The death with trenchant dart, doth brede in brest sutch il,As I cannot forget the smart, that thereby riseth stil.Yet neerthelesse I am, the ill it selfe in deede,That death with daily dolours deepe, within my breast doth breede.I am my Mistresse thrall, and yet I doe not kno,If she beare me good will at all, or if she loue or no.My wound is made so large, with bitter wo in brest,That still my heart prepares a place to lodge a carefull guest.O dame that hath my lyfe and death at thy desire.Come ease my mind, wher fancies flames doth burne like Ethna fire,For wanting thee my life is death and doleful cheere,And finding fauor in thy sight, my dayes are happy heere.Then he began to sigh so terribly, as if already she had geuen sentence, and difinitiue Iudgement of his farewell, and disputed with his fellow in sutch sort, and wyth Opinion so assured of hys contempt, as if he had bene in loue with some one of the Infants of Spayne: for which cause he began very pitifully to sing these verses.That God that made my soule, and knows what I haue felt,Who causeth sighes and sorows oft, the sely soule to swelt,Doth see my torments now, and what I suffer still,And vnderstands I tast mo griefs, than I can shew by skill.Hee doth consent I wot, to my ill hap and woe,And hath accorded with the dame that is my pleasaunt foe,To make my boyling brest abound in bitter blisse,And so bereue me of my rest, when heart his hope shall misse.O what are not the songs, and sighs that louers haue,When night and day with sweete desires, they draw vnto their graue,Their grief by frendship growes, where ruth nor pity raynes,And so like snow against the Sun, they melt away with pains.My dayes must finish so, my destny hath it set,And as the candle out I goe, before hir grace I get.Before my sute be heard, my seruice throughly knowne,I shalbe layd in Toumbe ful low, so colde as Marble stone.To thee fayre Dame I cry, that makes my senses arre,And plantest peace within my brest and then makes sodain war:Yet at thy pleasure still, thou must my sowre make sweete,In graunting me the fauour due, for faythfull Louers meete.Which fauor geue me now, and to thy Noble mynde,I doe remayne a Galley slaue, as thou by proofe shall finde.And so thou shalt release my heart from cruell bandes,And haue his fredome at thy wil that yelds into thy handes.So rendring all to thee, the gods may ioyne vs bothWithin one lawe and league of loue, through force of constant troth.Then shalt thou mistresse be, of lyfe, of Limme and all,My goods, my golde, and honour, loe! shall so be at thy call.Thys gentle order of loue greatly pleased the Lady, and therefore opened hir gate to let the Scicilian lorde, who seeing hymselfe fauoured (beyond all hope) of his Lady, and cheerefully intertayned, and welcommed with great curtesie stoode so still astonnied, as if hee had beene fallen from the Cloudes: but she which coulde teache hym good manner, to make hym the minister of hir myschiefe, takynge hym by the hande, made hym sit downe vpon a greene Bed besydes hir, and seeing that he was not yet imboldened, for all hee was a Souldiour, shee shewed hir selfe more hardy than hee, and firste assayled hym wyth talke, sayinge: “Syr, I praye you thinke it not straunge, if at thys houre of the nyght, I am bolde to cause you enter my house, beinge of no great acquayntaunce wyth you, but by hearinge your curteous salutations: and wee of thys Countrey bee somewhat more at liberty than they in those partes from whence you come: besides it lyketh mee well (as I am able) to honour straunge gentlemen, and to retayne theym with right good willinge heart, sith it pleaseth theym to honour mee wyth repayre vnto my house: so shall you be welcome styll when you please to knocke at my Gate, whych at all tymes I wyll to be opened for you, wyth no lesse good wyll than if yee were my naturall Brother, the same wyth all the thinges therein, it may please you to dispose as if they were your own.” Dom Pietro of Cardonne well satisfied, and contented wyth thys vnlooked for kyndnesse, thanked her very Curteously, humbly praying hir besides to dayne it in good parte, if he were so bolde to make requeste of loue, and that it was the onelye thynge which hee aboue all other desyred moste, so that if shee would receiue him for hir friende and Seruaunt, shee shoulde vnderstande him to be a Gentleman, which lightly woulde promise nothing excepte the accomplishment did followe: she that sawe a greater onset than she loked for, answered hym smilyng with a very good grace:“Sir, I haue knowne very many that haue vouched slipperie promyses, and proffered lordly seruices vnto Ladies, the effect wherof if I myght once see, I would not thinke that they coulde vanishe so soone, and consume like smoake.” “Madame” (sayde the Scicilian) “yf I fayle in any thing which you commaunde mee, I praye to God neuer to receiue any fauor or grace of those Curtesies whych I craue.” “If then” (quod shee) “you wyl promise to employ your selfe aboute a businesse that I haue to do when I make request, I wyll also to accept you for a friende, and graunt sutch secrecie as a faithful louer can desyre of his Lady.” Dom Pietro which would have