that thys thy fury shall stay me from doing thee to death, to rid thee from follye and disdayne, and this vnfortunate louer from despayre and trouble, verily beleuing, that in tyme it shalbe knowne what profit the World shall gayne by purgyng the same of sutch an infected plague as is an vnkynd and arrogante hearte: and it shall feele what vtility ryseth by thyne ouerthrowe. And I doe hope besydes in tyme to come, that Men shall prayse this deede of myne, who for preseruynge the Honoure of one House, hath chosen rather to doe to death two offenders, than to leaue one of them aliue, to obscure the glory and brightnesse of the other. And therefore” (sayd he, tourning his face to those of his traine,) “cut the throte of this stubborne and froward beast, and doe the like to them that be come with hir, shewe no more fauor vnto them all, than that curssed strumpet doth mercy to the life of that miserable Gentleman, who lieth a dying there for loue of hir.” The Mayden hearing the cruel sentence of hir death, cryed out so loud as she coulde, thinking reskue woulde haue come, but the poore Wench was deceiued: for the desert knew none other, but those that were abiding in that troupe. The Page and the woman seruaunt exclamed vpon Roderico for mercy, but he made as though he heard them not, and rather made signe to his men to do what he commaunded. When Gineura sawe that their deathe was purposed in deede, confirmed in opinion rather to dy, than to obey, she said vnto the executioners: “My friends, I beseech you let not these innocentes abide the penaunce of that which they neuer committed. And you, Dom Roderico, be reuenged on me, by whome the fault, (if a woman’s faith to hir husband may be termed a faulte) is don. And let these infortunate depart, that bee God knoweth guiltles of any cryme. And thou my friend, which liuest amonges the shadowes of faythfull louers, if thou haue any feelinge, as in deede thou prouest being in another world, behold the purenesse of mine heart and fidelity of my loue: who to keep the same inuiolable, do offer my self voluntarily to the death, which this cruell tyrant prepareth for me. And thou hangman the executioner of my ioyes, and murderer of the immortall pleasures of my loue (sayd she to Roderico) glut thy vnsaciable desire of bloud, make dronke thy mind with murder, and boast of thy litle triumph, which for all thy threates or persuasible words, thou canst not get from the heart of a simple maiden, ne cary away the victory for all the battred breach made into the rampare of hir honour.” When she had so said, a Man would haue thought that the memory of death had cooled hir heate, but the same serued hir as an assured solace of hir paynes. Dom Diego being come to himself and seing the discourse of that tragedy, being now addressed to the last act and end of that life and stage of faire and golden locked Gineura, making a vertue of necessity, recouered a lyttle corage to saue, (if it were possible) the life of hir, that had put hys owne in hazard miserably to end. Hauing stayed them that held the maiden, he repayred to Dom Roderico, to whom he spake in this wise: “I see wel my good Lord and great Friende, that the good will you beare me, causeth you to vse this honest order for my behalf, whereof I doubt if I should lyue a whole hundred yeares, I shall not be able to satisfy the least of the bondes wherein I am bound, the same surpassing all mine ability and power. Yet for al that (deare friend) sith you see the fault of this missehap to arise of my predestinate ill lucke, and that man cannot auoyde things once ordained, I beseech you do me yet this good pleasure (for all the benefits that euer I haue receiued) to send back again this gentlewoman with hir trayne, to the place from whence you toke hir, wyth like assurance and conduct, as if shee were your sister. For I am pleased with your endeuor, and contented with my misfortune, assuring you sir besides, that the trouble which she endureth, doth far more gryeue my heart than al the paine which for hir sake I suffer. That hir sorrow then may decrease and mine may renue againe, that she may lyue in peace, and I in Warre for hir cruel beauty sake, I wyll wayt vppon Clotho, the Spynner of the threden life of man vntil she breake the twysted lace that holdeth the fatall course of my dolefull yeares. And you Gentlewoman lyue in rest, as your poore suppliant, wretched Dom Diego, shalbe citizen of wyld places, and vaunt you hardely that yee were the best beloued maiden that euer liued.” Maruellous truly be the forces of loue, when they discouer their perfection, for by their meanes thinges otherwise impossible be reduced to sutch facility, as a man would iudge that they had neuer bene