THE SIXTY-FIRST NOUELL.

THE SIXTY-FIRST NOUELL.A Gentlewoman of the Courte, very pleasauntly recompenced the seruice of a kinde seruaunte of her’s, that pursued her with seruice of loue.Inthe Courte of king Fraunces, the first of that name, not longe sithens Frenche king, the graunde father of Henry the 3 of that name now raigning: there was a Gentlewoman of good grace and interteignment, wanting not both minde and witte, such as the like of her sexe, are not to seeke, vnder what climate soeuer they be borne and bred, whose comly demeaner, curteous behauiour and eloquent speache, was agreeable to her other qualities of nature’s giftes: whereby she gayned the hartes and good minds of nombers of seruauntes, with whom shee was cunning ynough to spend her time, (hauing respect to the sauftie and saufgard of her honor, which she preferred before all other solace) by such delectable consumption of time, as they that could not tell howe els to imploie their leasure, thoughte themselues most blessed, if they might attaine the delightfull presence of this well nourtered Dame. For they that made greatest assuraunce of her fidelitie, were in dispayre, and the most desperat were yet in some hope to winne her. Howbeit in deceyuing the most nomber, she could not forbeare intirely to loue one, who for his part was not able to plaie the counterfait, to colour the substance of his longe pursute: but as nothing is sure and stable, their loue tourned to displeasure, and by frequent renewing of what was well knowen the hole Court was not ignoraunt, what deuocion thone did beare to thother. One day the Gentlewoman, aswell to let him know that his affection was not bestowed in vaine, as to make him to feele some smart and paine for his louing seruice, the more louingly to forde him on, with preety morsells of her dissembling concept, made show vnto him of greater fauour, then euer she did before: for which cause he that was faultles either in deedes of armes, or in prowesse of loue, began liuely and valiantly to folow her, to whom long before with gentlenes and humilitie hehad many times bin a suppliante. Who fayning that she was not able any longer to rest obstinate, made semblance of a womanly pitie and accorded to his demaund. Telling him that for respect of his tedious trauaile, she was now disposed to go to her chamber, (which was in a Gallerie of the Castell where that time the kinge did lie) where shee knew was none that could hinder what they two intended: willing him not to faile but so sone he saw her depart the place she was in, to folow after to her chamber, where he should finde her alone, tarying for him with good deuocion. The gentleman beleeuinge her appointmente, was readie to leape out of his skinne for ioye: and therewithall began to dalye and sport with other Ladies, attending the time of her departure. She wanting not the practize of any fine sleight or subtile pollicie, most pregnaunte in birds of her Ayrie, called two of the greatest Ladies to the present chamber window and said vnto them: “If it may please you good Ladies, I will discouer vnto you the pretiest pastime of the world.” They which hard the grief of melancholie, besoughte her to tell what it was. “Thus it is” (quoth shee) “such a gentleman, whom you know very well, to be both honest and vertuous, hath longe time (as partlie you haue by to much experience seene,) gone about diuers wayes to winne that, which he shall neuer get: for when I began to applie my fancie towards him, he (vnconstant) ceased not to couet and folow other Ladies with like pursute hee did me: whereat I conceyued such more then spitefull hatred, as notwithstanding my outwarde semblaunce, I coueted reuenge. Nowe therefore maistresse, Occasion hath lente me a porcion of oportunitie, to be requited of his vaine and fickle sute: which is, that hauinge appointed him to come to my chamber, whither he meaneth presently to follow me, it maye please you to giue heedefull eye and watch: and that when hee hath passed alonge the Galerie, and is gone vp the stayers, that both of you wil recline your heads out of this window to helpe me singe the holding of the Caroll, that I meane to chaunte vnto him. And then shall you see the raging choler of this Gentleman, that at other times presumed to be a quiet Suter: wherat perhaps through his malapert boldnes, it cannot dash his blushles face, but yet if he do not deale vnto me like spiteful reproch in openhearing, I know full well in hart he will wishe meX. M.mischifes.” This conclusion was not spoken without treble laughter: for there was no gentlemen in all the Courte, that had warred so much with the woman kind as hee, and yet welbeloued and esteemed of euery one, that listed not to be intrapped within his daunger. Therfore these Ladies thinking to carie awaye some part of the glorie, which one alone hoped to atchieue vpon this gentleman, were contente to assent to the other’s liking. So sone then as they saw her depart, that purposed this enterprise, they began to espie the countenaunce of the betrayed partie, who paused not long before he exchaunged the place: and when he was oute of the chamber, the Ladies trayned after, to lose no part of the sport, and went the faster that he might not be out of theyr sight. And he that doubted not the successe, threwe his cape about his necke to hide his face, and went downe the staiers out into the Court, and afterwards mounted vp againe: but perceyuing some approche which he was loth should be a witnes, he went downe againe, returning another way on the other side. All which the Ladies sawe, vnknowen to him. But when he came to the stayers where he beleeued verely, that he might surely enter into his Maistres chamber, the two Ladies put they heads out of the window, and incontinently perceyued the gentlewoman alofte, crying out a lowde, “A theefe, a theefe:” wherunto they two below aunswered with so vehement voyce, doubling the other’s outcrie, as all the castell ronge of it. I leaue for you to consider in what despite this gentleman fled to his lodginge, but not so closely, but that he was ouertaken by those that knew this misterie: who afterwards oftentimes reproched this fact vnto him, speciall she that had deuised the reuenge: but hee had armed himselfe with aunswers and defences so readely, as he told them that he foreknew their deuise, and mente nothing by his pilgrimage but to solace his beloued. For of her loue long time before he was out of all hope, as hauing reasonable proofe by his longe pursute and seruice. Howbeit the Ladyes would not hold his excuse for a veritie, which euen to this day hangeth in suspence.THE SIXTY-SECOND NOUELL.The honest and maruellous loue of a mayden of noble house, and of a gentleman that was base borne, and howe a Queene did impeche and let their mariage, with the wise aunswere of the mayde to the Queene.Therewas in Fraunce a Queene, who in her company and traine broughte vp many maydens, that were issued of great and honourable progenie: amonges other that serued this Queene there was one named Rolandine, which was nere kinne to the Queene. But she for a certaine displeasure conceyued against her father, bare vnto the yonge gentlewoman no greate good will. This Maiden, although shee was none of the fayrest, yet so wyse and vertuous as many great Lords and personages made sute to her for mariage, to whom she rendred for earnest sutes, cold aunsweares: because shee knew her father to be more bent to keeping of money, then to thaduauncement of his children: and her Maistresse (as is before said) bare vnto her so little fauour as they which esteemed the Queene’s good grace, woulde neuer make anye sute vnto her. Thus by father’s negligence and Maistres disdaine, the poore gentlewoman remayned long time vnmaried. And as shee that forcibly was payned, not so much for griefe of mariage, as for that shee was not required or sued vnto, became so werie of worldly life, as deuoutly she bent herselfe toGod, and by forsakinge the toyes and brauerie of the Courte, passed her time in prayer, or els in other vertuous exercise: and by withdrawing herselfe to this kinde of life, she spent her youth so soberlie and deuoutly as was possible for a woman to do. When she approched nere the age ofXXX.yeares, there was a gentleman a bastarde borne, of right honorable house, a uery curteous and honest personage, whose every riches and beautie was such, as no Lady or gentlwoman for pleasure would haue chosen him to husband. This poore gentleman was voide of frends for maintenaunce of lyuing, and vnhappie in mariage sutes, although he pursued many, till at length he borded this poore Gentlewoman Rolandine: for their Fortunes, complexionsand condicions were very like, and by vse of seuerall complaints made one to another, ech of them fell in ernest loue with the other: and being both thrall vnto mishap, they sought desired comforte by vertuous and honest talke: and by that vse and frequentacion greater loue increased and grew betwene them. Those which had seene the maiden so straungly retired from wonted demeanor, as she would speake to none, now marking her continuallie to interteigne the bastard gentleman, incontinently conceiued ill opinion of her, and told the mother of the Queene’s maids (called Modesta) that she ought not to suffer such familiaritie betweene them. Which report Modesta reuealed to Rolandine, sayinge that diuers persons did speake euill of her, for that she vsed to talke with the bastard, that neither was of sufficient abilitie for her to marie, ne yet of beautie worthie to be beloued. Rolandine which daily was more rebuked for her austeritie of life, then for worldly toyes, sayd vnto Modesta her gouernesse: “Alas, mother, you see that I cannot haue a husband according to the worthines of my bloud, and that dailye I haue auoyded those which be beautifull and yonge: for feare to incurre the inconuenience wherinto I haue seene other to fall: and now hauing chosen this wise and vertuous gentleman, who preacheth vnto me words that be good and godly, what wrong do they to me that make this report, sith in this honest order I doe receiue consolacion of my griefes?” The good old Lady who loued the maiden (which she called maistresse) as herselfe, said vnto her: “I see well, that you are worse delt withall at your father and maistres handes then you deserue. Howbeit sith such reporte is made of your honor, you ought to refuse to speake vnto him, although he were your naturall brother.” Rolandine weeping saide vnto her: “Mother, for so much as you aduise me therunto, I will performe your request, although it be very straunge that without slaunder, a woman can haue no comfort or seeke freedome without misreport.” The bastard gentleman, as he was before accustomed, came to visite her, but she tolde him (a farre of) those words which her gouernesse had said vnto her: and with teares prayed him to refraine for a time to speake vnto her, vntill the brute and rumor were somewhat appaised: which thing he did at her request. Butduring this long time, either of them hauing loste their consolacion, began to feele such torment within themselues, as shee for her part neuer felte the like. She ceased not from praying vnto God, from goinge on pilgrimage, and fasting: for this vnacquainted loue brought her to such disquiet as she could not rest the space of one houre. Wherewith the noble bastard was no lesse tormented: but he which had alreadie minded in hart to loue her and pursue her till mariage, and hauing respecte (for loue sake) to the honor he should acquire by the same, thought to finde meanes to declare his minde vnto her, and aboue al things to get the good wil of her gouernesse: which he did, declaring vnto her the miserie wherein her poore maistresse remayned, which was voide of al comfort and other frendship. Then the poore old Lady Modesta, gaue him thankes for the honest affection that hee bare to her maistresse: and deuised meanes how the two louers might impart their minds together. Rolandine fayned herselfe to be sicke of a Mygrim and paine in her heade, the brute of whose maladie was feared to be greater then it was, and so concluded betwene them that when her companion were gone into the chamber, they two should remaine together alone to satisfie ech other with mutuall talke. The bastard gentleman was very glad, and ruled himselfe holy by the councell of the Gouernesse, in such sort as when he liste, he spake vnto his louer and vertuous Lady: but this contencaion did not indure: for the Queene who loued her but a little, inquired what Rolandine did so long in her Chamber, and one made aunswere that it was by reason of her sicknes. Albeit there was another which knewe to well the cause of her absence, sayde vnto her, that the ioye which Rolandine had to speake vnto the bastard was able to ease her Mygrim. The Queene which found out the veniall sinnes of other, by mortall offences in herselfe, sent for her, and forbad her in any wyse not to speake vnto the bastard, except it were in the hall or within her owne Chamber. The Gentlewoman made as though she vnderstode her not, but mildlie aunswered that, is shee knew any talke betweene them might offend her maiestie, she would neuer speake vnto him againe. Notwithstanding she determined to finde out some other secret meanes that the Queene should not know of their meeting: whichwas this. The Wednesday, Fridaye, and Saturday, the gentlewoman vsed to fast, and for that purpose kept her Chamber with her Gouernesse Modesta, where she had leysure to talke (whilest the reste did suppe) with him whom she began so earnestlie to loue: and as constrainte of time did force their talke to be shorte, the greater was their affection in vtteraunce of the same: because for the doing therof they stole time, as the theefe doth his desired praye. This order of their contentacion could not proceede so secretely, but that a certaine varlet a yeoman of the Chamber, chaunced to see him resort vnto her vpon a fasting day, and told it in such place wher of some hearer, it was disclosed to the Queene herself, who was so sore offended as neuer after that time the poore bastard gentleman durste once attempt to go into the maiden’s chamber againe. And to thintent that he might not lose the commodity of talke with her, whom he so derely loued, oftentimes he fayned himselfe to go on pilgrimage, and in the euening returned to the Church and chapell of the Castel, in the habite of a frier, or Iacobin (so wel disguised and altered, as no creature could know him) and thither repaired the gentlewoman Rolandine, with her Gouernesse to enterteigne him. He marking the great loue that she bare him, feared not to say vnto her: “Madame, you see the daunger which I hasard for your seruice, and the warnings that the Queene hath giuen for our talke. You see on thother side what a father you haue, who careth not after what sort he bestow you in mariage: and you hauinge refused so many greate states and noble men, I know not one, either farre or neare, that is minded to haue you. I confesse my selfe to be but poore, and that you may marie diuers gentlemen of greater reputacion and richesse, then I am: but if loue and good wil were deemed treasure and richesse, then woulde I presume to be the richest gentleman of the world. God hath indowed you with great plentie of goodes, and you are yet in choise to haue more: and if I were so happie as you would vouchsafe to chose me for your husband, I would accompt my selfe to be vnto you both husband, frend and seruaunt, all the dayes of my life: and againe, if you should take one equall to your nobilitie (a thinge very harde to finde) he would rule and gouerne ouer you, and haue more respecte to your goodes, then toyour person, to your beautie then to your vertue: and in triumphinge with dispence of that you haue, hee maye chaunce to intreate you otherwise then you deserue. The desire of this contentacion, and the feare that I haue, least you should graunte it to some other, do force me to beseech you, that by one only meanes you would make me happie and your selfe the most contented and best intreated woman that euer was.” Rolandine giuing eare to that communication which shee herselfe ment to haue pronounced, aunswered him with stoute courage: “I am very glad and wel pleased that you haue begunne the sute your self, which I of long time haue determined to breake vnto you: for which cause these two yeres past as you know, I haue not ceased to thincke and deuise all the reasons and arguments for and against you, that I could inuent: but in thend for so much as I do meane to take vpon me the state of Matrimonie, it is time that I begin to chose such husbande, with whom I shall in my conscience like to liue at rest and quiet all the dayes of my life: and amidde all the troupe of my thoughts in choise, I cannot finde anye one, were he neuer so faire, riche or noble, with whom my hart and minde can so well agree and match as with you. I know that by marying of you I shall not offende God, but rather do the thinge that hee commaundeth. And touching my Lord my father, he hath had so litle consideracion of my perferment, and so often refused it, as the law now will suffice, that I giue my selfe in mariage withoute his consent, and therefore cannot disenherite me, or worthely thincke ill of me: and by hauing a husband (a thing appertinent to women kinde) such as you be, I shall esteeme my selfe the richest woman of the worlde. As for the Queene my maistresse, I