offred hym selfe in Sacrifice for hir, not knowyng hir demaunde, tooke an othe, and promysed hir so lyghtly as madly afterwardes he did put the same in proofe. Beholde the preparatiues of the obsequies of their first loue, and the guages of a bloudie Bed: the one was prodigall of hir honoure, the other the tormente of his reputation, and neglected the duety and honor of his state, which the house wherof he came, commaunded hym to kepe. Thus all the nyght he remained with Bianca Maria, who made him so wel to like hir good entertaynment and imbracementes, as he neuer was out of her Company. And the warie Circes fayned her self so fare in loue wyth hym, and vsed so many toyes and gametricks of her filthy science, as he not onelye esteemed hym selfe the happiest Gentleman of Scicilia, but the most fortunate wight of all the Worlde, and by bibbing of hir Wyne was so straungely charmed with the Pleasures of his fayre Mystresse, as for hir sake he would haue taken vpon him the whole ouerthrowe of Milan, so well as Blose of Cumes to sette the Cittye of Rome on fire, if Tyberius Gracchus the sedicious, woulde haue giuen it him in charge. Sutch is the manner of wilde and foolish youth, whych suffreth it selfe to be caried beyonde the boundes of reason. The same in time past did ouerthrow many Realmes, and caused the chaunge of diuers Monarchies: and truely vnseemely it is for a man to be subdued to the will of a common strumpet. And as it is vncomly to submit him selfe to sutch one, so not requisite to an honest and vertuous Dame, his maried Wyfe. Which vnmanly deedes, be occasions that diuers Foolishe Women commit sutch filthy factes, withtheir inspekable trumperies begiling the simple man, and perchance through to mutch losing the Bridle raynes to the lawfull Wyfe, the poore man is strangely deceyued by some adulterous varlet, whych at the Wyue’s commaundment, when she seeth oportunity, wil not shrinke to hazarde the honour of them both, in sutch wise as they serue for an example vppon a common Scaffold to a whole generation and Posterity. I wyll not seeke farre of for examples, being satisfied with the folly of the Bastard Cardonne, to please the cruelty and malice of that infernall fury the Countesse, who hauinge lulled, flattered, and bewitched with hir louetricks (and peraduenture with some charmed drinke) her new Pigeon, seeinge it time to solicite his promise, to be reuenged of those, whych thought no more of hir conspiracies and trayterous deuises, and also when the time was come for punishinge of hir whoredome, and chastising of the breach of fayth made to hir husbande, and of hir intended murders, and some of them put in execution, she I say, desirous to see the ende of that, which in thought she had contryued, vppon a day tooke Dom Pietro aside, and secretly began this Oration: “I take God to witnes (sir) that the request which I pretend presently to make, proceedeth of desire rather that the Worlde may know how iustly I seeke meanes to mayntayne myne honour, than for desire of reuenge, knowinge very well, that there is nothing so precious, and deere vnto a woman, as the preseruation of that inestimable Iewell, specially in a Lady of that honourable degre whych I mayntayne amonge the best. And to the intent I seeme not tedious with prolixity of words, or vse other than direct circumstances before him that hath offred iust reuenge for the wrongs I haue receyued: knowe you sir, that for a certain tyme I continued at Pauie, kepynge a house and Trayne so honest, as the best Lords were contented wyth myne ordinarye. It chaunced that two honest Gentlemen of Noble House haunted my Palace in lyke sort, and with the same intertainment whych as you see, I doe receiue ech Gentleman, who beyng well intreated and honoured of me, in the ende forgat themselues so farre, as without respect of my state and callinge, wythout regard of the race and family wherof they come, haue attempted the slaunder of my good name, and vtter subuersion of myrenoume: and sufficient it was not for them thus to deale with mee poore Gentlewoman, without desert (excepte it were for admyttyng them to haue accesse vnto my house) but also to continue their Blasphemies, to myne extreame reproach and shame: and howe true the same is, they that know me can well declare, by reason whereof, the vulgar people prone and ready to wycked reportes, haue conceiued sutch opynion of me, as for that they see me braue and fine in Apparell, and specyally throughe the slaunderous speache of those gallantes, do deeme and repute me for a common Whoore, wherof I craue none other wytnesse than your selfe and my conscience. And I sweare vnto you, that sith I came to Milan, it is you alone that hath vanquished, and made the Triumphe of my Chastytye: and yf you were absent from this Citye, I assure you on my fayth that I would not tarry heereXXIIII.houres. These infamous ruffians I say, these persecuters and termagantes of my good name, haue chased mee out of all good Cityes, and made me to be abhorred of ech honest company, that weary I am of my lyfe, and lothe to lyue any longer except spedye redresse bee had for reuengement of thys wronge: wherefore except I