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Governed Under The Authority Of Madam Eliza,
And The Argument Of The Discourses Or Novells There To Be Recounted, Doe
Concerne Sudden, Persons; Who By Some Witty Words (When Any Have Checkt
Or Retorting Them) Have Revenged Themselves, In A Sudden, Unexpected And
Discreet Answere, Thereby Preventing Losse, Danger, Scorne And Disgrace,
Retorting Them On The Busi-Headed Questioners.
The Moone having past the heaven, lost her bright splendor, by the
arising of a more powerfull light, and every part of our world began to
looke cleare: when the Queene (being risen) caused all the Company to be
called, walking forth afterward upon the pearled dewe (so farre as was
supposed convenient) in faire and familiar conference together,
according as severally they were disposed, and repetition of divers the
passed Novels, especially those which were most pleasing, and seemed so
by their present commendations. But the Sunne beeing somewhat higher
mounted, gave such a sensible warmth to the ayre, as caused their
returne backe to the Pallace, where the Tables were readily covered
against their comming, strewed with sweete hearbes and odoriferous
flowers, seating themselves at the Tables (before the heat grew more
violent) according as the Queene commanded.
After dinner, they sung divers excellent Canzonnets, and then some
went to sleepe, others played at the Chesse, and some at the Tables: But
Dioneus and Madam Lauretta, they sung the love-conflict betweene Troylus
and Cressida. Now was the houre come, of repairing to their former
Consistory or meeting place, the Queene having thereto generally
summoned them, and seating themselves (as they were wont to doe) about
the faire fountaine. As the Queene was commanding to begin the first
Novell, an accident suddenly happened, which never had befalne before:
to wit, they heard a great noyse and tumult, among the houshold servants
in the Kitchin. Whereupon, the Queene caused the Master of the Houshold
to be called, demaunding of him, what noyse it was, and what might be
the occasion thereof? He made answere, that Lacisca and Tindaro were at
some words of discontentment, but what was the occasion thereof, he knew
not. Whereupon, the Queene commanded that they should be sent for,
(their anger and violent speeches still continuing) and being come into
her presence, she demaunded the reason of their discord; and Tindaro
offering to make answere, Lacisca (being somewhat more ancient then he,
and of a fiercer fiery spirit, even as if her heart would have leapt out
of her mouth) turned her selfe to him, and with a scornefull frowning
countenance, said. See how this bold, unmannerly and beastly fellow,
dare presume to speake in this place before me: Stand by (saucy
impudence) and give your better leave to answere; then turning to the
Queene, thus shee proceeded.
Madam, this idle fellow would maintaine to me, that Signior
Sicophanto marrying with Madama della Grazza, had the victory of her
virginity the very first night; and I avouched the contrary, because
shee had been a mother twise before, in very faire adventuring of her
fortune. And he dared to affirme beside, that yong Maides are so simple,
as to loose the flourishing Aprill of their time, in meere feare of
their parents, and great prejudice of their friends.
And then the Queene, somewhat offended at the folly of the former
controversie, commanded Madame Philomena, that she should give beginning
to the dayes Novels: which (in dutifull manner) shee undertooke to doe,
and seating her selfe in formall fashion, with modest and very gracious
gesture, thus she began.
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Reprehending The Folly Of Such Men, As
Undertake To Report Discourses, Which Are Beyond Their Wit And Capacity,
And Gaine Nothing But Blame For Their Labour.
A Knight requested Madam Oretta, to ride behinde him on horse-backe, and
promised, to tell her an excellent Tale by the way. But the Lady
perceiving, that his discourse was idle, and much worse delivered:
entreated him to let her walke on foote againe.
Gracious Ladies, like as in our faire, cleere, and serene seasons,
the Starres are bright ornaments to the heavens, and the flowry fields
(so long as the spring time lasteth) weare their goodliest Liveries, the
Trees likewise bragging in their best adornings: Even so at friendly
meetings, short, sweet, and sententious words, are the beauty and
ornament of any discourse, savouring of wit and sound judgement,
worthily deserving to be commended. And so much the rather, because in
few and witty words, aptly suting with the time and occasion, more is
delivered then was expected, or sooner answered, then rashly
apprehended: which, as they become men verie highly, yet do they shew
more singular in women.
True it is, what the occasion may be, I know not, either by the
badnesse of our wittes, or the especiall enmitie betweene our
complexions and the celestiall bodies: there are scarsely any, or very
few Women to be found among us, that well knowes how to deliver a word,
when it should and ought to be spoken; or, if a question bee mooved,
understands to suite it with an apt answere, such as conveniently is
required, which is no meane disgrace to us women. But in regard, that
Madame Pampinea hath already spoken sufficiently of this matter, I meane
not to presse it any further: but at this time it shall satisfie mee, to
let you know, how wittily a Ladie made due observation of opportunitie,
in answering of a Knight, whose talke seemed tedious and offensive to
her.
No doubt there are some among you, who either do know, or (at the
least) have heard, that it is no long time since, when there dwelt a
Gentlewoman in our Citie, of excellent grace and good discourse, with
all other rich endowments of Nature remaining in her, as pitty it were
to conceale her name: and therefore let me tell ye, that shee was called
Madame Oretta, the Wife to Signior Geri Spina. She being upon some
occasion (as now we are) in the Countrey, and passing from place to
place (by way of neighbourly invitations) to visite her loving Friends
and Acquaintance, accompanied with divers Knights and Gentlewomen, who
on the day before had dined and supt at her house, as now (belike) the
selfe-same courtesie was intended to her: walking along with her company
upon the way; and the place for her welcome beeing further off then she
expected; a Knight chanced to overtake this faire troop, who well
knowing Madam Oretta, using a kinde and courteous salutation, spake
thus.
Madam, this foot travell may bee offensive to you, and were you so
well pleased as my selfe, I would ease your journey behinde mee on my
Gelding, even so as you shall command me: and beside, wil shorten your
wearinesse with a Tale worth the hearing. Courteous Sir (replyed the
Lady) I embrace your kinde offer with such acceptation, that I pray you
to performe it; for therein you shall doe me an especiall favour. The
Knight, whose Sword (perhappes) was as unsuteable to his side, as his
wit out of fashion for any readie discourse, having the Lady mounted
behinde him rode on with a gentle pace, and (according to his promise)
began to tell a Tale, which indeede (of it selfe) deserved attention,
because it was a knowne and commendable History, but yet delivered so
abruptly, with idle repetitions of some particulars three or foure
severall times, mistaking one thing for another, and wandering
erroneously from the essentiall subject, seeming neere an end, and then
beginning againe: that a poore Tale could not possibly be more mangled,
or worse tortured in telling, then this was; for the persons therein
concerned, were so abusively nicke-named, their actions and speeches so
monstrously mishapen, that nothing could appeare to be more ugly.
Madame Oretta, being a Lady of unequalled ingenuitie, admirable in
judgement, and most delicate in her speech, was afflicted in soule,
beyond all measure; overcome with many colde sweates, and passionate
heart-aking qualmes, to see a Foole thus in a Pinne-fold, and unable to
get out, albeit the doore stood wide open to him, whereby shee became so
sicke; that, converting her distaste to a kinde of pleasing acceptation,
merrily thus she spake. Beleeve me Sir, your horse trots so hard, and
travels so uneasily; that I entreate you to let me walke on foot againe.
The Knight, being (perchance) a better understander, then a
Discourser; perceived by this witty taunt, that his Bowle had run a
contrarie bias, and he as farre out of Tune, as he was from the Towne.
So, lingering the time, untill her company was neerer arrived: hee lefte
her with them, and rode on as his Wisedome could best direct him.
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Approving, That A Request Ought To Be Civill,
Before It Should Be Granted To Any One Whatsoever.
Cistio a Baker, by a wittie answer which he gave unto Messer Geri Spina,
caused him to acknowledge a very indiscreete motion, which he had made
to the said Cistio.
The words of Madame Oretta, were much commended by the men and women;
and the discourse being ended, the Queene gave command to Madam
Pampinea, that shee should follow next in order, which made her to begin
in this manner.
Worthy Ladies, it exceedeth the power of my capacitie, to censure in
the case whereof I am to speake, by saying, who sinned most, either
Nature, in seating a Noble soule in a vile body, or Fortune, in
bestowing on a body (beautified with a noble soule) a base or wretched
condition of life. As we may observe by Cistio, a Citizen of our owne,
and many more beside; for, this Cistio beeing endued with a singular
good spirit, Fortune hath made him no better then a Baker. And beleeve
me Ladies, I could (in this case) lay as much blame on Nature, as on
Fortune; if I did not know Nature to be most absolutely wise, and that
Fortune hath a thousand eyes, albeit fooles have figured her to bee
blinde. But, upon more mature and deliberate consideration, I finde,
that they both (being truly wise and judicious) have dealt justly, in
imitation of our best advised mortals, who being uncertaine of such
inconveniences, as may happen unto them, do bury (for their own benefit)
the very best and choicest things of esteeme, in the most vile and
abject places of their houses, as being subject to least suspition, and
where they may be sure to have them at all times, for supply of any
necessitie whatsoever, because so base a conveyance hath better kept
them, then the very best chamber in the house could have done. Even so
these two great commanders of the world, do many times hide their most
precious Jewels of worth, under the clouds of Arts or professions of
worst estimation, to the end, that fetching them thence when neede
requires, their splendor may appeare to be the more glorious. Nor was
any such matter noted in our homely Baker Cistio, by the best
observation of Messer Geri Spina, who was spoken of in the late repeated
Novell, as being the husband to Madame Oretta; whereby this accident
came to my remembrance, and which (in a short Tale) I will relate unto
you.
Let me then tell ye, that Pope Boniface (with whom the fore-named
Messer Geri Spina was in great regard) having sent divers Gentlemen of
his Court to Florence as Ambassadors, about very serious and important
businesse: they were lodged in the house of Messer Geri Spina, and he
employed (with them) in the saide Popes negotiation. It chanced, that as
being the most convenient way for passage, every morning they walked on
foot by the Church of Saint Marie d'Ughi, where Cistio the Baker dwelt,
and exercised the trade belonging to him. Now although Fortune had
humbled him to so meane a condition, yet shee added a blessing of wealth
to that contemptible quality, and (as smiling on him continually) no
disasters at any time befell him, but still he flourished in riches,
lived like a jolly Citizen, with all things fitting for honest
entertainment about him, and plenty of the best Wines (both White and
Claret) as Florence, or any part thereabout yeelded.