oughte not to take any care or remorse of conscience by displeasing her, to obey God: for she hath not ceased to hinder that aduauncement, which in my youth I mighte haue had, and by paine and diligence towards her did well deserue: but to thend you may vnderstand, that the loue and good will which I beare you, is founded vppon vertue and honor, you shall promise me, that if I doe accorde this mariage, you shall neuer purchase or require the consummacion thereof, Vntill my father be deade, or els do finde some meanes to make him consente hereunto.” Whichthe bastard gentleman willingly did graunt: and vppon these promises and termes, either of them gaue eche other a ringe in the name of mariage, and did kisse together in the Church before God, whom they toke to witnes of their assurance, and neuer after betwene them was any other priuie fact committed, but only kissing. This litle easement of mind did greatly satisfie the harts of these two perfect louers: and were a great while without seing ech other, liuing only by this assurance. There was no place where honour mighte be gotten, but thereunto the bastarde made his repaire with so great delight, as he thought he could neuer be poore for respect of that riche wife which God had prouided for him. Which wyfe in his absence, did euer continue her absolute amitie towards that gentleman: and although many made sute yet they receyued none other aunswere from her but deniall, and for that she had remayned so long time vnmaried, she was minded neuer to take vppon her that state. This her aunswere was so generall as the Queene heard of it, and asked her for what occasion shee was so determined. Rolandine saide vnto her, that it was to obey her: for that shee knew shee would neuer suffer her to marie, because in time and place where she might haue bin honorablie matched to her well liking, she denied the same, and that the vertue of pacience had taught her to contente herselfe with the state wherein she was. And still as she was sued for in mariage, she rendred like aunswere. When the warres were ended, and the bastarde returned to the Courte, shee neuer spake vnto him in open presence, but wente alwayes into some Church to interteigne him vnder colour of Confession: for the Queene had forbidden both him and her, that they should not talke together, vnlesse it were before companye vpon paine of losse of their liues. But honest loue, which feareth no defence, was more prest to find meanes, for their mutuall talke, then their enemies were ready to separate the same: and vnder the habite or colour of all the religions they could deuise, they continued that honest amitie, vntil the king remoued into a house of pleasure, not so nere as the Ladies were able to go on foote to that Church, as they were to the Church of the Castell, which was not situate in such conueniente wyse for their purpose, as they could secretelyrepaire (vnder colour of confession) to talke together: notwithstanding if on the one side occasion fayled, loue found out another for their contentment: for there arriued a Lady to the Court, to whom the bastard was very nere kin. This Lady with her sonne were lodged in the king’s house, and the chamber of this yong prince was far beyond the body of the lodging, where the king himselfe did lie: but so nere vnto Rolandine’s Chamber as he might both see and speake vnto her, for their windowes were properlie and directly placed at either corner of the house: in which chamber (being ouer the hall) were lodged al the Ladies of honor, the companions of Rolandine. Who beholding many times the yong king at that window, caused the bastard to be aduertized therof by her gouernesse: who after he had well beholden the place, made as though he had great delighte to read vpon a booke of the Knightes of the Round Table, that lay in the chamber window of the yong king: and when euery man was gone to dinner, he prayed the yeoman to suffer him to make an end of the historie, and to shut him within the chamber. The other which knew him to be the kinsman of his maistres, and an assured man, suffred him to read so long as he liste. On thother side Rolandine came vnto her window, who to find occasion to tarrie there the longer, fayned to haue a paine in her leg, and dined and supped in so good time, as she went no more to the ordinarie of the Ladies: wher she began to set herselfe a worke about the making of a bed of Crimson silke, placing her worke vpon the window, as desirous to be alone. And when she saw no man to be there, shee interteigned her husband, to whom she might speake in secret wise, so as none was able to vnderstande them: and when any person came nere, she coughed and made a signe that the bastard might withdraw himselfe. They that were appointed to watche them, thought vndoubtedlie that their loue was past and ended, because she went not out of the Chamber, wher safely he coulde not see her, for that hee was forbidden the same. Vppon a day the mother of the yong Prince being in her sonne’s Chamber, repayred to the windowe where that great booke did lie, and shee had not staied there long, but one of Rolandine’s fellowes which was within her Chamber saluted her. The lady asked her how Rolandinedid, who sayd that shee might very wel see her, if it were her pleasure: and caused her to come to the window wyth her night geare vppon her head. And after they had talked a while of her sicknes they withdrew themselues. The other ladie espying the great booke of the Round Table, sayde to her yeoman of the Chamber: “I do marueille much why yong men do imploie themselues to read such follies.” The yeoman made aunsweare, that he marueled much more, why men of good yeres, counted and esteemed wise and discrete, should haue greater delight in reading of such trifles, then those that were yong. And to iustifie that maruel hee told her how her cosin the bastard did spend 4 or 5 houres in a day to read vppon the same. Vpon which words by and by she conceyued the cause of his deepe studie, and charged him to hide himselfe in some place to mark what he did. Which commaundement the yeoman performed, and perceiued that the booke which the bastard read vpon, was the window out of which Rolandine talked with him: and therewithal called to remembrance many wordes of the loue which they thought to keepe very secreete. The next day he rehersed the same vnto his maistresse, who sent for her cosin the bastard, and after many tales told him, she forbad him to resort thither any more, and at night she gaue like warning to Rolandine, threatninge her that if she continued in her fond and foolish loue, she woulde tell the Queene the whole circumstaunce of her lighte demeaner. Rolandine (nothing astonied with those woords) did sweare that sith the time she was forbidden by her maistresse the queene’s maiesty, she neuer spake vnto him: the troth whereof shee might learne aswel of the gentlewomen her companions, as of other seruauntes of the house: and touching the window whereof she spake, she boldly aduouched that she neuer talked with the Bastard there. Who (poore gentleman) fearing that his affayres would be reuealed, kept himselfe farre out from daunger, and longe time after did not retourne to the Courte. Howbeit, he wrote many times to Rolandine by such secret meanes as for all the espiall that the Queene had put, there passed no weeke but twise at least shee hearde newes from him: and when one meanes did fayle hym, hee deuised another, and many tymes sent a litle Page clothedin colours (so often altered and chaunged as he was sent) who staying at the gates when the Ladies passed by, delyuered his letters priuelye in the middest of the prease. Vpon a time as the Queene for her pleasure walked into the fieldes, one which knew the Page and had charge to take hede vnto those doings, ranne after him: but the Page which was a fine boye, doubtinge leaste hee should be searched, conueyed hym selfe into a poore woman’s house, where spedelie he burnt his letters in the fier, ouer whiche a potte was boyling with meate for her poore familie. The gentleman that followed him stripped him naked and searched his clothes, but when he sawe that he could finde nothing, he let him goe: and when he was departed, the olde woman asked him wherefore he searched the boye: who aunswered: “to finde letters which he thought he had about him.” “Tush,” (quod she) “serch no more, for he hath hidden them very well.” “I pray thee tell me,” (quod the Gentleman) “In what place:” hoping to haue recouered the same. But when hee vnderstode that they were throwen into the fire, he well perceiued that the boye was craftier then him selfe. All whiche incontinently hee tolde the Queene, notwithstanding from that time forthe, the bastard vsed no longer the Page, but sent one other of his olde seruauntes, whom he faithfully trusted, and he (forgetting feare of death which hee knewe well the Queene threatned on them that had to doe in those affaires) tooke vpon him to carie his maister’s letters to Rolandine. And when hee was entred the Castell, hee wayted at a certen doore placed at the foote of a paire of staiers, by whiche the ladies passed to and fro: where he had not taried long, but a yeoman which at other times had sene him, knewe him and thereof told the maister of the Queene’s house, who soudainly made searche to apprehende him. The fellowe which was wise and politique, seing that diuers loked vpon him a farre of, retourned towardes the wall (as though he would haue made his water) tearing his letters in so many small peces as he could doe for his life, and threw them behinde an old gate: who had no soner done the facte, but hee was apprehended and throughly searched, and when they could finde nothing about him, they made himwearewhether he had brought any letters or not, vsing himpartly by rigor, and somewhat by faire perswasion to make him confesse the truthe: but neither through promise or threate, they could get any thing at his handes. Report hereof was brought to the Queene, and one of the companie gaue aduise that searche should be made behind the gate, where he was taken: in which place they founde nothing but litle peces of letters. Then they caused the kinge’s Confessor to be sent for, who recouering the peces layd them vpon a table, and red the lettre throughout, where the veritie of the mariage (so much dissembled) was throughly discifered, for the bastard in those letters called her nothing els but wife. The Queene not meaning to conceale the fault of her kinswoman, (which she ought to haue done) fil into a great rage and storme, commaunding that the poore man by al meanes possible should be forced to confesse the true tenor of that letter, to thintent that the same by his affirmacion might not be denied: but doe what they could, they were not able to make him alter his former tale. They which had commission to examine him, brought him to the Riuer side and did put him into a sack, saying that he did lie before God and the Queene, and against an approued trothe. He that had rather lose his life than accuse his maister, prayed them to suffer him to haue a ghostly father that like a Christian he might ende his life, and so entre the ioyes prepared for all repentant sinners, and after that he had clered his conscience, he said vnto them: “Maisters, tell my Lorde and maister the Bastarde, that I recommend vnto him the poore estate of my poore wife and children, trusting his honour will haue consideration of them for my sake, for so mutch as with good and loyall harte, I doe imploye my life for his honor and suretie: and with me doe what you list, for you get nothing at my handes that shall redounde to his hurt and preiudice.” Then to put him in greater feare, they bounde him within the sacke and threwe him into the water, crying unto him, if thou wilt tell the trouth thou shalt be saued: but they seing that he would make no aunswer drew him out againe, making reporte to the Queene of his faith and constancie. Who then sayd, that neither the king nor she were so happy in seruauntes as the Bastarde was, that had not wherewith to recompence such fidelitie. The Quene didwhat she coulde to get him from his seruice, but the poore fellowe would in no wise forsake his maister. Notwithstanding in thende by his said maister’s leaue, he was put into the Queene’s seruice, where he liued many happy dayes. The Queene after she vnderstode by the bastarde’s letters the trouth of the mariage, sent for Rolandine, and in great rage, called her caitife and miserable wretche, in stede of cosin, reciting vnto her the disparagement of her noble house, and the villanie she had committed against the honorable race whereof she came, and against the will of her which was her Queene, kinswoman and maistres, by contracting mariage without the licence of the king and her. Rolandine whiche of long time knewe the small devocion that her maistres bare vnto her, vsed her with like affection: and bicause she was werie of the Quene’s displeasure, thinking that her correction vttered in presence of many proceded not of loue, but rather to make her ashamed, abandoned feare, and conceiuing courage, when she sawe the Queene in her chiefest rage, with gladsome and firme countenaunce answered her in this wise: “Madame, if you cannot conceiue the malice of your owne harte, I will set before your eyes the rancour and displeasure of the same, which malice of long time you haue borne towardes the Lorde my father and me: whereof madame, I doe fele the smarte, to my great losse and grief: for if it had pleased you to haue borne vnto me that good wil which you do to those that are not so nere about you as I am, I had before this tyme been placed and preferred in mariage as well to the likyng of your honour as to my greate satisfaction: but you haue regarded mee as one forgotten, and cleane out of fauour, in such wyse as all the noblemen, with whome I might haue been matched, haue contempned me, as well through the negligence of my Lorde my father, as for the like estimation and accompt that you haue made of me: by meanes whereof I fell into that dispaire which if my health could haue susteined the order and state of religion, I would willingly haue taken it vpon me, to haue seuered my selfe from the continuall hatred and enuy which your grace ful rigorously hath showen vnto me: and being in this dispaire, I chaunced to finde out him, that is proceded of so noble a house as my selfe. If the loue of twoopersones is to be regarded, that meane to accomplishe the holy state of wedlock: for you knowe that his father in nobilitie farre excelled myne. He hath of long time loued me, and made great sute vnto me, but you madame, whiche neuer pardoned me for any small offence, ne yet praysed anye good acte of myne (although you know by experience that I haue not vsed to talke of matters of loue or other worldlie affaires, and that I minded aboue all things to leade a more religious life then any other) doe make it an hainous matter that I should talke with a Gentleman (so infortunate as my selfe), by whose loue, I thought or sought for nothing els but the ease and comfort of my minde. And seing my selfe voyde and frustrate of mine expectation, I shall imploie indeuour so well to seeke my rest and quiet, as you haue gone about to dispoyle me of the same: and then will celebrate the mariage which is already assured by promises and by a ring. Wherefore, madame, I thinke that you doe me great wrong by terming me to be a wicked woman, sithe that in so great and perfect amitie I might haue founde occasion (if I would) to haue committed euills: but there was neuer betwene him and me any priuie fact, other then that is honest, hoping that God wil shewe me such fauour, as before the mariage be consumat, I shall obtaine the fauour and good will of my Lorde my father: wherby I do neither offende God, nor my conscience, for I haue taried till the age ofXXX.yeares, to see what you and my father would doe for me. I haue kept my selfe so chast and honest, as no man liuing is able to laye the contrarie to my charge. And with that reason wherewith God hath indued me, being olde and voyde of hope, to finde a husbande agreable to my nobilitie, I am determined to marie sutche a one as I like beste, not for the pleasure or satisfaction of the eye (for you know he is not faire) nor for lust of the flesh (for there hath bene no carnall fact committed) ne yet for pryde and couetousnes (for he is but poore and of litle estimation) but I haue a sincere respecte and pure regarde to his vertue, honestie and good grace, for whiche the worlde doth geue him praise, and the great loue also that he beareth me, maketh me hope to finde with him great rest and quiet. And after I had deuised and considered the good and euill that might insue bythis my choise, I still persisted in that mind, and haue well wayed and pondered the same these twoo yeares past, being throughly resolued to waste and spende the rest of my dayes with him which I meane still firmely to kepe in despite of all the tormentes and cruelties, that the greatest enemies I haue, be able to make my poore bodie suffre, no not death it selfe shall force me to refuse hym. Wherefore Madame, I beseech you to accept this my reasonable excuse, whereunto your self is nowe made priuie, and suffer me to liue in that peace, whiche I hope for euer through him, in these mine elder to finde.” The Queene wel marking her stout wordes and countenaunce, and knowing the same to be