finde some Noble Champion and Valyaunte Personage to requyte these Vyllains for their spitefull Speach blased on me in euerye Corner of Towne and Countreye, and to paye them theyr rewarde and hire that I may lyue at Lybertye and quyet, Sorrowe wyll eyther consume mee or myne owne handes shall hasten spedye Death.” And in speakyng those Woordes, shee beganne to weepe with sutch abundance of teares streaming downe hir Cheekes and Necke of Alabaster hewe, as the Scicilian whych almost had none other God but the Countesse, sayd vnto hir: “And what is he, that dare molest and slaunder hir that hath in hir puissaunce so many Souldiers and men of Warre? I make a vow to God, that if I know the names of those two arrant villaynes, the which haue so defamed my Mystresse name, the whole worlde shall not saue their liues, whose carrion Bodies I will hew into so many gobbets, as they haue members vpon the same: wherefore Madame” (sayd he, imbracing her) “I pray you to grieue your selfe no more, commit your wronges to me, only tell me the names of those Gallaunts, and afterwards you shall vnderstandewhat difference I make of woorde and deede, and if I doe not trimme and dresse theym so finely, as hereafter they shall haue no neede of Barber, neuer trust me any more.” Shee, as reuiued from death to lyfe, kyssed and embraced him a thousand tymes, thankinge hym for his good will, and offering him all that she had. In the ende she tolde him that hir enimies were the counties of Massino and Gaiazzo, which but by theyr deaths alone were not able to amend and repayre hir honour. “Care not you” (sayde hee) “for before that the Sunne shall spreade his Beames twice 24 houres vpon the earth, you shall heare newes, and know what I am able to do for the chastisement of those deuils.” As he promised, hee fayled not to do: for wythin a whyle after as Ardizzino was goinge to supper into the Citty, he was espyed by hym, that had in company attendaunt vppon hym fyue and twenty men of Armes, which waited for Ardizzino, in a Lane on the left hand of the Streate called Merauegli, leading towards the church of Sainct Iames, through which the Countee must needes passe. Who as he was going very pleasantly disposed with his brother, and 5 or 6 of his men, was immediately assayled on euery side, and not knowinge what it ment, would haue fled, but the Wayes, and Passages were stopped rounde aboute: to defende himselfe it auayled not hauing but their single Swords, and amid the troupe of sutch a bande that were throughly armed, which in a moment had murdred, and cut in peeces all that company. And although it was late, yet the Countie Ardizzino many times named Dom Pietro, which caused hym to be taken, and imprisoned by the Duke of Bourbon, that was fled out of Fraunce, and then was Lieutenaunt for the Emperour Charles the fifth in Milan. Whosoeuer was astonned and amazed with that Imprisonment, it is to bee thoughte that the Scicilan was not greatly at his ease and quiet, who needed no torments to force him confesse the fact, for of his owne accorde voluntarily he dysclosed the same, but he sayde he was prouoked thervnto by the persuasion of Bianca Maria telling the whole discourse as you haue heard before. She had already intelligence of this chaunce, and might haue fled and saued hir selfe before the fact (by the confession of Dom Pietro) had ben discouered, and attended in some secrete place till that stormietime had bene calmed and appeased. But God which is a rightfull iudge woulde not suffer hir wickednesse stretch any further, sith she hauing found out sutch a nimble and wilful executioner, the Countee of Gaiazzo could not long haue remained aliue, who then in good time and happy houre was absent out of the City. So soone as Dom Pietro had accused the Countesse, the Lord of Bourbon sente her to pryson, and being examined, confessed the whole matter, trustinge that hir infinite numbre of Crownes woulde haue corrupted the Duke, or those that represented his person. But hir Crownes and Lyfe passed all one way. For the day after hir imprisonment shee was condempned to lose hir heade: and in the meane time Dom Pietro was saued, by the diligence and suite of the Captaynes, and was employed in other Warres, to whom the Duke gaue him, for that he was lothe to lose so notable a Souldiour, the very right hand of his Brother the Countee of Colisano. The Countesse hauing sentence pronounced vppon hir, but trusting for pardon, would not prepare hir selfe to dy, ne yet by any meanes craue forgiuenes of hir faults at the hands of God, vntil she was conueyed out of the Castell, and ledde to the common place of execution, where a Scaffolde was prepared for hir to play the last Acte of thys Tragedy. Then the miserable Lady began to know hirselfe, and to confesse hir faults before the people, deuoutly praying God, not to haue regard to hir demerites, ne yet to determine his wrath agaynst hir, or enter with hir in iudgement, for so mutch as if the same were decreed accordinge to hir iniquity, no saluation was to be looked for. She besought the people to pray for hir, and the countee of Gaiazzo that was absent, to pardon hir malice, and treason which she