THE TWENTY-SEVENTH NOUELL.

THE TWENTY-SEVENTH NOUELL.The Lorde of Virle, by the commaundement of a fayre younge Wydow called Zilia, for hys promise made, the better to attaine hir loue, was contented to remayne dumbe the space of three yeares, and by what meanes he was reuenged, and obtayned hys suite.Theythat haue spent their youth in humayne follies, and haue followed the Vanities of loue, not addicted to the contemplation of high secrets, nor haue made entry here on Earth, to inlarge and amplyfy the boundes of their honor and Estimation. Those Worldlings (I say) and embracers of transitory pleasures, shall witnesse with me, and confirme, this olde and auncient Theme and proposition to be true which is: that the Beauty, and comely grace of a Woman, is the very true and naturall adamant (for the attractiue power, and agreeable quality there inclosed,) to draw vnto it the hearts, and affections of men: which hath made man beleue, that the same onely essence, was sent downe from aboue to serue both for ioy and torment together. For the amplyfyinge of which proposition, I will not bring forth, the immoderate loue of Paris by forsaking his owne Natiue country of Troy, to visite fayre Helena in Greece, nor yet tell how Hercules gaue ouer his mace to handle the Distaffe, vpon the commaundement of Omphale, nor yet how Sampson and Salomon were sotted in the slaueries of Dalida and other concubines. But my discourse here folowing shall ring out a loud Peale, of a meane Gentlewoman, of Piedmount, that shewed no fauor or Curtesy at all to her suppliant, a Gentleman not inferior to Paris for his actiuity and prowesse: which for her seruice and atchyeues of her loue, refused not to bee dombe the space of many yeares, and to giue ouer the best porcion of his sences wherewith the Almighty, made Man differente from brute and sauage Beastes. If this thing declare not sufficiently the force and power of that attractiue and drawing power in woman, no other example is worthy to be preferred. Those aforesayd and many other haue voluntarily yoaked themselues in the chains of loue’s obedience, rendreth the masse oftheir mirye corps to the slauery thereof, but that any haue franckely tyed vp their Tongue, the chiefest Instrument of the bodies furniture: in honorable assembly or where dexterity of seruice shoulde make him glorious, the like of that subiection was neuer seene or founde. And yet our fathers dayes did see this miracle wrought by a Woman, vpon a Gentleman very wise, and well trained vp in all good exercyse. This example, and what this Malapert Dame did gaine, by the penance of this louing knight, shal in this discourse be manifestly pronounced. The City of Thurin (as is well knowne to them that haue trauelled Piedmont) is the ornament and bulwark of al the Countrey, so well for the natural site of the place, as for the artificial and industrious worke of man’s hande, which hath instaured and furnished with great magnificence, that which nature had indifferently enryched, for the rudenesse and litle knowledg of the time past. Now besides this stately and strong city, there standeth a litle towne named Montcall, a place no lesse strong, and of good defence, than wel planted in a faire and rich soyle. In this Towne there dwelt a Gentlewoman a widow called Zilia, beautiful amongs the most excellent fayre Gentlewomen of the countrey, which country (besides other happy and heauenly influences) seemeth to be specially fauored, for hauing the most fairest and curteous Gentlewomen, aboue any other within the compasse of Europa. Notwithstanding this faire Silia, degenerating from the nature of hir climate was so haggard and cruel, as it might haue ben thought, she had ben rather nourished and brought vp amid the most desert mountaines of Sauoy, than in the pleasant and rich Champian Countreye, watred and moystened with Eridanus, the father of Riuers, at this Day called the Pau, the largenesse whereof doth make men to maruel, and the fertility allureth ech man to be desirous to inhabit vpon the same. This fayre rebellious Widow, albeit, that she was not aboueXXIV.orXXV.yeres of age, yet protested neuer more to be subiect to man, by mariage, or otherwise, thinking her selfe wel able to liue in single life: a Minde truly very holy and commendable, if the pricks of the flesh do obey the first motions and adhortations of the spirit, but where youth, pleasure, and multitude of suters do addresse their endeuouragainst that chastity (which is lightly enterprysed) the Apostels counsel oughte to be followed, who willeth yong widows to marry in Christ, to auoid the temptations of the flesh, and to flye offensiue slaunder and dishonour before men. This mistresse Zilia (hir husband being dead) only bent hir selfe to enrich hir house, and to amplify the possession of a little infant which she had by hir late departed Husband. After whose death she became so couetous, as hauing remoued, and almost cut of quite the wonted port she vsed in hir husband’s dayes, imployed hir maids in houshold affaires, thinking nothing to be wel don that passed not through hir owne Handes. A thinge truely more prayse worthy, than to see a sorte of effeminate, fine and daynty fyngred Dames, that thinke their honor diminished yf they holde but their Nose ouer theyr Housholde Matters, where theyr Hande and Dylygence were more requisite, for so mutch as the mystresse of a House is not placed the Cheyfe to heare onely the reasons of them that Labor, but thereunto to put hir hands, for hir presente eye seemeth to giue a certyn perfection to the worke that the Seruauntes doe by hir commaundement. Which caused the Hystoryans in tymes past, to describe vnto the Posterity a Gentlewoman called Lucretia, not babbling amongs young girles, or running to feastes and Maigames, or Masking in the night, withoute any regard of the honor and dygnitye of hir race and house, but in hir Chaumber Sowing, Spinning and Carding, amids the Troup of hir Mayden Seruaunts: wherein our mistresse Zilia passed the moste part of hir time, spending no minute of the day, without some honest exercise, for that she the rather did for that she liked not to be seene at Feasts, or Bankets, or to be gadding vp and downe the streetes, wandring to Gardeyns or places of pleasure, although to sutch places youth sometimes may haue their honest repayre to refresh their wearied bodies with vertuous recreation, and thereby reioyce the heauinesse of their mynde. But this Gentlewoman was so seuere in following the rigorous, and constrayned maners of our auncients, as impossible it was, to see hir abroade: except it were when she went to the Church to heare deuine seruice. This Gentlewoman seemed to haue studied the diuinity of the Ægyptians which paynt Venus holding a key before hir mouth, and settinghir Fote vpon a Tortus, signifying vnto us thereby the duety of a chaste Woman, whose tongue ought to bee locked, that shee speak not but in tyme and place, and her feete not straying or wandering, but to keepe hir selfe within the limits of hir owne house, except it be to serue God, and sometimes to render bounden duety to them which brought them into light. Moreouer Zilia was so religious (I will not say superstitious) and rigorous to obserue customes, as she made it very squeimish and straung to kisse a Gentleman that met hir, a ciuility which of long time hath bene obserued, and yet remayneth in the greatest parte of the Worlde, that Gentlewomen do welcome straungers and Guests into their houses with an honest and chaste kisse. Notwithstandinge the institution and profession of this Wyddow had wiped away this poyncte of hir youth: whether it were for that she esteemed hirselfe so fayre as all men were vnworthy to touch the vtter partes of so rare and pretious a vessell, or that hir great, and inimitable chastity made hir so straunge, to refuse that which hir duety and honour woulde haue permitted hir to graunt. There chaunced about this time that a Gentleman of the Countrey, called Sir Philiberto of Virle, esteemed to be one of the most valiaunt gentlemen in those parts, repayred vpon an holy day to Montcall, (whose house was not very farre of the Towne) and being at diuine seruice, in place of occupying his Sence and Mynde in heauenly things, and attending the holy words of a Preacher, which that day declared the worde of God vnto the people, hee gaue himselfe to contemplate the excellent beauty of Zilia, who had put of for a while hir mourninge vayle, that she might the better beholde the good father that preached, and receyue a little ayre, because the day was extreme hot. The Gentleman at the first blushe, when hee sawe that sweete temptation before his eyes, thought himselfe rapt aboue the thirde heauen, and not able to withdraw his looke, he fed himselfe with the Venome which by little, and little, so seased vpon the soundest parts of hys mynde, as afterwards being rooted in heart, he was in daunger still to remayne there for a Guage, wythout any hope of ease or comforte, as more amply this followinge discourse, shall giue you to vnderstande. Thus all the morning hee behelde the Gentlewoman, who made no moreaccoumpt of theym, that wyth great admiration did behold hir, than they themselues did of their life, by committing the same to the handes of a Woman so cruell. This Gentleman being come home to his lodging enquired what fayre Wyddow that was, of what calling, and behauiour, but hee heard tell of more truely than he would of good will haue known or desired to haue ben in hir, whom he did presently chose to be the only mistresse of his most secret thoughts. Now vnderstandynge well the stubburne Nature, and vnciuile Manner of that Wyddowe, hee coulde not tell what parte to take, nor to what Sainct to vow his Deuotion, to make suite vnto hir hee thought it tyme lost, to bee hir Seruaunt, it was not in his power, hauing already inguaged his Lyberty into the handes of that beauty, whych once holding captiue the hearte of men, will not infraunchise them so soone as Thought and Wyll desire. Wherefore baytinge hymself with hope, and tickled wyth loue, he determined whatsoeuer chaunced, to loue hir, and to assay if by long seruice he could lenifie that harde hearte, and make tender that vnpliaunt wyll, to haue pitty vppon the payne which shee saw him to endure, and to recompence hys laboursome Trauayles, which hee thought were vertuously imployed for gayning of hir good grace. And vpon this settled deliberation, he retired agayne to Virle (so was his house named) where disposinge hys thinges in order, he retorned agayne to Montcall to make his long resiaunce there, to put in readines his furniture, and to welde his artillary with sutch industry, as in the ende he might make a reasonable breach to force and take the place: for surprising whereof, hee hazarded great daungers, the rather that himselfe might first be taken. And where his assaults and pollicies could not preuayle, hee minded to content his Fancy wyth the pleasure and pastyme that hee was to receyue in the contemplation of a thing so fayre, and of an image so excellent. The memory of whom rather increased his paine than yelded comfort, did rather minister corrosiue poyson, than giue remedy of ease, a cause of more cruell and sodayne death, than of prolonged lyfe. Philiberto then being become a citizen of Montcal, vsed to frequent the Church more than hee was wont to doe, or his deuotion serued hym, and that bycause he was not able elsewhere to enioythe presence of hys Saynct, but in places and Temples of Deuotion: which no doubt was a very holy and worthy Disposition, but yet not meete or requisite to obserue sutch holy places for those intentes, which ought not to bee prophaned in things so fonde and foolishe, and Actes so contrary to the Institution, and mynde of those, whych in tymes past were the firste Founders and Erectoures of Temples. Seignior Philiberto then mooued wyth that Religious Superstition, made no Conscience at al to speake vnto hir wythin the Church. And true it is, when she went out of the same, he (mooued wyth a certayne familiar curtesie, naturall to eche Gentleman of good bringing vp) many tymes conducted hir home to hir house, not able for all that (what so euer hee sayd) to win the thing that was able to ingender any little solace, which greeued him very much: for the cruell woman fained as though she vnderstoode nothing of that he sayde, and turnyng the Wayne agaynst the Oxen, by contrary talke shee began to tell hym a tale of a Tubbe, of matters of hir Householde, whereunto hee gaue so good heede, as shee did to the hearing of his complaynts. Thus these two, of diuers Affections, and mooued wyth contrary thoughtes, spake one to another, without apt aunswere to eyther’s talke. Whereby the Gentleman conceyued an assured argument of hys Ruine, who voyde of all hope, and meanes, practised with certayne Dames of the Citty, that had familiar accesse vnto hyr house, and vsed frequent conuersation wyth hys rebellious Lady Zilia. To one of them, then hee determined to communicate hys secrets, and to doe hir to vnderstand in deede the only cause that made him to soiorne at Montcall, and the griefe which he suffered, for that he was not able to discouer his torment vnto hir, that had giuen him the wounde. Thys Gentleman therefore, repayred to one of his neyghbours, a Woman of good corage, which at other tymes had experimented what meates they feede on that sit at Venus Table, and what bitternesse is intermingled amid those drinckes that Cupido quaffeth vnto hys Guestes. Vnto whom (hauing before coniured hir to keepe close that whych hee woulde declare) he discouered the secrets of hys mynde, expressinge hys loue wythout naming hys Lady before he heard the aunswere of hys Neyghbour, who vnderstanding almost to what purpose theaffections of the Pacient were directed, sayd vnto hym: “Sir, needful it is not to vse longe orations, the loue that I beare you for the honest qualities whych