so hard to obtaine, and so painefull to pursue: As appeared by this damsel, in whome the wrath of fortune, the pynche of iealosie, the intollerable rage of hir fryendes losse, had ingendred a contempte of Dom Diego, an extreame desire to be reuenged on Dom Roderico, and a tediousnesse of longer Lyfe. And now putting of the vaile of blynde appetite, for the esclarishing of hir vnderstandyng Eyes, and breakyng the Adamant Rocke planted in the middes of hir breast, she beheld in open sight the stedfastnesse, pacience and perseueration of hir great fryend. For that supplycation of the Knight had greater force in Gineura, than all hys former seruyces. And full wel she shewed the same, when throwyng hir selfe vppon the Necke of the desperate Gentleman, and imbracyng hym very louyngly she sayd vnto him: “Ah sir, that your felicity is the begynnyng of my great ioy of Mynd, whych sauoreth now of sweetnes in the very same, in whom I imagyned to be the welsprynge of bytternesse. The diminutyon of one gryefe is, and shall bee the increase of a bonde, sutch as for euer I wyll call my selfe the moste humble slaue of your honor, lowly beseechyng you neuerthelesse to pardon my follyes, wherewyth full fondely I haue abused youre pacience. Consider a whyle sir, I beseech you, the Nature and secrecye of loue. For those that be blinded in that passion, thynke them selues to be perfecte Seers, and yet be the first that commit most filthy faultes. I doe not denie any committed wrong and trespasse, and doe not refuse therefore the honest and gentle Correction that you shall appointe mee, for expiation of myne offence.” “Ah my Noble Lady,” (aunswered the knight, all rapt wyth pleasure, and halfeway out of his wyts for ioy) “I humbly beseech you inflyct vppon my poore wretched body no further panges of Death, by remembryng the glory of my thought, sith the recitall bryngeth with it a tast of the trauailes which you haue suffred for my ioy and contentation.” “It is therefore,” (quod she) “that I think my self happy: for by that meanes I haue knowne the perfect qualyties that be in you, and haue proued two extremities of vertue. One consisting in your constancy and loyalty wherby you may vaunt yourself aboue hym that sacrificed his Lyfe vpon the bloudy body of his Ladye who for dying so, finished his Trauailes. Where you haue chosen a life worse than death, no lesse paynefull a hundred times a Day, than very death it self. The other in the clemency wherwyth you calme and appease the rage of your greatest aduersaries. As my self which before hated you to death, vanquished by your courtesie do confesse that I am double bound vnto you, both for my lyfe and honor: and hearty thankes do I render to the Lord Roderico for the violence he dyd vnto me, by which meanes I was induced to acknowledge my wrong, and the right whych you had to complayne of my beastly resistance.” “Al is wel,” sayd Roderico, “sith without peril of honor we may returne home to our houses: I intend therefore (sayd he) to send word before to the Ladies your mothers of your returne, for I know how so wel to couer and excuse this our enterpryse and secrete iorneis, as by God’s assistance no blame or displeasure shall ensue thereof. And like as (said he smiling) I haue builded the fortresse whych shot into your campe, and made you flie, euen so I hope (Gentlewoman) that I shalbe the occasion of your victorye, when you combat in close campe, with your sweete cruel Ennimy.” Thus they passed the iorney in pleasaunt talk, recompensing the 2 Louers with al honest and vertuous intertainment for their griefs and troubles past. In the meane while they sent one of their Seruaunts to the two widow Ladies, which were in greate care for their Children, to aduertise them that Gineura was gone to visit Dom Diego, then being in one of the castles of Roderico, where they were determined if it were their good pleasure, to consumate their mariage, hauing giuen faith and affiance one to the other. The mother of Gineura could not heare tel of more pleasant newes: for she had vnderstanded of the foolysh flyght and escape of hir daughter, with the steward of hir house, wherof she was very sorrowful, and for grief was like to die, but assured and recomforted with those newes she failed not to mete the mother of Dom Diego, at the appointed place whether the 2 louers were arriued two daies before. Ther the mariage of that fair couple (so long desired) was solempnised with sutch magnificence as was requisite for the state of those two noble houses. Thus the torment indured, made the ioye to sauour of some other taste than they do feele, which without paine in the exercise of loue’s pursute, attaine the top of theyr desires: and truly their pleasure