had deuised agaynst him. Thus miserably and repentantly dyed the Countesse, which in hir lyfe refused not to imbrace and follow any wickednes, no mischiefe shee accompted euill done, so the same were imployed for hir pleasure and pastime. A goodly example truely for the youth of our present time, sith the most part indifferently do launch into the gulfe of disordred lyfe, suffring themselues to bee plunged in the puddles of their owne vayne conceiptes, without consideration of the mischieues that may ensue. If the Lord of Cardonne had not bene beloued of his generall, into what calamity had he fallen foryeldinge himselfe a pray to that bloudy Woman who had more regarde to the light, and wilfull fansie of hir, whom he serued like a slaue, than to his duety and estimation? And truely all sutch be voyde of their right wits, which thincke themselues beloued of a Whoore. For their amity endureth no longer than they sucke from their pursses and bodies any profit or pleasure. And because almost euery day semblable examples be seene, I will leaue of this discourse, to take me to a matter, not farre more pleasaunt than this, although founded vpon better grounde, and stablished upon loue, the first onset of lawfull mariage, the successe whereof chaunced to murderous ende, and yet the same intended by neyther of the beloued: as you shall be iudge by the continuance of reading of the history ensuing. Beare with me good Ladyes (for of you alone I craue this pardon) for introducing the Whoorish lyfe of the Countesse, and hir bloudy enterprise: bicause I know right wel, that recitall of murders, and bloudy facts wearieth the mindes of those that loue to lyue at rest, and wish for fayre weather after the troublesome stormes of raging Seas, no lesse than the Pilote and wise Mariner, hauing long time endured and cut the perillous straicts of the Ocean Sea. And albeit the corruption of our nature be so great, as follies delighte vs more than ernest matters fraught wyth reason and wisedome, yet I thinke not that our mindes be so peruerted and diuided from trouth, but sometimes wee care and seeke to speake more grauely than the countrey Hynde, or more soberly than they, whose lyues do beare the marke of infamy, and be to euery wight notorious for the onely name of their vocation. Suffiseth vs that an Hystory, be it neuer so full of sporte and pleasure, do bring with it instruction of our lyfe, and amendement of our maners. And wee ought not to be so curious or scrupulous, to reiect merry and pleasant deuises that be voide of harmeful talke, or wythout sutch glee as may hynder the education of Youth procliue, and ready to choose that is corrupt, and naught. The very bookes of holy scriptures doe describe vnto vs persons that bee vicious, and so detestable as nothing more, whose factes vnto the simple may seeme vnseemely, vpon the least recitall of the same. And shall wee therefore reiect the readinge, and eschue those holy bookes? God forbid, but with diligence tobeware, that we do not resemble those that be remembred there for example, forsomutch as speedely after sinne, ensueth grieuous, and as sodayne punishment. For which cause I haue selected these Historyes, of purpose to aduertise Youth, how they that follow the way of damnable iniquity, fayle not shortly after their great offences, and execution of their outragious vices, to feele the iust and mighty hand of God, who guerdoneth the good for their good works and deedes, and rewardeth the euil for their wickednes and mischiefe. Now turne we then to the Hystory of two, the rarest Louers that euer were, the performaunce, and finishinge whereof, had it bene so prosperous as the beginning, they had ioyed ioyfully the Fruicts of their intent, and two noble houses of one City reconciled to perpetuall frendship.THE TWENTY-FIFTH NOUELL.The goodly Hystory of the true, and constant Loue between Rhomeo and Ivlietta, the one of whom died of Poyson, and the other of sorrow, and heuinesse: wherein be comprysed many aduentures of Loue, and other deuises touchinge the same.
The death with trenchant dart, doth brede in brest sutch il,As I cannot forget the smart, that thereby riseth stil.Yet neerthelesse I am, the ill it selfe in deede,That death with daily dolours deepe, within my breast doth breede.I am my Mistresse thrall, and yet I doe not kno,If she beare me good will at all, or if she loue or no.My wound is made so large, with bitter wo in brest,That still my heart prepares a place to lodge a carefull guest.O dame that hath my lyfe and death at thy desire.Come ease my mind, wher fancies flames doth burne like Ethna fire,For wanting thee my life is death and doleful cheere,And finding fauor in thy sight, my dayes are happy heere.
The death with trenchant dart, doth brede in brest sutch il,
As I cannot forget the smart, that thereby riseth stil.
Yet neerthelesse I am, the ill it selfe in deede,
That death with daily dolours deepe, within my breast doth breede.
I am my Mistresse thrall, and yet I doe not kno,
If she beare me good will at all, or if she loue or no.
My wound is made so large, with bitter wo in brest,
That still my heart prepares a place to lodge a carefull guest.