hytherto I haue knowne to be in you, shall make me to keepe silent, that whereof as yet I do not know the matter, and the assuraunce you haue, not to bee abused by mee, constrayneth me to warrant you, that I wyll not spare to do you all the pleasure and honest seruice I can.” “Ah mistresse,” (aunswered sir Philiberto) “so long as I lyue, I will not fayle to acknowledge the Liberality of your endeuour by offeringe your selfe paciently to heare, and secretly, to keepe the Words I speake accordingly as they deserue: and that (whych is more than I require) you doe assure me that I shall finde sutch one of you as wil not spare to gieue your ayde. Alas, I resemble the good and wyse Captayne, who to take a forte doeth not only ayde himselfe with the forwardnesse, and valiaunce of his Souldiers, but to spare them, and to auoyde slaughter for makinge of way, planteth his cannon, and battereth the Walle of the fort, which hee would assaile, to the intent that both the Souldier, and the ordinaunce may perfourme and suffise the perfection of the plat, which hee hath framed and deuised within his pollitike heade. I haue already encouraged my souldiers, and haue lost the better part truely in the skirmish which hath deliuered vnto mee my sweete cruell Ennimy. Now I am driuen to make ready the fire, which resteth in the kindled match of your conceiptes, to batter the fort hitherto inexpugnable, for any assault that I can make.” “I vnderstand not” (sayd she smilyng) “these labyrynths of your complaynts, except you speake more playn. I neuer haunted the Warres, ne knewe what thynge it is to handle weapons, improper and not seemely for myne estate and kynde.” “The Warre” (quod he)“whereof I speake, is so naturall and common, as I doubt not, but you haue sometymes assayed, with what sleightes and camisados men vse to surpryse their enimies, howe they plant their ambushes, and what meanes both the assaylant and defendant ought to vse.” “So far as I see” (sayd shee) “there resteth nothing for vs, but the assurance of the field, sith wee bee ready to enter in combat: and doe thinke that the fort shall not bee harde to winne, by reason of the Walles, dikes, rampers, bulwarks,platformes, counterforts, curtines, vamewres and engins which you haue prepared, besides a numbre of false brayes and flanks, placed in good order, and the whole defended from the thundringe Cannons and Bombardes, which do amaze the wandring enemy in the field. But I pray you leauing these warlike Tumults, to speak more boldly without these extrauagantes and digressions, for I take pitye to see you thus troubled: ready to exceede the boundes of your modesty and wonted wysedome.” “Do not maruell at all mistresse” (quod he) “sith accordynge to new occurrentes and alterations, the purpose, talke, and counsel ordinarily do change I am become the seruaunt of one which maketh me altogither lyke vnto those that bee madde, and bound in Chaines, not able to speake or say any thing, but what the spyrites that be in them, do force them to vtter. For neither will I thynke, or speake any thing, but that which the Enchaunter Loue doth commaunde and suffer to expresse, who so rygorously doth vexe my hearte, as in place wher bouldenesse is most requysite, hee depriueth me of force, and leaueth mee without any Countenance. And being alone, God knoweth how frankly I doe wander in the place, where myne enemy may commaunde, and with what hardinesse I do inuade hir prouince. Alas, is it not pity then to see these diuersities in one selfe matter, and vpon one very thing? Truely I would endure wyllingly all these trauailes, if I wyst in the end, my seruice woulde be accepted, and hoped that my Martirdome shoulde fynde releefe: but liuing in this vncertainty, I must needes norysh the hunger and solace of the vnhappy, which are wishes and vaine hopes, trusting that some God wyll gayne me a faythful friend that will assaye to rid me from the hell, into the which I am throwne, or else to shorten thys Miserable lyfe, whych is a hundred tymes more paynfull than Death.” In sayinge so, he began to sighe so straungely as a man would haue thought that two Smithes sledges working at the forge, had gyuen two blowes at his stomake, so vehement was the inclosed winde within his heart, that made him to fetche forth those terrible sighes, the Eyes not forgetting to yeld forth a Riuer of Teares, which gushynge forthe at the centre of hys Hearte, mounted into his Braynes, at lengthe to make issue through the Spoute, proper to the Chanellof sutch a Fountayne. Which the Gentlewoman seyng, moued with compassion, coulde not contain also from Weepyng, and therewythall sayde vnto him: “Although mine estate and reputation, which to this day I have kept vnspotted, defend the vse of my good wyl in al things that may defame mine honor, yet sir, seing the extremity which you suffer to be vnfained, I wil somwhat stretch my conscience, and assay to succor you with so good heart, as frankely you trust me with the secrets of your thought. It resteth then now for me to know what she is, to whome your deuocions be inclined whose heart and mind I wil so relief with the taste of your good wil, as I dare giue warrant, her appetit shal accept your profred seruice, and truly that woman may count her self happy that shal intertain the offer of a gentleman that is so honest and curteous, who meaneth with al fidelity to aduance and honor, not onely the superficial ornament of hir beauty, but the inward vertues of hir constant mind. And truly the earth seldom yeldeth those frutes in the harts of men in these our barren days, they being ouer growen with the shrubbes of disloialty the same choke vp the plantes of true Fidelity, the sedes whereof are sowen and replanted in the soyle of womens hartes, who not able to depart and vse the force and effects thereof will put vpon them conditions that bee cruell, to punish the Foolysh indiscreation of tryfling Louers, who disguised with the vizard of fained friendship, and paynted with coloured Amity, languishing in sighes and sorrowes, goe aboute to assay to deceiue the flexible Nature of them that prodigally employ theyr honor into the hands of sutch cruel, inconstante and foolysh suters.” “Ah Mistresse” answered the Gentleman: “howe may I bee able to recompence that onely benefite which you promyse me now? But be sure that you see heere a Souldier and Gentleman presente which shall no lesse bee prodigall of hys Lyfe to doe you seruyce, than you bee lyberall of your reputation, to ease his Paines. Now sith it pleaseth you to shew sutch fauour to offer me your helpe and support in that which payneth me, I require no more at your hands, but to beare a letter which I shall wryte to mystresse Zilia, with whome I am so farre in loue, as if I do receiue no solace of my griefe, I know not howe I shall auoyde the cuttyng of the Threede, whych thespynning systers haue twisted to prolonge my lyfe, that henceforth can receiue no succor if by your meanes I do not atchieue the thing that holdeth me in bondage.” The Gentlewoman was very sorrowful, when she vnderstoode that Seignior Philiberto had bent his Loue vpon sutch one, as would not consente to that requeste, and mutch lesse would render rest vnto hys myseryes, and therefore enforced hir selfe to moue that Foolyshe Fantasye out of his head. But he beyng already resolued in thys myshappe, and the same perceyued by her in the ende she sayde: “To the intente sir that you may not thynke that I doe meane to excuse the Satysfactyon of my promyse, make youre Letters, and of my Fayth I wil delyuer them. And albeyt I knowe verye well what bee the Honoures and Glorye of that Pylgryme, yet I wyll render to you agayne the true aunswere of hir speache whereby you maye consider the gayne you are lyke to make, by pursuing a Woman (although faire) of so small desert.” The Gentleman fayled not to gyue her heartye Thankes, prayinge hir to tarry vntyll hee had written his letters: whereunto she most willingly obeyed. He then in his chaumber, began to fantasie a hundred hundred matters to write vnto his Mistresse, and after he had fixed theym in minde tooke Incke and Paper writing as followeth.The Letters of Seignior Philiberto of Virle, to Mistresse Zelia of Montcall.“The passion extreeme which I endure, (Madame) through the feruent loue I beare you, is sutch, as besides that I am assured of the little affection that resteth in you towards me agayne, in respect of that incredible seruitude which my desire is ready to employ, I haue no power to commaunde my force, ne yet to rid my selfe from my vowed deuotion and will to your incomparable beauty, although euen from the beginning I felt the pricks of the mortall shot which now torments my mynde. Alas, I do not know vnder what influence I am borne, nor what Fate doth guide my yeares, sith I doe perceyue that heauen, and loue, and hir whom alone I honor, doe confirme themselues with one assent to seeke myne ouerthrow. Alas, I thinke that all the powers aboue conspired together, to make me be the faythfull man, and perpetuallseruaunt of you my mistresse deare, to whom alone, I yelde my heart afflicted as it is, and the ioy of hidden thoughts noursed in my minde, by the contemplation and remembraunce of your excellent and perfect graces, whereof, if I be not fauored, I waight for death, from whych euen now I fly: not for feare of that whych she can doe, or of the vgly shape which I conceyue to be in hir, but rather to confirme my life, this Body for instrument to exercise the myndes conceypts for doinge your Commaundements, which Body I greatly feare shall proue the vnworthy cruelty, both of your gentle nouriture, and of those graces which Dame Nature most aboundantly hath powred in you. Be sure Madame that you shall shortlye see the Ende of him, which attendeth yet to beare so mutch as in him doeth lye, the vehement loue into an other world, which maketh me to pray you to haue pity on him, who (attending the rest and final sentence of his Death or Lyfe) doth humbly kisse your white and delicate handes, beseeching God to giue to you like ioy as his is, who desireth to be,Wholy yours or not to be at allPhiliberto of Virle.”The Letter written, closed and sealed, he deliuered to his neighbour, who promysed hym agayne to bryng him answere at Night. Thus this Messenger went hir way, leauing this pore languishyng Gentlemen hoping against hope, and fayning by and by some ioy and pleasure, wherein he bained himself with great contented minde. Then sodaynly he called againe vnto remembraunce, the cruelty and inciuility of Zilia, which shewed before his eyes so many kindes of Death, as tymes he thought vpon the same, thinking that he saw the choler wherewith his little curteous mistresse furiously did intertaine the messenger, who findinge Zilia comming forth of a garden adioining to her house, and hauing saluted her, and receiued like curteous salutation would haue framed hir talke, by honest excuse in the vnsemely charge and message: to hir vnto whom she was sent, and for some ease to the pore gentleman which approched nearer death than life. But Zilia break of hir talke saying: “I maruell mutch Gentle neighbor to see you heere at this time of the day, knowing your honest custome is to let passe no minute of the tyme, except it be emploied in some vertuousexercise.” “Mistresse” answered the messanger, “I thank you for the good opinion you haue of me, and doe pray you to continue the same. For I do assure you that nothinge vayne or of lyttle effect hath made me slacke my businesse at this time, which me think I do not forslow, when I inforce my selfe to take pitye and mercy vpon the afflicted and the substaunce thereof I woulde disclose, if I feared not to offend you, and break the loue which of long tyme betweene vs two hath ben frequented.” “I know not” (said Zilia) “whereunto your words do tend, althoughe my Hearte doth throbbe, and minde doth moue to make mee thinke your purposed talke to bee of none other effecte, than to say a thing which may redound to the preiudice of myne honour. Wherefore I pray you do not disclose what shall be contrary, (be it neuer so little) to the duety of Dames of our Degree.” “Mystresse” sayd the Neighboure, “I suppose that the lyttle Lykelihoode touchyng in you the thinge for the helpe whereof I come, hath made you feele some passion, contrary to the greefe of him that indures so mutch for your sake. Vnto whome without feare of your dyspleasure, I gaue my Faithe in Pledge to beare this Letter.” In saying so, she drewe the same out of hir Bosome, and presentyng it to cruell Silia, shee sayde: “I beseeche you to thynke that I am not ignoraunt of the evyll wherewyth the Lorde of Virle is affected, who wrote these letters. I promysed him the duety of a Messanger towards you: and so constrayned by promyse I could doe no lesse, than to delyuer you that which hee doeth sende, with Seruyce sutch as shall endure for euer, or yf it shall please you to accept him for sutch a one as hee desireth to be. For my parte I onelye praye you to reade the Contentes, and accordynglye to gyue mee Aunswere: for my Fayth is no further bounde, but trustelye to report to hym the thinge whereuppon you shall bee resolued.” Zilia which was not wonte to receyue very ofte sutch Ambassades, at the firste was in mind to breake the Letters, and to retourne the Messanger wythout aunswere to hir shame. But in the Ende takyng Heart, and chaunging hir affectyon, she red the Letters not without shewing some very great alteration outwardely, which declared the meanynge of hir thought that diuersly did stryue wythin hir mynde: for sodaynly sheechaunged her Coloure twyce or thryce, nowe waxing pale lyke the increasynge Moone Eclypsed by the Sunne, when shee feeleth a certayne darkenynge of hir borowed Lyghte, then the Vermylyon and coloured Taynte came into hir Face agayne, wyth no lesse hewe than the blomed Rose newelye budded forthe, whych Encreased halfe so mutch agayne, the