Our frolicke Baker perceiving, that Messer Geri Spina and the other
Ambassadors, used every morning to passe by his doore, and afterward to
returne backe the same way: seeing the season to be somewhat hot and
soultry, he tooke it as an action of kindnesse and courtesie, to make
them an offer of tasting his white wine. But having respect to his owne
meane degree, and the condition of Messer Geri: hee thought it farre
unfitting for him, to be so forward in such presumption; but rather
entred into consideration of some such meanes, whereby Messer Geri might
bee the inviter of himselfe to taste his Wine. And having put on him a
trusse or thin doublet, of very white and fine Linnen cloath, as also
breeches, and an apron of the same, and a white cap upon his head, so
that he seemed rather to be a Miller, then a Baker: at such times as
Messer Geri and the Ambassadors should daily passe by, hee set before
his doore a new Bucket of faire water, and another small vessell of
Bologna earth (as new and sightly as the other) full of his best and
choisest white Wine, with two small Glasses, looking like silver, they
were so cleare. Downe he sate, with all this provision before him, and
emptying his stomacke twice or thrice, of some clotted flegmes which
seemed to offend it: even as the Gentlemen were passing by, he dranke
one or two rouses of his Wine so heartily, and with such a pleasing
appetite, as might have moved a longing (almost) in a dead man.
Messer Geri well noting his behaviour, and observing the verie same
course in him two mornings together; on the third day (as he was
drinking) he said unto him. Well done Cistio, what, is it good, or no?
Cistio starting up, forthwith replyed; Yes Sir, the wine is good indeed,
but how can I make you to beleeve me, except you taste of it? Messer
Geri, eyther in regard of the times quality, or by reason of his paines
taken, perhaps more then ordinary, or else, because hee saw Cistio had
drunke so sprightly, was very desirous to taste of the Wine, and turning
unto the Ambassadors, in merriment he saide. My Lords, me thinks it were
not much amisse, if we tooke a taste of this honest mans Wine, perhaps
it is so good, that we shall not neede to repent our labour.
Heereupon, he went with them to Cistio, who had caused an handsome
seate to be fetched forth of his house, whereon he requested them to sit
downe, and having commanded his men to wash cleane the Glasses, he
saide. Fellowes, now get you gone, and leave me to the performance of
this service; for I am no worse a skinker, then a Baker, and tarry you
never so long, you shall not drinke a drop. Having thus spoken, himselfe
washed foure or five small glasses, faire and new, and causing a Viall
of his best wine to be brought him: hee diligently filled it out to
Messer Geri and the Ambassadours, to whom it seemed the very best Wine,
that they had drunke of in a long while before. And having given Cistio
most hearty thankes for his kindnesse, and the Wine his due
commendation: many dayes afterwardes (so long as they continued there)
they found the like courteous entertainment, and with the good liking of
honest Cistio.
But when the affayres were fully concluded, for which they wer thus
sent to Florence, and their parting preparation in due readinesse:
Messer Geri made a very sumptuous Feast for them, inviting thereto the
most part of the honourablest Citizens, and Cistio to be one amongst
them; who (by no meanes) would bee seene in an assembly of such State
and pompe, albeit he was thereto (by the saide Messer Geri) most
earnestly entreated.
In regard of which deniall, Messer Geri commaunded one of his
servants, to take a small Bottle, and request Cistio to fill it with his
good Wine; then afterward, to serve it in such sparing manner to the
Table, that each Gentleman might be allowed halfe a glasse-full at their
down-sitting. The Serving-man, who had heard great report of the Wine,
and was halfe offended because he could never taste thereof: tooke a
great Flaggon Bottle, containing foure or five Gallons at the least, and
comming there-with unto Cistio, saide unto him. Cistio, because my
Master cannot have your companie among his friends, he prayes you to
fill this Bottle with your best Wine. Cistio looking uppon the huge
Flaggon, replyed thus. Honest Fellow, Messer Geri never sent thee with
such a Message to me: which although the Serving-man very stoutly
maintained, yet getting no other answer, he returned backe therwith to
his Master.
Messer Geri returned the Servant backe againe unto Cistio, saying:
Goe, and assure Cistio, that I sent thee to him, and if hee make thee
any more such answeres, then demaund of him, to what place else I should
send thee? Being come againe to Cistio, hee avouched that his Maister
had sent him, but Cistio affirming, that hee did not: the Servant asked,
to what place else hee should send him? Marrie (quoth Cistio) unto the
River of Arno, which runneth by Florence, there thou mayest be sure to
fill thy Flaggon. When the Servant had reported this answer to Messer
Geri, the eyes of his understanding beganne to open, and calling to see
what Bottle hee had carried with him: no sooner looked he on the huge
Flaggon, but severely reproving the sawcinesse of his Servant, hee
sayde. Now trust mee, Cistio told thee nothing but trueth, for neither
did I send thee with any such dishonest message, nor had the reason to
yeeld or grant it.
Then he sent him with a bottle of more reasonable competencie, which
so soone as Cistio saw: Yea mary my friend, quoth he, now I am sure that
thy Master sent thee to me, and he shall have his desire with all my
hart. So, commaunding the Bottle to be filled, he sent it away by the
Servant, and presently following after him, when he came unto Messer
Geri, he spake unto him after this maner. Sir, I would not have you to
imagine, that the huge flaggon (which first came) did any jotte dismay
mee; but rather I conceyved, that the small Viall whereof you tasted
every morning, yet filled many mannerly Glasses together, was fallen
quite out of your remembrance; in plainer tearmes, it beeing no Wine for
Groomes or Peazants, as your selfe affirmed yesterday. And because I
meane to bee a Skinker no longer, by keeping Wine to please any other
pallate but mine owne: I have sent you halfe my store, and heereafter
thinke of mee as you shall please. Messer Geri tooke both his guifte and
speeches in most thankefull manner, accepting him alwayes after, as his
intimate Friend, because he had so graced him before the Ambassadours.
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Wherein Is Declared, That Mockers Do Sometimes
Meete With Their Matches In Mockery, And To Their Owne Shame.
Madame Nonna de Pulci, by a sodaine answere, did put to silence a Byshop
of Florence, and the Lord Marshall: having moved a question to the said
Lady, which seemed to come short of honesty.
When Madame Pampinea had ended her Discourse, and (by the whole
company) the answere and bounty of Cistio, had past with deserved
commendation: it pleased the Queene, that Madame Lauretta should next
succeed: whereupon verie chearefully thus she beganne.
Faire assembly, Madame Pampinea (not long time since) gave beginning,
and Madam Philomena hath also seconded the same argument, concerning the
slender vertue remaining in our sexe, and likewise the beautie of wittie
words, delivered on apt occasion, and in convenient meetings. Now,
because it is needlesse to proceede any further, then what hath beene
already spoken: let mee onely tell you (over and beside) and commit it
to memorie, that the nature of meetings and speeches are such, as they
ought to nippe or touch the hearer, like unto the Sheepes nibling on the
tender grasse, and not as the sullen Dogge byteth. For, if their biting
be answereable to the Dogges, they deserve not to be termed witty jests
or quips, but foule and offensive language: as plainly appeareth by the
words of Madame Oretta, and the mery, yet sensible answer of Cistio.
True it is, that if it be spoken by way of answer, and the answerer
biteth doggedly, because himselfe was bitten in the same manner before:
he is the lesse to bee blamed, because hee maketh payment but with coine
of the same stampe. In which respect, an especiall care is to bee had,
how, when, with whom, and where we jest or gibe, whereof very many
proove too unmindfull, as appeared (not long since) by a Prelate of
ours, who met with a byting, no lesse sharpe and bitter, then had first
come from himselfe before, as verie briefely I intend to tell you how.
Messer Antonio d'Orso, being Byshoppe of Florence, a vertuous, wise,
and reverend Prelate; it fortuned that a Gentleman of Catalogna, named
Messer Diego de la Ratta, and Lord Marshall to King Robert of Naples,
came thither to visite him. Hee being a man of very comely personage,
and a great observer of the choysest beauties in Court: among all the
other Florentine Dames, one proved to bee most pleasing in his eye, who
was a verie faire Woman indeede, and Neece to the Brother of the saide
Messer Antonio.
The Husband of this Gentlewoman (albeit descended of a worthie
Family) was, neverthelesse, immeasurably covetous, and a verie harsh
natured man. Which the Lord Marshall understanding, made such a madde
composition with him, as to give him five hundred Ducates of Gold, on
condition, that hee would let him lye one night with his wife, not
thinking him so base minded as to give consent. Which in a greedy
avaritious humour he did, and the bargaine being absolutely agreed on;
the Lord Marshall prepared to fit him with a payment, such as it should
be. He caused so many peeces of silver to be cunningly guilded, as then
went for currant mony in Florence, and called Popolines, and after he
had lyen with the Lady (contrary to her will and knowledge, her husband
had so closely carried the businesse) the money was duely paid to the
cornuted Coxcombe. Afterwards, this impudent shame chanced to be
generally knowne, nothing remaining to the wilful Wittoll, but losse of
his expected gaine, and scorne in every place where he went. The Bishop
likewise (beeing a discreete and sober man) would seeme to take no
knowledge thereof; but bare out all scoffes with a well setled
countenance.
Within a short while after, the Bishop and the Lord Marshal (alwaies
conversing together) it came to passe, that upon Saint johns day, they
riding thorow the City, side by side, and viewing the brave beauties,
which of them might best deserve to win the prize: the Byshop espied a
yong married Lady (which our late greevous pestilence bereaved us of)
she being named Madame Nonna de Pulci, and Cousine to Messer Alexio
Rinucci, a Gentleman well knowne unto us all. A very goodly beautifull
yong woman she was, of delicate language, and singular spirite, dwelling
close by S. Peters gate. This Lady did the Bishop shew to the Marshall,
and when they were come to her, laying his hand uppon her shoulder, he
said. Madam Nonna, What thinke you of this Gallant? Dare you adventure
another wager with him?
Such was the apprehension of this witty Lady, that these words seemed
to taxe her honour, or else to contaminate the hearers understanding,
whereof there were great plenty about her, whose judgement might be as
vile, as the speeches were scandalous. Wherefore, never seeking for any
further purgation of her cleare conscience, but onely to retort taunt
for taunt, presently thus she replied. My Lord, if I should make such a
vile adventure, I would looke to bee payde with better money.