very true, was not able to aunswere her againe with reason: but continuing, her rebukes and taunting checkes began to waste, and at length fell out into this rage: “Ah, presumptuous drabbe, and caitife wretch, in stede of humbling thy selfe and repenting thine offence, thou carpest boldly without dropping or sheading any teare, whereby thou doest manifestly declare that stubbornes and hardnes of thy harte: but if the king, and thy father, would follow mine aduise, they should put thee into a place, where force should make thee to vse other language.” “Madame,” said Rolandine, “because you haue accused me of bolde talke and presumptous speache, I meane from henceforth to hold my peace, except you geue me leaue to make mine aunswere.” And when she was commaunded to tell forth her mynde, she said: “It is not my part, Madame, boldly or without duetifull reuerence to speake before your maiestie (whiche is my maistresse, and the greatest Princesse in Christendome). The wordes which I haue said, be not spoken (Madame) of presumption, but to declare that I haue none other aduocate to pleade for me, but the trouth of my cause. And therefore am bolde without blushing feare to disclose the same, hoping that if your grace did knowe the secret concept of my poore faithfull harte, you woulde not iudge mee to be that woman which you terme me to be. I doe not doubt that any mortall creature vnderstanding my behauiour in those matters wherwith I am charged, would blame me, for my liberall speache, sithe I am sure that God and myne honor in no point I haue offended. The cause which maketh methus without feare to saye my minde is, because I am assured that he whiche seeth my harte, is the geuer of my life also, and remaineth with me. If then such a Iudge and Guide doe order and dispose my life, why should I be afrayd of them that be subiect vnto his iudgement? And why then Madame, should I wayle or wepe, sithe mine honor and conscience without remorse or grudge do wel like of these my doings, which if they were newly to begin, I would not repente me to doe the same againe. But it is you (Madame) that hath good cause to wepe, as well for the great displeasure, euer borne me from my youthfull dayes, as for the wrong you doe me nowe by reprehending me before the face of all the worlde for a faulte, whiche ought rather to be imputed vnto you then vnto me. For if I had offended God, the king, or you, my parentes, or my conscience, I were well worthy to be counted very obstinate, if with great repentaunce I did not lament the same, but for a dede that is right good and vertuous, I ought not to wepe, whereof there was neuer other rumor spred but verie honorable, except the slaunder which your selfe hath raised, whereby your desire to increase my shame and dishonor appeareth to be greater then the respecte you haue to conserue the nobilitie of your house, or kindred wherof you come. But because it pleaseth you, Madame, so to vse me, I purpose not to withstand you. For when you shall ordeine that punishment for me, which you like best, I shal reioyse no lesse to suffer the same without desert, then you be willing to bestowe it vpon me without cause. Wherefore Madame, commaunde my Lorde my father to put me to what tormente you will, for the execution wherof you shall not finde him vnwilling. And I shall not be altogether without ioy, to see him prest and redie to obey your wilfull mynde. But I haue a father in heauen, who (I am sure) will geue me suche pacience, as I shall be able to abide and indure, what affliction soeuer you prepare for me, in whom only is al my hope and trust.” The Queene, so angrie as she could be, commaunded her out of her sight, and to be shutte into a chamber alone, that none might speake vnto her. In which imprisonment shee was not depriued from the companie of her gouernesse, by whose meanes she let the Bastarde vnderstande all her fortune, and she likewisevnderstode what he thought best for her to doe. Who thinking that the seruice which he had done to the king, would stand him in some stede, came vnto the Court with all spede, and founde the king in the fieldes, to whome hee rehearsed the trouth of the facte, beseching his maiestie that vnto him (who was a poore gentleman) he would shewe such fauour and grace as the rigor of the Queene’s maiestie might be appeased, and the mariage fully consumat and ended. The king made him none other aunswere, but saide: “Is it true that thou hast maried her?” “Yea sir,” saide the Bastarde: “by wordes only as yet: but if it please your maiestie, the same may be throughly made perfit.” The king nodded his hed, and for that time geuing him none other aunswere, hee retourned straite to the Castell, and when he was almost there, he called the Captaine of his Guarde, and commaunded him to apprehend the Bastarde. Notwithstanding one of his frendes which knewe the kinge’s countenaunce, willed him to absent himselfe, and to retire to one of his houses, and if the king made serche after him (as he suspected) he would incontinently aduertise him therof, that he might auoyde the realme: and when the king’s displeasure was pacified, he would sende him worde. The Bastarde beleued him, and vsed such diligence as the Captain of the Guarde could not finde him. The king and the Queene councelled together what they might doe with this poore damsell, whiche was their kinswoman, and by the Queene’s aduise it was concluded, that she should be sent home to her father, with the true aduertisement of the whole matter. But before she was sent, diuerse Diuines and learned men of the Clergie, were demaunded their opinions of the priuat mariage, and the Counsell also did sit vpon the same, who concluded that for so muche as the mariage was not celebrated but by wordes, it might easely be vndone, vntill one of them had acquited the other. Which the king commaunded to be performed for the honor of the house wherof she came. But she made them aunswere, that in all thinges she was redie to obey the king, except it were in matter against her conscience, sayinge, that those whome God had coupled together by heauenly aduise, could not bee separated by man’s decree, praying them not to attempt a thing sovnreasonable: for if loue and good will founded vpon the feare of God, were the true and sure knot of mariage, then she was so wel bounde and tied, as neither iron, fier, or water coulde breake that band, but death alone. Wherunto, and to none other constitution, she was determined to rendre her ring and othe, praying them not to speake, do, or proceede, to any thing that were contrarie vnto that: wherin she was so stedfastly resolued, as she had rather die by keping her faith, then liue to denie the same. The Commissioners retorned to the king and Queene the constant answere of the Gentlewoman, and when they sawe no remedie could be found to make her renounce her husband, they conueyed her home to her father, in such pitifull sorte, as by the way she passed, eche man and woman lamented her fortune. And albeit shee had offended, yet the punishement and affliction she suffred was so great and her constancie so firmely bent, as she made her fault to be estemed a vertue. The father receiuing those pitifull newes, would not see her, but sent her to his castell that stoode in a forest, which he had before time builded for an occasion, worthy to be rehersed hereafter, and there kept her in prison a long time, sending worde vnto her, that if shee would forsake her husband, he would take her for his doughter, and set her at libertie. Who for all that offer was firme and constant, and loued her prison the better by obseruing the bond of mariage, then al the libertie of the world, without the hauing of her husband. And it semed by her countenaunce, that al the paynes she had indured were most pleasaunt pastimes, for that she suffred the same for his sake, whome she loued best. What should I speake of men? This Bastarde at length became vnmindeful of her, and fled into Alemaine, where he had many frendes. Whose inconstancie afterwardes appeared so manifest, as the vertue of true and perfit loue outwardly seming to remain in him, was conuerted into the vice of odible ingratitude, whereby it was euident, that the causes that made him so hotte a Suter, were the vglie monsters of Auarice and Ambition, where he fill in loue with an Almaine Ladie, he forgetting to visite her with letters, that for his sake had susteined so great and manifold tribulations. For what rigor or affliction soeuer Fortune offred, coulde neuer before that tyme putawaye the meanes from writing one to an other, but onely the vices before named, and the foolish and wicked loue wherin he suffred him selfe to fall. Which sudden and newe loue so perced the hart of Rolandine, and so fiercely assailed the same, as she could no more content and rest her self. Afterwards vpon the viewe of his wrytinges and letters, seing him to be so chaunged and altered from his accustomed stile, what tormentes then she suffred, they doe knowe that haue felte and tasted the bitter cup of like passions. And yet her perfecte loue would not suffer her to fixe certaine iudgement vpon this aduertisement, and therefore deuised secretly to sende one of her seruaunts whome shee trusted best, to espie, and priuely make serche whether the same were true or not. Whiche her seruaunt being retourned, hee truely tolde her, howe the Bastarde Gentleman was in loue with a Ladie of Almaine, and howe the brute was that he made great sute vnto her for mariage, because shee was very ritche. These newes brought sutche extreme sorrowe and grief to the harte of poore Rolandine, as being not able to abide the bruntes thereof, she fill very sicke. Those whiche vnderstode the originall of her disease, sayde vnto her (in the behalfe of her father) that for so muche as nowe she knewe the great villanie of the Bastarde, shee might iustly forsake hym: persuading her thereunto with the greatest reasons they could deuise. But for all those persuasions, no remedie could be founde to make her chaunge opinion: in whiche her laste tentacion shee declared the great constancie wherewith she was affected: for like as loue was decreased in him: so the same augmented in her, whiche remained and persisted in despite of all the malice of the worlde. For that loue, whiche fayled, and was fledde from him, tourned and retired into her. And when she perceiued her selfe alone fully possessed with that whiche before was deuided betwene them bothe, shee determined to obserue the same vntill death had made an ende of her fatall dayes. Wherefore the goodnes of God (which is perfect charitie and true loue) had pitie vpon her sorrowe, and regarded her pacience in such wise, as within few daies after the Bastarde died in the pursute of the other ladie’s Loue. Wherof Rolandine beingdauertisedby those which saw him buried, prayed them to trauellwith her father by humble sute, that he would vouchsafe to giue her leaue to speake vnto him. Who at their request, (although he neuer spake vnto her before, during the tyme of her imprisonment) incontinently was pleased so to doe. And after that he had herde the discourse of her iuste reasons, in place of rebukes, and his promise made to kill her (which many times he threatened by woordes) he cleped her betweene his armes, and bitterly weping, sayde vnto her: “Daughter, I wel perceiue your vertue and constant mynde, which farre surmounteth any thing that is good in mee, for if there be any faulte or lacke of consideration of your estate, I am the principal occasion thereof: but sith the goodnes of God hath thus ordeined it, I wil make satisfaction for mine offence past.” And afterwardes he sent her home to his house, where he vsed and interteigned her like his derest and eldest daughter. In the ende she was demaunded in mariage by a Gentleman of name and armes, to her estate and bloud not inferior. Who was bothe wise and vertuous, and so louingly regarded Rolandine (whome he many times visited) as he attributed vnto her the prise of prayse for that, which others accompted worthy of rebuke, knowing that her intent of former loue was grounded vpon the foundation of vertue. The mariage was well liked of her father, was acceptable to Rolandine, and was forthwith concluded. True it is that a brother she had, the only inheritour of her father’s landes, who would not agree that she should receiue her childe’s porcion, obiecting that she had disobeied her father. And after the death of the good old man (her father) her brother vsed her very rigorously and cruelly. For her husbande was but a yonger brother, and had wherewithal scarce able to liue: for which want, God bountifully prouided: for the brother whose gredie minde did craue in one daie to be possessor of al, by sodain death was depriued, as well of his sister’s porcion as of al the rest. By whose death she remained the whole inheritor of that honorable house: and afterwardes liued an honorable and stately life, in great wealth and pleasure, and was welbeloued and duetifully intreated of her husband. Finally hauing by her husband two goodly sonnes, she very vertuously brought them vp, and finishing her aged dayes, she ioyfully rendred her soule vnto him,in whom of long time she had reposed her onely trust and confidence. Now good ladies let them come forth that be the common displaiers of women’s inconstancie, and let them bring forth in presence, so good and perfect a husband as this was a good and constant woman, indued with semblable faith and vertue. I am sure to bring this to passe the matter wilbe very difficult: and therfore I had rather discharge them of this my chalenge, then put them to payne to trauell and seeke for such a one. Whose vertuous loue and godlye continuance of the same, is worthye to bee sounded by Trompe of fame to the extreame partes of the Earth. And yet I would aduise yonge Ladies and gentlewomen to beware how they be inamoured, and pursue the trade of loue, contrarie to the will of parentes, who ought in time of infancie to be their guide, and also in riper yeares to procure them mariage according to their worthines: which they may the better and soner do, is by vertuous education they arme and instruct their tender and youthly age.THE SIXTY-THIRD NOUELL.The Wisedome of a woman to withdrawe the foolishe loue of her husband, wherwith he was tormented.Manyyeares are not yet expired sithens there was a Gentlewoman of noble house (whose name I may not disclose), so wise and vertuous as shee was wel beloued and esteemed of her neighbours: her husband (not without good cause) trusted her in al his affaires, which she ordred and gouerned so wisely, as her house by her meanes grew to be one of the richest and best apparelled, that was in the countrie wherein she dwelled. Liuing thus a long time with her husbande, by whom shee had many goodly children, their happie state and felicitie (after which daily insue their contraries) began to decaie, because that he, defatigated with to much quiet, abandoned restfull life, to seeke after troublesom trauell: and had gotten a custome when his wife was a sleepe to rise from her side, and not to returne vntill it was very nere morning. The gentlewoman misliking this maner of life, became very ielous of her husband, and yet made as though she mistrusted nothing: but that spitefull passion entred her stomacke so farre, as in thende shee forgot thaffayres of her house, the diligence of her person, and good gouernment of her familie, like vnto one that verely supposed that (do what shee could) she had lost the fruite of her paine and labour, which was the great loue of her husband, for continuance whereof shee spared no trauaile or toile: but losinge altogether as shee manifestly perceiued, shee grew to be so carelesse of her housholde state and houswiferie, as speedelie appeared the fruites of slouth and negligence: for her husband for his part spent without order, and she staied her trauell from matters of houshold: in such wise as the same was growen to so great penurie, as the high and stately woodes were felled downe to the stubbe, and the goodly maners deliuered into the handes of sir Mathewe Morgage. One of the gentlewoman’s frendes and kinsemen which knew her disease, tolde her of her fault, and rebuked her for that carelesse life: sayinge, that if loueof husband could not make her to haue respecte of housholde profite: zeale and regarde of poore children’s state ought to moue her thereunto. This good councell of her frende touched her very nere, and the pitie of her children at lengthe made her to recouer her spirits, and to assaie by all meanes possible to wynne againe her husbande’s loue. See here the nature of honestie, and condicion of well disposed life: this gentlewoman was infected with the plague of Ielousie (an ordinarie disease in women,) and not without iust cause: for what Grisilde could suffre her wedded husband, assembled in bedde, in depthe of slepe, to rise and runne a straie like a wylde horse, neying after the straied female kinde of that sorte? This good Gentlewoman, I saye, almoste besides her wittes for alienation of her deserued loue, now growen careles of worldly thinges, as you haue heard, is vpon the louing admonicion of her nerest frend, pricked with naturall regarde of Infantes: launching forth that festred sore of Ialousie, serched meanes by policie to wynne that which Ialousie could not get, whiche was her husbande’s loue, whom with curteouse wiuely shame not before