excellencye of that wherewyth Nature had indued hir. And then she paused a whyle. Notwythstandynge, after that shee had red, and red agayne hir Louer’s letter, not able to dissemble hir foolishe anger which vexed hir heart, shee sayde vnto the mistresse messanger: “I would not haue thought that you, being a woman of good fame would (by abusinge your duety,) haue bene the ambassador of a thing so vncomely for your Estate, and the house where of you come, and towards me which neuer was sutch one (ne yet pretend to be.) And trust me it is the loue I beare you, which shall for this tyme make me dissemble what I thincke, reseruinge in silence, that whych (had it come from an other) I would haue published to the great dishonour of hir that maketh so little accoumpt of my chastity. Let it suffice therefore in tyme to come for you to thinke and beleue, that I am chaste and honest: and to aduertise the Lord of Virle to proceede no further in his sute: for rather will I dy, than agree to the least poynct of that which hee desires of mee. And that he may knowe the same, be well assured that hee shall take his leaue of that priuate talke which sometimes I vsed with him to my great dishonor, as far as I can see. Get you home therefore, and if you loue your credit so mutch, as you see me curious of my chastity, I beseech you vse no further talke of hym, whom I hate so mutch, as his folly is excessiue, for I do little esteeme the amorous Toyes and fayned passions, whereunto sutch louinge fooles doe suffer themselues to be caried headlong.” The messenger ashamed to heare hir selfe thus pinched to the quicke, aunswered hir very quietly without mouing of hir pacience: “I pray to God (mistresse) that he may recouer the different disease al most incurable in eyther of you twayne, the same being so vehement, as altered into a phrenesie, maketh you in this wyse, incapable of reason.” Finishing these wordes she tooke hir leaue of Zilia, and arriued to the Louer’s house, she founde himlying vpon his bed, rather dead than a liue: who seeing his neyghbor returned backe agayne, with Face so sadde, not tarying for the aunswere which she was about to make, he began to say: “Ah infortunate Gentleman, thou payest wel the vsury of thy pleasures past when thou diddest lyue at lyberty, free from those trauayles which now do put thee to death, without suffering thee to dy. Oh happy, and more than happy had I ben, if inconstant Fortune had not deuised this treason, wherein I am surprised and caught, and yet no raunsome can redeeme from prison, but the most miserable death that euer poore louer suffred. Ah Mistresse, I knowe well that Zilia esteemeth not my Letters, ne yet regardeth my loue, I confesse that I haue done you wrong by thus abusing your honest amity, for the solace of my payne. Ah fickle loue, what foole is hee which doth commit hymselfe to the rage and fury of the Waues of thy foming and tempestuous Seas? Alas I am entred in, with great, and gladsome cheere, through the glistering shew before myne eyes of the faynt shining Sunne beames, whereunto as soone as I made sayle, the same denied me light of purpose to thrust me forth into a thousand winds, tempests, and raging stormes of Rayne. By meanes whereof I see no meane at all to hope for end of my mishaps: and mutche lesse the shipwracke that sodainely may rid me from this daunger more intollerable, than if I were ouerwhelmed wythin the bottomlesse depth of the mayne Ocean. Ah deceyuer and wily Souldiour, why hast thou made me enterprise the voyage farre of from thy solitudes and Wildernesse, to geue me ouer in the middest of my necessity? Is this thy maner towards them which franckly followe thy tract, and pleasauntly subdue themselues to thy trayterous follies? At least wyse if I sawe some hope of health would indure without complaynt thereof: yea, and it were a more daungerous tempest. But O good God, what is he of whom I speake? Of whom do I attend for solace and releefe? Of him truely which is borne for the ouerthrow of men. Of whom hope I for health? Of the most noysom poyson that euer was mingled with the subtilest druggs that euer were. Whom shall I take to be my Patron? He which is in ambush traiterously to catch me, that he may martir me worsse than he hath done before. Ah cruell Dame, that measurestso euill, the good will of him that neuer purposed to trespasse the least of thy commaundements. Ah, that thy beauty should finde a Subiect so stubborne in thee, to torment them that loue and honor thee. O maigre and vnkinde recompence, to expell good seruaunts that be affectionate to a seruice so iust and honest. Ah Basiliske, coloured ouer with pleasure and swetnesse, how hath thy sight dispersed his poyson throughout mine heart? At least wise if I had some drugge to repell thy force, I should liue at ease, and that without this sute and trouble. But I feele and proue that this sentence is more than true:No physicke hearbes the griefe of loue can cure,Ne yet no drugge that payne can well assure.Alas, the seare cloath will not serue, to tent the wound the time shall be but lost, to launch the sore, and to salue the same it breeds myne ouerthrow. To be short, any dressing can not auayle, except the hand of hir alone which gaue the wounde. I woulde to God shee sawe the bottome of my heart, and viewed the Closet of my mynde, that shee might iudge of my firme fayth and know the wrong she doth me by hir rigor and froward will. But O vnhappy man, I feele that she is so resolued in obstinate mynde, as hir rest seemeth only to depend vpon my payne, hir ease vpon my griefe, and hir ioy vpon my sadnesse.” And saying so, began straungly to weepe, and sighing betwene, lamented, in so mutch as, the mistresse messaunger not able to abide the griefe and paynefull trauayle wherein shee saw the poore gentleman wrapped, went home to hir house: notwithstanding she told afterward the whole successe of his loue to a Gentleman, the friend of Philiberto. Now this Gentleman was a companion in armes to the Lorde of Virle, and a very familyar Freend of his, that went about by all meanes to put away those foolishe, and Franticke conceypts out of his fansie, but hee profited as mutch by his endeuour, as the passionate gayned by his heauines: who determining to dye, yelded so mutch to care and grief, as he fell into a greeuous sicknes, which both hindred him from sleepe, and also his Appetite to eate and drinke, geuing himselfe to muse vppon his follies, and fansied dreames, without hearing or admitting any man to speakevnto hym. And if perchaunce hee hearkened to the persuasions of his frends, he ceassed not his complaynt, bewayling the cruelty of one, whom he named not. The Phisitians round about were sought for, and they coulde geue no iudgement of his malady (neyther for all the Signes they saw, or any inspection of his Vrine, or touching of his pulse) but sayd that it was melancholie humor distilling from the Brayne, that caused the alteration of his sense: howbeit their Arte and knowledge were void of skil to evacuate the grosse Bloud that was congeled of his disease. And therefore dispayryng of his health, with hands full of Money, they gaue him ouer. Which his friend and Companion perceiuing, maruellous sorry for his affliction he ceased not to practise all that he could by Letters, gifts, promises and complaynts to procure Zilia to visite her pacient. For hee was assured that her onely presence was able to recouer him. But the cruell woman excused hir self that she was a Widow and that it shoulde bee vnseemely for one of hir degree (of intente) to visite a Gentleman, whose Parentage and Alliance she knew not. The soliciter of the Lord of Virle his health, seeing how lyttle hys prayers auailed to his implacable gryefe could not tell to what Sainct he might vow himself for Counsell, in the ende resolued to sollicite hir again that hadde done the first Message, that she myght eftsons deuise some meanes to bryng them to speake togither. And fynding hir for hys purpose, thus he sayed vnto hir: “Mystresse I maruell mutch that you make so little accompt of the pore lorde of Virle who lyeth in his Bedde attending for Death. Alas, if euer pitty had place in Woman’s heart, I beseech you to gyue your ayde to help him, the meane of whose recouery, is not ignoraunt vnto you.” “God is my witnesse” (quod she) “what trauaile my heart is willing to vndertake to helpe that Gentleman, but in things impossible, it is not in man to determine, or rest assured iudgement. I wil go vnto him and comfort hym so well as I can, that peraduenture my Promyses may ease some part of his payne: and afterward we wil at leysure better consider, what is best for vs to do.” Herevppon they wente together to see the Pacient, that beganne to looke more chearefull than he dyd before: who seeing the Gentlewoman, said vnto hir: “Ah mistres, I would to God I had neuerproued your fidelity, then had I not felt the passing cruell Heart of hir, that esteemeth more hir honour to practise rigour and tyranny than with gentlenesse to maintaine the Lyfe of a pore feeble knight.” “Sir,” (said she,) “be of good cheare, doe not thus torment your selfe: for I trust to gyue you remedy betwene thys and to morrowe, and wyll doe myne endeuor to cause you to speake with hir, vppon whome wrongfully perchaunce you doe complayne, and who dare not come vnto you, least ill speakers conceiue occasion of suspicion, who wil make the report more slaunderous, then remedie for the cause of your disease.” “Ah” (sayd the pacient) “howe ioyefull and pleasaunt is your talke? I see wel that you desire my health, and for that purpose would haue me drinke those liquors, which superficiallay appeare to bee sweete, which afterwardes may make my lyfe a hundred tymes more faint and feeble than now it is.” “Be you there,” sayed she? “And I sweare vnto you by my faith not to faile to keepe my promyse, to cause you speake alone with mistresse Zilia.” “Alas, mistresse” sayd the louer, “I aske no more at yourhaudes, that I may heare with myne own eares the last sentence of hope or defiance.” “Well put your trust in me,” sayd she, “and take no thought but for your health. For I am assured ere it be longe, to cause hir to come vnto you, and then you shall see whether, my diligence shall aunswere the effect of myne attempt.” “Me thinke already” (quod he) “that sicknesse is not able to stay me from going to hir that is the cause, sith her onely remembraunce hath no lesse force in mee, than the clearnesse of the Sun beames to euaporate the thicknesse of the morning mistes.” With that the Gentlewoman tooke her leaue of hym, and went home attendynge oportunity to speake to Zilia, whome two or three Dayes after she mette at Church, and they two beyng alone togither in a Chapell, she sayd vnto hir with fayned Teares, forced from her Eyes, and sending forth a Cloude of sighes, these woordes: “Madame, I nothing doubt at al, but the last Letters which I brought you, made you conceiue some il opinion of me, which I do guesse by the frownyng countenance that euer sithens you haue borne me. But when you shall knowe the hurte which it hath done, I thinke you wyll not be so harde, and voyde of pitye,but with pacyence hearken that whych I shall saye, and therewythall bee moued to pitye the state of a pore Gentleman, who by your meanes is in the pangs of death.” Zilia, which til then neuer regarded the payne and sicknesse of the pacient, began to sorrow, with sutch passion, as not to graunt him further fauor than he had already receiued, but to finde some means to ease him of hys gryefe, and then to gyue hym ouer for euer. And therefore she sayd vnto hir neyghbor: “My good frend, I thought that all these sutes had beene forgotten, vntill the other day a certen Gentleman praied me to go see the Lord of Virle, who told me as you do now, that he was in great daunger. And now vnderstanding by you that he waxeth worsse, and worsse, I will be ruled, being well assured of your honesty and vertue, and that you will not aduise me to any thing that shall be hurtfull to myne honour. And when you haue done what you can, you shal winne of me so mutch as nothinge, and geeue no ease to him at all that wrongfully playneth of my cruelty. For I purpose not to do any priuate fact with him, but that which shall be meete for an honest Gentlewoman, and sutch as a faythfull tutor of hir chastity, may graunt to an honest and vertuous Gentleman.” “His desire is none other” (sayd the gentlewoman) “for he craueth but your presence, to let you wit by word, that he is ready to do the thing you shall commaund him.” “Alas” sayde Zilia, “it is impossible for me to go to hym without suspition, which the common people will lightly conceiue of sutch light and familiar Behauiour. And rather would I dy than aduenture mine honor hitherto conserued wyth great seuerity and diligence. And yet sith you say, that he is in extremes of death, for your sake, I wil not stick to heare him speake.” “I thanke you” (sayd the Messanger) “for the good wil you beare me and for the help you promise vnto the poore passionate Gentleman, whom these newes wil bring on foote againe, and who al the dayes of his life wil do you honor for that good turne.” “Sith it is so (sayd Zilia) to morrow at noone let him come vnto my house, wherein a low chamber, he shall haue leysure to say to mee his mind. But I purpose by God’s help, to suffer him no further than that which I haue already graunted.” “As it shall please you” (sayd hir neighbour) “forI craue no more of you but that only fauour, which as a Messanger of good Newes, I go to shew hym, recommending my selfe in the meane tyme to your commaunde.” And then she went vnto the pacient, whom she found walkinge vp and downe the Chaumber, indifferent lusty of his person, and of colour meetely freshe for the tyme hee left his Bed.”Now when sir Philiberto saw the Messanger, hee sayde vnto hir: “And how now mystresse, what Newes? Is Zilia so stubborne as shee