O dame that hath my lyfe and death at thy desire.
Come ease my mind, wher fancies flames doth burne like Ethna fire,
For wanting thee my life is death and doleful cheere,
And finding fauor in thy sight, my dayes are happy heere.
Then he began to sigh so terribly, as if already she had geuen sentence, and difinitiue Iudgement of his farewell, and disputed with his fellow in sutch sort, and wyth Opinion so assured of hys contempt, as if he had bene in loue with some one of the Infants of Spayne: for which cause he began very pitifully to sing these verses.
That God that made my soule, and knows what I haue felt,Who causeth sighes and sorows oft, the sely soule to swelt,Doth see my torments now, and what I suffer still,And vnderstands I tast mo griefs, than I can shew by skill.Hee doth consent I wot, to my ill hap and woe,And hath accorded with the dame that is my pleasaunt foe,To make my boyling brest abound in bitter blisse,And so bereue me of my rest, when heart his hope shall misse.O what are not the songs, and sighs that louers haue,When night and day with sweete desires, they draw vnto their graue,Their grief by frendship growes, where ruth nor pity raynes,And so like snow against the Sun, they melt away with pains.My dayes must finish so, my destny hath it set,And as the candle out I goe, before hir grace I get.Before my sute be heard, my seruice throughly knowne,I shalbe layd in Toumbe ful low, so colde as Marble stone.To thee fayre Dame I cry, that makes my senses arre,And plantest peace within my brest and then makes sodain war:Yet at thy pleasure still, thou must my sowre make sweete,In graunting me the fauour due, for faythfull Louers meete.Which fauor geue me now, and to thy Noble mynde,I doe remayne a Galley slaue, as thou by proofe shall finde.And so thou shalt release my heart from cruell bandes,And haue his fredome at thy wil that yelds into thy handes.So rendring all to thee, the gods may ioyne vs bothWithin one lawe and league of loue, through force of constant troth.Then shalt thou mistresse be, of lyfe, of Limme and all,My goods, my golde, and honour, loe! shall so be at thy call.
That God that made my soule, and knows what I haue felt,
Who causeth sighes and sorows oft, the sely soule to swelt,
Doth see my torments now, and what I suffer still,
And vnderstands I tast mo griefs, than I can shew by skill.
Hee doth consent I wot, to my ill hap and woe,
And hath accorded with the dame that is my pleasaunt foe,
To make my boyling brest abound in bitter blisse,
And so bereue me of my rest, when heart his hope shall misse.
O what are not the songs, and sighs that louers haue,
When night and day with sweete desires, they draw vnto their graue,
Their grief by frendship growes, where ruth nor pity raynes,
And so like snow against the Sun, they melt away with pains.
My dayes must finish so, my destny hath it set,
And as the candle out I goe, before hir grace I get.
Before my sute be heard, my seruice throughly knowne,
I shalbe layd in Toumbe ful low, so colde as Marble stone.
To thee fayre Dame I cry, that makes my senses arre,
And plantest peace within my brest and then makes sodain war:
Yet at thy pleasure still, thou must my sowre make sweete,
In graunting me the fauour due, for faythfull Louers meete.
Which fauor geue me now, and to thy Noble mynde,
I doe remayne a Galley slaue, as thou by proofe shall finde.
And so thou shalt release my heart from cruell bandes,
And haue his fredome at thy wil that yelds into thy handes.
So rendring all to thee, the gods may ioyne vs both
Within one lawe and league of loue, through force of constant troth.
Then shalt thou mistresse be, of lyfe, of Limme and all,
My goods, my golde, and honour, loe! shall so be at thy call.