assemblie of neighbours, or straungers audience, by huy and crye as many doe, but in domesticall boundes, within the compas of housholde, and within the circuit of secret chambre, shee made him blushe from former life, and to deteste all filthie and beastly factes in future time. Suche be the frutes of a right matrone’s life. Suche be the gaines of the milde and quiet wife. Such a wife, I say, is the honor of her husband’s name, the onely vpholder and restoratife of his renowme and fame. But turne we againe to the experienced wisedome of this Gentlewoman. The next day she diligently watched by false slepe, the time of his vprising from her: and when he was gone, shee rose likewyse, putting her night gowne about her, causing the bedde to bee made, and saying her prayers, she waited the retourne of her husband, who being retired into his chambre, she came before him to kisse hym, and brought him a basen with water to washe his handes: and musing at the vnaccustomed order of his wife, he tolde her that he was come but from the priuie, and therfore neded not to washe. Whereunto she answered, that although it were no great matter, yet cleanly and honest, to washe the handes, being comefrom an vncleane and stinking place, by which wordes she was desirous to let him vnderstande his follie thereby to hate his dishonest and filthie life. But for all that wyse and pretie taunte hee amended nothing at all: Howbeit she continued that ordre the space of one yere. And when she sawe, that her diligence could not reforme his vsuall trade of lyfe, on a tyme wayting for her husband, which taried longer then he was wont to doe, shee was desirous to seeke hym out, and went from chamber to chamber, till at lengthe shee founde hym a bedde in a back chambre and a sleepe with the moste ill fauoured, foule and filthiest Slutte of her house, such a homely pece and durty beaste, as the lyke was not to be founde in a countrie. The gentlewoman beholding this manerly sight, thought to teache him a lesson howe to remembre the difference betwene the sweete and pleasaunt lodging, with a fayre and duetifull wife, and the vncleanly couching with a stinking and lothsome Queane. Wherupon she caused a burden of Strawe and worne rushes to be brought vnto her, setting the same on fier in the middes of the chamber, but when she sawe her husband almoste choked with the great smother, she waked hym, and plucked him out of the bed by the armes, crying: “fier, fier.” If the husbande were ashamed, and offended with him selfe to be founde in a bedde with such an vncleanly matche, by his faire and honest wife, I referre the iudgement to all indifferent men, that be coupled with like wiues. Then his wyfe said vnto him: “Sir I haue assaied the space of one whole yeare, to withdrawe you from this vile and wicked life, by gentlenes and pacience, and shewed example by washing you without, that you might also clense your selfe within. But when I sawe myne endeuour could take no place, I attempted to helpe my selfe with the element that shall ende and consume vs all: assuring you, sir, that if this doe not amende you, I cannot tell if the seconde time, I be able likewise to ridde you from the daunger that may happen. I praye you sir to thinke and consider that there is no greater dispayre or dispite, then that whiche is conceiued of loue: and had I not set before mine eyes the feare of God, I could not haue practised suche pacience, as I haue done.” The husband very glad, that he had escaped that misfortune, promised her neuer to geue occasion,that shee should take like payne to bring him to order. Whiche promise the Gentlewoman very willingly beleued, and with her husbande’s consent, she expelled out of her house, that which did displease her moste: and from that time forth, they louingly liued together, and the former faultes of this reformed life, was an increase of ioyful and mutuall delightes. I beseche you Gentlewomen (if there be any in the place where this nouell is redde) if God doe geue you such husbandes to beware of dispaire, vntill ye haue assayed all possible meanes to reduce them to good ordre. For there be in the dayeXXIIII.houres, in euery of whiche houres a man may chaunge opinion: and a woman ought to accompt her selfe moste happie, if by pacience and long suffraunce she wynne her husbande, excepte fortune and frendes haue procured one that is alreadie perfecte. This example therefore maye serue al sortes of maried women. Let her take example that list (quod Dame Partelot) for it is impossible for me to vse suche long pacience. But let Dame Partelot speake her pleasure, I would aduise all husbandes to lyue honestly with their honest wiues, and doe praie to God to plant mo sutch wiues to store the barren worlde that neuer or seldome bryngeth forth such increase.THE SIXTY-FOURTH NOUELL.The notable charitie of a woman of Tours towards her husbande.Anotherhystorie of like example I thincke meete to bee annexed: which telleth howe in the Cittie of Tours in Fraunce, there was a fayre and honest wyfe which for her vertues was not onelye beloued, but also feared and esteemed of her husband. So it was that he followinge the fragilitie of those men, which be wearie of delicate fare, fill in loue with a woman of the Countrye that kepte his house there, and many times departed from Tours to visite his countrie woman, where he commonlye tariedII.orIII.dayes before his retorne: and when he came home againe to Tours, he ordinarely did take cold, whereof his good wife had much to do to recouer him. And so sone as he was hole, hee failed not to returne to the place, where pleasure made him forget all his former griefe and sicknes. His wife which aboue all thinges loued his life and tendred his health, seinge him commonly broughte into so poore estate, went into the Countrye, where she founde out the yong woman that her husband loued. Vnto whom (not in choler but with smilinge cheere and countenaunce) shee sayd: “How she knew well that oftentimes her husband repaired thither to visite her, and that she was not well content that she vsed him no more carefully, for when he came home from her he toke so great cold as long time after she had much a doe to recouer him.” The poore woman as wel for the reuerence of the Dame, as for the trouth of the matter, could not denie the facte, and therefore fallinge downe vppon her knees, asked her forgiuenes. The maistresse required to see the bedde and chamber, where her husband laie, which she perceiued to be so cold, ill fauoured, and out of order, as she pitied and lamented the case: wherefore incontinently she sent for a good bedde furnished with sheetes, blanquets and Couerlet, accordingly as she knew her husband loued, causing the chamber to be repaired, hanged, and dressed vp, after the best maner: she gaue her also plate and vessell to serue her husband at meales, together with a punchion of wyne, spice, and otherconfections: and then prayed the woman to sende home her husbande, no more so sicke, but to interteigne and cherishe him after the most delicate and carefull maner she could. The husband taried not long at home, but after his olde custome wente againe into the countrie to visit his woman, and marueiled much to finde her poore lodging so trimlye garnished, but much more he wondred when calling for drincke he sawe her to bringe him a siluer potte, asking her where she had gotten all those goodes. The poore woman sayde vnto him weeping, that it was his wife, which hauing so great pitie vppon his ill intreatie, had furnished her house, and had committed vnto her the charge and regard of his health. Hee seing the greate humilitie and goodnes of his wyfe, and that shee for the vnkindnes he shewed vnto her, had requited him with that curtesie and louing kindnes, well pondering and regarding his owne frailtie, and the honeste demeanor of his wyfe, afterwards rewarded the poore woman with money, and perswaded her from that time foorth to liue an honest life. And then returned home to his wyfe, confessing vnto her the negligence of his dutie, and that excepte she had vsed that kinde of curtesie and goodnes towards him, it had bin impossible for him to forsake and giue ouer his vngodlye life: and afterwardes vtterly abandoning his behauiour past, they liued together in great rest and quietnes. Belieue me if ye list (to you good wiues I speake) that there be verye few ill husbands, whom the pacience and loue of the wyfe, is able at lengthe to winne, or els they be more harde then stones, which the soft and feble water by continuance of time, is able to weare and make holow: for when the wiue’s lenitie shall enter his carelesse stomacke, and her pacient suffraunce renew remembraunce of dutie, then doth conscience bite, and gnaw the cancred cord that tyeth vp the good consideracion of his office, and regarde to maried life: then doth age abhorre the lewdnes of former life, and commeth home to cherish the holsome Nourice of his pleasant state. Then regardeth he the bande wherewith matrimonie hath bound him, and both at bedde and borde obserueth the ful perfections of the same.THE SIXTY-FIFTH NOUELL.The simplicitie of an olde woman, that offered a burning candle to S. Iohn of Lions.Inthe Church of S. Iohn at Lions, there was a very darke Chappell, and within the same a Tombe made of stone, erected for great personages, with pictures liuely wroughte, and about the same Tombe there doe lie manye worthie knightes of great fame and valiaunce. Vpon a hote Sommer’s daye, a souldiour walking vp and downe the Church had great delight to sleape, and beholding that darcke chappell which was colde and fresh of ayre, thoughte to reste vpon the Tombe as other did, besides whom he layde him downe to sleepe. It chaunced that a good old woman very deuoute, came thether when the souldior was in the depth of his sleepe. And after shee had sayd her deuocions, wyth a wax candle in her hande, she would haue fastened the same vpon the Tombe, and repayring nere the place where the souldiour lay, desirous to sticke it vppon his forehead, thinking it had been the stone, the waxe would take no hold. The old woman, which thought the cause that her candle would not cleaue was the coldnesse of the Image, she warmed the souldior’s forehead with the flame of the candle, to sticke it faste. But the Image which was not insensible, beganne to cry oute, whereat the poore woman was so afraide, as like one straught of her wittes, she brake into exclamacion crying: “A miracle! A miracle!” They within the Church hearing an outcry of a miracle, ranne in heapes as though they had been madde, some to ring the belles, and some to see the miracle: whom the good woman broughte to see the Image, which then was remoued: whereat many began to laughe. But diuers priestes not willing so to give ouer so great a Miracle, determined afterwards to vse that tombe in reuerence, therby to get money.THE SIXTY-SIXTH NOUELL.A Doctor of the Lawes boughte a cup, who by the subtiltie of two false varlets, lost both his money and the cuppe.Toconclude our nomber of Nouels, I haue thought good (gentle reader) to bringe in place a Doctour and his wyfe, to giue thee a merye farewell: because thou haste hitherto so frendly and pacientlye suffred thy selfe to be stayed in reading of the reste: wherefore with a pleasaunt Adieu in a short and merie tale, which discloseth the subtiltie of two false knaues to beguile a poore Doctor and his wyfe, I meane to end. And therfore do saye, that in the Citie of Bologna in Italie, there was a worshipful Doctor of the Lawes, called Maister Florien, which in other thinges sauing his profession was but a slouen, and of so ill behauiour as none of his facultie the like: who by sauing of many crustes, had layed vp so good store of Crownes, as he caused to be made a very great and costly Cup of siluer, for payment of which Cup he went to the Goldsmithe’s house, and hauinge payed for the siluer, the guilt, and for the fashion, being without his Clarke to carie it home, he prayed the Goldsmith to lend him his man. By chaunce there were newly come to the Citie, two yonge men that were Romaynes, which ranged vp and downe the streates with eares vpright, to view and marke euery thinge done in the same, bearing about them counterfait Iewels and lingots, guilt of S. Martine’s touche, to deceiue him that would playe the foole to buy them. One of them was called Liello and the other Dietiquo. These two Marchantes being at good leasure to wander the streates, beholding the passangers to and fro, by fortune espied the Goldsmithe’s man, who (to set forth the workemanship and making of the cup) caried the same open. These gallants bearing a spite to the cup, more for the siluer than for other malice, purposed to inuent some sleight to get the Cuppe, and a farre of with slie pase, followed the Goldsmithe’s man, of whom they craftelie inquired of the owner of the Cup, and where hee had left maister Florien. When they had concluded vppon their enterprise, Liello (the finest boye ofthem both) went straight to buy a Lamprey of great price, and hiding the same vnder his cloake, repayred directly to Maister Doctour’s house, where finding his wife of semblable wit and behauiour that her husband was, with vnshamefast face and like grace, said vnto her: “Maistresse, Maister Florien your husbande hath sent you a fishe, and prayeth you to dresse it and to make dinner readie, because he bringeth a company of other Doctoures with him: in the meane time he requireth you, to retorne vnto him the Cuppe againe, whiche hee sent you this morning by the Goldsmithe’s man, because he had forgotten to stampe his armes vppon it.” The woman receyuinge the fishe, franckly deliuered him the Cup, and went about to prepare dinner. Liello (which hunted after gaine but better caught his prey) hied him a pace and conueyed himselfe with speede to the house of one of his Countriemen, and there reioyced with his companion, attending for the comming of the Royster Dietiquo, who taried in the Towne, wayting and viewing what pursute was made after his fellowe. Sone after maister Florien retourned to his house and finding his dinner more delicate than it was wont to be, marueyled, and asked his wyfe who was at all that coste. His wyfe very scornefully aunswered: “Why sir, haue you forgotten that you sente me word this morning that you woulde bring home with you diuers Gentlemen to dinner?” “What” (quoth the Doctour) “I thincke you be a foole.” “I am not” (sayd shee) “and for better witnesse you sent mee this fishe, that I would you had been better aduised before you had bestowed such coste.” “I assure thee:” quoth hee, “I sent thee no fishe, but belike it was some folishe knaue that had forgotten his arrant and mistaken the house: but howsoeuer it was wyse, we at this time will be content to fare well, at other mennes charge.” “Why sir (sayd his wyfe) call your selfe to better remembraunce, for hee that brought the Lampry, came to me for your Cup, by this token that you would haue your armes engrauen vppon the same.” At those words the poore Doctour, after he had discharged three or foure Canons laden with haile shot of scolding words wente out into the streate, running hither and thither demaunding of al them he met, if they saw none carrie a Lampry home to his house. And you would haue said if youhad seen the Doctour wyth his hode hanging at one side, that he had been out of his wittes. Dietiquo stode still in a corner, and beheld the Doctour’s frantike order, and albeit that he was sure the stealinge of the Cuppe by Liello his companion was impossible to be knowen, yet being sorye that the Lampry cost so much, determined also to play his part, and seinge the doctour stayed from making further complaintes and pursute, he went home to the Doctour’s house, where smiling with a good grace and bould countenaunce saide vnto his wyfe: “Maistresse Doctour, good newes, the Cup is founde, one whom you know caused the same to be done in sport to bring your husband Maister Florien in a choler, who now is amonges diuers of his frendes iesting at the pleasuant deceipt, and hath sent me hither to fetch their dinner, wherein they praye you to remember the Lamprey, and to come your selfe to take part of the same, bicause they purpose to be mery.” The woman ioyful of those newes, began some what to complaine of the griefe which she had taken for losse of the cup, and deliuered to Dietiquo the rosted Lamprey with the sause, betwene two platters who incontinently hid the same vnder his cloke, and wyth so much speede as he could, went to seeke out his companion Lielo, and their countrimen, which all that while had taried for him: and God knoweth whether those good fellowes did laugh and mocke the poore Doctour, and his wife or not, and when she had made herself gay and trimme to go eate part of the Lamprey, as she was going out she met Maister Florien lookinge lowringlie vppon the matter, to whom she said (smiling like a frumenty pot) “How now, sir, come they hither to dinner? I haue sent you that Lamprey ready dressed.” Then Maister Doctor after faire talke, beganne to discharge his double Cannons, callinge his wyfe Whore, bitch, and beaste, and vnderstandinge that he was twice begiled and could not tell by whom, for spite and despayre he tare of his beard, and the heare of his head, which bruted and knowen in the Citie, the Iesters and pleasaunt felowes bent themselues to laugh, and deuise pastime at the poore begiled Doctour and his wyfe.FINIS.