was wont to be?” “You may see hir” (sayd she) “if to morrowe at Noone you haue the heart to aduenture to goe vnto hir house.” “Is it possible” (sayd hee embracing hir) “that you haue procured my delyueraunce from the misery, wherewith I haue so long tyme beene affected? Ah trusty and assured frende, all the dayes of my lyfe I wil remember that pleasure, and benefite, and by acknowledging of the same, shall be ready to render like, when you please to commaunde, or els let me be counted the most vncurteous Gentleman that euer made profession of loue: I will go by God’s help to see mistresse Zilia, with intent to endure all vexation, wherewith Dame Fortune shall afflict me, protesting to vex my selfe no more, although I see my wished hap otherwise to ende than my desert requireth. But yet agaynst Fortune to contend, is to warre agaynst my selfe, whereof the Victory can be but daungerous.” Thus he passed all the day, which seemed to last a thousand years to hym, that thought to receyue some good intertaynment of hys Lady, in whose Bonds hee was catched before he thought that Woman’s malice could so farre exceede, or display hir venomous Sting. And truly that man is voyde of Sense, whych suffreth hym selfe so fondly to bee charmed, sith the pearill of others before time abused, ought to serue hym for exaumple. Women be vnto mankinde a greate confusion, and vnwares for want of hys due foresight, it doth suffer it selfe to bee bounde and taken captiue by the very thing which hath no being to worke effect, but by free will. Which Inchauntment of woman’s beauty, being to men a pleasaunt displeasure, I thinke to bee decked with that drawinge vertue, and allurement, for chastising of their sinnes who once fed and bayted with their fading fauour and poysoned sweetnesse, forget their owne perfection, and nousled intheir foolishe Fansies, they seeke Felicity, and soueraygne delight, in the matter wherein doth lie the summe of their vnhaps. Semblaly the vertuous and shamefaste dames, haue not the eyes of their minde so blindfolde, but that they see whereunto those francke seruices, those disloyal Faythes and Vyces coloured and stuffed with exterior vertue, doe tende: Who doubt not also but sutch louers do imitate the Scorpion, whose Venome lieth in his Tayle, the ende of which is loue beinge the ruine of good Renoume, and the Decay of former vertues. For which cause the heauens, the Frende of their sexe, haue giuen them a prouidence, which those Gentle, vnfauoured louers terme to be rigor, thereby to proue the deserts of Suters, aswell for their great contentation and prayse, as for the rest of them that do them seruice. Howbeit this iust and modest prouidence, that cruel Gentlewoman practised not in hir louer, the Lord of Virle, who was so humble a seruaunt of his vnkinde mistresse, as his obedience redounded to his great mishap, and folly, as manifestly may appeare by that whych followeth. Sir Philiberto then thinking to haue gayned mutch by hauing made promise, liberally to speake to his Lady, went vnto hir at the appoyncted hour, so well contented truely of that grace, as all the vnkindnesse past was quite forgot. Now being come to the Lodging of Mistresse Zilia, he found hir in the deuised place with one of hir maydes attending vpon hir. When she saw him, after a little cold entertaynment, she began to say vnto him with fayned ioy, that neuer mooued hir heart, these woordes: “Now sir, I see that your late sicknesse was not so straunge as I was geeuen to vnderstand, for the good state wherein I see you presently to be, which from henceforth shall make mee beleue, that the passions of Men endure so long as the cause of their affections continue within their fansies, mutch like vnto looking Glasses, which albeit they make the equality or excesse of things represented to appeare, yet when the thing seene doth passe, and vanishe away, the formes also do voyde out of remembraunce, resembling the wynde that lightly whorleth to and fro through the plane of some deepe valley.” “Ah madame” aunswered he, “how easie a matter it is for the griefelesse person to counterfayt both ioy and dissimulation in one very thing, which not onelymay forget the conceipt that mooueth his affections, but the obiect must continually remayne in him, as paynted, and grauen in his minde. Which truely as you say is a looking Glasse, not sutch one for all that, as the counterfayted apparaunce of represented formes hath like vigor in it, that the first and true idees and shapes can so soone vanish without leauiug most perfect impression of sutch formes within the minde of him, that liueth vpon their onely remembraunce. In this mirror then (which by reason of the hidden force I may well say to bee ardent and burning) haue I looked so well as I can, thereby to form the sustentation of my good hap. But the imagined Shape not able to support sutch perfection, hath made the rest of the body to fayle (weakned through the mindes passions) in sutch wise as if the hope to recouer this better parte halfe lost, had not cured both, the whole decay of the one had followed, by thinking to giue some accomplishment in the other. And if you see me Madame, attayne to some good state, impute the same I beseech you, to the good will and fauor which I receiue by seeing you in a priuate place, wherein I conceyue greater ioy than euer I did, to say vnto you the thing which you would not beleeue, by woords at other times proceeding from my mouth, ne yet by aduertisement signified in my written letters. Notwithstanding I think that my Martirdome is known to bee sutch as euery man may perceyue that the Summe of my desire is onely to serue and obey you, for so mutch as I can receyue no greater comforte, than to be commaunded to make repayre to you, to let you know that I am whole (although giuen ouer by Phisitians) when you vouchsafe to employ me in your seruice, and thinke my selfe raysed vp agayne from one hundred thousand deathes at once, when it shall please you to haue pitty vpon the griefe and passion, that I endure. Alas, what causeth my mishap, that the heauenly beauty of yours should make proofe of a cruelty so great? Haue you decreed Madame thus to torment mee poore Gentleman that am ready to sacrifice myselfe in your seruice, when you shall impart some fauour of your good grace? Do you thinke that my passions be dissembled? Alacke, alacke, the teares which I haue shed, the losse of lust to eate and drinke, the weary passed nights, the longe contriued sleepelesse tyme therestlesse turmoyle of my consumed corps may wel assure that my loyall heart is of better merite than you esteeme.” Then seeing hir to fixe hir eyes vpon the ground, and thinkinge that hee had already wonne hir, he reinforced his humble Speache, and Sighing at fits betwene, not sparinge the Teares, whych trickled downe alongs hys Face, he prosecuted his Tale as followeth: “Ah fayre amongs the fayrest, woulde you blot that surpassing Beauty with a cruelty so furious, as to cause the death of him which loueth you better than himselfe? Ah my withered eyes, which hitherto haue bene serued with two liuely springs to expresse the hidden griefs within the heart, if your vnhap be sutch that the only Mistresse of your contemplations, and cause of your driery teares, doe force the Humor to encrease, which hitherto in sutch wise hath emptied my Brayne, as there is no more in mee to moisten your drouth, I am content to endure al extremity, vntil my heart shal feele the last Pangue, that depriueth yee of nourishment, and me of mine affected Ioy.” The Gentlewoman, whether shee was weary of that Oration, or rather doubted that in the end hir chastity would receue some assault through the dismeasured passion which she saw to continue in him, answered with rigorous words: “You haue talked, and written inough, you haue indifferently well solicited hir, whych is throughly resolued in former minde, to keepe hir honor in that worthy reputation of degree, wherein she maynetayneth the same amongs the best. I haue hitherto suffered you to abuse my patience, and haue shewed that familiarity which they deserue not that go about leudly to assayle the chastity of those Women that patiently gieue them eare, for the opinion they haue conceiued of the shadowing vertues of like foolishe Suters. I now doe see that all your woordes doe tend to beguile mee, and to depriue mee of that you cannot giue mee: Which shall bee a warning for me henceforth, more wisely to looke about my businesse, and more warely to shunne the Charmes of sutch as you bee, to the ende that I by bending mine open eares, be not surprised, and ouercome wyth your enchaunted Speaches. I pray you then for conclusion, that I heare no more hereof, neyther from you, nor yet from the Ambassadour that commeth from you. For I neyther will, ne yet pretend to depart to you anyother fauour than that which I haue enlarged for your comfort: but rather doe protest, that so longe as you abide in this Countrey, I will neyther goe forth in streate, nor suffer any Gentleman to haue accesse into this place except he be my neare Kinsman. Thus for your importunat sute, I will chastise my light consent, for harkeninge vnto you in those requests, which duty and Womanhoode ought not to suffre. And if you do proceede in these your follies, I will seeke redresse according to your desert, which till now I haue deferred, thinking that time would haue put out the ardent heate of your rash, and wanton youth.” The infortunate Lord of Virle, hearing this sharpe sentence, remayned long time without speach, so astonned as if he had bene falne from the Clouds. In the ende for al his despayre he replyed to Zilia with Countenaunce indifferent merry: “Sith it is so madame, that you take from mee all hope to be your perpetuall Seruaunt, and that without other comfort or contentation I must nedes depart your presence, neuer (perchaunce) hereafter to speake vnto you againe, be not yet so squeimish of your beauty, and so cruell towards your languishing louer, as to deny him a kisse for pledge of his last farewell. I demaund nothing here in secret, but that honestly you may openly performe. It is al that I doe craue at your handes in recompence of the trauayles, paynes, and afflictions suffred for your sake.” The malitious dame full of rancor, and spitefull rage sayd vnto him: “I shall see by and by sir, if the loue which you vaunt to beare mee, be so vehement as you seeme to make it.” “Ah Madame” (sayd the vnaduised Louer) “commaunde only, and you shal see with what deuotion I will performe your will, were it that it should cost me the price of my proper life.” “You shall haue” (quod she) “the kisse which you require of me if you will make promise, and sweare by the fayth of a Gentleman, to do the thinge that I shall commaund, without fraude, couin or other delay.” “Madame” (sayd the ouer wilful louer) “I take God to witnesse that of the thing which you shall commaunde I will not leaue one iote vndone, but it shall bee executed to the vttermost of your request and will.” She hearing him sweare with so good affection, sayd vnto him smiling: “Now then vpon your oth which I beleue, and being assured of your Vertue and Noblenature, I will also performe and keepe my promise.” And saying so, shee Embraced and kissed him very louingly. The poore Gentleman not knowing how dearely hee had bought that disfauorable curtesie, and bitter sweetenesse, helde hir a while betwene his armes, doubling kisse vppon kisse, with sutch Pleasure, as his soule thought to fly vp to the heauens being inspired with that impoysoned Baulme which hee sucked in the sweete and sugred breath of his cruel mistresse: who vndoing hir selfe out of his armes, sayde vnto him: “Sith that I haue made the first disclosure both of the promise and of the effect, it behooueth that you performe the rest, for the full accomplyshment of the same.” “Come on hardily” (sayeth hee) “and God knoweth how spedily you shal be obeyed.” “I wil then” (quod shee) “and commaund you vpon your promysed faith that from this present time, vntyl the space of three yeres be expyred, you speake to no lyuing person for any thing that shall happen vnto you, nor yet expresse by tonge, by sound of word or speache what thing you wante or els desyre, whych requeste if you do breake, I will neuer truste liuing man for youre sake, but wil publyshe your fame to bee villanous, and your person periured, and a promyse breaker.” I leaue for you to think whether this vnhappy louer were amazed or not, to heare a Commaundment so vniust, and therewithall the difficulty for the performance. Notwithstanding he was so stoute of hearte, and so religious an obseruer of his Othe as euen at that very instant he began to do the part which she had commaunded, playing at Mumchaunce, and vsing other signes, for doing of his duetye, accordynge to hir demaund. Thus after his ryghte humble reuerence made vnto hir, he went home, where faining that hee had lost his speach by meanes of a Catarre or reume which distilled from his brayne, he determined to forsake his Countrey vntill his tyme of penance was rune out. Wherfore setting staye in hys affayres, and prouydyng for his trayne, he made him ready to depart. Notwithstanding, he wrot a Letter vnto Zilia, before he toke hys iovrney into Fraunce, that in olde tyme hadde ben the Solace and refuge of the miserable, as wel for the pleasantnes and temperature of the ayre, the great wealth and the aboundance of al thynges, as for the curtesye, gentlenes andfamilyarity of the people: wherein that region may compare with any other nation vpon the earth. Now the Letter of Philiberto, fell into the hands of lady Zilia, by meanes of hys Page instructed for that purpose: who aduertised hir of the departure of his mayster, and of the despaire wherein hee was. Whereof shee was somewhat sory, and offended: But yet puttinge on hir Aunciente seuerytye, tooke theLetters, and breakinge the Seale, found that which followeth.