These words being heard both by the Bishop and Marshall, they felt
themselves touched to the quicke, the one, as the Factor or Broker, for
so dishonest a businesse, to the Brother of the Bishop; and the other,
as receiving (in his owne person) the shame belonging to his Brother.
So, not so much as looking each on other, or speaking one word together
all the rest of that day, they rode away with blushing cheekes. Whereby
we may collect, that the yong Lady, being so injuriously provoked, did
no more then well became her, to bite their basenesse neerely, that so
abused her openly.
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Whereby Plainly Appeareth, That A Sodaine Witty
And Merry Answer, Doth Oftentimes Appease The Furious Choller Of An
Angry Man.
Chichibio, the Cooke to Messer Currado Gianfiliazzi, by a sodaine
pleasant answer which he made to his Master; converted his anger into
laughter, and thereby escaped the punishment, that Messer meant to
impose on him.
Madam Lauretta sitting silent, and the answer of Lady Nonna having
past with generall applause: the Queene commanded Madame Neiphila to
follow next in order; who instantly thus began. Although a ready wit
(faire Ladies) doth many times affoord worthy and commendable speeches,
according to the accidents happening to the speaker: yet
notwithstanding, Fortune (being a ready helper divers wayes to the
timorous) doth often tippe the tongue with such a present reply, as the
partie to speake, had not so much leysure as to thinke on, nor yet to
invent; as I purpose to let you perceive, by a prety short Novell.
Messer Currado Gianfiliazzi (as most of you have both seene and
knowen) living alwayes in our Citie, in the estate of a Noble Citizen,
beeing a man bountifull, magnificent, and within the degree of
Knighthoode: continually kept both Hawkes and Hounds, taking no meane
delight in such pleasures as they yeelded, neglecting (for them) farre
more serious imployments, wherewith our present subject presumeth not to
meddle. Upon a day, having kilde with his Faulcon a Crane, neere to a
Village called Peretola, and finding her to be both young and fat, he
sent it to his Cooke, a Venetian borne, and named Chichibio, with
command to have it prepared for his supper. Chichibio, who resembled no
other, then (as he was indeede) a plaine, simple, honest mery fellow,
having drest the Crane as it ought to bee, put it on the spit, and laide
it to the fire.
When it was well neere fully roasted, and gave forth a very delicate
pleasing savour; it fortuned that a young Woman dwelling not far off,
named Brunetta, and of whom Chichibio was somewhat enamored, entred into
the Kitchin, and feeling the excellent smell of the Crane, to please her
beyond all savours, that ever she had felt before: she entreated
Chichibio verie earnestly, that hee would bestow a legge thereof on her.
Whereto Chichibio (like a pleasant companion, and evermore delighting in
singing) sung her this answer.
My Brunetta, faire and feat a,
Why should you say so?
The meate of my Master,
Allowes you for no Taster,
Go from the Kitchin go.
Many other speeches past betweene them in a short while, but in the
end, Chichibio, because hee would not have his Mistresse Brunetta angrie
with him; cut away one of the Cranes legges from the spit, and gave it
to her to eate. Afterward, when the Fowle was served up to the Table
before Messer Currado, who had invited certain strangers his friends to
sup with him, wondering not a little, he called for Chichibio his Cook;
demanding what was become of the Cranes other legge? Whereto the
Venetian (being a lyar by Nature) sodainely answered: Sir, Cranes have
no more but one legge each Bird. Messer Currado, growing verie angry,
replyed. Wilt thou tell me, that a Crane hath no more but one legge? Did
I never see a Crane before this? Chichibio persisting resolutely in his
deniall, saide. Beleeve me Sir, I have told you nothing but the truth,
and when you please, I wil make good my wordes, by such Fowles as are
living.
Messer Currado, in kinde love to the strangers that hee had invited
to supper, gave over any further contestation; onely he said. Seeing
thou assurest me, to let me see thy affirmation for truth, by other of
the same Fowles living (a thing which as yet I never saw, or heard of) I
am content to make proofe thereof to morrow morning, till then I shall
rest satisfied: but, upon my word, if I finde it otherwise, expect such
a sound payment, as thy knavery justly deserveth, to make thee remember
it all thy life time. The contention ceassing for the night season,
Messer Currado, who though he had slept well, remained still
discontented in his minde: arose in the morning by breake of day, and
puffing and blowing angerly, called for his horses, commanding Chichibio
to mount on one of them; so riding on towards the River, where (earely
every morning) he had seene plenty of Cranes, he sayde to his man; We
shall see anon Sirra, whether thou or I lyed yesternight.
Chichibio perceiving, that his Masters anger was not (as yet)
asswaged, and now it stood him upon, to make good his lye; not knowing
how he should do it, rode after his Master, fearfully trembling all the
way. Gladly he would have made an escape, but hee could not by any
possible meanes, and on every side he looked about him, now before, and
after behinde, to espy any Cranes standing on both their legges, which
would have bin an ominous sight to him. But being come neere to the
River, he chanced to see (before any of the rest) upon the banke
thereof, about a dozen Cranes in number, each of them standing but upon
one legge, as they use to do when they are sleeping. Whereupon, shewing
them quickly to Messer Currado, he said. Now Sir your selfe may see,
whether I told you true yesternight, or no: I am sure a Crane hath but
one thigh, and one leg, as all here present are apparant witnesses, and
I have bin as good as my promise.
Messer Currado looking on the Cranes, and well understanding the
knavery of his man, replyed: Stay but a little while sirra, and I will
shew thee, that a Crane hath two thighes, and two legges. Then riding
somwhat neerer to them, he cryed out aloud, Shough, shough, which caused
them to set downe their other legs, and all fled away, after they had
made a few paces against the winde for their mounting. So going unto
Chichibio, he said: How now you lying Knave, hath a Crane two legs, or
no? Chichibio being well-neere at his wits end, not knowing now what
answer hee should make; but even as it came sodainly into his minde,
said: Sir, I perceive you are in the right, and if you would have done
as much yesternight, and had cryed Shough, as here you did:
questionlesse, the Crane would then have set down the other legge, as
these heere did: but if (as they) she had fled away too, by that meanes
you might have lost your Supper.
This sodaine and unexpected witty answere, comming from such a
logger-headed Lout, and so seasonably for his owne safety: was so
pleasing to Messer Currado, that he fell into a hearty laughter, and
forgetting all anger, saide. Chichibio, thou hast quit thy selfe well,
and to my contentment: albeit I advise thee, to teach mee no more such
trickes heereafter. Thus Chichibio, by his sodaine and merry answer,
escaped a sound beating, which (otherwise) his master had inflicted on
him.
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Whereby May Bee Observed, That Such As Will
Speake Contemptibly Of Others, Ought (First Of All) To Looke
Respectively On Their Owne Imperfections.
Messer Forese da Rabatte, and Maister Giotto, a Painter by his
profession, comming together from Mugello, scornfully reprehended one
another for their deformity of body.
So soone as Madame Neiphila sate silent (the Ladies having greatly
commended the pleasant answer of Chichibio) Pamphilus, by command from
the Queene, spake in this manner. Woorthy Ladies, it commeth to passe
oftentimes, that like as Fortune is observed divers wayes, to hide under
vile and contemptible Arts, the most great and unvalewable treasures of
vertue (as, not long since, was well discoursed unto us by Madame
Pampinea:) so in like manner hath appeared; that Nature hath infused
very singular spirits into most mishapen and deformed bodies of men. As
hath beene noted in two of our owne Citizens, of whom I purpose to
speake in fewe words. The one of them was named Messer Forese de
Rabatta, a man of little and low person, but yet deformed in body, with
a flat face, like a Terrier or Beagle, as if no comparison (almost)
could bee made more ugly. But notwithstanding all this deformity, he was
so singularly experienced in the Lawes, that all men held him beyond any
equall, or rather reputed him as a Treasury of civill knowledge.
The other man, being named Giotto, had a spirit of so great
excellency, as there was not any particular thing in Nature, the Mother
and Worke-mistresse of all, by continuall motion of the heavens; but hee
by his pen and pensell could perfectly portrait; shaping them all so
truly alike and resemblable, that they were taken for the reall matters
indeede; and, whether they were present or no, there was hardly any
possibility of their distinguishing. So that many times it happened,
that by the variable devises he made, the visible sence of men became
deceived, in crediting those things to be naturall, which were but
meerly painted. By which meanes, hee reduced that singular Art to light,
which long time before had lyen buried, under the grosse error of some;
who, in the mysterie of painting, delighted more to content the
ignorant, then to please the judicious understanding of the wise, he
justly deserving thereby, to be tearmed one of the Florentines most
glorious lights. And so much the rather, because he performed all his
actions, in the true and lowly spirit of humility: for while he lived,
and was a Master in his Art, above all other Painters: yet he refused
any such title, which shined the more majestically- in him, as appeared
by such, who knew Much lesse then he, or his Schollers either: yet his
knowledge was extreamly coveted among them.
Now, notwithstanding all this admirable excellency in him: he was not
(thereby) a jot the handsommer man (either in person or countenance)
then was our fore-named Lawyer Messer Forese, and therefore my Novell
concerneth them both. Understand then (faire Assemblie) that the
possessions and inheritances of Messer Forese and Giotto, lay in
Mugello; wherefore, when Holy-dayes were celebrated by Order of Court,
and in the Sommer time, upon the admittance of so apt a vacation; Forese
rode thither upon a very unsightly jade, such as a man can sildome meet
with worse. The like did Giotto the Painter, as ill fitted every way as
the other; and having dispatched their busines there, they both returned
backe towards Florence, neither of them being able to boast, which was
the best mounted.
Riding on a faire and softly pace, because their Horses could goe no
faster: and they being well entred into yeeres, it fortuned (as
oftentimes the like befalleth in Sommer) that a sodaine showre of raine
overtooke them; for avoyding whereof, they made all possible haste to a
poore Countreymans Cottage, familiarly knowne to them both. Having
continued there an indifferent while, and raine unlikely to cease: to
prevent allfurther protraction of time, and to arriveat Florence in due
season; they borrowed two old cloakes of the poore man, of over-worn and
ragged Country gray, as also two hoodes of the like Complexion, (because
the poore man had no better) which did more mishape them, then their
owne ugly deformity, and made them notoriously flouted and scorned, by
all that met or over-tooke them.