A Gentlewoman of the Courte, very pleasauntly recompenced the seruice of a kinde seruaunte of her’s, that pursued her with seruice of loue.

Inthe Courte of king Fraunces, the first of that name, not longe sithens Frenche king, the graunde father of Henry the 3 of that name now raigning: there was a Gentlewoman of good grace and interteignment, wanting not both minde and witte, such as the like of her sexe, are not to seeke, vnder what climate soeuer they be borne and bred, whose comly demeaner, curteous behauiour and eloquent speache, was agreeable to her other qualities of nature’s giftes: whereby she gayned the hartes and good minds of nombers of seruauntes, with whom shee was cunning ynough to spend her time, (hauing respect to the sauftie and saufgard of her honor, which she preferred before all other solace) by such delectable consumption of time, as they that could not tell howe els to imploie their leasure, thoughte themselues most blessed, if they might attaine the delightfull presence of this well nourtered Dame. For they that made greatest assuraunce of her fidelitie, were in dispayre, and the most desperat were yet in some hope to winne her. Howbeit in deceyuing the most nomber, she could not forbeare intirely to loue one, who for his part was not able to plaie the counterfait, to colour the substance of his longe pursute: but as nothing is sure and stable, their loue tourned to displeasure, and by frequent renewing of what was well knowen the hole Court was not ignoraunt, what deuocion thone did beare to thother. One day the Gentlewoman, aswell to let him know that his affection was not bestowed in vaine, as to make him to feele some smart and paine for his louing seruice, the more louingly to forde him on, with preety morsells of her dissembling concept, made show vnto him of greater fauour, then euer she did before: for which cause he that was faultles either in deedes of armes, or in prowesse of loue, began liuely and valiantly to folow her, to whom long before with gentlenes and humilitie hehad many times bin a suppliante. Who fayning that she was not able any longer to rest obstinate, made semblance of a womanly pitie and accorded to his demaund. Telling him that for respect of his tedious trauaile, she was now disposed to go to her chamber, (which was in a Gallerie of the Castell where that time the kinge did lie) where shee knew was none that could hinder what they two intended: willing him not to faile but so sone he saw her depart the place she was in, to folow after to her chamber, where he should finde her alone, tarying for him with good deuocion. The gentleman beleeuinge her appointmente, was readie to leape out of his skinne for ioye: and therewithall began to dalye and sport with other Ladies, attending the time of her departure. She wanting not the practize of any fine sleight or subtile pollicie, most pregnaunte in birds of her Ayrie, called two of the greatest Ladies to the present chamber window and said vnto them: “If it may please you good Ladies, I will discouer vnto you the pretiest pastime of the world.” They which hard the grief of melancholie, besoughte her to tell what it was. “Thus it is” (quoth shee) “such a gentleman, whom you know very well, to be both honest and vertuous, hath longe time (as partlie you haue by to much experience seene,) gone about diuers wayes to winne that, which he shall neuer get: for when I began to applie my fancie towards him, he (vnconstant) ceased not to couet and folow other Ladies with like pursute hee did me: whereat I conceyued such more then spitefull hatred, as notwithstanding my outwarde semblaunce, I coueted reuenge. Nowe therefore maistresse, Occasion hath lente me a porcion of oportunitie, to be requited of his vaine and fickle sute: which is, that hauinge appointed him to come to my chamber, whither he meaneth presently to follow me, it maye please you to giue heedefull eye and watch: and that when hee hath passed alonge the Galerie, and is gone vp the stayers, that both of you wil recline your heads out of this window to helpe me singe the holding of the Caroll, that I meane to chaunte vnto him. And then shall you see the raging choler of this Gentleman, that at other times presumed to be a quiet Suter: wherat perhaps through his malapert boldnes, it cannot dash his blushles face, but yet if he do not deale vnto me like spiteful reproch in openhearing, I know full well in hart he will wishe meX. M.mischifes.” This conclusion was not spoken without treble laughter: for there was no gentlemen in all the Courte, that had warred so much with the woman kind as hee, and yet welbeloued and esteemed of euery one, that listed not to be intrapped within his daunger. Therfore these Ladies thinking to carie awaye some part of the glorie, which one alone hoped to atchieue vpon this gentleman, were contente to assent to the other’s liking. So sone then as they saw her depart, that purposed this enterprise, they began to espie the countenaunce of the betrayed partie, who paused not long before he exchaunged the place: and when he was oute of the chamber, the Ladies trayned after, to lose no part of the sport, and went the faster that he might not be out of theyr sight. And he that doubted not the successe, threwe his cape about his necke to hide his face, and went downe the staiers out into the Court, and afterwards mounted vp againe: but perceyuing some approche which he was loth should be a witnes, he went downe againe, returning another way on the other side. All which the Ladies sawe, vnknowen to him. But when he came to the stayers where he beleeued verely, that he might surely enter into his Maistres chamber, the two Ladies put they heads out of the window, and incontinently perceyued the gentlewoman alofte, crying out a lowde, “A theefe, a theefe:” wherunto they two below aunswered with so vehement voyce, doubling the other’s outcrie, as all the castell ronge of it. I leaue for you to consider in what despite this gentleman fled to his lodginge, but not so closely, but that he was ouertaken by those that knew this misterie: who afterwards oftentimes reproched this fact vnto him, speciall she that had deuised the reuenge: but hee had armed himselfe with aunswers and defences so readely, as he told them that he foreknew their deuise, and mente nothing by his pilgrimage but to solace his beloued. For of her loue long time before he was out of all hope, as hauing reasonable proofe by his longe pursute and seruice. Howbeit the Ladyes would not hold his excuse for a veritie, which euen to this day hangeth in suspence.

The honest and maruellous loue of a mayden of noble house, and of a gentleman that was base borne, and howe a Queene did impeche and let their mariage, with the wise aunswere of the mayde to the Queene.

Therewas in Fraunce a Queene, who in her company and traine broughte vp many maydens, that were issued of great and honourable progenie: amonges other that serued this Queene there was one named Rolandine, which was nere kinne to the Queene. But she for a certaine displeasure conceyued against her father, bare vnto the yonge gentlewoman no greate good will. This Maiden, although shee was none of the fayrest, yet so wyse and vertuous as many great Lords and personages made sute to her for mariage, to whom she rendred for earnest sutes, cold aunsweares: because shee knew her father to be more bent to keeping of money, then to thaduauncement of his children: and her Maistresse (as is before said) bare vnto her so little fauour as they which esteemed the Queene’s good grace, woulde neuer make anye sute vnto her. Thus by father’s negligence and Maistres disdaine, the poore gentlewoman remayned long time vnmaried. And as shee that forcibly was payned, not so much for griefe of mariage, as for that shee was not required or sued vnto, became so werie of worldly life, as deuoutly she bent herselfe toGod, and by forsakinge the toyes and brauerie of the Courte, passed her time in prayer, or els in other vertuous exercise: and by withdrawing herselfe to this kinde of life, she spent her youth so soberlie and deuoutly as was possible for a woman to do. When she approched nere the age ofXXX.yeares, there was a gentleman a bastarde borne, of right honorable house, a uery curteous and honest personage, whose every riches and beautie was such, as no Lady or gentlwoman for pleasure would haue chosen him to husband. This poore gentleman was voide of frends for maintenaunce of lyuing, and vnhappie in mariage sutes, although he pursued many, till at length he borded this poore Gentlewoman Rolandine: for their Fortunes, complexionsand condicions were very like, and by vse of seuerall complaints made one to another, ech of them fell in ernest loue with the other: and being both thrall vnto mishap, they sought desired comforte by vertuous and honest talke: and by that vse and frequentacion greater loue increased and grew betwene them. Those which had seene the maiden so straungly retired from wonted demeanor, as she would speake to none, now marking her continuallie to interteigne the bastard gentleman, incontinently conceiued ill opinion of her, and told the mother of the Queene’s maids (called Modesta) that she ought not to suffer such familiaritie betweene them. Which report Modesta reuealed to Rolandine, sayinge that diuers persons did speake euill of her, for that she vsed to talke with the bastard, that neither was of sufficient abilitie for her to marie, ne yet of beautie worthie to be beloued. Rolandine which daily was more rebuked for her austeritie of life, then for worldly toyes, sayd vnto Modesta her gouernesse: “Alas, mother, you see that I cannot haue a husband according to the worthines of my bloud, and that dailye I haue auoyded those which be beautifull and yonge: for feare to incurre the inconuenience wherinto I haue seene other to fall: and now hauing chosen this wise and vertuous gentleman, who preacheth vnto me words that be good and godly, what wrong do they to me that make this report, sith in this honest order I doe receiue consolacion of my griefes?” The good old Lady who loued the maiden (which she called maistresse) as herselfe, said vnto her: “I see well, that you are worse delt withall at your father and maistres handes then you deserue. Howbeit sith such reporte is made of your honor, you ought to refuse to speake vnto him, although he were your naturall brother.” Rolandine weeping saide vnto her: “Mother, for so much as you aduise me therunto, I will performe your request, although it be very straunge that without slaunder, a woman can haue no comfort or seeke freedome without misreport.” The bastard gentleman, as he was before accustomed, came to visite her, but she tolde him (a farre of) those words which her gouernesse had said vnto her: and with teares prayed him to refraine for a time to speake vnto her, vntill the brute and rumor were somewhat appaised: which thing he did at her request. Butduring this long time, either of them hauing loste their consolacion, began to feele such torment within themselues, as shee for her part neuer felte the like. She ceased not from praying vnto God, from goinge on pilgrimage, and fasting: for this vnacquainted loue brought her to such disquiet as she could not rest the space of one houre. Wherewith the noble bastard was no lesse tormented: but he which had alreadie minded in hart to loue her and pursue her till mariage, and hauing respecte (for loue sake) to the honor he should acquire by the same, thought to finde meanes to declare his minde vnto her, and aboue al things to get the good wil of her gouernesse: which he did, declaring vnto her the miserie wherein her poore maistresse remayned, which was voide of al comfort and other frendship. Then the poore old Lady Modesta, gaue him thankes for the honest affection that hee bare to her maistresse: and deuised meanes how the two louers might impart their minds together. Rolandine fayned herselfe to be sicke of a Mygrim and paine in her heade, the brute of whose maladie was feared to be greater then it was, and so concluded betwene them that when her companion were gone into the chamber, they two should remaine together alone to satisfie ech other with mutuall talke. The bastard gentleman was very glad, and ruled himselfe holy by the councell of the Gouernesse, in such sort as when he liste, he spake vnto his louer and vertuous Lady: but this contencaion did not indure: for the Queene who loued her but a little, inquired what Rolandine did so long in her Chamber, and one made aunswere that it was by reason of her sicknes. Albeit there was another which knewe to well the cause of her absence, sayde vnto her, that the ioye which Rolandine had to speake vnto the bastard was able to ease her Mygrim. The Queene which found out the veniall sinnes of other, by mortall offences in herselfe, sent for her, and forbad her in any wyse not to speake vnto the bastard, except it were in the hall or within her owne Chamber. The Gentlewoman made as though she vnderstode her not, but mildlie aunswered that, is shee knew any talke betweene them might offend her maiestie, she would neuer speake vnto him againe. Notwithstanding she determined to finde out some other secret meanes that the Queene should not know of their meeting: whichwas this. The Wednesday, Fridaye, and Saturday, the gentlewoman vsed to fast, and for that purpose kept her Chamber with her Gouernesse Modesta, where she had leysure to talke (whilest the reste did suppe) with him whom she began so earnestlie to loue: and as constrainte of time did force their talke to be shorte, the greater was their affection in vtteraunce of the same: because for the doing therof they stole time, as the theefe doth his desired praye. This order of their contentacion could not proceede so secretely, but that a certaine varlet a yeoman of the Chamber, chaunced to see him resort vnto her vpon a fasting day, and told it in such place wher of some hearer, it was disclosed to the Queene herself, who was so sore offended as neuer after that time the poore bastard gentleman durste once attempt to go into the maiden’s chamber againe. And to thintent that he might not lose the commodity of talke with her, whom he so derely loued, oftentimes he fayned himselfe to go on pilgrimage, and in the euening returned to the Church and chapell of the Castel, in the habite of a frier, or Iacobin (so wel disguised and altered, as no creature could know him) and thither repaired the gentlewoman Rolandine, with her Gouernesse to enterteigne him. He marking the great loue that she bare him, feared not to say vnto her: “Madame, you see the daunger which I hasard for your seruice, and the warnings that the Queene hath giuen for our talke. You see on thother side what a father you haue, who careth not after what sort he bestow you in mariage: and you hauinge refused so many greate states and noble men, I know not one, either farre or neare, that is minded to haue you. I confesse my selfe to be but poore, and that you may marie diuers gentlemen of greater reputacion and richesse, then I am: but if loue and good wil were deemed treasure and richesse, then woulde I presume to be the richest gentleman of the world. God hath indowed you with great plentie of goodes, and you are yet in choise to haue more: and if I were so happie as you would vouchsafe to chose me for your husband, I would accompt my selfe to be vnto you both husband, frend and seruaunt, all the dayes of my life: and againe, if you should take one equall to your nobilitie (a thinge very harde to finde) he would rule and gouerne ouer you, and haue more respecte to your goodes, then toyour person, to your beautie then to your vertue: and in triumphinge with dispence of that you haue, hee maye chaunce to intreate you otherwise then you deserue. The desire of this contentacion, and the feare that I haue, least you should graunte it to some other, do force me to beseech you, that by one only meanes you would make me happie and your selfe the most contented and best intreated woman that euer was.” Rolandine giuing eare to that communication which shee herselfe ment to haue pronounced, aunswered him with stoute courage: “I am very glad and wel pleased that you haue begunne the sute your self, which I of long time haue determined to breake vnto you: for which cause these two yeres past as you know, I haue not ceased to thincke and