The Lorde of Virle, by the commaundement of a fayre younge Wydow called Zilia, for hys promise made, the better to attaine hir loue, was contented to remayne dumbe the space of three yeares, and by what meanes he was reuenged, and obtayned hys suite.

Theythat haue spent their youth in humayne follies, and haue followed the Vanities of loue, not addicted to the contemplation of high secrets, nor haue made entry here on Earth, to inlarge and amplyfy the boundes of their honor and Estimation. Those Worldlings (I say) and embracers of transitory pleasures, shall witnesse with me, and confirme, this olde and auncient Theme and proposition to be true which is: that the Beauty, and comely grace of a Woman, is the very true and naturall adamant (for the attractiue power, and agreeable quality there inclosed,) to draw vnto it the hearts, and affections of men: which hath made man beleue, that the same onely essence, was sent downe from aboue to serue both for ioy and torment together. For the amplyfyinge of which proposition, I will not bring forth, the immoderate loue of Paris by forsaking his owne Natiue country of Troy, to visite fayre Helena in Greece, nor yet tell how Hercules gaue ouer his mace to handle the Distaffe, vpon the commaundement of Omphale, nor yet how Sampson and Salomon were sotted in the slaueries of Dalida and other concubines. But my discourse here folowing shall ring out a loud Peale, of a meane Gentlewoman, of Piedmount, that shewed no fauor or Curtesy at all to her suppliant, a Gentleman not inferior to Paris for his actiuity and prowesse: which for her seruice and atchyeues of her loue, refused not to bee dombe the space of many yeares, and to giue ouer the best porcion of his sences wherewith the Almighty, made Man differente from brute and sauage Beastes. If this thing declare not sufficiently the force and power of that attractiue and drawing power in woman, no other example is worthy to be preferred. Those aforesayd and many other haue voluntarily yoaked themselues in the chains of loue’s obedience, rendreth the masse oftheir mirye corps to the slauery thereof, but that any haue franckely tyed vp their Tongue, the chiefest Instrument of the bodies furniture: in honorable assembly or where dexterity of seruice shoulde make him glorious, the like of that subiection was neuer seene or founde. And yet our fathers dayes did see this miracle wrought by a Woman, vpon a Gentleman very wise, and well trained vp in all good exercyse. This example, and what this Malapert Dame did gaine, by the penance of this louing knight, shal in this discourse be manifestly pronounced. The City of Thurin (as is well knowne to them that haue trauelled Piedmont) is the ornament and bulwark of al the Countrey, so well for the natural site of the place, as for the artificial and industrious worke of man’s hande, which hath instaured and furnished with great magnificence, that which nature had indifferently enryched, for the rudenesse and litle knowledg of the time past. Now besides this stately and strong city, there standeth a litle towne named Montcall, a place no lesse strong, and of good defence, than wel planted in a faire and rich soyle. In this Towne there dwelt a Gentlewoman a widow called Zilia, beautiful amongs the most excellent fayre Gentlewomen of the countrey, which country (besides other happy and heauenly influences) seemeth to be specially fauored, for hauing the most fairest and curteous Gentlewomen, aboue any other within the compasse of Europa. Notwithstanding this faire Silia, degenerating from the nature of hir climate was so haggard and cruel, as it might haue ben thought, she had ben rather nourished and brought vp amid the most desert mountaines of Sauoy, than in the pleasant and rich Champian Countreye, watred and moystened with Eridanus, the father of Riuers, at this Day called the Pau, the largenesse whereof doth make men to maruel, and the fertility allureth ech man to be desirous to inhabit vpon the same. This fayre rebellious Widow, albeit, that she was not aboueXXIV.orXXV.yeres of age, yet protested neuer more to be subiect to man, by mariage, or otherwise, thinking her selfe wel able to liue in single life: a Minde truly very holy and commendable, if the pricks of the flesh do obey the first motions and adhortations of the spirit, but where youth, pleasure, and multitude of suters do addresse their endeuouragainst that chastity (which is lightly enterprysed) the Apostels counsel oughte to be followed, who willeth yong widows to marry in Christ, to auoid the temptations of the flesh, and to flye offensiue slaunder and dishonour before men. This mistresse Zilia (hir husband being dead) only bent hir selfe to enrich hir house, and to amplify the possession of a little infant which she had by hir late departed Husband. After whose death she became so couetous, as hauing remoued, and almost cut of quite the wonted port she vsed in hir husband’s dayes, imployed hir maids in houshold affaires, thinking nothing to be wel don that passed not through hir owne Handes. A thinge truely more prayse worthy, than to see a sorte of effeminate, fine and daynty fyngred Dames, that thinke their honor diminished yf they holde but their Nose ouer theyr Housholde Matters, where theyr Hande and Dylygence were more requisite, for so mutch as the mystresse of a House is not placed the Cheyfe to heare onely the reasons of them that Labor, but thereunto to put hir hands, for hir presente eye seemeth to giue a certyn perfection to the worke that the Seruauntes doe by hir commaundement. Which caused the Hystoryans in tymes past, to describe vnto the Posterity a Gentlewoman called Lucretia, not babbling amongs young girles, or running to feastes and Maigames, or Masking in the night, withoute any regard of the honor and dygnitye of hir race and house, but in hir Chaumber Sowing, Spinning and Carding, amids the Troup of hir Mayden Seruaunts: wherein our mistresse Zilia passed the moste part of hir time, spending no minute of the day, without some honest exercise, for that she the rather did for that she liked not to be seene at Feasts, or Bankets, or to be gadding vp and downe the streetes, wandring to Gardeyns or places of pleasure, although to sutch places youth sometimes may haue their honest repayre to refresh their wearied bodies with vertuous recreation, and thereby reioyce the heauinesse of their mynde. But this Gentlewoman was so seuere in following the rigorous, and constrayned maners of our auncients, as impossible it was, to see hir abroade: except it were when she went to the Church to heare deuine seruice. This Gentlewoman seemed to haue studied the diuinity of the Ægyptians which paynt Venus holding a key before hir mouth, and settinghir Fote vpon a Tortus, signifying vnto us thereby the duety of a chaste Woman, whose tongue ought to bee locked, that shee speak not but in tyme and place, and her feete not straying or wandering, but to keepe hir selfe within the limits of hir owne house, except it be to serue God, and sometimes to render bounden duety to them which brought them into light. Moreouer Zilia was so religious (I will not say superstitious) and rigorous to obserue customes, as she made it very squeimish and straung to kisse a Gentleman that met hir, a ciuility which of long time hath bene obserued, and yet remayneth in the greatest parte of the Worlde, that Gentlewomen do welcome straungers and Guests into their houses with an honest and chaste kisse. Notwithstandinge the institution and profession of this Wyddow had wiped away this poyncte of hir youth: whether it were for that she esteemed hirselfe so fayre as all men were vnworthy to touch the vtter partes of so rare and pretious a vessell, or that hir great, and inimitable chastity made hir so straunge, to refuse that which hir duety and honour woulde haue permitted hir to graunt. There chaunced about this time that a Gentleman of the Countrey, called Sir Philiberto of Virle, esteemed to be one of the most valiaunt gentlemen in those parts, repayred vpon an holy day to Montcall, (whose house was not very farre of the Towne) and being at diuine seruice, in place of occupying his Sence and Mynde in heauenly things, and attending the holy words of a Preacher, which that day declared the worde of God vnto the people, hee gaue himselfe to contemplate the excellent beauty of Zilia, who had put of for a while hir mourninge vayle, that she might the better beholde the good father that preached, and receyue a little ayre, because the day was extreme hot. The Gentleman at the first blushe, when hee sawe that sweete temptation before his eyes, thought himselfe rapt aboue the thirde heauen, and not able to withdraw his looke, he fed himselfe with the Venome which by little, and little, so seased vpon the soundest parts of hys mynde, as afterwards being rooted in heart, he was in daunger still to remayne there for a Guage, wythout any hope of ease or comforte, as more amply this followinge discourse, shall giue you to vnderstande. Thus all the morning hee behelde the Gentlewoman, who made no moreaccoumpt of theym, that wyth great admiration did behold hir, than they themselues did of their life, by committing the same to the handes of a Woman so cruell. This Gentleman being come home to his lodging enquired what fayre Wyddow that was, of what calling, and behauiour, but hee heard tell of more truely than he would of good will haue known or desired to haue ben in hir, whom he did presently chose to be the only mistresse of his most secret thoughts. Now vnderstandynge well the stubburne Nature, and vnciuile Manner of that Wyddowe, hee coulde not tell what parte to take, nor to what Sainct to vow his Deuotion, to make suite vnto hir hee thought it tyme lost, to bee hir Seruaunt, it was not in his power, hauing already inguaged his Lyberty into the handes of that beauty, whych once holding captiue the hearte of men, will not infraunchise them so soone as Thought and Wyll desire. Wherefore baytinge hymself with hope, and tickled wyth loue, he determined whatsoeuer chaunced, to loue hir, and to assay if by long seruice he could lenifie that harde hearte, and make tender that vnpliaunt wyll, to haue pitty vppon the payne which shee saw him to endure, and to recompence hys laboursome Trauayles, which hee thought were vertuously imployed for gayning of hir good grace. And vpon this settled deliberation, he retired agayne to Virle (so was his house named) where disposinge hys thinges in order, he retorned agayne to Montcall to make his long resiaunce there, to put in readines his furniture, and to welde his artillary with sutch industry, as in the ende he might make a reasonable breach to force and take the place: for surprising whereof, hee hazarded great daungers, the rather that himselfe might first be taken. And where his assaults and pollicies could not preuayle, hee minded to content his Fancy wyth the pleasure and pastyme that hee was to receyue in the contemplation of a thing so fayre, and of an image so excellent. The memory of whom rather increased his paine than yelded comfort, did rather minister corrosiue poyson, than giue remedy of ease, a cause of more cruell and sodayne death, than of prolonged lyfe. Philiberto then being become a citizen of Montcal, vsed to frequent the Church more than hee was wont to doe, or his deuotion serued hym, and that bycause he was not able elsewhere to enioythe presence of hys Saynct, but in places and Temples of Deuotion: which no doubt was a very holy and worthy Disposition, but yet not meete or requisite to obserue sutch holy places for those intentes, which ought not to bee prophaned in things so fonde and foolishe, and Actes so contrary to the Institution, and mynde of those, whych in tymes past were the firste Founders and Erectoures of Temples. Seignior Philiberto then mooued wyth that Religious Superstition, made no Conscience at al to speake vnto hir wythin the Church. And true it is, when she went out of the same, he (mooued wyth a certayne familiar curtesie, naturall to eche Gentleman of good bringing vp) many tymes conducted hir home to hir house, not able for all that (what so euer hee sayd) to win the thing that was able to ingender any little solace, which greeued him very much: for the cruell woman fained as though she vnderstoode nothing of that he sayde, and turnyng the Wayne agaynst the Oxen, by contrary talke shee began to tell hym a tale of a Tubbe, of matters of hir Householde, whereunto hee gaue so good heede, as shee did to the hearing of his complaynts. Thus these two, of diuers Affections, and mooued wyth contrary thoughtes, spake one to another, without apt aunswere to eyther’s talke. Whereby the Gentleman conceyued an assured argument of hys Ruine, who voyde of all hope, and meanes, practised with certayne Dames of the Citty, that had familiar accesse vnto hyr house, and vsed frequent conuersation wyth hys rebellious Lady Zilia. To one of them, then hee determined to communicate hys secrets, and to doe hir to vnderstand in deede the only cause that made him to soiorne at Montcall, and the griefe which he suffered, for that he was not able to discouer his torment vnto hir, that had giuen him the wounde. Thys Gentleman therefore, repayred to one of his neyghbours, a Woman of good corage, which at other tymes had experimented what meates they feede on that sit at Venus Table, and what bitternesse is intermingled amid those drinckes that Cupido quaffeth vnto hys Guestes. Vnto whom (hauing before coniured hir to keepe close that whych hee woulde declare) he discouered the secrets of hys mynde, expressinge hys loue wythout naming hys Lady before he heard the aunswere of hys Neyghbour, who vnderstanding almost to what purpose theaffections of the Pacient were directed, sayd vnto hym: “Sir, needful it is not to vse longe orations, the loue that I beare you for the honest qualities whych hytherto I haue knowne to be in you, shall make me to keepe silent, that whereof as yet I do not know the matter, and the assuraunce you haue, not to bee abused by mee, constrayneth me to warrant you, that I wyll not spare to do you all the pleasure and honest seruice I can.” “Ah mistresse,” (aunswered sir Philiberto) “so long as I lyue, I will not fayle to acknowledge the Liberality of your endeuour by offeringe your selfe paciently to heare, and secretly, to keepe the Words I speake accordingly as they deserue: and that (whych is more than I require) you doe assure me that I shall finde sutch one of you as wil not spare to gieue your ayde. Alas, I resemble the good and wyse Captayne, who to take a forte doeth not only ayde himselfe with the forwardnesse, and valiaunce of his Souldiers, but to spare them, and to auoyde slaughter for makinge of way, planteth his cannon, and battereth the Walle of the fort, which hee would assaile, to the intent that both the Souldier, and the ordinaunce may perfourme and suffise the perfection of the plat, which hee hath framed and deuised within his pollitike heade. I haue already encouraged my souldiers, and haue lost the better part truely in the skirmish which hath deliuered vnto mee my sweete cruell Ennimy. Now I am driuen to make ready the fire, which resteth in the kindled match of your conceiptes, to batter the fort hitherto inexpugnable, for any assault that I can make.” “I vnderstand not” (sayd she smilyng) “these labyrynths of your complaynts, except you speake more playn. I neuer haunted the Warres, ne knewe what thynge it is to handle weapons, improper and not seemely for myne estate and kynde.” “The Warre” (quod he)“whereof I speake, is so naturall and common, as I doubt not, but you haue sometymes assayed, with what sleightes and camisados men vse to surpryse their enimies, howe they plant their ambushes, and what meanes both the assaylant and defendant ought to vse.” “So far as I see” (sayd shee) “there resteth nothing for vs, but the assurance of the field, sith wee bee ready to enter in combat: and doe thinke that the fort shall not bee harde to winne, by reason of the Walles, dikes, rampers, bulwarks,platformes, counterforts, curtines, vamewres and engins which you haue prepared, besides a numbre of false brayes and flanks, placed in good order, and the whole defended from the thundringe Cannons and Bombardes, which do amaze the wandring enemy in the field. But I pray you leauing these warlike Tumults, to speak more boldly without these extrauagantes and digressions, for I take pitye to see you thus troubled: ready to exceede the boundes of your modesty and wonted wysedome.” “Do not maruell at all mistresse” (quod he) “sith accordynge to new occurrentes and alterations, the purpose, talke, and counsel ordinarily do change I am become the seruaunt of one which maketh me altogither lyke vnto those that bee madde, and bound in Chaines, not able to speake or say any thing, but what the spyrites that be in them, do force them to vtter. For neither will I thynke, or speake any thing, but that which the Enchaunter Loue doth commaunde and suffer to expresse, who so rygorously doth vexe my hearte, as in place wher bouldenesse is most requysite, hee depriueth me of force, and leaueth mee without any Countenance. And being alone, God knoweth how frankly I doe wander in the place, where myne enemy may commaunde, and with what hardinesse I do inuade hir prouince. Alas, is it not pity then to see these diuersities in one selfe matter, and vpon one very thing? Truely I would endure wyllingly all these trauailes, if I wyst in the end, my seruice woulde be accepted, and hoped that my Martirdome shoulde fynde releefe: but liuing in this vncertainty, I must needes norysh the hunger and solace of the vnhappy, which are wishes and vaine hopes, trusting that some God wyll gayne me a faythful friend that will assaye to rid me from the hell, into the which I am throwne, or else to shorten thys Miserable lyfe, whych is a hundred tymes more paynfull than Death.” In sayinge so, he began to sighe so straungely as a man would haue thought that two Smithes sledges working at the forge, had gyuen two blowes at his stomake, so vehement was the inclosed winde within his heart, that made him to fetche forth those terrible sighes, the Eyes not forgetting to yeld forth a Riuer of Teares, which gushynge forthe at the centre of hys Hearte, mounted into his Braynes, at lengthe to make issue through the Spoute, proper to the Chanellof sutch a Fountayne. Which the Gentlewoman seyng, moued with compassion, coulde not contain also from Weepyng, and therewythall sayde vnto him: “Although mine estate and reputation, which to this day I have kept vnspotted, defend the vse of my good wyl in al things that may defame mine honor, yet sir, seing the extremity which you suffer to be vnfained, I wil somwhat stretch my conscience, and assay to succor you with so good heart, as frankely you trust me with the secrets of your thought. It resteth then now for me to know what she is, to whome your deuocions be inclined whose heart and mind I wil so relief with the taste of your good wil, as I dare giue warrant, her appetit shal accept your profred seruice, and truly that woman may count her self happy that shal intertain the offer of a gentleman that is so honest and curteous, who meaneth with al fidelity to aduance and honor, not onely the superficial ornament of hir beauty, but the inward vertues of hir constant mind. And truly the earth seldom yeldeth those frutes in the harts of men in these our barren days, they being ouer growen with the shrubbes of disloialty the same choke vp the plantes of true Fidelity, the sedes whereof are sowen and replanted in the soyle of womens hartes, who not able to depart and vse the force and effects thereof will put vpon them conditions that bee cruell, to punish the Foolysh indiscreation of tryfling Louers, who disguised with the vizard of fained friendship, and paynted with coloured Amity, languishing in sighes and sorrowes, goe aboute to assay to deceiue the flexible Nature of them that prodigally employ theyr honor into the hands of sutch cruel, inconstante and foolysh suters.” “Ah Mistresse” answered the Gentleman: “howe may I bee able to recompence that onely benefite which you promyse me now? But be sure that you see heere a Souldier and Gentleman presente which shall no lesse bee prodigall of hys Lyfe to doe you seruyce, than you bee lyberall of your reputation, to ease his Paines. Now sith it pleaseth you to shew sutch fauour to offer me your helpe and support in that which payneth me, I require no more at your hands, but to beare a letter which I shall wryte to mystresse Zilia, with whome I am so farre in loue, as if I do receiue no solace of my griefe, I know not howe I shall auoyde the cuttyng of the Threede, whych thespynning systers haue twisted to prolonge my lyfe, that henceforth can receiue no succor if by your meanes I do not atchieue the thing that holdeth me in bondage.” The Gentlewoman was very sorrowful, when she vnderstoode that Seignior Philiberto had bent his Loue vpon sutch one, as would not consente to that requeste, and mutch lesse would render rest vnto hys myseryes, and therefore enforced hir selfe to moue that Foolyshe Fantasye out of his head. But he beyng already resolued in thys myshappe, and the same perceyued by her in the ende she sayde: “To the intente sir that you may not thynke that I doe meane to excuse the Satysfactyon of my promyse, make youre Letters, and of my Fayth I wil delyuer them. And albeyt I knowe verye well what bee the Honoures and Glorye of that Pylgryme, yet I wyll render to you agayne the true aunswere of hir speache whereby you maye consider the gayne you are lyke to make, by pursuing a Woman (although faire) of so small desert.” The Gentleman fayled not to gyue her heartye Thankes, prayinge hir to tarry vntyll hee had written his letters: whereunto she most willingly obeyed. He then in his chaumber, began to fantasie a hundred hundred matters to write vnto his Mistresse, and after he had fixed theym in minde tooke Incke and Paper writing as followeth.

“The passion extreeme which I endure, (Madame) through the feruent loue I beare you, is sutch, as besides that I am assured of the little affection that resteth in you towards me agayne, in respect of that incredible seruitude which my desire is ready to employ, I haue no power to commaunde my force, ne yet to rid my selfe from my vowed deuotion and will to your incomparable beauty, although euen from the beginning I felt the pricks of the mortall shot which now torments my mynde. Alas, I do not know vnder what influence I am borne, nor what Fate doth guide my yeares, sith I doe perceyue that heauen, and loue, and hir whom alone I honor, doe confirme themselues with one assent to seeke myne ouerthrow. Alas, I thinke that all the powers aboue conspired together, to make me be the faythfull man, and perpetuallseruaunt of you my mistresse deare, to whom alone, I yelde my heart afflicted as it is, and the ioy of hidden thoughts noursed in my minde, by the contemplation and remembraunce of your excellent and perfect graces, whereof, if I be not fauored, I waight for death, from whych euen now I fly: not for feare of that whych she can doe, or of the vgly shape which I conceyue to be in hir, but rather to confirme my life, this Body for instrument to exercise the myndes conceypts for doinge your Commaundements, which Body I greatly feare shall proue the vnworthy cruelty, both of your gentle nouriture, and of those graces which Dame Nature most aboundantly hath powred in you. Be sure Madame that you shall shortlye see the Ende of him, which attendeth yet to beare so mutch as in him doeth lye, the vehement loue into an other world, which maketh me to pray you to haue pity on him, who (attending the rest and final sentence of his Death or Lyfe) doth humbly kisse your white and delicate handes, beseeching God to giue to you like ioy as his is, who desireth to be,

Wholy yours or not to be at all

Philiberto of Virle.”