After they had ridden some distance of ground, much moyled and
bemyred with their shuffling jades, flinging the dirt every way about
them, that well they might be termed two filthy companions: the raine
gave over, and the evening looking somewhat cleare, they began to confer
familiarly together. Messer Forese, riding a lofty French trot, everie
step being ready to hoise him out of his saddle, hearing Giottos
discreete answers to every ydle question he made (for indeede he was a
very elegant speaker) began to peruse and surveigh him, even from the
foote to the head, as we use to say. And perceiving him to be so greatly
deformed, as no man could be worse, in his opinion: without any
consideration of his owne mishaping as bad, or rather more unsightly
then hee; in a scoffing laughing humour, hee saide. Giotto, doest thou
imagine, that a stranger, who had never seene thee before, and should
now happen into our companie, would beleeve thee to bee the best Painter
in the world, as indeede thou art? Presently Giotto (without any further
meditation) returned him this answere. Signior Forese, I think he might
then beleeve it, when (beholding you) hee could imagine that you had
learned your A. B. C. Which when Forese heard, he knew his owne error,
and saw his payment returned in such Coine, as he sold his Wares for.
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Michiele Scalza proves to some young men that
the family of the Baronchi was the most noble in the world, for which he
gets a good supper.
Michiele Scalza, a young Florentine, had so facetious and productive
a genius that the principal youth of Florence took a great deal of
pleasure in and thought it an honour to enjoy his company. Being one day
at Mont Ughi with many gentlemen, the discussion happened to run upon
the antiquity and nobility of the Florentine families. Some gave the
preference to that of the Uberti, others to that of the Lamberti,
everyone speaking, as people ordinarily do, according to their different
humours and interests.
When Scalza heard what they all had to say, he smiling cried: "You
are none of you in the right. I will maintain the family of the Baronchi
to be the most ancient and noble not only in Florence but also in the
whole world. All philosophers and such as can be supposed to know that
family,. I'm confident, are of my opinion; and that you may not mistake
my meaning I must tell you I mean the Baronchi our neighbours, who dwell
near Santa Maria Maggiore." They all presently fell a-laughing, and
asked him whether he took them for people of the other world that they
should not know the Baronchi as well as he. "Gentlemen," says Scalza, "I
am so far from taking you for people of the other world that I will lay
any one of you a good supper enough for six on what I affirm, and be
judged by whom you please."
The wager was laid, and they all agreed to leave the decision to
Pietro di Florentino, who was then present. Everyone expected Scalza
would lose, and began to laugh at him beforehand. He that was to
determine the matter, being very judicious, first heard the reasons of
the opposite party, and then asked Scalza how he could prove his
assertion.
"I will prove it so sufficiently," says he, that you shall all be
thoroughly convinced. Gentlemen," says he, "by how much a family is most
ancient by so much it is most noble. The family of the Baronchi is the
most ancient in Florence, ergo it is the most noble. I have nothing,
then, to prove but the antiquity of the Baronchi. This will appear in
that Prometheus made them at the time that he first began to learn to
paint, and made others after he was master of his art. To convince you
of this, do but examine the figures of the one and the other: you'll
find art and proportion in the composition of the one, whereas the
others are but rough-drawn and imperfect. Among the Baronchi you'll meet
with one with a long narrow face, another with a prodigiously broad one;
one is flat-nosed, another has a nose that measures an ell; one has a
long chin and jaws like an ass, another has his short and flat, and is
monkey-faced. Nay, there are some of them that have but one eye either
larger or lower than the others have. In a word, their faces for all the
world resemble such as children make when they first begin to draw.
Prometheus, you will allow, must be no great master when he made these
figures, as I told you before; and consequently they must be more noble
as they are more ancient."
So diverting an argument made them all to laugh heartily. The
representation he gave of the Baronchi was so ust and natural that they
all agreed he had won: and nothing was heard for a full quarter of an
hour but "Scalza has won!" and "The Baronchi are the most ancient and
noble family in all Florence!"
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Wherein Is Declared, Of What Worth It Is To
Confesse Trueth, With A Facetious And Witty Excuse.
Madam Philippa, being accused by her Husband Rinaldo de Pugliese,
because he tooke her in Adulterie, with a yong Gentleman named Lazarino
de Guazzagliotri: caused her to bee cited before the Judge. From whom
she delivered her selfe, by a sodaine, witty, and pleasant answer, and
moderated a severe strict Statute, formerly made against women.
After that Madame Fiammetta had given over speaking, and all the
Auditory had sufficiently applauded the Schollers honest revenge, the
Queene enjoyned Philostratus, to proceede on next with his Novell, which
caused him to begin thus. Beleeve me Ladies, it is an excellent and most
commendable thing, to speak well, and to all purposes: but I hold it a
matter of much greater worth, to know how to do it, and when necessity
doth most require it. Which a Gentlewoman (of whom I am now to speake)
was so well enstructed in, as not onely it yeelded the hearers mirthfull
contentment, but likewise delivered her from the danger of death, as (in
few words) you shal heare related.
In the Citie of Pirato, there was an Edict or Statute, no lesse
blameworthy (to speake uprightly) then most severe and cruell, which
(without making any distinction) gave strict command; That everie Woman
should be burned with fire, who husband found her in the acte of
Adultery, with any secret or familiar friend, as one deserving to bee
thus abandoned, like such as prostituted their bodies to publike sale or
hire. During the continuance of this sharpe Edict, it fortuned that a
Gentlewoman, who was named Phillippa, was found in her Chamber one
night, in the armes of a yong Gentleman of the same City, named Lazarino
de Guazzagliotri, and by her owne husband, called Rinaldo de Pugliese,
shee loving the young Gallant, as her owne life, because hee was most
compleate in all perfections, and every way as deerely addicted to her.
This sight was so irkesome to Rinaldo, that, being overcom with
extreame rage, hee could hardly containe from running on them, with a
violent intent to kill them both: but feare of his owne life caused his
forbearance, meaning to be revenged by some better way. Such was the
heate of his spleene and fury, as, setting aside all respect of his owne
shame: he would needs prosecute the rigour of the deadly Edict, which he
held lawfull for him to do, although it extended to the death of his
Wife. Heereupon, having witnesses sufficient, to approove the
guiltinesse of her offence: a day being appointed (without desiring any
other counsell) he went in person to accuse her, and required justice
against her.
The Gentlewoman, who was of an high and undauntable spirite, as all
such are, who have fixed their affection resolvedly, and love uppon a
grounded deliberation: concluded, quite against the counsell and opinion
of her Parents, Kindred, and Friends; to appeare in the Court, as
desiring rather to dye, by confessing the trueth with a manly courage,
then by denying it, and her love unto so worthy a person as he was, in
whose arms she chanced to be taken; to live basely in exile with shame,
as an eternall scandall to her race. So, before the Potestate, shee made
her apparance, worthily accompanied both with men and women, all
advising her to deny the acte: but she, not minding them or their
perswasions, looking on the Judge with a constant countenance, and a
voyce of setled resolve, craved to know of him, what hee demaunded of
her?
The Potestate well noting her brave carriage, her singular beautie
and praiseworthy parts, her words apparantly witnessing the heighth of
her minde: beganne to take compassion on her, and doubted, least shee
would confesse some such matter, as should enforce him to pronounce the
sentence of death against her. But she boldly scorning all delayes, or
any further protraction of time; demanded again, what was her
accusation? Madame, answered the Potestate, I am sory to tel you, what
needs I must, your husband (whom you see present heere) is the
complainant against you, avouching, that he tooke you in the act of
adultery with another man: and therefore he requireth, that, according
to the rigour of the Statute heere in force with us, I should pronounce
sentence against you, and (consequently) the infliction of death. Which
I cannot do, if you confesse not the fact, and therefore be well
advised, how you answer me, and tell me the truth, if it be as your
Husband accuseth you, or no.
The Lady, without any dismay or dread at all, pleasantly thus
replied. My Lord, true it is, that Rinaldo is my Husband, and that he
found me, on the night named, betweene the Armes of Lazarino, where many
times heeretofore he hath embraced mee, according to the mutuall love
re-plighted together, which I deny not, nor ever will. But you know well
enough, and I am certaine of it, that the Lawes enacted in any Countrey,
ought to be common, and made with consent of them whom they concerne,
whichin this Edict of yours is quite contrarie. For it is rigorous
against none, but poore women onely, who are able to yeeld much better
content and satisfaction generally, then remaineth in the power of men
to do. And moreover, when this Law was made, there was not any woman
that gave consent to it, neither were they called to like or allow
thoreof: in which respect, it may deservedly be termed, an unjust Law.
And if you will, in prejudice of my bodie, and of your owne soule, be
the executioner of so unlawfull an Edict, it consisteth in your power to
do as you please.
But before you proceede to pronounce any sentence, may it please you
to favour me with one small request, namely, that you would demand of my
Husband, if at all times, and whensoever he tooke delight in my company,
I ever made any curiosity, or came to him unwillingly. Whereto Rinaldo,
without tarrying for the Potestate to moove the question, sodainly
answered; that (undoubtedly) his wife at all times, and oftner then he
could request it, was never sparing of her kindnesse, or put him off
with any deniall. Then the Lady, continuing on her former speeches, thus
replyed. Let me then demand of you my Lord, being our Potestate and
Judge, if it be so, by my Husbands owne free confession, that he hath
alwaies had his pleasure of me, without the least refusall in me, or
contradiction; what should I doe with the over-plus remaining in mine
owne power, and whereof he had no need? Would you have mee cast it away
to the Dogges? Was it not more fitting for me, to pleasure therwith a
worthy Gentleman, who was even at deaths doore for my love, then (my
husbands surfetting, and having no neede of me) to let him lye
languishing, and dye?
Never was heard such an examination before, and to come from a woman
of such worth, the most part of the honourable Pratosians (both Lords
and Ladies) being there present, who hearing her urge such a necessary
question, cryed out all loud together with one voice (after they had
laughed their fill) that the Lady had saide well, and no more then she
might. So that, before they departed thence, by comfortable advice
proceeding from the Potestate: the Edict (being reputed overcruell) was
modified, and interpreted to concerne them onely, who offered injurie to
their Husbands for money. By which meanes Rinaldo standing as one
confounded, for such a foolish and unadvised enterprize, departed from
the Auditorie: and the Ladie, not a little joyfull to bee thus freed and
delivered from the fire, returned home with victorie to her owne house.