was altogether like to him that nourished in superfluous delicacy of meates cannot aptly so wel iudge of pleasure as he which sometimes lacketh the abundance. And verily loue wythout bitternesse, is almost a cause without effects, for he that shall take away gryefs and troubled fansies from Louers, depryueth them of the prayse of their stedfastnesse, and maketh vayne the glory of their perseuerence: Forhee is vnworthy to beare away the price and Garland of triumph in the Conflict, that behaueth himselfe like a coward, and doth not obserue the lawes of armes and manlike dueties incident to a combat. This History then is a Mirrour for Loyall Louers and Chaste Suters, and maketh them detest the vnshamefastnesse of those, which vpon the first view do followe with might and mayne, the Gentlewoman or Lady that gieueth them good Face, or Countenaunce whereof any gentle heart, or mynde, noursed in the Schoolehouse of vertuous education, will not bee squeymishe to those that shall by chaste salutation or other incountry, doe their curteous reuerence. This History also yeldeth contempt of them, which in their affection forget themselues abasing the Generosity of their Courages to be reputed of fooles the true champions of loue, whose like are they that desire such regarde. For the perfection of a true Louer consisteth in passions, in sorrows, griefes, martirdomes, or cares, and mutch lesse arriueth he to his desire, by sighes, exclamations, Weapings, and childishe playnts: For so mutch as vertue ought to be the bande of that indissoluble amity, which maketh the vnion of the two seuered bodies of that Woman man, which Plato describeth, and causeth man to trauell for hys whole accomplishment in the true pursute of chaste loue. In which labour truly, fondly walked Dom Diego, thinking to finde the same by his dispayre amiddest the sharpe solitary Deserts of those Pyrene Mountaynes. And truely the duety of his perfect friende, did more liuely disclose the same (what fault so euer he did) than all his Countenaunces, eloquent letters or amorous Messages. In like manner a man doth not know what a treasure a true Friende is, vntill hee hath proued his excellency, specially where necessity maketh him to taste the swetenes of sutch delicate meate. For a frend being a seconde himselfe, agreeth by a certayne naturall Sympathie and attonement to th’affections of him whom he loueth both to particpate his ioyes and pleasures, and to sorrowe his aduersity, where Fortune shall vse by some misaduentures, to shewe hir accustomed mobility.
[ THE THIRTIETH NOUELL.]
A Gentleman of Siena, called Anselmo Salimbene, curteously and gently deliuereth his enemy from death. The condemned party seeing the kinde parte of Salimbene, rendreth into his hands his sister Angelica, with whom he was in loue, which gratitude and curtesie, Salimbene well markinge, moued in Conscience, woulde not abuse hir, but for recompence tooke hir to his wyfe.
Wee do not meane here to discouer the Sumptuosity and Magnificence of Palaces, stately, and wonderfully to the view of men, ne yet to reduce to memory the maruellous effectes of man’s Industry to builde and lay Foundations in the deepest Chanel of the mayne sea, ne to describe their ingenious Industry, in breaking the Craggy Mountaynes, and hardest Rocks, to ease the crooked Passages of weary waies, for Armies to marche through in accessible places. Onely now do we pretend to shewe the effects of loue, which surmount all Opinion of common thinges, and appeare so miraculous as the founding, and erecting of the Collissæi, Collossæi, Theatres, Amphitheatres, Pyramides, and other workes wonderfull to the world, for that the hard indured path of hatred and displeasure long time begoon, and obstinately pursued wyth straunge cruelty, was conuerted into loue, by th’effect of concord, sutch as I know none, but is so mutch astonned, as hee maye haue good cause to wonder, consyderyng the stately foundations vppon which Kinges and greate Monarches haue employed the chyefest reuenues of their prouinces. Now lyke as ingratitude is a vice of greatest blame and discommendation amongs men, euen so Gentlenesse and Kindnesse ought to beare the title of a most commendable vertue. And as the Thebans were accused of that crime, for their great Captaynes Epaminondas and Pelopidas. So the Plateens (contrarywise) are praised for their solempne obseruation of the Grekes benefits, which deliuered them oute of the Persians bondage. And the Sicyonians beare away the pryse of eternall prayse, for acknowledgyng the good turnes receiued of Aratus, that delyuered them from the cruelty of the tyrants. And if Philippo Maria, duke of Milan, deserued eternal reproch for his ingratitude to his