Thys gentle order of loue greatly pleased the Lady, and therefore opened hir gate to let the Scicilian lorde, who seeing hymselfe fauoured (beyond all hope) of his Lady, and cheerefully intertayned, and welcommed with great curtesie stoode so still astonnied, as if hee had beene fallen from the Cloudes: but she which coulde teache hym good manner, to make hym the minister of hir myschiefe, takynge hym by the hande, made hym sit downe vpon a greene Bed besydes hir, and seeing that he was not yet imboldened, for all hee was a Souldiour, shee shewed hir selfe more hardy than hee, and firste assayled hym wyth talke, sayinge: “Syr, I praye you thinke it not straunge, if at thys houre of the nyght, I am bolde to cause you enter my house, beinge of no great acquayntaunce wyth you, but by hearinge your curteous salutations: and wee of thys Countrey bee somewhat more at liberty than they in those partes from whence you come: besides it lyketh mee well (as I am able) to honour straunge gentlemen, and to retayne theym with right good willinge heart, sith it pleaseth theym to honour mee wyth repayre vnto my house: so shall you be welcome styll when you please to knocke at my Gate, whych at all tymes I wyll to be opened for you, wyth no lesse good wyll than if yee were my naturall Brother, the same wyth all the thinges therein, it may please you to dispose as if they were your own.” Dom Pietro of Cardonne well satisfied, and contented wyth thys vnlooked for kyndnesse, thanked her very Curteously, humbly praying hir besides to dayne it in good parte, if he were so bolde to make requeste of loue, and that it was the onelye thynge which hee aboue all other desyred moste, so that if shee would receiue him for hir friende and Seruaunt, shee shoulde vnderstande him to be a Gentleman, which lightly woulde promise nothing excepte the accomplishment did followe: she that sawe a greater onset than she loked for, answered hym smilyng with a very good grace:“Sir, I haue knowne very many that haue vouched slipperie promyses, and proffered lordly seruices vnto Ladies, the effect wherof if I myght once see, I would not thinke that they coulde vanishe so soone, and consume like smoake.” “Madame” (sayde the Scicilian) “yf I fayle in any thing which you commaunde mee, I praye to God neuer to receiue any fauor or grace of those Curtesies whych I craue.” “If then” (quod shee) “you wyl promise to employ your selfe aboute a businesse that I haue to do when I make request, I wyll also to accept you for a friende, and graunt sutch secrecie as a faithful louer can desyre of his Lady.” Dom Pietro which would have offred hym selfe in Sacrifice for hir, not knowyng hir demaunde, tooke an othe, and promysed hir so lyghtly as madly afterwardes he did put the same in proofe. Beholde the preparatiues of the obsequies of their first loue, and the guages of a bloudie Bed: the one was prodigall of hir honoure, the other the tormente of his reputation, and neglected the duety and honor of his state, which the house wherof he came, commaunded hym to kepe. Thus all the nyght he remained with Bianca Maria, who made him so wel to like hir good entertaynment and imbracementes, as he neuer was out of her Company. And the warie Circes fayned her self so fare in loue wyth hym, and vsed so many toyes and gametricks of her filthy science, as he not onelye esteemed hym selfe the happiest Gentleman of Scicilia, but the most fortunate wight of all the Worlde, and by bibbing of hir Wyne was so straungely charmed with the Pleasures of his fayre Mystresse, as for hir sake he would haue taken vpon him the whole ouerthrowe of Milan, so well as Blose of Cumes to sette the Cittye of Rome on fire, if Tyberius Gracchus the sedicious, woulde haue giuen it him in charge. Sutch is the manner of wilde and foolish youth, whych suffreth it selfe to be caried beyonde the boundes of reason. The same in time past did ouerthrow many Realmes, and caused the chaunge of diuers Monarchies: and truely vnseemely it is for a man to be subdued to the will of a common strumpet. And as it is vncomly to submit him selfe to sutch one, so not requisite to an honest and vertuous Dame, his maried Wyfe. Which vnmanly deedes, be occasions that diuers Foolishe Women commit sutch filthy factes, withtheir inspekable trumperies begiling the simple man, and perchance through to mutch losing the Bridle raynes to the lawfull Wyfe, the poore man is strangely deceyued by some adulterous varlet, whych at the Wyue’s commaundment, when she seeth oportunity, wil not shrinke to hazarde the honour of them both, in sutch wise as they serue for an example vppon a common Scaffold to a whole generation and Posterity. I wyll not seeke farre of for examples, being satisfied with the folly of the Bastard Cardonne, to please the cruelty and malice of that infernall fury the Countesse, who hauinge lulled, flattered, and bewitched with hir louetricks (and peraduenture with some charmed drinke) her new Pigeon, seeinge it time to solicite his promise, to be reuenged of those, whych thought no more of hir conspiracies and trayterous deuises, and also when the time was come for punishinge of hir whoredome, and chastising of the breach of fayth made to hir husbande, and of hir intended murders, and some of them put in execution, she I say, desirous to see the ende of that, which in thought she had contryued, vppon a day tooke Dom Pietro aside, and secretly began this Oration: “I take God to witnes (sir) that the request which I pretend presently to make, proceedeth of desire rather that the Worlde may know how iustly I seeke meanes to mayntayne myne honour, than for desire of reuenge, knowinge very well, that