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In Just Scorne Of Such Unsightly And
Ill-Pleasing Surly Sluts, Who Imagine None To Be Faire Or Well-Favoured,
But Themselves.
Fresco da Celatico, counselled and advised his Neece Cesca: That if such
as deserved to be looked on, were offensive to her eyes, as she had
often told him; she should forbeare to looke on any.
All the while as Philostratus was recounting his Novell; it seemed,
that the Ladies (who heard it) found themselves much mooved thereat, as
by the wanton blood mounting up into their cheekes, it plainly appeared.
But in the end, looking on each other with strange behaviour, they
could not forbeare smiling: which the Queene interrupting by a command
of attention, turning to Madame Aemillia, willed her to follow next.
When she, puffing and blowing, as if she had bene newly awaked from
sleepe, began in this manner.
Faire Beauties; My thoughts having wandred a great distance hence,
and further then I can easily collect them together againe; in obedience
yet to our Queene, I shall report a much shorter Novell, then otherwise
(perhappes) I should have done, if my minde had beene a little neerer
home. I shall tell you the grosse fault of a foolish Damosell, well
corrected by a witty reprehension of her Unckle; if shee had bin endued
but with so much sence, as to have understood it.
An honest man, named Fresco da Celatico, had a good fulsom wench to
his Neece, who for her folly and squemishnes, was generally called
Cesta, or nice Francesca. And althogh she had stature sufficient, yet
none of the handsomest, and a good hard favourd countenance, nothing
nere such Angelical beauties as we have seen; yet she was endued with
such height of minde, and so proud an opinion of her selfe, that it
appeared as a custome bred in hir, or rather a gift bestowed on hir by
nature (thogh none of the best) to blame and despise both men and women,
yea whosoever she lookt on; without any consideration of her self, she
being as unsightly, ill shaped, and ugly faced, as a worse was very
hardly to be found.
Nothing could be done at any time, to yeilde her liking or content:
moreover, she was so waspish, nice and squemish, that when she cam into
the royall Court of France, it was hatefull and contemptible to hir.
Whensoever she went through the streets, every thing stunke and was
noisome to her; so that she never did any thing but stop her nose; as if
all men or women she met withall; and whatsoever else she lookt on, were
stinking and offensive. But let us leave all further relation of her ill
conditions, being every way (indeed) so bad, and hardly becomming any
sensible body, that we cannot condemne them so much as we should.
It chanced upon a day, that shee comming home to the house where her
Unckle dwelt, declared her wonted scurvy and scornfull behaviour;
swelling, puffing, and pouting extreamly, in which humor she sat downe
by her Unckle, who desiring to know what had displeased her, said. Why
how now Francesca? what may the meaning of this bee? This being a
solemne festivall day, what is the reason of your so soone returning
home? She coily biting the lip, and brideling her head, as if she had
bene some mans best Gelding, sprucely thus replyed.
Indeede you say true Unckle, I am come home verie earely, because,
since the day of my birth, I never saw a City so pestered with
unhandsome people, both men and women, and worse this high Holyday, then
ever I did observe before. I walked thorow some store of streetes, and I
could not see one proper man: and as for the women, they are the most
mishapen and ugly creatures, that, if God had made me such an one, I
should be sory that ever I was borne. And being no longer able to endure
such unpleasing sights; you wil not thinke (Unckle) in what an anger I
am come home. Fresco, to whome these stinking qualities of his Neece
seemed so unsufferable, that hee could not (with patience) endure them
any longer, thus short and quickely answered. Francesca, if all people
of our Citie (both men and women) be so odious in thy eyes, and
offensive to thy nose, as thou hast often reported to me: bee advised
then by my counsell. Stay stil at home, and look upon none but thy selfe
onely, and then thou shalt be sure that they cannot displease thee. But
shee, being as empty of wit as a pith-lesse Cane, and yet thought her
judgement to exceed Salomons, could not understand the lest part of hir
Unkles meaning, but stood as senselesse as a sheepe. Onely she replyed,
that she would resort to some other parts of the country, which if shee
found as weakly furnished of handsome people, as heere shee did, shee
would conceive better of her selfe, then ever she had done before.
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Notably Discovering The Great Difference That
Is Betweene Learning And Ignorance, Upon Judicious Apprehension.
Signior Guido Cavalcante, with a sodaine and witty answer, reprehended
the rash folly of certaine Florentine Gentlemen, that thought to scorne
and flout him.
When the Queene perceived, that Madame Aemillia was discharged of her
Novell, and none remained now to speake next, but onely her selfe, his
priviledge alwayes remembred, to whom it belonged to be the last, she
began in this manner.
Faire Company, you have this day disappointed me of two Novells at
the least, whereof I had intended to make use. Neverthelesse, you shall
not imagine mee so unfurnished, but that I have left one in store; the
conclusion whereof, may minister such instruction, as will not bee
reputed for ydle and impertinent: but rather of such materiall
consequence, as better hath not this day past among us.
Understand then (most faire Ladies) that in former times long since
past, our Cittie had many excellent and commendable customes in it;
whereof (in these unhappy dayes of ours) we cannot say that poore one
remaineth, such hath beene the too much encrease of Wealth and
Covetousnesse, the onely supplanters of all good qualities whatsoever.
Among which lawdable and friendly observations, there was one well
deserving note, namely, that in divers places of Florence, men of the
best houses in every quarter, had a sociable and neighbourly assemblie
together, creating their company to consist of a certaine number, such
as were able to supply their expences; as this day one, and to morrow
another: and thus in a kinde of friendly course, each dally furnished
the Table, for the rest of the company. Oftentimes, they did honour to
divers Gentlemen and strangers, upon their arrivall in our Citty, by
inviting them into their assembly, and many of our worthiest Citizens
beside; so that it grew to a customary use, and one especially day in
the yeare appointed, in memory of this so loving a meeting, when they
would ride (triumphally as it were) on horsebacke thorow the Cittie,
sometimes performing Tilts, Tourneyes, and other Martiall exercises, but
they were reserved for Feastivall dayes.
Among which company, there was one called, Signior Betto Bruneleschi,
who was earnestly desirous, to procure Signior Guido Cavalcante de
Cavalcanti, to make one in this their friendly society. And not without
great reason: for, over and beside his being one of the best Logitians
as those times could not yeeld a better: He was also a most absolute
naturall Philosopher (which worthy qualities were little esteemed among
these honest meeters) a very friendly Gentleman, singularly well spoken,
and whatsoever else was commendable in any man, was no way wanting in
him, being wealthy withall, and able to returne equall honors, where he
found them to be duly deserved, as no man therin could go beyond him.
But Signior Betto, notwithstanding his long continued importunitie,
could not draw him into their assembly, which made him and the rest of
his company conceive, that the solitude of Guido, retiring himselfe
alwaies from familiar conversing with men: provoked him to many curious
speculations: and because he retained some part of the Epicurean
Opinion, their vulgare judgement passed on him, that his speculations
tended to no other end, but onely to finde out that which was never
done.
It chanced upon a day, that Signior Guido departing from the Church
of Saint Michaell d'Horta, and passing along by the Adamari, so farre as
to Saint Johns Church, which evermore was his customarie Walke: many
goodly Marble Tombes were then about the saide Church, as now adayes are
at Saint Reparata, and divers more beside. He entring among the
Collumbes of Porphiry, and the other Sepulchers being there, because the
doore of the Church was shut: Signior Betto and his companie, came
riding from S. Reparata, and espying Signior Guldo among the graves and
tombes, said. Come, let us go make some jests to anger him. So putting
the spurs to their horses, they rode apace towards him: and being upon
him before he perceived them, one of them said. Guido thou refusest to
be one of our society, and seekest for that which never was: when thou
hast found it, tell us, what wilt thou do with it?
Guido seeing himselfe round engirt with them, sodainly thus replyed:
Gentlemen, you may use mee in your owne house as you please. And setting
his hand on one of the Tombes (which was some-what great) he tooke his
rising, and leapt quite over it on the further side, as being of an
agile and sprightly body, and being thus freed from them, he went away
to his owne lodging. They stoode all like men amazed, strangely looking
one upon another, and began afterward to murmure among themselves: That
Guido was a man without any understanding, and the answer which he had
made unto them, was to no purpose, neither favoured of any discretion,
but meerely came from an empty brain because they had no more to do in
the place where now they were, then any of the other Citizens, and
Signior Guido (himselfe) as little as any of them; whereto Signior Betto
thus replyed.
Alas Gentlemen, it is you your selves that are void of understanding:
for, if you had but observed the answer which he made unto us: hee did
honestly, and (in verie few words) not onely notably expresse his owne
wisedome, but also deservedly reprehend us. Because, if wee observe
things as we ought to doe, Graves and Tombes are the houses of the dead,
ordained and prepared to be their latest dwellings. He tolde us
moreover, that although we have heere (in this life) other habitations
and abidings; yet these (or the like) must at last be our houses. To let
us know, and all other foolish, indiscreete, and unleartied men, that we
are worse then dead men, in comparison of him, and other men equall to
him in skill and learning. And therefore, while wee are heere among
these Graves and Monuments, it may well be said, that we are not farre
from our owne houses, or how soone we shall be possessors of them, in
regard of the frailty attending on us.
Then every one could presently say, that Signior Guido had spoken
nothing but the truth, and were much ashamed of their owne folly, and
shallow estimation which they had made of Guido, desiring never more
after to meddle with him so grossely, and thanking Signior Betto, for so
well reforming their ignorance, by his much better apprehension.
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Wherein May Be Observed, What Palpable Abuses
Do Many Times Passe, Under The Counterfeit Cloake Of Religion.
Fryer Onyon, promised certaine honest people of the Countrey, to shew
them a Feather of the same Phoenix, that was with Noah in his Arke. In
sted whereof, he found Coales, which he avouched to be those very coals,
wherewith the same Phoenix was roasted.