wife Beatrix, for the secrete killing of hir, he being enryched with hir goodes and treasures: a barbarous Turke borne in Arabia, shal carry the praise, who being vanquished in Arabia, by Baldouine, kyng of Hierusalem, and he and his Wife taken prysoners, and his treasures fallen into the hands of that good king, issued of the Loraine bloud, who neuerthelesse seeing that the Chrystian had deliuered him, and restored againe his wife would not be vanquished in magnificence and liberalitye, and mutch lesse beare the name of an vnkind prince, but rather when Baldouine was ouercome of the infidels, and being retyred within a certaine city, the Admiral of Arabie, came to him in the night, and tellyng him the deuice of his companions, conueyed hym out of the City, and was hys guide vntill he sawe hym free from peril. I haue alleaged the premysses, bycause the History whych I purpose to recyte, aduoucheth two examples not Vulgare or Common, the one of very great Loue, and the other of sutch acceptation and knowledgyng thereof, as I thought it pity the same should lurk from the Acquayntaunce of vs Englysh Men. And that they alone should haue the Benefite thereof whych vnderstand the Italian tongue, supposing that it shall bryng some fruyct and commodity to this our Englishe Soyle, that ech Wyghte may frame their lyfe on those whych in straung Countries far from vs, haue lyued vertuously wythout reproch that might soyle or spotte theyr name. In Siena then (an auncient, and very noble Citty of Toscane, which no longe time past was gouerned by hir Magistrates, and liued in hir own lawes and liberties, as the Lucquois, Pisans, and Florentines do) were two families very rich, noble, and the chiefe of the Citty called the Salimbenes, and Montanines, of the Race and Stock whereof, excellent men in their Common wealth haue descended, very good and expert Souldiers for conducte of Armies. Those two houses in the beginning were so great freendes, and frequented sutch loue and familiarity, as it seemed they had bene but one house and bloude, dayly vsinge eche others company, and banketting one another. But Italy in all times being as it were a Store house of troubles, and a very marte of sedition, bandes, and parcialities, specially of ciuill warres in euery Citty, it coulde not be that Siena shoulde alone enioy hir liberty in peace, and accorde of Cittizens, and vaunt hir selfe to bee free from knowledge of particular debate. For of warres shee had good experience against the Florentines, who by long remembraunce haue don what they coulde to make hir subiect vnto them. Nowe the cause of that discorde rose euen by them which kept the Cittizens in vnity and concord, and was occasioned by those 2 houses the noblest, and most puissant of their common wealth. It is not vnknowne to any man, that antiquity ordayned it to be peculiar for nobility, to trayne vp there children in huntinge, aswell to bolden and Nosell theym in daungers, as to make them stronge, and accustomed in trauayle, and to force them shun the delicate lyfe and great Idlenes which accompany honorable houses, and those of gentle bloud, forsomutch as by the pursuite of Beastes, sleyghts of warre bee obserued: the Hounds be the square battell, the Greyhoundes be the flanquarts and Wynges to follow the enimy, the horseman serueth to gieue the Chace, when the Game speedeth to couert, the Hornes be the Trumpets to sounde the Chase and Retire, and for incouragement of the Dogges to run. To be short, it seemeth a very Campe in battayle, ordayned for the pleasure and passetyme of noble youth. Neuerthelesse, by hunting diuers missefortunes doe arise, and sundry daungers haue happened by the same. Meleager lost his Lyfe for the victory of the wyld Bore of Callydonia, Cephalus was slaine for kylling his deare beloued Pocris, and Acastus was accursed for murdering the King’s sonne of whome he was the Tutour. William Rufus, one of our Englysh Kings, the son of the Conquerour, was killed with an Arrow in the New Forrest by a French Gentleman called Walter Tyrel, as he was pursuing the Harte. Other histories reporte dyuers peryls chaunced in hunting, but yet the same worthy to be cheryshed, frequented and vsed by good aduise and moderate pastyme. So the huntinge of the wylde Bore defyled the City of Siena, with the bloud of hir owne Citizens, when the Salimbenes and Montanines vppon a daye in an assembled company, incountring vpon a greate and fierce Bore, toke hym by force of men and Beastes. When they had don, as they were banketting and communing of the nimblenesse of their dogs, ech man praising his owne, as hauing done beste, there rose greate debate amongs them [vpon that matter], and proceeded so farre, as fondly they