deuise all the reasons and arguments for and against you, that I could inuent: but in thend for so much as I do meane to take vpon me the state of Matrimonie, it is time that I begin to chose such husbande, with whom I shall in my conscience like to liue at rest and quiet all the dayes of my life: and amidde all the troupe of my thoughts in choise, I cannot finde anye one, were he neuer so faire, riche or noble, with whom my hart and minde can so well agree and match as with you. I know that by marying of you I shall not offende God, but rather do the thinge that hee commaundeth. And touching my Lord my father, he hath had so litle consideracion of my perferment, and so often refused it, as the law now will suffice, that I giue my selfe in mariage withoute his consent, and therefore cannot disenherite me, or worthely thincke ill of me: and by hauing a husband (a thing appertinent to women kinde) such as you be, I shall esteeme my selfe the richest woman of the worlde. As for the Queene my maistresse, I oughte not to take any care or remorse of conscience by displeasing her, to obey God: for she hath not ceased to hinder that aduauncement, which in my youth I mighte haue had, and by paine and diligence towards her did well deserue: but to thend you may vnderstand, that the loue and good will which I beare you, is founded vppon vertue and honor, you shall promise me, that if I doe accorde this mariage, you shall neuer purchase or require the consummacion thereof, Vntill my father be deade, or els do finde some meanes to make him consente hereunto.” Whichthe bastard gentleman willingly did graunt: and vppon these promises and termes, either of them gaue eche other a ringe in the name of mariage, and did kisse together in the Church before God, whom they toke to witnes of their assurance, and neuer after betwene them was any other priuie fact committed, but only kissing. This litle easement of mind did greatly satisfie the harts of these two perfect louers: and were a great while without seing ech other, liuing only by this assurance. There was no place where honour mighte be gotten, but thereunto the bastarde made his repaire with so great delight, as he thought he could neuer be poore for respect of that riche wife which God had prouided for him. Which wyfe in his absence, did euer continue her absolute amitie towards that gentleman: and although many made sute yet they receyued none other aunswere from her but deniall, and for that she had remayned so long time vnmaried, she was minded neuer to take vppon her that state. This her aunswere was so generall as the Queene heard of it, and asked her for what occasion shee was so determined. Rolandine saide vnto her, that it was to obey her: for that shee knew shee would neuer suffer her to marie, because in time and place where she might haue bin honorablie matched to her well liking, she denied the same, and that the vertue of pacience had taught her to contente herselfe with the state wherein she was. And still as she was sued for in mariage, she rendred like aunswere. When the warres were ended, and the bastarde returned to the Courte, shee neuer spake vnto him in open presence, but wente alwayes into some Church to interteigne him vnder colour of Confession: for the Queene had forbidden both him and her, that they should not talke together, vnlesse it were before companye vpon paine of losse of their liues. But honest loue, which feareth no defence, was more prest to find meanes, for their mutuall talke, then their enemies were ready to separate the same: and vnder the habite or colour of all the religions they could deuise, they continued that honest amitie, vntil the king remoued into a house of pleasure, not so nere as the Ladies were able to go on foote to that Church, as they were to the Church of the Castell, which was not situate in such conueniente wyse for their purpose, as they could secretelyrepaire (vnder colour of confession) to talke together: notwithstanding if on the one side occasion fayled, loue found out another for their contentment: for there arriued a Lady to the Court, to whom the bastard was very nere kin. This Lady with her sonne were lodged in the king’s house, and the chamber of this yong prince was far beyond the body of the lodging, where the king himselfe did lie: but so nere vnto Rolandine’s Chamber as he might both see and speake vnto her, for their windowes were properlie and directly placed at either corner of the house: in which chamber (being ouer the hall) were lodged al the Ladies of honor, the companions of Rolandine. Who beholding many times the yong king at that window, caused the bastard to be aduertized therof by her gouernesse: who after he had well beholden the place, made as though he had great delighte to read vpon a booke of the Knightes of the Round Table, that lay in the chamber window of the yong king: and when euery man was gone to dinner, he prayed the yeoman to suffer him to make an end of the historie, and to shut him within the chamber. The other which knew him to be the kinsman of his maistres, and an assured man, suffred him to read so long as he liste. On thother side Rolandine came vnto her window, who to find occasion to tarrie there the longer, fayned to haue a paine in her leg, and dined and supped in so good time, as she went no more to the ordinarie of the Ladies: wher she began to set herselfe a worke about the making of a bed of Crimson silke, placing her worke vpon the window, as desirous to be alone. And when she saw no man to be there, shee interteigned her husband, to whom she might speake in secret wise, so as none was able to vnderstande them: and when any person came nere, she coughed and made a signe that the bastard might withdraw himselfe. They that were appointed to watche them, thought vndoubtedlie that their loue was past and ended, because she went not out of the Chamber, wher safely he coulde not see her, for that hee was forbidden the same. Vppon a day the mother of the yong Prince being in her sonne’s Chamber, repayred to the windowe where that great booke did lie, and shee had not staied there long, but one of Rolandine’s fellowes which was within her Chamber saluted her. The lady asked her how Rolandinedid, who sayd that shee might very wel see her, if it were her pleasure: and caused her to come to the window wyth her night geare vppon her head. And after they had talked a while of her sicknes they withdrew themselues. The other ladie espying the great booke of the Round Table, sayde to her yeoman of the Chamber: “I do marueille much why yong men do imploie themselues to read such follies.” The yeoman made aunsweare, that he marueled much more, why men of good yeres, counted and esteemed wise and discrete, should haue greater delight in reading of such trifles, then those that were yong. And to iustifie that maruel hee told her how her cosin the bastard did spend 4 or 5 houres in a day to read vppon the same. Vpon which words by and by she conceyued the cause of his deepe studie, and charged him to hide himselfe in some place to mark what he did. Which commaundement the yeoman performed, and perceiued that the booke which the bastard read vpon, was the window out of which Rolandine talked with him: and therewithal called to remembrance many wordes of the loue which they thought to keepe very secreete. The next day he rehersed the same vnto his maistresse, who sent for her cosin the bastard, and after many tales told him, she forbad him to resort thither any more, and at night she gaue like warning to Rolandine, threatninge her that if she continued in her fond and foolish loue, she woulde tell the Queene the whole circumstaunce of her lighte demeaner. Rolandine (nothing astonied with those woords) did sweare that sith the time she was forbidden by her maistresse the queene’s maiesty, she neuer spake vnto him: the troth whereof shee might learne aswel of the gentlewomen her companions, as of other seruauntes of the house: and touching the window whereof she spake, she boldly aduouched that she neuer talked with the Bastard there. Who (poore gentleman) fearing that his affayres would be reuealed, kept himselfe farre out from daunger, and longe time after did not retourne to the Courte. Howbeit, he wrote many times to Rolandine by such secret meanes as for all the espiall that the Queene had put, there passed no weeke but twise at least shee hearde newes from him: and when one meanes did fayle hym, hee deuised another, and many tymes sent a litle Page clothedin colours (so often altered and chaunged as he was sent) who staying at the gates when the Ladies passed by, delyuered his letters priuelye in the middest of the prease. Vpon a time as the Queene for her pleasure walked into the fieldes, one which knew the Page and had charge to take hede vnto those doings, ranne after him: but the Page which was a fine boye, doubtinge leaste hee should be searched, conueyed hym selfe into a poore woman’s house, where spedelie he burnt his letters in the fier, ouer whiche a potte was boyling with meate for her poore familie. The gentleman that followed him stripped him naked and searched his clothes, but when he sawe that he could finde nothing, he let him goe: and when he was departed, the olde woman asked him wherefore he searched the boye: who aunswered: “to finde letters which he thought he had about him.” “Tush,” (quod she) “serch no more, for he hath hidden them very well.” “I pray thee tell me,” (quod the Gentleman) “In what place:” hoping to haue recouered the same. But when hee vnderstode that they were throwen into the fire, he well perceiued that the boye was craftier then him selfe. All whiche incontinently hee tolde the Queene, notwithstanding from that time forthe, the bastard vsed no longer the Page, but sent one other of his olde seruauntes, whom he faithfully trusted, and he (forgetting feare of death which hee knewe well the Queene threatned on them that had to doe in those affaires) tooke vpon him to carie his maister’s letters to Rolandine. And when hee was entred the Castell, hee wayted at a certen doore placed at the foote of a paire of staiers, by whiche the ladies passed to and fro: where he had not taried long, but a yeoman which at other times had sene him, knewe him and thereof told the maister of the Queene’s house, who soudainly made searche to apprehende him. The fellowe which was wise and politique, seing that diuers loked vpon him a farre of, retourned towardes the wall (as though he would haue made his water) tearing his letters in so many small peces as he could doe for his life, and threw them behinde an old gate: who had no soner done the facte, but hee was apprehended and throughly searched, and when they could finde nothing about him, they made himwearewhether he had brought any letters or not, vsing himpartly by rigor, and somewhat by faire perswasion to make him confesse the truthe: but neither through promise or threate, they could get any thing at his handes. Report hereof was brought to the Queene, and one of the companie gaue aduise that searche should be made behind the gate, where he was taken: in which place they founde nothing but litle peces of letters. Then they caused the kinge’s Confessor to be sent for, who recouering the peces layd them vpon a table, and red the lettre throughout, where the veritie of the mariage (so much dissembled) was throughly discifered, for the bastard in those letters called her nothing els but wife. The Queene not meaning to conceale the fault of her kinswoman, (which she ought to haue done) fil into a great rage and storme, commaunding that the poore man by al meanes possible should be forced to confesse the true tenor of that letter, to thintent that the same by his affirmacion might not be denied: but doe what they could, they were not able to make him alter his former tale. They which had commission to examine him, brought him to the Riuer side and did put him into a sack, saying that he did lie before God and the Queene, and against an approued trothe. He that had rather lose his life than accuse his maister, prayed them to suffer him to haue a ghostly father that like a Christian he might ende his life, and so entre the ioyes prepared for all repentant sinners, and after that he had clered his conscience, he said vnto them: “Maisters, tell my Lorde and maister the Bastarde, that I recommend vnto him the poore estate of my poore wife and children, trusting his honour will haue consideration of them for my sake, for so mutch as with good and loyall harte, I doe imploye my life for his honor and suretie: and with me doe what you list, for you get nothing at my handes that shall redounde to his hurt and preiudice.” Then to put him in greater feare, they bounde him within the sacke and threwe him into the water, crying unto him, if thou wilt tell the trouth thou shalt be saued: but they seing that he would make no aunswer drew him out againe, making reporte to the Queene of his faith and constancie. Who then sayd, that neither the king nor she were so happy in seruauntes as the Bastarde was, that had not wherewith to recompence such fidelitie. The Quene didwhat she coulde to get him from his seruice, but the poore fellowe would in no wise forsake his maister. Notwithstanding in thende by his said maister’s leaue, he was put into the Queene’s seruice, where he liued many happy dayes. The Queene after she vnderstode by the bastarde’s letters the trouth of the mariage, sent for Rolandine, and in great rage, called her caitife and miserable wretche, in stede of cosin, reciting vnto her the disparagement of her noble house, and the villanie she had committed against the honorable race whereof she came, and against the will of her which was her Queene, kinswoman and maistres, by contracting mariage without the licence of the king and her. Rolandine whiche of long time knewe the small devocion that her maistres bare vnto her, vsed her with like affection: and bicause she was werie of the Quene’s displeasure, thinking that her correction vttered in presence of many proceded not of loue, but rather to make her ashamed, abandoned feare, and conceiuing courage, when she sawe the Queene in her chiefest rage, with gladsome and firme countenaunce answered her in this wise: “Madame, if you cannot conceiue the malice of your owne harte, I will set before your eyes the rancour and displeasure of the same, which malice of long time you haue borne towardes the Lorde my father and me: whereof madame, I doe fele the smarte, to my great losse and grief: for if it had pleased you to haue borne vnto me that good wil which you do to those that are not so nere about you as I am, I had before this tyme been placed and preferred in mariage as well to the likyng of your honour as to my greate satisfaction: but you haue regarded mee as one forgotten, and cleane out of fauour, in such wyse as all the noblemen, with whome I might haue been matched, haue contempned me, as well through the negligence of my Lorde my father, as for the like estimation and accompt that you haue made of me: by meanes whereof I fell into that dispaire which if my health could haue susteined the order and state of religion, I would willingly haue taken it vpon me, to haue seuered my selfe from the continuall hatred and enuy which your grace ful rigorously hath showen vnto me: and being in this dispaire, I chaunced to finde out him, that is proceded of so noble a house as my selfe. If the loue of twoopersones is to be regarded, that meane to accomplishe the holy state of wedlock: for you knowe that his father in nobilitie farre excelled myne. He hath of long time loued me, and made great sute vnto me, but you madame, whiche neuer pardoned me for any small offence, ne yet praysed anye good acte of myne (although you know by experience that I haue not vsed to talke of matters of loue or other worldlie affaires, and that I minded aboue all things to leade a more religious life then any other) doe make it an hainous matter that I should talke with a Gentleman (so infortunate as my selfe), by whose loue, I thought or sought for nothing els but the ease and comfort of my minde. And seing my selfe voyde and frustrate of mine expectation, I shall imploie indeuour so well to seeke my rest and quiet, as you haue gone about to dispoyle me of the same: and then will celebrate the mariage which is already assured by promises and by a