When of them had delivered their Novels, Dioneus knowing, that it
remained in him to relate the last for this day: without attending for
any solemne command (after he had imposed silence on them, that could
not sufficiently commend the witty reprehension of Guido), thus he
began. Wise and worthy Ladies, although by the priviledge you have
granted, it is lawfull for me to speake any thing best pleasing to my
self: yet notwithstanding, it is not any part of my meaning, to varrie
from the matter and method, whereof you have spoken to very good
purpose. And therefore, following your footsteppes, I entend to tell
you, how craftily, and with a Rampiar sodainly raised in his owne
defence: a Religious Frier of Saint Anthonies Order, shunned a shame,
which two O wily companions had prepared for him. Nor let it offend you,
if I run into more large discourse, then this day hath bene used by any,
for the apter compleating of my Novell: because, if you well observe it,
the Sun is as yet in the middest of heaven, and therefore you may the
better forbeare me.
Certaldo, as (perhaps) you know, or have heard, is a Village in the
Vale of Elsa, and under the authority and commaund of our Florence,
which although it be but small: yet (in former times) it hath bin
inhabited with Gentlemen, and people of especiall respect. A religious
Friar of S. Anthonies Order, named Friar Onyon, had long time used to
resort thither, to receive the benevolent almes, which those charitably
affected people in simplicity gave him, and chiefly at divers daies of
the year, when their bounty and devotion would extend themselves more
largely then at other seasons. And so much the rather, because they
thought him to be a good Pastor of holy life in outward appearance, and
carried a name of much greater matter, then remained in the man indeed;
beside, that part of the country yeilded far more plentifull abundance
of Onyons, then all other in Tuscany elsewhere, a kinde of foode greatly
affected by those Friars, as men alwaies of hungry and good appetite.
This Friar Onyon was a man of litle stature red haire, a chearfull
countenance, and the world afforded not a more crafty companion, then
he. Moreover, albeit he had very little knowledge or learning, yet he
was so prompt, ready and voluble of speech, uttering often he knew not
what himselfe: that such as were not wel acquainted with his qualities,
supposed him to be a singular Rhetoritian, excelling Cicero or
Quintilian themselves; and he was a gossip, friend, or deerely affected,
by every one dwelling in those parts. According to his wonted custome,
one time he went thither in the month of August, and on a Sunday
morning, when all the dwellers thereabout, were present to heare Masse,
and in the chiefest Church above all the rest: when the Friar saw time
convenient for his purpose, he advanced himselfe, and began to speake in
this manner.
Gentlemen and Gentlewomen, you know you have kept a commendable
custom, in sending yeerly to the poore brethren of our Lord Baron S.
Anthony, both of your Corne and other provision, some more, some lesse,
all according to their power, means, and devotion, to the end that
blessed S. Anthony should be the more carefull of your oxen, sheep,
asses, swine, pigs, and other cattle. Moreover, you have used to pay
(especially such as have their names registred in our Fraternity) those
duties which annually you send unto us. For the collection whereof, I am
sent by my Superior, namely our L. Abbot, and therfore (with Gods
blessing) you may come after noone hither, when you shal heare the Bels
of the Church ring: then wil I make a predication to you; you shall
kisse the Crosse, and beside, because I know you al to be most devout
servants to our Lord Baron S. Anthony, in especiall grace and favor, I
wil shew you a most holy and goodly Relique, which I my selfe (long
since) brought from the holy Land beyond the seas. If you desire to know
what it is, let me tell you, that it is one of the Feathers of the same
Phoenix, which was in the Arke with the Patriarch Noah. And having thus
spoken, he became silent, returning backe to heare Masse. While hee
delivered these and the like speeches, among the other people then in
the church, there were two shrewde and crafty Companions; the one, named
John de Bragoniero, and the other, Biagio Pizzino. These subtile
Fellowes, after they had heard the report of Fryer Onyons Relique:
althogh they were his intimate friends, and came thither in his company;
yet they concluded betweene themselves, to shew him a tricke of
Legierdumaine, and to steale the Feather from him. When they had
intelligence of Friar Onyons dining that day at the Castle, with a
worthy Friend of his: no sooner was he set at the Table, but away went
they in all haste, to the Inne where the Fryar frequented, with this
determination, that Biagio should hold conference with the Friars boy,
while his fellow ransackt the Wallet, to finde the Feather, and carry it
away with him, for a future observation, what the Friar would say unto
the people, when he found the losse of the Feather, and could not
performe his promise to them.
The Fryars Boy, whom some called Guccio Balena, some Guccio Imbrata,
and others Guccio Porco, was such a knavish Lad, and had so many bad
qualities, as Lippo Topo the cunning Painter, or the most curious
Poeticall wit, had not any ability to describe them. Friar Onyon himself
did often observe his behaviour, and would make this report among his
Friends. My Boy (quoth he) hath nine rare qualities in him, and such
they are, as if Salomon, Aristotle, or Seneca had onely but one of them:
it were sufficient to torment and trouble all their vertue, all their
senses, and all their sanctity. Consider then, what manner of man he is
like to be, having nine such rarities, yet voide of all vertue, wit, or
goodnes. And when it was demaunded of Friar Onyon, what these nine rare
conditions were: hee having them all readie by heart, and in rime, thus
answered.
Boyes I have knowne, and seene,
And heard of many:
But,
For Lying, Loytring, Lazinesse,
For Facing, Filching, Filthinesse;
For Carelesse, Gracelesse, all Unthriftinesse,
My Boy excelleth any.
Now, over and beside all these admirable qualities, hee hath manie
more such singularities, which (in favour towards him) I am faine to
conceale. But that which I smile most at in him, is, that he would have
a Wife in every place where he commeth, yea, and a good house to boot
too: for, in regard his beard beginneth to shew it selfe, rising thicke
in haire, blacke and amiable, he is verily perswaded, that all Women
will fall in love with him; and if they refuse to follow him, he will in
all hast run after them. But truly, he is a notable servant to mee, for
I cannot speake with any one, and in never so great secrecy, but he will
be sure to heare his part; and when any question is demanded of me, he
standes in such awe and feare of my displeasure: that he will bee sure
to make the first answer, yea or no, according as he thinketh it most
convenient.
Now, to proceede where we left, Friar Onyon having left this
serviceable youth at his lodging, to see that no bodie should meddle
with his commodities, especially his Wallet, because of the sacred
things therein contained: Guccio Imbrata, who as earnestly affected to
be in the Kitchin, as Birds to hop from branch to branch, especially,
when anie of the Chamber-maides were there, espyed one of the Hostesses
Female attendants, a grosse fat Trugge, low of stature, ill faced, and
worse formed, with a paire of brests like two bumbards, smelling
loathsomely of grease and sweate; downe shee descended into the Kitchin,
like a Kite upon a peece of Carion. This Boy, or Knave, chuse whither
you will style him, having carelesly left Fryar Onyons Chamber doore
open, and all the holy things so much to be neglected, although it was
then the moneth of August, when heate is in the highest predominance,
yet hee would needs sit downe by the fire, and began to conferre with
this amiable creature, who was called by the name of Nuta.
Being set close by her, he told her, that he was a Gentleman by
Atturniship, and that he had more millions of Crownes, then all his life
time would serve him to spend; beside those which he payed away dayly,
as having no convenient im-ployment for them.
Moreover, he knew how to speake, and do such things, as were beyond
wonder or admiration. And, never remembring his olde tatterd Friars
Cowle, which was so snottie and greazie, that good store of kitchin
stuffe might have beene boiled out of it; as also a foule slovenly
Trusse or halfe doublet, all baudied with bowsing, fat greazie lubberly
sweating, and other drudgeries in the Convent Kitchin, where he was an
Officer in the meanest credite. So that to describe this sweet youth in
his lively colours, both for naturall perfections of body, and
artificiall composure of his Garments; never came the fowlest silks out
of Tartaria or India, more ugly or unsightly to bee lookt upon. And for
a further addition to his neate knavery, his breeches were so rent
betweene his legges, his shooes and stockings had bin at such a
mercilesse massacre: that the gallantest Commandador of Castile (though
he had never so lately bin releast out of slavery) could have wisht for
better garments, then he; or make larger promises, then he did to his
Nuta. Protesting to entitle her as his onely, to free her from the Inne
and Chamber thraldomes, if she would live with him, be his Love,
partaker of his present possessions, and so to succeed in his future
Fortunes. All which bravadoes, though they were belcht foorth with
admirable insinuations: yet they converted into smoke, as all such
braggadochio behaviours do, and he was as wise at the ending, as when he
began.
Our former named two craftie Companions, seeing Guccio Porco so
seriously employed about Nuta, was there-with not a little contented,
because their intended labour was now more then halfe ended. And
perceiving no contradiction to crosse their proceeding, into Friar
Onyons chamber entred they, finding it ready open for their purpose:
where the first thing that came into their hand in search, was the
wallet. When they had opened it, they found a small Cabinet, wrapped in
a great many foldings of rich Taffata; and having unfolded it, a fine
formall Key was hanging thereat: wherwith having unlockt the Cabinet,
they found a faire Feather of a Parrots taile, which they supposed to
bee the verie same, that he meant to shew the people of Certaldo. And
truly (in those dayes) it was no hard matter to make them beleeve any
thing, because the idle vanities of Aegypt and those remoter parts, had
not (as yet) bin seene in Tuscany, as since then they have bin in great
abundance, to the utter ruine (almost) of Italy.
And although they might then be knowne to very few, yet the
inhabitants of the Country generally, understoode little or nothing at
all of them. For there, the pure simplicitie of their ancient
predecessors still continuing; they had not seene any Parrots, or so
much as heard any speech of them. Wherefore the two crafty consorts, not
a little joyfull of finding the Feather, tooke it thence with them, and
beecause they would not leave the Cabinet empty, espying Charcoales
lying in a corner of the Chamber, they filled it with them, wrapping it
up againe in the Taffata, and in as demure manner as they found it. So,
away came they with the Feather, neither seene or suspected by any one,
intending now to heare what Friar Onyon would say, uppon the losse of
his precious Relique, and finding the Coales there placed insted
thereof.
The simple men and women of the country, who had bin at morning Masse
in the Church, and heard what a wonderful Feather they should see in the
after noone, returned in all hast to their houses, where one telling
this newes to another, and gossip with gossip consulting theron; they
made the shorter dinner, and afterward flocked in maine troopes to the
Castle, contending who shold first get entrance, such was their devotion
to see the holy feather. Friar Onyon having dined, and reposed a litle
after his wine, he arose from the table to the window, where beholding
what multitudes came to see the feather, he assured himselfe of good
store of mony. Hereupon, he sent to his Boy Guccio Imbrata, that uppon
the Bels ringing, he should come and bring the wallet to him. Which
(with much ado) he did, so soone as his quarrell was ended in the
kitchin, with the amiable Chamber-maid Nuta, away then he went with his
holy commodities: where he was no sooner arrived, but because his belly
was readie to burst with drinking water, he sent him to the Church to
ring the bels, which not onely would warme the cold water in his belly,
but likewise make him run as gaunt as a Grey-hound.