began to reuile one another with words, and from taunting termes to earnest blowes, wherewith diuers in that skirmish were hurt on both sides: In the end the Salimbenes had the worsse, and one of the principall slayne in the place, which appalled the rest, not that they were discoraged, but attending time and season of reuenge. This hatred so strangely kindled betwene both partes, that by lyttle and lyttle, after many combats and ouerthrowes of eyther side, the losse lyghted vpon the Montanines, who with their wealth and rychesse were almost brought to nothing, and thereby the rygour and Choler of the Salimbenes appeased, none being able to resist them, and in space of time forgot all iniuries. The Montanines also that remayned at Siena, liued in quyet, wythoute chalenge or quarell of their aduersaries, howbeit mutuall talke and haunt of others company vtterly surceased. And to say the truth, there were almost none to quarell wythall, for the whole Bloude and Name of the Montanines rested in one alone, called Charles the Sonne of Thomas Montanine, a young man so honest and well brought vp as any then in Siena, who had a syster, that for beauty, grace, curtesy and honesty, was comparable with the best in all Thoscane. This poore young Gentleman had no great reuenue, for that the patrimonie of his predecessors was wasted in charges for entertainement of Souldiers in the time of the hurly burly and debates aforesaid. A good parte also was confiscate to the Chamber of Siena for trespasses and forfaitures committed: with the remayne he sustained his family, and indifferently maintained hys porte soberly within his owne house, keping his sister in decent and moderate order. The Maiden was called Angelica, a Name of trouth, without offence to other, due to hir. For in very deede in hir were harbored the vertue of Curtesy and Gentlenesse, and was so wel instructed and nobly brought vp, as they which loued not the Name or race of hir, could not forbeare to commend hir, and wyshe theyr owne daughters to be hir lyke. In sutch wise as one of hir chiefest foes was so sharpely beset with hir vertue and beauty, as he lost his quiet sleepe, and lust to eate and drinke. His name was Anselmo Salimbene, who woulde wyllinglye haue made sute to marry hir, but the discord past, quite mortified his desire, so soone as he had deuised the plot wythin his brayne and fansie. Notwithstanding it was impossible that the louer so lyuely grauen and roted in his mind, could easily be defaced. For if once in a day he had not seene hir, his heart did fele the torments of tosting flames, and wished that the hunting of the Bore, had neuer decaied a family so excellent, to the intent he myght haue matched himself with hir, whome none other could displace out of his remembraunce, that was one of the rychest Gentlemen and of greatest power in Siena. Now for that he durst not discouer his amorous griefe to any person, was the chiefest cause that martired most his hearte, and for the auncient festred malice of those two families, he despayred for euer, to gather either floure or fruict of that affection, presupposing that Angelica would neuer fixe hir Loue on him, for that his Parents were the cause of the defaite and ouerthrow of the Montanine house. But what? There is nothing durable vnder the heauens. Both good and euyll haue theyr reuolution in the gouernment of humane affayres. The amityes and hatredes of Kynges and Prynces, be they so hardened, as commonly in a Moment hee is not seene to be a hearty Friende, that lately was a cruell Foe, and spyred naught else but the ruine of his Aduersary? Wee see the variety of Humayne chaunces, and then doe iudge at eye what great simplicity it is to stay and settle certayne, and infallible iudgement vppon man’s vnstayed doings. He that erst gouerned a king, and made all things to tremble at his word, is sodaynely throwne downe, and dyeth a shamefull death. In like sorte, another whych looketh for his owne vndoinge, seeth himselfe aduaunced to hys estate agayne, by reuenge ouer his Enimies. Calir Bassa gouerned whilom the great Mahomet, that wan the Empire of Constantinople, who attempted nothing without the aduice of that Bassa. But vpon the sodayne he saw him selfe reiected, and the next day strangled by commaundement of him, which so greatly honoured him, and without iust cause did him to a death so cruell. Contrarywise Aragon the Tartarian entring Armes against his Vncle Tangodor Caui, when hee was vpon the Poynct to lose his Lyfe for his rebellion, and was conueyed into Armenia to be executed there, was rescued by certayne Tartarians the houshold seruaunts of his dead vncle, and afterwards Proclaymed King of Tartary about the year 1285. The example