there is nothing so precious, and deere vnto a woman, as the preseruation of that inestimable Iewell, specially in a Lady of that honourable degre whych I mayntayne amonge the best. And to the intent I seeme not tedious with prolixity of words, or vse other than direct circumstances before him that hath offred iust reuenge for the wrongs I haue receyued: knowe you sir, that for a certain tyme I continued at Pauie, kepynge a house and Trayne so honest, as the best Lords were contented wyth myne ordinarye. It chaunced that two honest Gentlemen of Noble House haunted my Palace in lyke sort, and with the same intertainment whych as you see, I doe receiue ech Gentleman, who beyng well intreated and honoured of me, in the ende forgat themselues so farre, as without respect of my state and callinge, wythout regard of the race and family wherof they come, haue attempted the slaunder of my good name, and vtter subuersion of myrenoume: and sufficient it was not for them thus to deale with mee poore Gentlewoman, without desert (excepte it were for admyttyng them to haue accesse vnto my house) but also to continue their Blasphemies, to myne extreame reproach and shame: and howe true the same is, they that know me can well declare, by reason whereof, the vulgar people prone and ready to wycked reportes, haue conceiued sutch opynion of me, as for that they see me braue and fine in Apparell, and specyally throughe the slaunderous speache of those gallantes, do deeme and repute me for a common Whoore, wherof I craue none other wytnesse than your selfe and my conscience. And I sweare vnto you, that sith I came to Milan, it is you alone that hath vanquished, and made the Triumphe of my Chastytye: and yf you were absent from this Citye, I assure you on my fayth that I would not tarry heereXXIIII.houres. These infamous ruffians I say, these persecuters and termagantes of my good name, haue chased mee out of all good Cityes, and made me to be abhorred of ech honest company, that weary I am of my lyfe, and lothe to lyue any longer except spedye redresse bee had for reuengement of thys wronge: wherefore except I finde some Noble Champion and Valyaunte Personage to requyte these Vyllains for their spitefull Speach blased on me in euerye Corner of Towne and Countreye, and to paye them theyr rewarde and hire that I may lyue at Lybertye and quyet, Sorrowe wyll eyther consume mee or myne owne handes shall hasten spedye Death.” And in speakyng those Woordes, shee beganne to weepe with sutch abundance of teares streaming downe hir Cheekes and Necke of Alabaster hewe, as the Scicilian whych almost had none other God but the Countesse, sayd vnto hir: “And what is he, that dare molest and slaunder hir that hath in hir puissaunce so many Souldiers and men of Warre? I make a vow to God, that if I know the names of those two arrant villaynes, the which haue so defamed my Mystresse name, the whole worlde shall not saue their liues, whose carrion Bodies I will hew into so many gobbets, as they haue members vpon the same: wherefore Madame” (sayd he, imbracing her) “I pray you to grieue your selfe no more, commit your wronges to me, only tell me the names of those Gallaunts, and afterwards you shall vnderstandewhat difference I make of woorde and deede, and if I doe not trimme and dresse theym so finely, as hereafter they shall haue no neede of Barber, neuer trust me any more.” Shee, as reuiued from death to lyfe, kyssed and embraced him a thousand tymes, thankinge hym for his good will, and offering him all that she had. In the ende she tolde him that hir enimies were the counties of Massino and Gaiazzo, which but by theyr deaths alone were not able to amend and repayre hir honour. “Care not you” (sayde hee) “for before that the Sunne shall spreade his Beames twice 24 houres vpon the earth, you shall heare newes, and know what I am able to do for the chastisement of those deuils.” As he promised, hee fayled not to do: for wythin a whyle after as Ardizzino was goinge to supper into the Citty, he was espyed by hym, that had in company attendaunt vppon hym fyue and twenty men of Armes, which waited for Ardizzino, in a Lane on the left hand of the Streate called Merauegli, leading towards the church of Sainct Iames, through which the Countee must needes passe. Who as he was going very pleasantly disposed with his brother, and 5 or 6 of his men, was immediately assayled on euery side, and not knowinge what it ment, would haue fled, but the Wayes, and Passages were stopped rounde aboute: to defende himselfe it auayled not hauing but their single Swords, and amid the troupe of sutch a bande that were throughly armed, which in a moment had murdred, and cut in peeces all that company. And although it was late, yet the Countie Ardizzino many times named Dom Pietro, which caused hym to be taken, and imprisoned by the Duke of Bourbon, that was fled out of Fraunce, and then was Lieutenaunt for the Emperour Charles the fifth in Milan. Whosoeuer was astonned and amazed with that Imprisonment, it is to bee thoughte that the Scicilan was not greatly at his ease and quiet, who needed no torments to force him confesse the fact, for of his owne accorde voluntarily he dysclosed the same, but he sayde he was prouoked thervnto by the persuasion of Bianca Maria telling the whole discourse as you haue heard before. She had already intelligence of this chaunce, and might haue fled and saued hir selfe before the fact (by the confession of Dom Pietro) had ben discouered, and attended in some secrete place till that stormietime had bene calmed and appeased. But God which is a rightfull iudge woulde not suffer hir wickednesse stretch any