When all the people were assembled in the Church together, Friar
Onyon (never distrusting any injurie offered him, or that his close
commodities had bin medled withal) began his predication, uttering a
thousand lies to fit his purpose. And when he came to shew the feather
of the Phoenix (having first in great devotion finisht the confession)
he caused two goodly torches to be lighted, and ducking downe his head
three severall times, before hee would so much as touch the Taffata, he
opened it with much reverence. So soone as the Cabinet came to be seen,
off went his Hood, lowly he bowed downe his body, and uttering especial
praises of the Phoenix, and sacred properties of the wonderfull Relique,
the Cover of the Cabinet being lifted uppe, he saw the same to bee full
of Coales. He could not suspect his Villaine boy to do this deede, for
he knew him not to be endued with so much wit, onely hee curst him for
keeping it no better, and curst himselfe also, for reposing trust in
such a careles knave, knowing him to be slothfull, disobedient,
negligent, and void of all honest understanding or grace. Sodainly
(without blushing) lest his losse should be discerned, he lifted his
lookes and hands to heaven, speaking out so loude, as every one might
easily heare him, thus: O thou omnipotent providence, for ever let thy
power be praised. Then making fast the Cabinet againe, and turning
himselfe to the people, with lookes expressing admiration, he proceeded
in this manner.
Lords, Ladies, and you the rest of my worthy Auditors: You are to
understand, that I (being then very young) was sent by my Superiour,
into those parts, where the Sun appeareth at his first rising. And I had
received charge by expresse command, that I should seeke for (so much as
consisted in my power to do) the especiall vertues and priviledges
belonging to Porcellane, which although the boyling thereof bee worth
but little, yet it is very profitable to any but us. In regard whereof,
being upon my journey, and departing from Venice, passing along the
Borgo de Grecia, I proceeded thence (on horseback) through the Realme of
Garbo, so to Baldacca, till I came to Parione; from whence, not without
great extremity of thirst, I arrived in Sardignia.
But why do I trouble you with the repetition of so many countries? I
coasted on still, after I had past Saint Georges Arme, into Truffia, and
then into Buffia which are Countries much inhabited, and with great
people. From thence I went into the Land of Lying, where I found store
of the Brethren of our Religion, and many other beside, who shunned all
paine and labour, onely for the love of God, and cared as little, for
the paines and travailes which others tooke, except some benefit arised
thereby to them; nor spend they any money in this Country, but such as
is without stampe. Thence I went into the Land of Abruzzi, where the men
and women goe in Galoches over the Mountaines, and make them garments of
their Swines guts. Not farre from thence, I found people, that carried
bread in their staves, and wine in Satchels, when parting from them, I
arrived among the Mountaines of Bacchus, where all the waters run downe
with a deepe fall, and in short time, I went on so far, that I found my
selfe to be in India Pastinaca; where I swear to you by the holy habit
which I weare on my body, that I saw Serpents Bye, things incredible,
and such as were never seene before.
But because I would be loth to lye, so soone as I departed thence, I
met with Maso de Saggio, who was a great Merchant there, and whom I
found cracking Nuts, and selling Cockles by retale. Neverthelesse, al
this while I could not finde what I sought for, and therefore I was to
passe from hence by water, if I intended to travaile thither, and so
into the Holy Land, where coole fresh bread is sold for foure pence, and
the hot is given away for nothing. There I found the venerable Father
(blame me not I beseech you) the most woorthie Patriarch of Jerusalem,
who for the reverence due to the habite I weare, and love to our Lord
Baron Saint Anthony, would have me to see al the holy Reliques, which he
had there under his charge: wherof there were so many, as if I should
recount them all to you, I never could come to a conclusion. But yet not
to leave you discomforted, I will relate some few of them to you. First
of all, he shewed me the finger of the holy Ghost, so whole and perfect,
as ever it was. Next, the nose of the Cherubin, which appeared to Saint
Frances; with the payring of the naile of a Seraphin; and one of the
ribbes of Verbum caro, fastened to one of the Windowes' covered with the
holy garments of the Catholique Faith. Then he tooke me into a darke
Chappel, where he shewed me divers beames of the Starre that appeared to
the three Kings in the East. Also a Violl of Saint Michaels sweate, when
he combatted with the divell: And the jaw-bone of dead Lazarus, with
many other precious things beside. And because I was liberall to him,
giving him two of the Plaines of Monte Morello, in the Vulgare Edition,
and some of the Chapters del Caprezio, which he had long laboured in
search of; he bestowed on me some of his Reliques. First, he gave me one
of the eye-teeth of Santa Crux; and a litle Violl, filled with some part
of the sound of those Belles, which hung in the sumptuous Temple of
Salomon. Next, he gave mee the Feather of the Phoenix, which was with
Noah in the Arke, as before I told you. And one of the Woodden Pattens,
which the good Saint Gerrard de Magnavilla used to weare in his
travailes, and which I gave (not long since) to Gerrardo di Bousy at
Florence, where it is respected with much devotion. Moreover, he gave me
a few of those Coales, wherwith the Phoenix of Noah was roasted; all
which things I brought away thence with me. Now, most true it is, that
my Superiour would never suffer mee to shew them any where, untill he
was faithfully certified, whether they were the same precious Reliques,
or no. But perceyving by sundrie Myracles which they have wrought, and
Letters of sufficient credence receyved from the reverend Patriarch,
that all is true, he hath graunted me permission to them, and because I
wold not trust any one with matters of such moment, I my selfe brought
them hither with me. Now I must tell you, that the Feather of the same
Phoenix, I conveyed into a small Cabinet or Casket, because it should
not be bent or broken. And the Coales wherewith the said Phoenix was
roasted, I put into another Casket, in all respects so like to the
former, that many times I have taken one for another. As now at this
instant it hath bin my fortune: for, imagining that I brought the Casket
with the feather, I mistooke my self, and brought the other with the
coales. Wherein doubtles I have not offended, because I am certaine,
that we of our Order do not any thing, but it is ordred by divine
direction, and our blessed Patron the Lorde Baron Saint Anthony. And so
much the rather, because about a senight hence, the Feast of Saint
Anthony is to bee solemnized, against the preparation whereof, and to
kindle your zeale with the greater fervencie: he put the Casket with the
Coales into my hand, meaning, let you see the Feather, at some more
fitting season. And therefore my blessed Sonnes and Daughters, put off
your Bonnets, and come hither with devotion to looke upon them. But
first let me tell you, whosoever is marked by any of these Coales, with
the signe of the Crosse: he or she shal live all this yeare happily, and
no fire whatsoever shall come neere to touch or hurt them. So, singing a
solemne Antheme in the praise of S. Anthony, he unveyled the Casket, and
shewed the Coales openly.
The simple multitude, having (with great admiration and reverence) a
long while beheld them, they thronged in crouds to Fryar Onyon, giving
him farre greater offerings, then before they had, and entreating him to
marke them each after other. Whereupon, he taking the coales in his
hand, began to marke their garments of white, and the veyles on the
Womens heads, with Crosses of no meane extendure: affirming to them,
that the more the Coales wasted with making those great crosses, the
more they still encreased in the Casket, as often before hee had made
triall.
In this manner, having crossed all the Certaldanes (to his great
benefit) and their abuse: he smiled at his sodaine and dexterious
devise, in mockery of them, who thought to have made a scorne of him, by
dispossessing him of the Feather. For Bragoniero and Pizzino, being
present at his Learned predication, and having heard what a cunning
shift he found, to come off cleanly, without the least detection, and
all delivered with such admirable protestations: they were faine to
forsake the Church, least they should have burst with laughing.
But when all the people were parted and gone, they met Friar Onyon at
his Inne, where closely they discovered to him, what they had done,
delivering him his Feather againe: which the yeare following, did yeeld
him as much money, as now the Coales had done.
This Novell affoorded equall pleasing to the whole companie, Friar
Onyons Sermon being much commended, but especially his long Pilgrimage,
and the Reliques he had both seene, and brought home with him.
Afterward, the Queene perceiving, that her reigne had now the full
expiration, graciously she arose, and taking the Crowne from off her
owne head, placed [it] on the head of Dioneus, saying. It is high time
Dioneus, that you should taste part of the charge and paine, which poore
women have felt and undergone in their soveraigntie and government:
wherefore, be you our King, and rule us with such awefull authority,
that the ending of your dominion may yeelde us all contentment. Dioneus
being thus invested with the Crowne, returned this answer.
I make no doubt (bright Beauties) but you many times have seene as
good, or a better King among the Chessemen, then I am. But yet of a
certainty, if you would be obedient to me, as you ought in dutie unto a
true King: I should grant you a liberall freedome of that, wherein you
take the most delight, and without which, our choisest desires can never
be compleate. Neverthelesse, I meane, that my government shal be
according to mine owne minde. So, causing the Master of the Houshold to
be called for, as all the rest were wont to do for conference with him:
he gave him direction, for al things fitting the time of his Regiment,
and then turning to the Ladies, thus he proceeded.
Honest Ladies, we have alreadie discoursed of variable devises, and
so many severall manners of humane industry, concerning the busines
wherewith Lacisca came to acquaint us: that her very words, have
ministred me matter, sufficient for our morrowes conference, or else I
stand in doubt, that I could not have devised a more convenient Theame
for us to talke on. She (as you have all heard) saide, that shee had not
anie neighbour, who came a true Virgin to her Husband, and added
moreover, that she knew some others, who had beguiled their Husbandes,
in very cunning and crafty manner. But setting aside the first part,
concerning the proofe of children, I conceive the second to bee more
apte for our intended argument. In which respect, my will is (seeing
Lacisca hath given us so good an occasion) that our discoursing to
morow, may onely concerne such slye cunning and deceits, as women have
heeretofore used, for satisfying their owne appetites, and beguiling
their Husbands, without their knowledge, or suspition, and cleanly
escaping with them, or no.