of the Empresse Adaleda is of no lesse credit than the former, who being fallen into the hands of Beranger the Vsurper of the Empyre escaped his fury and cruelty by flight, and in the ende maried to Otho the firste, sawe hir wrong reuenged vpon Beranger and all his Race by hir Sonne Otho the second. I aduouch these Hystories to proue the mobility of fortune, and the chaunge of worldly chaunces, to th’ende you may see that the very same misery which followed Charles Montanine hoysted him aloft agayne, and when he looked for least succour, he saw deliueraunce at hand. Now to prosecute our Hystory: know yee that while Salimbene by little and little pined for loue of Angelica, whereof shee was ignoraunt and carelesse, and albeit shee curteously rendred health to him, when sometimes in his amorous fit he beheld hir at a Window, yet for al that shee neuer so mutch as guessed the thoughts of hir louing enimy. During these haps it chaunced that a rich Cittizen of Siena, hauing a ferme adioyning to the Lands of Montanine, desirous to encrease his Patrimony, and annexe the same vnto his owne, and knowing that the yong Gentleman wanted many thinges, moued him to sel his inheritaunce, offring hym for it in ready money, a M. Ducates, Charles which of al the wealth and substaunce left him by his auncester, had no more remaynyng but that countrey Ferme, and a Palace in the City (so the rich Italians of ech City, terme their houses,) and with that lytle lyued honestly, and maintained his sister so wel as he could, refused flatly to dispossesse himselfe of the portion, that renewed vnto him the happy memory of those that had ben the chiefe of all the Common Wealth. The couetous wretch seeing himselfe frustrate of his pray, conceiued sutch rancor against Montanine, as he purposed by right or wrong to make him not only to forfait the same, but also to lose his lyfe, following the wicked desire of tirannous Iesabell, that made Naboth to be stonned to death to extort and wrongfully get his vineyard. About that time for the quarels and common dyscordes raigning throughout Italy, the Nobility were not assured of safety in their Countreis, but rather the common sort and rascall number, were the chief rulers and gouerners of the common wealth, whereby the greatest part of the Nobility or those of beste authority being banished, the villanous band, and grosest kind of common people made a law (like to the Athenians in the time of Solon) that all persons of what degree and condition so euer they were, which practized by himselfe or other meanes the restablyshing or reuocation of sutch as were banished out of their Citye, should lose and forfaite the summe of M. Florens, and hauing not wherewith to pay the condempnation, their head should remaine for gage. A law no doubt very iust and righteous, scenting rather of the barbarous cruelty of the Gothes and Vandales, than of true christians, stopping the retire of innocents exiled for particular quarels of Citizens incited one against another, and rigorously rewarding mercy and curtesy, with execution of cruelty incomparable. This Citizen then purposed to accuse Montanine for offending against the law, bicause otherwise he could not purchase his entent, and the same was easy inough for him to compasse, by reason of his authority and estimation in the Citye: for the Endytemente and plea was no sooner red and giuen, but a number of post knightes appeared to depose against the poore Gentleman, to beare witnesse that he had trespassed the Lawes of the Countrey, and had sought meanes to introduce the banished, with intent to kyll the gouerners, and to place in state those factious, that were the cause of the Italian troubles. The myserable Gentleman knewe not what to do, ne how to defend himself. There were against him the Moone and the VII. starres, the state of the City, the Proctor and Iudge of the Courte, the wytnesses that gaue euidence, and the law whych condempned him. He was sent to Pryson, sentence was pronounced against him with sutch expedition, as he had no leysure to consider his affayres. There was no man, for feare to incurre the displeasures of the Magistrates, that durst open hys mouth to speake or make sute for hys delyueraunce. Like as the most part of fryendes in these dayes resembling the crow, that flyeth not but after carrian to gorge his rauenous Crop, and sutch friends doe visite the house of the fryend but for profit, reuerencyng him so long as he is in prosperitye, accordyng to the Poet’s complaynt.
Like as the purest gold in fieri flames is tried,
Euen so is fayth of fryends in hard estate descried.
If hard missehap doth thee affray,
Ech of thy friends do flie away,
And he which erst full friendly semde to thee,