further, sith she hauing found out sutch a nimble and wilful executioner, the Countee of Gaiazzo could not long haue remained aliue, who then in good time and happy houre was absent out of the City. So soone as Dom Pietro had accused the Countesse, the Lord of Bourbon sente her to pryson, and being examined, confessed the whole matter, trustinge that hir infinite numbre of Crownes woulde haue corrupted the Duke, or those that represented his person. But hir Crownes and Lyfe passed all one way. For the day after hir imprisonment shee was condempned to lose hir heade: and in the meane time Dom Pietro was saued, by the diligence and suite of the Captaynes, and was employed in other Warres, to whom the Duke gaue him, for that he was lothe to lose so notable a Souldiour, the very right hand of his Brother the Countee of Colisano. The Countesse hauing sentence pronounced vppon hir, but trusting for pardon, would not prepare hir selfe to dy, ne yet by any meanes craue forgiuenes of hir faults at the hands of God, vntil she was conueyed out of the Castell, and ledde to the common place of execution, where a Scaffolde was prepared for hir to play the last Acte of thys Tragedy. Then the miserable Lady began to know hirselfe, and to confesse hir faults before the people, deuoutly praying God, not to haue regard to hir demerites, ne yet to determine his wrath agaynst hir, or enter with hir in iudgement, for so mutch as if the same were decreed accordinge to hir iniquity, no saluation was to be looked for. She besought the people to pray for hir, and the countee of Gaiazzo that was absent, to pardon hir malice, and treason which she had deuised agaynst him. Thus miserably and repentantly dyed the Countesse, which in hir lyfe refused not to imbrace and follow any wickednes, no mischiefe shee accompted euill done, so the same were imployed for hir pleasure and pastime. A goodly example truely for the youth of our present time, sith the most part indifferently do launch into the gulfe of disordred lyfe, suffring themselues to bee plunged in the puddles of their owne vayne conceiptes, without consideration of the mischieues that may ensue. If the Lord of Cardonne had not bene beloued of his generall, into what calamity had he fallen foryeldinge himselfe a pray to that bloudy Woman who had more regarde to the light, and wilfull fansie of hir, whom he serued like a slaue, than to his duety and estimation? And truely all sutch be voyde of their right wits, which thincke themselues beloued of a Whoore. For their amity endureth no longer than they sucke from their pursses and bodies any profit or pleasure. And because almost euery day semblable examples be seene, I will leaue of this discourse, to take me to a matter, not farre more pleasaunt than this, although founded vpon better grounde, and stablished upon loue, the first onset of lawfull mariage, the successe whereof chaunced to murderous ende, and yet the same intended by neyther of the beloued: as you shall be iudge by the continuance of reading of the history ensuing. Beare with me good Ladyes (for of you alone I craue this pardon) for introducing the Whoorish lyfe of the Countesse, and hir bloudy enterprise: bicause I know right wel, that recitall of murders, and bloudy facts wearieth the mindes of those that loue to lyue at rest, and wish for fayre weather after the troublesome stormes of raging Seas, no lesse than the Pilote and wise Mariner, hauing long time endured and cut the perillous straicts of the Ocean Sea. And albeit the corruption of our nature be so great, as follies delighte vs more than ernest matters fraught wyth reason and wisedome, yet I thinke not that our mindes be so peruerted and diuided from trouth, but sometimes wee care and seeke to speake more grauely than the countrey Hynde, or more soberly than they, whose lyues do beare the marke of infamy, and be to euery wight notorious for the onely name of their vocation. Suffiseth vs that an Hystory, be it neuer so full of sporte and pleasure, do bring with it instruction of our lyfe, and amendement of our maners. And wee ought not to be so curious or scrupulous, to reiect merry and pleasant deuises that be voide of harmeful talke, or wythout sutch glee as may hynder the education of Youth procliue, and ready to choose that is corrupt, and naught. The very bookes of holy scriptures doe describe vnto vs persons that bee vicious, and so detestable as nothing more, whose factes vnto the simple may seeme vnseemely, vpon the least recitall of the same. And shall wee therefore reiect the readinge, and eschue those holy bookes? God forbid, but with diligence tobeware, that we do not resemble those that be remembred there for example, forsomutch as speedely after sinne, ensueth grieuous, and as sodayne punishment. For which cause I haue selected these Historyes, of purpose to aduertise Youth, how they that follow the way of damnable iniquity, fayle not shortly after their great offences, and execution of their outragious vices, to feele the iust and mighty hand of God, who guerdoneth the good for their good works and deedes, and rewardeth the euil for their wickednes and mischiefe. Now turne we then to the Hystory of two, the rarest Louers that euer were, the performaunce, and finishinge whereof, had it bene so prosperous as the beginning, they had ioyed ioyfully the Fruicts of their intent, and two noble houses of one City reconciled to perpetuall frendship.
The goodly Hystory of the true, and constant Loue between Rhomeo and Ivlietta, the one of whom died of Poyson, and the other of sorrow, and heuinesse: wherein be comprysed many aduentures of Loue, and other deuises touchinge the same.