This argument seemed not very pleasing to the Ladies, and therefore
they urged an alteration thereof, to some matter better suting with the
day, and their discoursing: whereto thus he answered. Ladies, I know as
well as your selves, why you would have this instant argument altered:
but to change me from it you have no power, considering the season is
such, as shielding all (both men and women) from medling with any
dishonest action; it is lawfull for us to speake of what wee please. And
know you not, that through the sad occasion of the time, which now
overruleth us, the judges have forsaken their venerable benches, the
Lawes (both divine and humane) ceasing, granting ample license to every
one, to do what best agreeth with the conservation of life? Therefore,
if your honesties doe straine themselves a little, both in thinking and
speaking, not for prosecution of any immodest deede, but onely for
familiar and blamelesse entercourse: I cannot devise a more convenient
ground, at least that carrieth apparant reason, for reproofe of perils,
to ensue by any of you. Moreover, your company, which hath bin most
honest, since the first day of our meeting, to this instant: appeareth
not any jot to be disgraced, by any thing either said or done, neither
shal be (I hope) in the meanest degree.
And what is he, knowing your choise and vertuous dispositions, so
powerfull in their owne prevailing, that wanton words cannot misguide
your wayes, no nor the terror of death it selfe, that dare insinuate a
distempred thought? But admit, that some slight or shallow judgements,
hearing you (perhaps sometimes) talke of such amorous follies, should
therefore suspitiously imagine you to be faulty, or else you would bee
more sparing of speech? Their wit and censure are both alike, savouring
rather of their owne vile nature, who would brand others with their
basebred imperfections. Yet ther is another consideration beside, of som
great injury offered to mine honor, and whereof I know not how you can
acquit your selves.
I that have bin obedient to you all, and borne the heavy load of your
businesse, having now (with full consent) created mee your King, you
would wrest the law out of my hands, and dispose of my authoritie as you
please. Forbeare (gentle Ladies) all frivolotis suspitions, more fit for
them that are full of bad thoughts, then you, who have true Vertue
shining in your eyes; and therefore, let every one freely speake their
minde, according as their humors best pleaseth them.
When the Ladies heard this, they made answer, that all should bee
answerable to his minde. Whereupon, the King gave them all leave to
dispose of themselves till supper time. And because the Sun was yet very
high, in regard all the re-counted Novels had bin so short: Dioneus went
to play at the Tables with another of the yong Gentlemen, and Madame
Eliza, having withdrawne the Ladies aside, thus spake unto them. During
the time of our being heere, I have often bene desirous to let you see a
place somwhat neere at hand, and which I suppose you have never seene,
it being called The Valley of Ladies. Till now, I could not finde any
convenient time to bring you thither, the Sunne continuing still aloft,
which fitteth you with the apter leysure, and the sight (I am sure) can
no way discontent you.
The Ladies replyed, that they were all ready to walk with her
thither: and calling one of their women to attend on them, they set on,
without speaking a word to any of the men. And within the distance of
halfe a mile, they arrived at the Valley of Ladies, wherinto they entred
by a strait passage at the one side, from whence there issued forth a
cleare running River. And they found the saide Valley to bee so goodly
and pleasant, especially in that season, which was the hottest of all
the yeare; as all the world was no where able to yeeld the like. And, as
one of the said Ladies (since then) related to mee, there was a plaine
in the Valley so directly round, as if it had beene formed by a
compasse, yet rather it resembled the Workmanship of Nature, then to be
made by the hand of man: containing in circuite somewhat more then the
quarter of a mile, environed with sixe small hils, of no great height,
and on each of them stood a little Palace, shaped in the fashion of
Castles.
The ground-plot descending from those hils or mountaines, grew lesse
and lesse by variable degrees, as wee observe at entering into our
Theaters, from the highest part to the lowest, succinctly to narrow the
circle by order. Now, concerning these ground-plottes or little
Meadowes, those which the Sun Southward looked on, were full of Vines,
Olive-trees, Almond-trees, Cherry-trees, and Figge-trees, with divers
other Trees beside, so plentifully bearing fruites, as you could not
discerne a hands bredth of losse. The other Mountaines, whereon the
Northerne windes blow, were curiously covered with small Thickets or
Woods of Oakes, Ashes, and other Trees so greene and straite, as it was
impossible to behold fairer. The goodly plaine it selfe, not having any
other entrance, but where the Ladies came in, was planted with Trees of
Firre, Cipresse, Laurell, and Pines; so singularly growing in formall
order, as if some artificiall or cunning hand had planted them, the Sun
hardly piercing through their branches, from the top to the bottome,
even at his highest, or any part of his course.
All the whole field was richly spred with grasse, and such variety of
delicate Flowers, as Nature yeilded out of her plenteous Store-house.
But that which gave no lesse delight then any of the rest, was a smal
running Brooke, descending from one of the Vallies, that divided two of
the little hils, and fell through a Veine of the intire Rocke it selfe,
that the fall and murmure thereof was most delightfull to heare, seeming
all the way in the descent, like Quickesilver, weaving it selfe into
artificiall workes, and arriving in the plaine beneath, it was there
receyved into a small Channell, swiftly running through the midst of the
plaine, to a place where it stayed, and shaped it selfe into a Lake or
Pond, such as our Citizens have in their Orchards or Gardens, when they
please to make use of such a commodity.
This Pond was no deeper, then to reach the breast of a man, and
having no mud or soyle in it, the bottome thereof shewed like small
beaten gravell, with prety pibble stones intermixed, which some that had
nothing else to do, would sit downe and count them as they lay, as very
easily they might. And not onely was the bottome thus apparantly seene,
but also such plenty of Fishes swimming every way, as the mind was never
to be wearied in looking on them. Nor was this water bounded in with any
bankes, but onely the sides of the plain Medow, which made it appeare
the more sightly, as it arose in swelling plenty. And alwayes as it
superabounded in his course, least it should overflow disorderly: it
fell into another Channell, which conveying it along the lower Valley,
ran forth to water other needfull places.
When the Ladies were arrived in this goodly valley, and upon advised
viewing it, had sufficiently commended it: in regard the heat of the dry
was great, the place tempting, and the Pond free from sight of any, they
resolved there to bathe themselves. Wherefore they sent the waiting
Gentlewoman to have a diligent eye on t way where they entered, least
any one should chance to steale upon them. All seven of them being
stript naked, into the water they went, which hid their delicate white
bodies, like as a cleare Glasse concealeth a Damask Rose within it. So
they being in the Pond, and the water nothing troubled by their being
there, they found much prety pastime together, running after the Fishes,
to catch them with their hands, but they were overquicke and cunning for
them. After they had delighted themselves there to their owne
contentment, and were cloathed with their garments, as before: thinking
it fit time for their returning backe againe, least their over-long stay
might give offence, they departed thence in an easie pace, dooing
nothing else all the way as they went, but extolling the Valley of
Ladies beyond all comparison.
At the Palace they arrived in a due houre, finding the three
Gentlemen at play, as they left them, to whom Madame Pampinea pleasantly
thus spake. Now trust me Gallants, this day wee have very cunningly
beguiled you. How now? answered Dioneus, begin you first to act, before
you speake? Yes truly Sir, replyed Madame Pampinea:
Relating to him at large, from whence they came, what they had done
there, the beautie of the place, and the distance thence. The King (upon
hir excellent report) being very desirous to see it; sodainely
commaunded Supper to be served in, which was no sooner ended, but they
and their three servants (leaving the Ladies) walked on to the Valley,
which when they had considered, no one of them having ever bin there
before; they thought it to be the Paradise of the World.
They bathed themselves there likewise, as the Ladies formerlie had
done, and being re-vested, returned backe to their Lodgings, because
darke night drew on apace: but they found the Ladies dauncing, to a Song
which Madame Fiammetta sung. When the dance was ended, they entertained
the time with no other discourse, but onely concerning the Valley of
Ladies, whereof they all spake liberally in commendations. Whereupon,
the King called the Master of the Houshold, giving him command, that (on
the morrow) dinner should be readie betimes, and bedding to be thence
carried, if any desired rest at mid-time of the day.
All this being done, variety of pleasing Wines were brought,
Banquetting stuffe, and other dainties; after which they fell to
Dauncing. And Pamphilus, having receyved command to begin an especial
dance, the King turned himselfe unto Madame Eliza, speaking thus. Faire
Lady, you have done me so much honour this day, as to deliver mee the
Crowne: in regard whereof, be you this night the Mistresse of the song:
and let it be such as best may please your selfe. Whereunto Madam Eliza,
with a modest blush arising in her face, replyed; That his will should
be fulfilled, and then (with a deficate voyce) she beganne in this
manner.
THE SONG
The Chorus sung by all
Love, if I can scape free from forth thy holde,
Beleeve it for a truth,
Never more shall thy falshoode me enfolde.
When I was yong, I entred first thy fights,
Supposing there to finde a solemne peace:
I threw off all my Armes, and with delights
Fed my poore hopes, as still they did encrease.
But like a Tyrant, full of rancorous hate,
Thou tookst advantage:
And I sought refuge, but it was too late.
Love, if I can scape free, etc.
But being thus surprized in thy snares,
To my misfortune, thou madst me her slave;
Was onely borne to feede me with despaires,
And keepe me dying in a living grave.
For I saw nothing dayly fore mine eyes,
But rackes and tortures:
From which I could not get in any wise.
Love, if I can scape free, etc.
My sighes and teares I vented to the winde,
For none would heare or pittie my complaints;
My torments still encreased in this kinde,
And more and more I felt these sharpe restraints.
Release me now at last from forth his hell.
Asswage thy rigour,
Delight not thus in cruelty to dwell.
Love, if I can scape free, etc.
If this thou wilt not grant, be yet so kinde,
Release me from those worse then servile bands,
Which new vaine hopes have bred, wherein I finde;
Such violent feares, as comfort quite withstands.
Be now (at length) a little moov'd to pittie,
Be it nere so little:
Or in my death listen my Swan-like Dittie.
Love, if I can scape free from forth thy holde,
beleeve it for a truth,
Never more shall thy falshood me enfolde.
After that Madame Eliza had made an end of her Song, which shee
sealed up with an heart-breaking sigh: they all sate amazedly wondering
at her moanes, not one among them being able to conjecture, what should
be the reason of her singing in this manner. But the King being in a
good and pleasing temper, calling Tindaro, commaunded him to bring his
Bagge-pipe, by the sound whereof they danced divers daunces: And a great
part of the night being spent in this manner, they all gave over, and
departed to their Chambers.
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