The Letter written, closed and sealed, he deliuered to his neighbour, who promysed hym agayne to bryng him answere at Night. Thus this Messenger went hir way, leauing this pore languishyng Gentlemen hoping against hope, and fayning by and by some ioy and pleasure, wherein he bained himself with great contented minde. Then sodaynly he called againe vnto remembraunce, the cruelty and inciuility of Zilia, which shewed before his eyes so many kindes of Death, as tymes he thought vpon the same, thinking that he saw the choler wherewith his little curteous mistresse furiously did intertaine the messenger, who findinge Zilia comming forth of a garden adioining to her house, and hauing saluted her, and receiued like curteous salutation would haue framed hir talke, by honest excuse in the vnsemely charge and message: to hir vnto whom she was sent, and for some ease to the pore gentleman which approched nearer death than life. But Zilia break of hir talke saying: “I maruell mutch Gentle neighbor to see you heere at this time of the day, knowing your honest custome is to let passe no minute of the tyme, except it be emploied in some vertuousexercise.” “Mistresse” answered the messanger, “I thank you for the good opinion you haue of me, and doe pray you to continue the same. For I do assure you that nothinge vayne or of lyttle effect hath made me slacke my businesse at this time, which me think I do not forslow, when I inforce my selfe to take pitye and mercy vpon the afflicted and the substaunce thereof I woulde disclose, if I feared not to offend you, and break the loue which of long tyme betweene vs two hath ben frequented.” “I know not” (said Zilia) “whereunto your words do tend, althoughe my Hearte doth throbbe, and minde doth moue to make mee thinke your purposed talke to bee of none other effecte, than to say a thing which may redound to the preiudice of myne honour. Wherefore I pray you do not disclose what shall be contrary, (be it neuer so little) to the duety of Dames of our Degree.” “Mystresse” sayd the Neighboure, “I suppose that the lyttle Lykelihoode touchyng in you the thinge for the helpe whereof I come, hath made you feele some passion, contrary to the greefe of him that indures so mutch for your sake. Vnto whome without feare of your dyspleasure, I gaue my Faithe in Pledge to beare this Letter.” In saying so, she drewe the same out of hir Bosome, and presentyng it to cruell Silia, shee sayde: “I beseeche you to thynke that I am not ignoraunt of the evyll wherewyth the Lorde of Virle is affected, who wrote these letters. I promysed him the duety of a Messanger towards you: and so constrayned by promyse I could doe no lesse, than to delyuer you that which hee doeth sende, with Seruyce sutch as shall endure for euer, or yf it shall please you to accept him for sutch a one as hee desireth to be. For my parte I onelye praye you to reade the Contentes, and accordynglye to gyue mee Aunswere: for my Fayth is no further bounde, but trustelye to report to hym the thinge whereuppon you shall bee resolued.” Zilia which was not wonte to receyue very ofte sutch Ambassades, at the firste was in mind to breake the Letters, and to retourne the Messanger wythout aunswere to hir shame. But in the Ende takyng Heart, and chaunging hir affectyon, she red the Letters not without shewing some very great alteration outwardely, which declared the meanynge of hir thought that diuersly did stryue wythin hir mynde: for sodaynly sheechaunged her Coloure twyce or thryce, nowe waxing pale lyke the increasynge Moone Eclypsed by the Sunne, when shee feeleth a certayne darkenynge of hir borowed Lyghte, then the Vermylyon and coloured Taynte came into hir Face agayne, wyth no lesse hewe than the blomed Rose newelye budded forthe, whych Encreased halfe so mutch agayne, the excellencye of that wherewyth Nature had indued hir. And then she paused a whyle. Notwythstandynge, after that shee had red, and red agayne hir Louer’s letter, not able to dissemble hir foolishe anger which vexed hir heart, shee sayde vnto the mistresse messanger: “I would not haue thought that you, being a woman of good fame would (by abusinge your duety,) haue bene the ambassador of a thing so vncomely for your Estate, and the house where of you come, and towards me which neuer was sutch one (ne yet pretend to be.) And trust me it is the loue I beare you, which shall for this tyme make me dissemble what I thincke, reseruinge in silence, that whych (had it come from an other) I would haue published to the great dishonour of hir that maketh so little accoumpt of my chastity. Let it suffice therefore in tyme to come for you to thinke and beleue, that I am chaste and honest: and to aduertise the Lord of Virle to proceede no further in his sute: for rather will I dy, than agree to the least poynct of that which hee desires of mee. And that he may knowe the same, be well assured that hee shall take his leaue of that priuate talke which sometimes I vsed with him to my great dishonor, as far as I can see. Get you home therefore, and if you loue your credit so mutch, as you see me curious of my chastity, I beseech you vse no further talke of hym, whom I hate so mutch, as his folly is excessiue, for I do little esteeme the amorous Toyes and fayned passions, whereunto sutch louinge fooles doe suffer themselues to be caried headlong.” The messenger ashamed to heare hir selfe thus pinched to the quicke, aunswered hir very quietly without mouing of hir pacience: “I pray to God (mistresse) that he may recouer the different disease al most incurable in eyther of you twayne, the same being so vehement, as altered into a phrenesie, maketh you in this wyse, incapable of reason.” Finishing these wordes she tooke hir leaue of Zilia, and arriued to the Louer’s house, she founde himlying vpon his bed, rather dead than a liue: who seeing his neyghbor returned backe agayne, with Face so sadde, not tarying for the aunswere which she was about to make, he began to say: “Ah infortunate Gentleman, thou payest wel the vsury of thy pleasures past when thou diddest lyue at lyberty, free from those trauayles which now do put thee to death, without suffering thee to dy. Oh happy, and more than happy had I ben, if inconstant Fortune had not deuised this treason, wherein I am surprised and caught, and yet no raunsome can redeeme from prison, but the most miserable death that euer poore louer suffred. Ah Mistresse, I knowe well that Zilia esteemeth not my Letters, ne yet regardeth my loue, I confesse that I haue done you wrong by thus abusing your honest amity, for the solace of my payne. Ah fickle loue, what foole is hee which doth commit hymselfe to the rage and fury of the Waues of thy foming and tempestuous Seas? Alas I am entred in, with great, and gladsome cheere, through the glistering shew before myne eyes of the faynt shining Sunne beames, whereunto as soone as I made sayle, the same denied me light of purpose to thrust me forth into a thousand winds, tempests, and raging stormes of Rayne. By meanes whereof I see no meane at all to hope for end of my mishaps: and mutche lesse the shipwracke that sodainely may rid me from this daunger more intollerable, than if I were ouerwhelmed wythin the bottomlesse depth of the mayne Ocean. Ah deceyuer and wily Souldiour, why hast thou made me enterprise the voyage farre of from thy solitudes and Wildernesse, to geue me ouer in the middest of my necessity? Is this thy maner towards them which franckly followe thy tract, and pleasauntly subdue themselues to thy trayterous follies? At least wyse if I sawe some hope of health would indure without complaynt thereof: yea, and it were a more daungerous tempest. But O good God, what is he of whom I speake? Of whom do I attend for solace and releefe? Of him truely which is borne for the ouerthrow of men. Of whom hope I for health? Of the most noysom poyson that euer was mingled with the subtilest druggs that euer were. Whom shall I take to be my Patron? He which is in ambush traiterously to catch me, that he may martir me worsse than he hath done before. Ah cruell Dame, that measurestso euill, the good will of him that neuer purposed to trespasse the least of thy commaundements. Ah, that thy beauty should finde a Subiect so stubborne in thee, to torment them that loue and honor thee. O maigre and vnkinde recompence, to expell good seruaunts that be affectionate to a seruice so iust and honest. Ah Basiliske, coloured ouer with pleasure and swetnesse, how hath thy sight dispersed his poyson throughout mine heart? At least wise if I had some drugge to repell thy force, I should liue at ease, and that without this sute and trouble. But I feele and proue that this sentence is more than true:

No physicke hearbes the griefe of loue can cure,Ne yet no drugge that payne can well assure.

No physicke hearbes the griefe of loue can cure,

Ne yet no drugge that payne can well assure.

Alas, the seare cloath will not serue, to tent the wound the time shall be but lost, to launch the sore, and to salue the same it breeds myne ouerthrow. To be short, any dressing can not auayle, except the hand of hir alone which gaue the wounde. I woulde to God shee sawe the bottome of my heart, and viewed the Closet of my mynde, that shee might iudge of my firme fayth and know the wrong she doth me by hir rigor and froward will. But O vnhappy man, I feele that she is so resolued in obstinate mynde, as hir rest seemeth only to depend vpon my payne, hir ease vpon my griefe, and hir ioy vpon my sadnesse.” And saying so, began straungly to weepe, and sighing betwene, lamented, in so mutch as, the mistresse messaunger not able to abide the griefe and paynefull trauayle wherein shee saw the poore gentleman wrapped, went home to hir house: notwithstanding she told afterward the whole successe of his loue to a Gentleman, the friend of Philiberto. Now this Gentleman was a companion in armes to the Lorde of Virle, and a very familyar Freend of his, that went about by all meanes to put away those foolishe, and Franticke conceypts out of his fansie, but hee profited as mutch by his endeuour, as the passionate gayned by his heauines: who determining to dye, yelded so mutch to care and grief, as he fell into a greeuous sicknes, which both hindred him from sleepe, and also his Appetite to eate and drinke, geuing himselfe to muse vppon his follies, and fansied dreames, without hearing or admitting any man to speakevnto hym. And if perchaunce hee hearkened to the persuasions of his frends, he ceassed not his complaynt, bewayling the cruelty of one, whom he named not. The Phisitians round about were sought for, and they coulde geue no iudgement of his malady (neyther for all the Signes they saw, or any inspection of his Vrine, or touching of his pulse) but sayd that it was melancholie humor distilling from the Brayne, that caused the alteration of his sense: howbeit their Arte and knowledge were void of skil to evacuate the grosse Bloud that was congeled of his disease. And therefore dispayryng of his health, with hands full of Money, they gaue him ouer. Which his friend and Companion perceiuing, maruellous sorry for his affliction he ceased not to practise all that he could by Letters, gifts, promises and complaynts to procure Zilia to visite her pacient. For hee was assured that her onely presence was able to recouer him. But the cruell woman excused hir self that she was a Widow and that it shoulde bee vnseemely for one of hir degree (of intente) to visite a Gentleman, whose Parentage and Alliance she knew not. The soliciter of the Lord of Virle his health, seeing how lyttle hys prayers auailed to his implacable gryefe could not tell to what Sainct he might vow himself for Counsell, in the ende resolued to sollicite hir again that hadde done the first Message, that she myght eftsons deuise some meanes to bryng them to speake togither. And fynding hir for hys purpose, thus he sayed vnto hir: “Mystresse I maruell mutch that you make so little accompt of the pore lorde of Virle who lyeth in his Bedde attending for Death. Alas, if euer pitty had place in Woman’s heart, I beseech you to gyue your ayde to help him, the meane of whose recouery, is not ignoraunt vnto you.” “God is my witnesse” (quod she) “what trauaile my heart is willing to vndertake to helpe that Gentleman, but in things impossible, it is not in man to determine, or rest assured iudgement. I wil go vnto him and comfort hym so well as I can, that peraduenture my Promyses may ease some part of his payne: and afterward we wil at leysure better consider, what is best for vs to do.” Herevppon they wente together to see the Pacient, that beganne to looke more chearefull than he dyd before: who seeing the Gentlewoman, said vnto hir: “Ah mistres, I would to God I had neuerproued your fidelity, then had I not felt the passing cruell Heart of hir, that esteemeth more hir honour to practise rigour and tyranny than with gentlenesse to maintaine the Lyfe of a pore feeble knight.” “Sir,” (said she,) “be of good cheare, doe not thus torment your selfe: for I trust to gyue you remedy betwene thys and to morrowe, and wyll doe myne endeuor to cause you to speake with hir, vppon whome wrongfully perchaunce you doe complayne, and who dare not come vnto you, least ill speakers conceiue occasion of suspicion, who wil make the report more slaunderous, then remedie for the cause of your disease.” “Ah” (sayd the pacient) “howe ioyefull and pleasaunt is your talke? I see wel that you desire my health, and for that purpose would haue me drinke those liquors, which superficiallay appeare to bee sweete, which afterwardes may make my lyfe a hundred tymes more faint and feeble than now it is.” “Be you there,” sayed she? “And I sweare vnto you by my faith not to faile to keepe my promyse, to cause you speake alone with mistresse Zilia.” “Alas, mistresse” sayd the louer, “I aske no more at yourhaudes, that I may heare with myne own eares the last sentence of hope or defiance.” “Well put your trust in me,” sayd she, “and take no thought but for your health. For I am assured ere it be longe, to cause hir to come vnto you, and then you shall see whether, my diligence shall aunswere the effect of myne attempt.” “Me thinke already” (quod he) “that sicknesse is not able to stay me from going to hir that is the cause, sith her onely remembraunce hath no lesse force in mee, than the clearnesse of the Sun beames to euaporate the thicknesse of the morning mistes.” With that the Gentlewoman tooke her leaue of hym, and went home attendynge oportunity to speake to Zilia, whome two or three Dayes after she mette at Church, and they two beyng alone togither in a Chapell, she sayd vnto hir with fayned Teares, forced from her Eyes, and sending forth a Cloude of sighes, these woordes: “Madame, I nothing doubt at al, but the last Letters which I brought you, made you conceiue some il opinion of me, which I do guesse by the frownyng countenance that euer sithens you haue borne me. But when you shall knowe the hurte which it hath done, I thinke you wyll not be so harde, and voyde of pitye,but with pacyence hearken that whych I shall saye, and therewythall bee moued to pitye the state of a pore Gentleman, who by your meanes is in the pangs of death.” Zilia, which til then neuer regarded the payne and sicknesse of the pacient, began to sorrow, with sutch passion, as not to graunt him further fauor than he had already receiued, but to finde some means to ease him of hys gryefe, and then to gyue hym ouer for euer. And therefore she sayd vnto hir neyghbor: “My good frend, I thought that all these sutes had beene forgotten, vntill the other day a certen Gentleman praied me to go see the Lord of Virle, who told me as you do now, that he was in great daunger. And now vnderstanding by you that he waxeth worsse, and worsse, I will be ruled, being well assured of your honesty and vertue, and that you will not aduise me to any thing that shall be