ring. Wherefore, madame, I thinke that you doe me great wrong by terming me to be a wicked woman, sithe that in so great and perfect amitie I might haue founde occasion (if I would) to haue committed euills: but there was neuer betwene him and me any priuie fact, other then that is honest, hoping that God wil shewe me such fauour, as before the mariage be consumat, I shall obtaine the fauour and good will of my Lorde my father: wherby I do neither offende God, nor my conscience, for I haue taried till the age ofXXX.yeares, to see what you and my father would doe for me. I haue kept my selfe so chast and honest, as no man liuing is able to laye the contrarie to my charge. And with that reason wherewith God hath indued me, being olde and voyde of hope, to finde a husbande agreable to my nobilitie, I am determined to marie sutche a one as I like beste, not for the pleasure or satisfaction of the eye (for you know he is not faire) nor for lust of the flesh (for there hath bene no carnall fact committed) ne yet for pryde and couetousnes (for he is but poore and of litle estimation) but I haue a sincere respecte and pure regarde to his vertue, honestie and good grace, for whiche the worlde doth geue him praise, and the great loue also that he beareth me, maketh me hope to finde with him great rest and quiet. And after I had deuised and considered the good and euill that might insue bythis my choise, I still persisted in that mind, and haue well wayed and pondered the same these twoo yeares past, being throughly resolued to waste and spende the rest of my dayes with him which I meane still firmely to kepe in despite of all the tormentes and cruelties, that the greatest enemies I haue, be able to make my poore bodie suffre, no not death it selfe shall force me to refuse hym. Wherefore Madame, I beseech you to accept this my reasonable excuse, whereunto your self is nowe made priuie, and suffer me to liue in that peace, whiche I hope for euer through him, in these mine elder to finde.” The Queene wel marking her stout wordes and countenaunce, and knowing the same to be very true, was not able to aunswere her againe with reason: but continuing, her rebukes and taunting checkes began to waste, and at length fell out into this rage: “Ah, presumptuous drabbe, and caitife wretch, in stede of humbling thy selfe and repenting thine offence, thou carpest boldly without dropping or sheading any teare, whereby thou doest manifestly declare that stubbornes and hardnes of thy harte: but if the king, and thy father, would follow mine aduise, they should put thee into a place, where force should make thee to vse other language.” “Madame,” said Rolandine, “because you haue accused me of bolde talke and presumptous speache, I meane from henceforth to hold my peace, except you geue me leaue to make mine aunswere.” And when she was commaunded to tell forth her mynde, she said: “It is not my part, Madame, boldly or without duetifull reuerence to speake before your maiestie (whiche is my maistresse, and the greatest Princesse in Christendome). The wordes which I haue said, be not spoken (Madame) of presumption, but to declare that I haue none other aduocate to pleade for me, but the trouth of my cause. And therefore am bolde without blushing feare to disclose the same, hoping that if your grace did knowe the secret concept of my poore faithfull harte, you woulde not iudge mee to be that woman which you terme me to be. I doe not doubt that any mortall creature vnderstanding my behauiour in those matters wherwith I am charged, would blame me, for my liberall speache, sithe I am sure that God and myne honor in no point I haue offended. The cause which maketh methus without feare to saye my minde is, because I am assured that he whiche seeth my harte, is the geuer of my life also, and remaineth with me. If then such a Iudge and Guide doe order and dispose my life, why should I be afrayd of them that be subiect vnto his iudgement? And why then Madame, should I wayle or wepe, sithe mine honor and conscience without remorse or grudge do wel like of these my doings, which if they were newly to begin, I would not repente me to doe the same againe. But it is you (Madame) that hath good cause to wepe, as well for the great displeasure, euer borne me from my youthfull dayes, as for the wrong you doe me nowe by reprehending me before the face of all the worlde for a faulte, whiche ought rather to be imputed vnto you then vnto me. For if I had offended God, the king, or you, my parentes, or my conscience, I were well worthy to be counted very obstinate, if with great repentaunce I did not lament the same, but for a dede that is right good and vertuous, I ought not to wepe, whereof there was neuer other rumor spred but verie honorable, except the slaunder which your selfe hath raised, whereby your desire to increase my shame and dishonor appeareth to be greater then the respecte you haue to conserue the nobilitie of your house, or kindred wherof you come. But because it pleaseth you, Madame, so to vse me, I purpose not to withstand you. For when you shall ordeine that punishment for me, which you like best, I shal reioyse no lesse to suffer the same without desert, then you be willing to bestowe it vpon me without cause. Wherefore Madame, commaunde my Lorde my father to put me to what tormente you will, for the execution wherof you shall not finde him vnwilling. And I shall not be altogether without ioy, to see him prest and redie to obey your wilfull mynde. But I haue a father in heauen, who (I am sure) will geue me suche pacience, as I shall be able to abide and indure, what affliction soeuer you prepare for me, in whom only is al my hope and trust.” The Queene, so angrie as she could be, commaunded her out of her sight, and to be shutte into a chamber alone, that none might speake vnto her. In which imprisonment shee was not depriued from the companie of her gouernesse, by whose meanes she let the Bastarde vnderstande all her fortune, and she likewisevnderstode what he thought best for her to doe. Who thinking that the seruice which he had done to the king, would stand him in some stede, came vnto the Court with all spede, and founde the king in the fieldes, to whome hee rehearsed the trouth of the facte, beseching his maiestie that vnto him (who was a poore gentleman) he would shewe such fauour and grace as the rigor of the Queene’s maiestie might be appeased, and the mariage fully consumat and ended. The king made him none other aunswere, but saide: “Is it true that thou hast maried her?” “Yea sir,” saide the Bastarde: “by wordes only as yet: but if it please your maiestie, the same may be throughly made perfit.” The king nodded his hed, and for that time geuing him none other aunswere, hee retourned straite to the Castell, and when he was almost there, he called the Captaine of his Guarde, and commaunded him to apprehend the Bastarde. Notwithstanding one of his frendes which knewe the kinge’s countenaunce, willed him to absent himselfe, and to retire to one of his houses, and if the king made serche after him (as he suspected) he would incontinently aduertise him therof, that he might auoyde the realme: and when the king’s displeasure was pacified, he would sende him worde. The Bastarde beleued him, and vsed such diligence as the Captain of the Guarde could not finde him. The king and the Queene councelled together what they might doe with this poore damsell, whiche was their kinswoman, and by the Queene’s aduise it was concluded, that she should be sent home to her father, with the true aduertisement of the whole matter. But before she was sent, diuerse Diuines and learned men of the Clergie, were demaunded their opinions of the priuat mariage, and the Counsell also did sit vpon the same, who concluded that for so muche as the mariage was not celebrated but by wordes, it might easely be vndone, vntill one of them had acquited the other. Which the king commaunded to be performed for the honor of the house wherof she came. But she made them aunswere, that in all thinges she was redie to obey the king, except it were in matter against her conscience, sayinge, that those whome God had coupled together by heauenly aduise, could not bee separated by man’s decree, praying them not to attempt a thing sovnreasonable: for if loue and good will founded vpon the feare of God, were the true and sure knot of mariage, then she was so wel bounde and tied, as neither iron, fier, or water coulde breake that band, but death alone. Wherunto, and to none other constitution, she was determined to rendre her ring and othe, praying them not to speake, do, or proceede, to any thing that were contrarie vnto that: wherin she was so stedfastly resolued, as she had rather die by keping her faith, then liue to denie the same. The Commissioners retorned to the king and Queene the constant answere of the Gentlewoman, and when they sawe no remedie could be found to make her renounce her husband, they conueyed her home to her father, in such pitifull sorte, as by the way she passed, eche man and woman lamented her fortune. And albeit shee had offended, yet the punishement and affliction she suffred was so great and her constancie so firmely bent, as she made her fault to be estemed a vertue. The father receiuing those pitifull newes, would not see her, but sent her to his castell that stoode in a forest, which he had before time builded for an occasion, worthy to be rehersed hereafter, and there kept her in prison a long time, sending worde vnto her, that if shee would forsake her husband, he would take her for his doughter, and set her at libertie. Who for all that offer was firme and constant, and loued her prison the better by obseruing the bond of mariage, then al the libertie of the world, without the hauing of her husband. And it semed by her countenaunce, that al the paynes she had indured were most pleasaunt pastimes, for that she suffred the same for his sake, whome she loued best. What should I speake of men? This Bastarde at length became vnmindeful of her, and fled into Alemaine, where he had many frendes. Whose inconstancie afterwardes appeared so manifest, as the vertue of true and perfit loue outwardly seming to remain in him, was conuerted into the vice of odible ingratitude, whereby it was euident, that the causes that made him so hotte a Suter, were the vglie monsters of Auarice and Ambition, where he fill in loue with an Almaine Ladie, he forgetting to visite her with letters, that for his sake had susteined so great and manifold tribulations. For what rigor or affliction soeuer Fortune offred, coulde neuer before that tyme putawaye the meanes from writing one to an other, but onely the vices before named, and the foolish and wicked loue wherin he suffred him selfe to fall. Which sudden and newe loue so perced the hart of Rolandine, and so fiercely assailed the same, as she could no more content and rest her self. Afterwards vpon the viewe of his wrytinges and letters, seing him to be so chaunged and altered from his accustomed stile, what tormentes then she suffred, they doe knowe that haue felte and tasted the bitter cup of like passions. And yet her perfecte loue would not suffer her to fixe certaine iudgement vpon this aduertisement, and therefore deuised secretly to sende one of her seruaunts whome shee trusted best, to espie, and priuely make serche whether the same were true or not. Whiche her seruaunt being retourned, hee truely tolde her, howe the Bastarde Gentleman was in loue with a Ladie of Almaine, and howe the brute was that he made great sute vnto her for mariage, because shee was very ritche. These newes brought sutche extreme sorrowe and grief to the harte of poore Rolandine, as being not able to abide the bruntes thereof, she fill very sicke. Those whiche vnderstode the originall of her disease, sayde vnto her (in the behalfe of her father) that for so muche as nowe she knewe the great villanie of the Bastarde, shee might iustly forsake hym: persuading her thereunto with the greatest reasons they could deuise. But for all those persuasions, no remedie could be founde to make her chaunge opinion: in whiche her laste tentacion shee declared the great constancie wherewith she was affected: for like as loue was decreased in him: so the same augmented in her, whiche remained and persisted in despite of all the malice of the worlde. For that loue, whiche fayled, and was fledde from him, tourned and retired into her. And when she perceiued her selfe alone fully possessed with that whiche before was deuided betwene them bothe, shee determined to obserue the same vntill death had made an ende of her fatall dayes. Wherefore the goodnes of God (which is perfect charitie and true loue) had pitie vpon her sorrowe, and regarded her pacience in such wise, as within few daies after the Bastarde died in the pursute of the other ladie’s Loue. Wherof Rolandine beingdauertisedby those which saw him buried, prayed them to trauellwith her father by humble sute, that he would vouchsafe to giue her leaue to speake vnto him. Who at their request, (although he neuer spake vnto her before, during the tyme of her imprisonment) incontinently was pleased so to doe. And after that he had herde the discourse of her iuste reasons, in place of rebukes, and his promise made to kill her (which many times he threatened by woordes) he cleped her betweene his armes, and bitterly weping, sayde vnto her: “Daughter, I wel perceiue your vertue and constant mynde, which farre surmounteth any thing that is good in mee, for if there be any faulte or lacke of consideration of your estate, I am the principal occasion thereof: but sith the goodnes of God hath thus ordeined it, I wil make satisfaction for mine offence past.” And afterwardes he sent her home to his house, where he vsed and interteigned her like his derest and eldest daughter. In the ende she was demaunded in mariage by a Gentleman of name and armes, to her estate and bloud not inferior. Who was bothe wise and vertuous, and so louingly regarded Rolandine (whome he many times visited) as he attributed vnto her the prise of prayse for that, which others accompted worthy of rebuke, knowing that her intent of former loue was grounded vpon the foundation of vertue. The mariage was well liked of her father, was acceptable to Rolandine, and was forthwith concluded. True it is that a brother she had, the only inheritour of her father’s landes, who would not agree that she should receiue her childe’s porcion, obiecting that she had disobeied her father. And after the death of the good old man (her father) her brother vsed her very rigorously and cruelly. For her husbande was but a yonger brother, and had wherewithal scarce able to liue: for which want, God bountifully prouided: for the brother whose gredie minde did craue in one daie to be possessor of al, by sodain death was depriued, as well of his sister’s porcion as of al the rest. By whose death she remained the whole inheritor of that honorable house: and afterwardes liued an honorable and stately life, in great wealth and pleasure, and was welbeloued and duetifully intreated of her husband. Finally hauing by her husband two goodly sonnes, she very vertuously brought them vp, and finishing her aged dayes, she ioyfully rendred her soule vnto him,in whom of long time she had reposed her onely trust and confidence. Now good ladies let them come forth that be the common displaiers of women’s inconstancie, and let them bring forth in presence, so good and perfect a husband as this was a good and constant woman, indued with semblable faith and vertue. I am sure to bring this to passe the matter wilbe very difficult: and therfore I had rather discharge them of this my chalenge, then put them to payne to trauell and seeke for such a one. Whose vertuous loue and godlye continuance of the same, is worthye to bee sounded by Trompe of fame to the extreame partes of the Earth. And yet I would aduise yonge Ladies and gentlewomen to beware how they be inamoured, and pursue the trade of loue, contrarie to the will of parentes, who ought in time of infancie to be their guide, and also in riper yeares to procure them mariage according to their worthines: which they may the better and soner do, is by vertuous education they arme and instruct their tender and youthly age.

The Wisedome of a woman to withdrawe the foolishe loue of her husband, wherwith he was tormented.