hurtfull to myne honour. And when you haue done what you can, you shal winne of me so mutch as nothinge, and geeue no ease to him at all that wrongfully playneth of my cruelty. For I purpose not to do any priuate fact with him, but that which shall be meete for an honest Gentlewoman, and sutch as a faythfull tutor of hir chastity, may graunt to an honest and vertuous Gentleman.” “His desire is none other” (sayd the gentlewoman) “for he craueth but your presence, to let you wit by word, that he is ready to do the thing you shall commaund him.” “Alas” sayde Zilia, “it is impossible for me to go to hym without suspition, which the common people will lightly conceiue of sutch light and familiar Behauiour. And rather would I dy than aduenture mine honor hitherto conserued wyth great seuerity and diligence. And yet sith you say, that he is in extremes of death, for your sake, I wil not stick to heare him speake.” “I thanke you” (sayd the Messanger) “for the good wil you beare me and for the help you promise vnto the poore passionate Gentleman, whom these newes wil bring on foote againe, and who al the dayes of his life wil do you honor for that good turne.” “Sith it is so (sayd Zilia) to morrow at noone let him come vnto my house, wherein a low chamber, he shall haue leysure to say to mee his mind. But I purpose by God’s help, to suffer him no further than that which I haue already graunted.” “As it shall please you” (sayd hir neighbour) “forI craue no more of you but that only fauour, which as a Messanger of good Newes, I go to shew hym, recommending my selfe in the meane tyme to your commaunde.” And then she went vnto the pacient, whom she found walkinge vp and downe the Chaumber, indifferent lusty of his person, and of colour meetely freshe for the tyme hee left his Bed.”Now when sir Philiberto saw the Messanger, hee sayde vnto hir: “And how now mystresse, what Newes? Is Zilia so stubborne as shee was wont to be?” “You may see hir” (sayd she) “if to morrowe at Noone you haue the heart to aduenture to goe vnto hir house.” “Is it possible” (sayd hee embracing hir) “that you haue procured my delyueraunce from the misery, wherewith I haue so long tyme beene affected? Ah trusty and assured frende, all the dayes of my lyfe I wil remember that pleasure, and benefite, and by acknowledging of the same, shall be ready to render like, when you please to commaunde, or els let me be counted the most vncurteous Gentleman that euer made profession of loue: I will go by God’s help to see mistresse Zilia, with intent to endure all vexation, wherewith Dame Fortune shall afflict me, protesting to vex my selfe no more, although I see my wished hap otherwise to ende than my desert requireth. But yet agaynst Fortune to contend, is to warre agaynst my selfe, whereof the Victory can be but daungerous.” Thus he passed all the day, which seemed to last a thousand years to hym, that thought to receyue some good intertaynment of hys Lady, in whose Bonds hee was catched before he thought that Woman’s malice could so farre exceede, or display hir venomous Sting. And truly that man is voyde of Sense, whych suffreth hym selfe so fondly to bee charmed, sith the pearill of others before time abused, ought to serue hym for exaumple. Women be vnto mankinde a greate confusion, and vnwares for want of hys due foresight, it doth suffer it selfe to bee bounde and taken captiue by the very thing which hath no being to worke effect, but by free will. Which Inchauntment of woman’s beauty, being to men a pleasaunt displeasure, I thinke to bee decked with that drawinge vertue, and allurement, for chastising of their sinnes who once fed and bayted with their fading fauour and poysoned sweetnesse, forget their owne perfection, and nousled intheir foolishe Fansies, they seeke Felicity, and soueraygne delight, in the matter wherein doth lie the summe of their vnhaps. Semblaly the vertuous and shamefaste dames, haue not the eyes of their minde so blindfolde, but that they see whereunto those francke seruices, those disloyal Faythes and Vyces coloured and stuffed with exterior vertue, doe tende: Who doubt not also but sutch louers do imitate the Scorpion, whose Venome lieth in his Tayle, the ende of which is loue beinge the ruine of good Renoume, and the Decay of former vertues. For which cause the heauens, the Frende of their sexe, haue giuen them a prouidence, which those Gentle, vnfauoured louers terme to be rigor, thereby to proue the deserts of Suters, aswell for their great contentation and prayse, as for the rest of them that do them seruice. Howbeit this iust and modest prouidence, that cruel Gentlewoman practised not in hir louer, the Lord of Virle, who was so humble a seruaunt of his vnkinde mistresse, as his obedience redounded to his great mishap, and folly, as manifestly may appeare by that whych followeth. Sir Philiberto then thinking to haue gayned mutch by hauing made promise, liberally to speake to his Lady, went vnto hir at the appoyncted hour, so well contented truely of that grace, as all the vnkindnesse past was quite forgot. Now being come to the Lodging of Mistresse Zilia, he found hir in the deuised place with one of hir maydes attending vpon hir. When she saw him, after a little cold entertaynment, she began to say vnto him with fayned ioy, that neuer mooued hir heart, these woordes: “Now sir, I see that your late sicknesse was not so straunge as I was geeuen to vnderstand, for the good state wherein I see you presently to be, which from henceforth shall make mee beleue, that the passions of Men endure so long as the cause of their affections continue within their fansies, mutch like vnto looking Glasses, which albeit they make the equality or excesse of things represented to appeare, yet when the thing seene doth passe, and vanishe away, the formes also do voyde out of remembraunce, resembling the wynde that lightly whorleth to and fro through the plane of some deepe valley.” “Ah madame” aunswered he, “how easie a matter it is for the griefelesse person to counterfayt both ioy and dissimulation in one very thing, which not onelymay forget the conceipt that mooueth his affections, but the obiect must continually remayne in him, as paynted, and grauen in his minde. Which truely as you say is a looking Glasse, not sutch one for all that, as the counterfayted apparaunce of represented formes hath like vigor in it, that the first and true idees and shapes can so soone vanish without leauiug most perfect impression of sutch formes within the minde of him, that liueth vpon their onely remembraunce. In this mirror then (which by reason of the hidden force I may well say to bee ardent and burning) haue I looked so well as I can, thereby to form the sustentation of my good hap. But the imagined Shape not able to support sutch perfection, hath made the rest of the body to fayle (weakned through the mindes passions) in sutch wise as if the hope to recouer this better parte halfe lost, had not cured both, the whole decay of the one had followed, by thinking to giue some accomplishment in the other. And if you see me Madame, attayne to some good state, impute the same I beseech you, to the good will and fauor which I receiue by seeing you in a priuate place, wherein I conceyue greater ioy than euer I did, to say vnto you the thing which you would not beleeue, by woords at other times proceeding from my mouth, ne yet by aduertisement signified in my written letters. Notwithstanding I think that my Martirdome is known to bee sutch as euery man may perceyue that the Summe of my desire is onely to serue and obey you, for so mutch as I can receyue no greater comforte, than to be commaunded to make repayre to you, to let you know that I am whole (although giuen ouer by Phisitians) when you vouchsafe to employ me in your seruice, and thinke my selfe raysed vp agayne from one hundred thousand deathes at once, when it shall please you to haue pitty vpon the griefe and passion, that I endure. Alas, what causeth my mishap, that the heauenly beauty of yours should make proofe of a cruelty so great? Haue you decreed Madame thus to torment mee poore Gentleman that am ready to sacrifice myselfe in your seruice, when you shall impart some fauour of your good grace? Do you thinke that my passions be dissembled? Alacke, alacke, the teares which I haue shed, the losse of lust to eate and drinke, the weary passed nights, the longe contriued sleepelesse tyme therestlesse turmoyle of my consumed corps may wel assure that my loyall heart is of better merite than you esteeme.” Then seeing hir to fixe hir eyes vpon the ground, and thinkinge that hee had already wonne hir, he reinforced his humble Speache, and Sighing at fits betwene, not sparinge the Teares, whych trickled downe alongs hys Face, he prosecuted his Tale as followeth: “Ah fayre amongs the fayrest, woulde you blot that surpassing Beauty with a cruelty so furious, as to cause the death of him which loueth you better than himselfe? Ah my withered eyes, which hitherto haue bene serued with two liuely springs to expresse the hidden griefs within the heart, if your vnhap be sutch that the only Mistresse of your contemplations, and cause of your driery teares, doe force the Humor to encrease, which hitherto in sutch wise hath emptied my Brayne, as there is no more in mee to moisten your drouth, I am content to endure al extremity, vntil my heart shal feele the last Pangue, that depriueth yee of nourishment, and me of mine affected Ioy.” The Gentlewoman, whether shee was weary of that Oration, or rather doubted that in the end hir chastity would receue some assault through the dismeasured passion which she saw to continue in him, answered with rigorous words: “You haue talked, and written inough, you haue indifferently well solicited hir, whych is throughly resolued in former minde, to keepe hir honor in that worthy reputation of degree, wherein she maynetayneth the same amongs the best. I haue hitherto suffered you to abuse my patience, and haue shewed that familiarity which they deserue not that go about leudly to assayle the chastity of those Women that patiently gieue them eare, for the opinion they haue conceiued of the shadowing vertues of like foolishe Suters. I now doe see that all your woordes doe tend to beguile mee, and to depriue mee of that you cannot giue mee: Which shall bee a warning for me henceforth, more wisely to looke about my businesse, and more warely to shunne the Charmes of sutch as you bee, to the ende that I by bending mine open eares, be not surprised, and ouercome wyth your enchaunted Speaches. I pray you then for conclusion, that I heare no more hereof, neyther from you, nor yet from the Ambassadour that commeth from you. For I neyther will, ne yet pretend to depart to you anyother fauour than that which I haue enlarged for your comfort: but rather doe protest, that so longe as you abide in this Countrey, I will neyther goe forth in streate, nor suffer any Gentleman to haue accesse into this place except he be my neare Kinsman. Thus for your importunat sute, I will chastise my light consent, for harkeninge vnto you in those requests, which duty and Womanhoode ought not to suffre. And if you do proceede in these your follies, I will seeke redresse according to your desert, which till now I haue deferred, thinking that time would haue put out the ardent heate of your rash, and wanton youth.” The infortunate Lord of Virle, hearing this sharpe sentence, remayned long time without speach, so astonned as if he had bene falne from the Clouds. In the ende for al his despayre he replyed to Zilia with Countenaunce indifferent merry: “Sith it is so madame, that you take from mee all hope to be your perpetuall Seruaunt, and that without other comfort or contentation I must nedes depart your presence, neuer (perchaunce) hereafter to speake vnto you againe, be not yet so squeimish of your beauty, and so cruell towards your languishing louer, as to deny him a kisse for pledge of his last farewell. I demaund nothing here in secret, but that honestly you may openly performe. It is al that I doe craue at your handes in recompence of the trauayles, paynes, and afflictions suffred for your sake.” The malitious dame full of rancor, and spitefull rage sayd vnto him: “I shall see by and by sir, if the loue which you vaunt to beare mee, be so vehement as you seeme to make it.” “Ah Madame” (sayd the vnaduised Louer) “commaunde only, and you shal see with what deuotion I will performe your will, were it that it should cost me the price of my proper life.” “You shall haue” (quod she) “the kisse which you require of me if you will make promise, and sweare by the fayth of a Gentleman, to do the thinge that I shall commaund, without fraude, couin or other delay.” “Madame” (sayd the ouer wilful louer) “I take God to witnesse that of the thing which you shall commaunde I will not leaue one iote vndone, but it shall bee executed to the vttermost of your request and will.” She hearing him sweare with so good affection, sayd vnto him smiling: “Now then vpon your oth which I beleue, and being assured of your Vertue and Noblenature, I will also performe and keepe my promise.” And saying so, shee Embraced and kissed him very louingly. The poore Gentleman not knowing how dearely hee had bought that disfauorable curtesie, and bitter sweetenesse, helde hir a while betwene his armes, doubling kisse vppon kisse, with sutch Pleasure, as his soule thought to fly vp to the heauens being inspired with that impoysoned Baulme which hee sucked in the sweete and sugred breath of his cruel mistresse: who vndoing hir selfe out of his armes, sayde vnto him: “Sith that I haue made the first disclosure both of the promise and of the effect, it behooueth that you performe the rest, for the full accomplyshment of the same.” “Come on hardily” (sayeth hee) “and God knoweth how spedily you shal be obeyed.” “I wil then” (quod shee) “and commaund you vpon your promysed faith that from this present time, vntyl the space of three yeres be expyred, you speake to no lyuing person for any thing that shall happen vnto you, nor yet expresse by tonge, by sound of word or speache what thing you wante or els desyre, whych requeste if you do breake, I will neuer truste liuing man for youre sake, but wil publyshe your fame to bee villanous, and your person periured, and a promyse breaker.” I leaue for you to think whether this vnhappy louer were amazed or not, to heare a Commaundment so vniust, and therewithall the difficulty for the performance. Notwithstanding he was so stoute of hearte, and so religious an obseruer of his Othe as euen at that very instant he began to do the part which she had commaunded, playing at Mumchaunce, and vsing other signes, for doing of his duetye, accordynge to hir demaund. Thus after his ryghte humble reuerence made vnto hir, he went home, where faining that hee had lost his speach by meanes of a Catarre or reume which distilled from his brayne, he determined to forsake his Countrey vntill his tyme of penance was rune out. Wherfore setting staye in hys affayres, and prouydyng for his trayne, he made him ready to depart. Notwithstanding, he wrot a Letter vnto Zilia, before he toke hys iovrney into Fraunce, that in olde tyme hadde ben the Solace and refuge of the miserable, as wel for the pleasantnes and temperature of the ayre, the great wealth and the aboundance of al thynges, as for the curtesye, gentlenes andfamilyarity of the people: wherein that region may compare with any other nation vpon the earth. Now the Letter of Philiberto, fell into the hands of lady Zilia, by meanes of hys Page instructed for that purpose: who aduertised hir of the departure of his mayster, and of the despaire wherein hee was. Whereof shee was somewhat sory, and offended: But yet puttinge on hir Aunciente seuerytye, tooke theLetters, and breakinge the Seale, found that which followeth.

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