Manyyeares are not yet expired sithens there was a Gentlewoman of noble house (whose name I may not disclose), so wise and vertuous as shee was wel beloued and esteemed of her neighbours: her husband (not without good cause) trusted her in al his affaires, which she ordred and gouerned so wisely, as her house by her meanes grew to be one of the richest and best apparelled, that was in the countrie wherein she dwelled. Liuing thus a long time with her husbande, by whom shee had many goodly children, their happie state and felicitie (after which daily insue their contraries) began to decaie, because that he, defatigated with to much quiet, abandoned restfull life, to seeke after troublesom trauell: and had gotten a custome when his wife was a sleepe to rise from her side, and not to returne vntill it was very nere morning. The gentlewoman misliking this maner of life, became very ielous of her husband, and yet made as though she mistrusted nothing: but that spitefull passion entred her stomacke so farre, as in thende shee forgot thaffayres of her house, the diligence of her person, and good gouernment of her familie, like vnto one that verely supposed that (do what shee could) she had lost the fruite of her paine and labour, which was the great loue of her husband, for continuance whereof shee spared no trauaile or toile: but losinge altogether as shee manifestly perceiued, shee grew to be so carelesse of her housholde state and houswiferie, as speedelie appeared the fruites of slouth and negligence: for her husband for his part spent without order, and she staied her trauell from matters of houshold: in such wise as the same was growen to so great penurie, as the high and stately woodes were felled downe to the stubbe, and the goodly maners deliuered into the handes of sir Mathewe Morgage. One of the gentlewoman’s frendes and kinsemen which knew her disease, tolde her of her fault, and rebuked her for that carelesse life: sayinge, that if loueof husband could not make her to haue respecte of housholde profite: zeale and regarde of poore children’s state ought to moue her thereunto. This good councell of her frende touched her very nere, and the pitie of her children at lengthe made her to recouer her spirits, and to assaie by all meanes possible to wynne againe her husbande’s loue. See here the nature of honestie, and condicion of well disposed life: this gentlewoman was infected with the plague of Ielousie (an ordinarie disease in women,) and not without iust cause: for what Grisilde could suffre her wedded husband, assembled in bedde, in depthe of slepe, to rise and runne a straie like a wylde horse, neying after the straied female kinde of that sorte? This good Gentlewoman, I saye, almoste besides her wittes for alienation of her deserued loue, now growen careles of worldly thinges, as you haue heard, is vpon the louing admonicion of her nerest frend, pricked with naturall regarde of Infantes: launching forth that festred sore of Ialousie, serched meanes by policie to wynne that which Ialousie could not get, whiche was her husbande’s loue, whom with curteouse wiuely shame not before assemblie of neighbours, or straungers audience, by huy and crye as many doe, but in domesticall boundes, within the compas of housholde, and within the circuit of secret chambre, shee made him blushe from former life, and to deteste all filthie and beastly factes in future time. Suche be the frutes of a right matrone’s life. Suche be the gaines of the milde and quiet wife. Such a wife, I say, is the honor of her husband’s name, the onely vpholder and restoratife of his renowme and fame. But turne we againe to the experienced wisedome of this Gentlewoman. The next day she diligently watched by false slepe, the time of his vprising from her: and when he was gone, shee rose likewyse, putting her night gowne about her, causing the bedde to bee made, and saying her prayers, she waited the retourne of her husband, who being retired into his chambre, she came before him to kisse hym, and brought him a basen with water to washe his handes: and musing at the vnaccustomed order of his wife, he tolde her that he was come but from the priuie, and therfore neded not to washe. Whereunto she answered, that although it were no great matter, yet cleanly and honest, to washe the handes, being comefrom an vncleane and stinking place, by which wordes she was desirous to let him vnderstande his follie thereby to hate his dishonest and filthie life. But for all that wyse and pretie taunte hee amended nothing at all: Howbeit she continued that ordre the space of one yere. And when she sawe, that her diligence could not reforme his vsuall trade of lyfe, on a tyme wayting for her husband, which taried longer then he was wont to doe, shee was desirous to seeke hym out, and went from chamber to chamber, till at lengthe shee founde hym a bedde in a back chambre and a sleepe with the moste ill fauoured, foule and filthiest Slutte of her house, such a homely pece and durty beaste, as the lyke was not to be founde in a countrie. The gentlewoman beholding this manerly sight, thought to teache him a lesson howe to remembre the difference betwene the sweete and pleasaunt lodging, with a fayre and duetifull wife, and the vncleanly couching with a stinking and lothsome Queane. Wherupon she caused a burden of Strawe and worne rushes to be brought vnto her, setting the same on fier in the middes of the chamber, but when she sawe her husband almoste choked with the great smother, she waked hym, and plucked him out of the bed by the armes, crying: “fier, fier.” If the husbande were ashamed, and offended with him selfe to be founde in a bedde with such an vncleanly matche, by his faire and honest wife, I referre the iudgement to all indifferent men, that be coupled with like wiues. Then his wyfe said vnto him: “Sir I haue assaied the space of one whole yeare, to withdrawe you from this vile and wicked life, by gentlenes and pacience, and shewed example by washing you without, that you might also clense your selfe within. But when I sawe myne endeuour could take no place, I attempted to helpe my selfe with the element that shall ende and consume vs all: assuring you, sir, that if this doe not amende you, I cannot tell if the seconde time, I be able likewise to ridde you from the daunger that may happen. I praye you sir to thinke and consider that there is no greater dispayre or dispite, then that whiche is conceiued of loue: and had I not set before mine eyes the feare of God, I could not haue practised suche pacience, as I haue done.” The husband very glad, that he had escaped that misfortune, promised her neuer to geue occasion,that shee should take like payne to bring him to order. Whiche promise the Gentlewoman very willingly beleued, and with her husbande’s consent, she expelled out of her house, that which did displease her moste: and from that time forth, they louingly liued together, and the former faultes of this reformed life, was an increase of ioyful and mutuall delightes. I beseche you Gentlewomen (if there be any in the place where this nouell is redde) if God doe geue you such husbandes to beware of dispaire, vntill ye haue assayed all possible meanes to reduce them to good ordre. For there be in the dayeXXIIII.houres, in euery of whiche houres a man may chaunge opinion: and a woman ought to accompt her selfe moste happie, if by pacience and long suffraunce she wynne her husbande, excepte fortune and frendes haue procured one that is alreadie perfecte. This example therefore maye serue al sortes of maried women. Let her take example that list (quod Dame Partelot) for it is impossible for me to vse suche long pacience. But let Dame Partelot speake her pleasure, I would aduise all husbandes to lyue honestly with their honest wiues, and doe praie to God to plant mo sutch wiues to store the barren worlde that neuer or seldome bryngeth forth such increase.

The notable charitie of a woman of Tours towards her husbande.

Anotherhystorie of like example I thincke meete to bee annexed: which telleth howe in the Cittie of Tours in Fraunce, there was a fayre and honest wyfe which for her vertues was not onelye beloued, but also feared and esteemed of her husband. So it was that he followinge the fragilitie of those men, which be wearie of delicate fare, fill in loue with a woman of the Countrye that kepte his house there, and many times departed from Tours to visite his countrie woman, where he commonlye tariedII.orIII.dayes before his retorne: and when he came home againe to Tours, he ordinarely did take cold, whereof his good wife had much to do to recouer him. And so sone as he was hole, hee failed not to returne to the place, where pleasure made him forget all his former griefe and sicknes. His wife which aboue all thinges loued his life and tendred his health, seinge him commonly broughte into so poore estate, went into the Countrye, where she founde out the yong woman that her husband loued. Vnto whom (not in choler but with smilinge cheere and countenaunce) shee sayd: “How she knew well that oftentimes her husband repaired thither to visite her, and that she was not well content that she vsed him no more carefully, for when he came home from her he toke so great cold as long time after she had much a doe to recouer him.” The poore woman as wel for the reuerence of the Dame, as for the trouth of the matter, could not denie the facte, and therefore fallinge downe vppon her knees, asked her forgiuenes. The maistresse required to see the bedde and chamber, where her husband laie, which she perceiued to be so cold, ill fauoured, and out of order, as she pitied and lamented the case: wherefore incontinently she sent for a good bedde furnished with sheetes, blanquets and Couerlet, accordingly as she knew her husband loued, causing the chamber to be repaired, hanged, and dressed vp, after the best maner: she gaue her also plate and vessell to serue her husband at meales, together with a punchion of wyne, spice, and otherconfections: and then prayed the woman to sende home her husbande, no more so sicke, but to interteigne and cherishe him after the most delicate and carefull maner she could. The husband taried not long at home, but after his olde custome wente againe into the countrie to visit his woman, and marueiled much to finde her poore lodging so trimlye garnished, but much more he wondred when calling for drincke he sawe her to bringe him a siluer potte, asking her where she had gotten all those goodes. The poore woman sayde vnto him weeping, that it was his wife, which hauing so great pitie vppon his ill intreatie, had furnished her house, and had committed vnto her the charge and regard of his health. Hee seing the greate humilitie and goodnes of his wyfe, and that shee for the vnkindnes he shewed vnto her, had requited him with that curtesie and louing kindnes, well pondering and regarding his owne frailtie, and the honeste demeanor of his wyfe, afterwards rewarded the poore woman with money, and perswaded her from that time foorth to liue an honest life. And then returned home to his wyfe, confessing vnto her the negligence of his dutie, and that excepte she had vsed that kinde of curtesie and goodnes towards him, it had bin impossible for him to forsake and giue ouer his vngodlye life: and afterwardes vtterly abandoning his behauiour past, they liued together in great rest and quietnes. Belieue me if ye list (to you good wiues I speake) that there be verye few ill husbands, whom the pacience and loue of the wyfe, is able at lengthe to winne, or els they be more harde then stones, which the soft and feble water by continuance of time, is able to weare and make holow: for when the wiue’s lenitie shall enter his carelesse stomacke, and her pacient suffraunce renew remembraunce of dutie, then doth conscience bite, and gnaw the cancred cord that tyeth vp the good consideracion of his office, and regarde to maried life: then doth age abhorre the lewdnes of former life, and commeth home to cherish the holsome Nourice of his pleasant state. Then regardeth he the bande wherewith matrimonie hath bound him, and both at bedde and borde obserueth the ful perfections of the same.

The simplicitie of an olde woman, that offered a burning candle to S. Iohn of Lions.

Inthe Church of S. Iohn at Lions, there was a very darke Chappell, and within the same a Tombe made of stone, erected for great personages, with pictures liuely wroughte, and about the same Tombe there doe lie manye worthie knightes of great fame and valiaunce. Vpon a hote Sommer’s daye, a souldiour walking vp and downe the Church had great delight to sleape, and beholding that darcke chappell which was colde and fresh of ayre, thoughte to reste vpon the Tombe as other did, besides whom he layde him downe to sleepe. It chaunced that a good old woman very deuoute, came thether when the souldior was in the depth of his sleepe. And after shee had sayd her deuocions, wyth a wax candle in her hande, she would haue fastened the same vpon the Tombe, and repayring nere the place where the souldiour lay, desirous to sticke it vppon his forehead, thinking it had been the stone, the waxe would take no hold. The old woman, which thought the cause that her candle would not cleaue was the coldnesse of the Image, she warmed the souldior’s forehead with the flame of the candle, to sticke it faste. But the Image which was not insensible, beganne to cry oute, whereat the poore woman was so afraide, as like one straught of her wittes, she brake into exclamacion crying: “A miracle! A miracle!” They within the Church hearing an outcry of a miracle, ranne in heapes as though they had been madde, some to ring the belles, and some to see the miracle: whom the good woman broughte to see the Image, which then was remoued: whereat many began to laughe. But diuers priestes not willing so to give ouer so great a Miracle, determined afterwards to vse that tombe in reuerence, therby to get money.

A Doctor of the Lawes boughte a cup, who by the subtiltie of two false varlets, lost both his money and the cuppe.

Toconclude our nomber of Nouels, I haue thought good (gentle reader) to bringe in place a Doctour and his wyfe, to giue thee a merye farewell: because thou haste hitherto so frendly and pacientlye suffred thy selfe to be stayed in reading of the reste: wherefore with a pleasaunt Adieu in a short and merie tale, which discloseth the subtiltie of two false knaues to beguile a poore Doctor and his wyfe, I meane to end. And therfore do saye, that in the Citie of Bologna in Italie, there was a worshipful Doctor of the Lawes, called Maister Florien, which in other thinges sauing his profession was but a slouen, and of so ill behauiour as none of his facultie the like: who by sauing of many crustes, had layed vp so good store of Crownes, as he caused to be made a very great and costly Cup of siluer, for payment of which Cup he went to the Goldsmithe’s house, and hauinge payed for the siluer, the guilt, and for the fashion, being without his Clarke to carie it home, he prayed the Goldsmith to lend him his man. By chaunce there were newly come to the Citie, two yonge men that were Romaynes, which ranged vp and downe the streates with eares vpright, to view and marke euery thinge done in the same, bearing about them counterfait Iewels and lingots, guilt of S. Martine’s touche, to deceiue him that would playe the foole to buy them. One of them was called Liello and the other Dietiquo. These two Marchantes being at good leasure to wander the streates, beholding the passangers to and fro, by fortune espied the Goldsmithe’s man, who (to set forth the workemanship and making of the cup) caried the same open. These gallants bearing a spite to the cup, more for the siluer than for other malice, purposed to inuent some sleight to get the Cuppe, and a farre of with slie pase, followed the Goldsmithe’s man, of whom they craftelie inquired of the owner of the Cup, and where hee had left maister Florien. When they had concluded vppon their enterprise, Liello (the finest boye ofthem both) went straight to buy a Lamprey of great price, and hiding the same vnder his cloake, repayred directly to Maister Doctour’s house, where finding his wife of semblable wit and behauiour that her husband was, with vnshamefast face and like grace, said vnto her: “Maistresse, Maister Florien your husbande hath sent you a fishe, and prayeth you to dresse it and to make dinner readie, because he bringeth a company of other Doctoures with him: in the meane time he requireth you, to retorne vnto him the Cuppe againe, whiche hee sent you this morning by the Goldsmithe’s man, because he had forgotten to stampe his armes vppon it.” The woman receyuinge the fishe, franckly deliuered him the Cup, and went about to prepare dinner. Liello (which hunted after gaine but better caught his prey) hied him a pace and conueyed himselfe with speede to the house of one of his Countriemen, and there reioyced with his companion, attending for the comming of the Royster Dietiquo, who taried in the Towne, wayting and viewing what pursute was made after his fellowe. Sone after maister Florien retourned to his house and finding his dinner more delicate than it was wont to be, marueyled, and asked his wyfe who was at all that coste. His wyfe very scornefully aunswered: “Why sir, haue you forgotten that you sente me word this morning that you woulde bring home with you diuers Gentlemen to dinner?” “What” (quoth the Doctour) “I thincke you be a foole.” “I am not” (sayd shee) “and for better witnesse you sent mee this fishe, that I would you had been better aduised before you had bestowed such coste.” “I assure thee:” quoth hee, “I sent thee no fishe, but belike it was some folishe knaue that had forgotten his arrant and mistaken the house: but howsoeuer it was wyse, we at this time will be content to fare well, at other mennes charge.” “Why sir (sayd his wyfe) call your selfe to better remembraunce, for hee that brought the Lampry, came to me for your Cup, by this token that you would haue your armes engrauen vppon the same.” At those words the poore Doctour, after he had discharged three or foure Canons laden with haile shot of scolding words wente out into the streate, running hither and thither demaunding of al them he met, if they saw none carrie a Lampry home to his house. And you would haue said if youhad seen the Doctour wyth his hode hanging at one side, that he had been out of his wittes. Dietiquo stode still in a corner, and beheld the Doctour’s frantike order, and albeit that he was sure the stealinge of the Cuppe by Liello his companion was impossible to be knowen, yet being sorye that the Lampry cost so much, determined also to play his part, and seinge the doctour stayed from making further complaintes and pursute, he went home to the Doctour’s house, where smiling with a good grace and bould countenaunce saide vnto his wyfe: “Maistresse Doctour, good newes, the Cup is founde, one whom you know caused the same to be done in sport to bring your husband Maister Florien in a choler, who now is amonges diuers of his frendes iesting at the pleasuant deceipt, and hath sent me hither to fetch their dinner, wherein they praye you to remember the Lamprey, and to come your selfe to take part of the same, bicause they purpose to be mery.” The woman ioyful of those newes, began some what to complaine of the griefe which she had taken for losse of the cup, and deliuered to Dietiquo the rosted Lamprey with the sause, betwene two platters who incontinently hid the same vnder his cloke, and wyth so much speede as he could, went to seeke out his companion Lielo, and their countrimen, which all that while had taried for him: and God knoweth whether those good fellowes did laugh and mocke the poore Doctour, and his wife or not, and when she had made herself gay and trimme to go eate part of the Lamprey, as she was going out she met Maister Florien lookinge lowringlie vppon the matter, to whom she said (smiling like a frumenty pot) “How now, sir, come they hither to dinner? I haue sent you that Lamprey ready dressed.” Then Maister Doctor after faire talke, beganne to discharge his double Cannons, callinge his wyfe Whore, bitch, and beaste, and vnderstandinge that he was twice begiled and could not tell by whom, for spite and despayre he tare of his beard, and the heare of his head, which bruted and knowen in the Citie, the Iesters and pleasaunt felowes bent themselues to laugh, and deuise pastime at the poore begiled Doctour and his wyfe.

Back to IndexNext