The Palace of Pleasure, Volume 1

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THE TWENTY-EIGHTH NOUELL.

_Of the straunge and beastlie nature of Timon of Athens, enemie to
mankinde, with his death, buriall, and Epitaphe._

Al the beastes of the worlde do applye theimselues to other beastes of
theyr kind, Timon of Athens onely excepted: of whose straunge nature
Plutarche is astonied, in the life of Marcus Antonius. Plato and
Aristophanes do report his marueylous nature, because hee was a man but
by shape onely, in qualities hee was the capitall enemie of mankinde,
which he confessed franckely vtterly to abhorre and hate. He dwelt alone
in a litle cabane in the fieldes not farre from Athenes, separated from
all neighbours and company: he neuer wente to the citie, or to any other
habitable place, except he were constrayned: he could not abide any mans
company and conuersation: he was neuer seen to goe, to any mannes house,
ne yet would suffer them to come to him. At the same time there was in
Athenes another of like qualitie, called Apemantus, of the very same
nature, differente from the naturall kinde of man, and lodged likewise
in the middes of the fields. On a day they two being alone together at
dinner, Apemantus said vnto him: "O Timon what a pleasant feast is this,
and what a merie companie are wee, being no more but thou and I." "Naie
(quoth Timon) it would be a merie banquet in deede, if there were none
here but my selfe."

Wherein he shewed how like a beast (in deede) he was: for he could not
abide any other man, beinge not able to suffer the company of him, which
was of like nature. And if by chaunce hee happened to goe to Athenes, it
was onelye to speake with Alcibiades, who then was an excellente
Captaine there, wherat many did marueile: and therefore Apemantus
demaunded of him, why he spake to no man, but to Alcibiades. "I speake
to him sometimes, said Timon, because I know that by his occasion, the
Atheniens shall receiue great hurt and trouble." Which wordes many times
he told to Alcibiades himselfe. He had a garden adioyning to his house
in the fields, wherin was a Figge tree, wheruppon many desperate men
ordinarily did hange themselues: in place whereof, he purposed to set vp
a house, and therefore was forced to cutte it downe, for which cause hee
went to Athenes, and in the markette place, hee called the people about
him, saying that hee had newes to tell them: when the people vnderstoode
that he was about to make a discourse vnto them, which was wont to
speake to no man, they marueiled, and the citizens on euery parte of the
citie, ranne to heare him: to whom he saide, that he purposed to cutte
downe his Figge tree, to builde a house vpon the place where it stoode.
"Wherefore (quoth he) if there be any man amonges you all in this
company, that is disposed to hange himselfe, let him come betimes,
before it be cutte downe." Hauing thus bestowed his charitie amonges the
people, hee retourned to his lodging, wher he liued a certaine time
after, without alteration of nature; and because that nature chaunged
not in his life time, he would not suffer that death should alter, or
varie the same. For like as he liued a beastly and chorlish life, euen
so he required to haue his funerall done after that maner. By his last
will, he ordeined himselfe to be interred vpon the sea shore, that the
waues and surges might beate and vexe his dead carcas. Yea, and that if
it were possible, his desire was to be buried in the depth of the Sea:
causing an Epitaphe to be made, wherin was described the qualities of
his brutishe life. Plutarche also reporteth an other to be made by
Calimachus, much like to that which Timon made himselfe, whose owne
soundeth to this effect in Englishe Verse.

_My wretched catife dayes,
expired now and past:
My carren corps intered here,
is fast in grounde:
In waltring waues of swel-
ling Sea, by surges cast,
My name if thou desire,
The Gods thee doe confounde._

THE TWENTY-NINTH NOUELL.

_The mariage of a man and woman, hee being the husband of xx. wiues: and
shee the wife of xxii. husbandes._

Men commonly do reproue the honour of widowes, because they being twise
or thrise wedded, doe marrie againe: and albeit by outward apparaunce,
they which soe blame them seeme to haue reason, yet no man ought to
iudge the secrecie of the hart. Mariage is holy and ought be permitted,
and therfore by any meanes not to be reproued. Although it cannot be
denied, but that the chast life is most perfecte, notwithstanding, that
perfection in nothing doth diminishe the other. The widowe marying
againe doth not offende God by mariage, and to the world she committeth
the lest faulte. And because, manye olde and aunciente widowes, in these
dayes, may not after three or fower mariages be dismaied and terrified
from that state, I will recite an Historie, auouched by S. Hierome, in
an Epistle _Ad Gerontiam viduam de monogamia_, whom for his holines and
vertue, wee ought to beleue. It is also pretely set forth by Pietro
Messia de Seuiglia, an excellent authour, a gentleman of Spaine, in the
34 Chapter of the first parte of his worke, called _La Selua di varie
Lezzioni_. S. Hierome sayth, that in the time of Pope Damasus, he sawe
and knew in Rome, one woman lawfully maried to XXII. men, and was the
widowe of XXII. husbands: there was also a man which had had XX. wiues,
and was then the widower of the XX. Both which being free, and of equall
state and condition, they made suite one to other: and that either of
them might proue whether should be the victor, in buryinge ech other,
they maried together, which mariage was in great admiration amonges the
Romaines: who musinge which of them should die first, promised that at
the funerall, they would beautie the corpes, both with their presence,
and also with tokens of victorie. It chaunced (sore against her will I
dare say) that the woman died first. At the celebration of whose
buriall, all the Romaine husbandes laied their heades together, howe
they mighte exornate and garnish the funeralles. They concluded, to goe
before the corpes with Laurel garlands vppon their heades, singing
verses of praise for the obtaining of such a victorious conquest. Now
where the women went, I cannot tell: for I finde written, that _populus
totius vrbis praecedebat feretrum_; wher _populus_, as I take it,
signifieth the whole route of men and women. And yet I thincke womens'
hartes coulde skarce aforde to go before: therefore I thincke they came
behinde like mourners, bearinge braunches without leaues, their beades
in their handes, praying for all christen soules. But giuing women leaue
to mourne for such an ouerthrow, I woulde wishe all my frendes that be
widowes, to folow the noble Romaine matrone and widowe called Annia, who
(when her frendes and familiers, exhorted her to marie againe, because
She was yong and beautifull) aunsweared that she would not. "For, quoth
she, if it be my fortune to haue a good husband, as I had before,
I shall still be afraied, lest death should take him away: but if it be
my chaunce to matche with one that is euill, howe can I be able quietly
to beare that, hauing had so good a husbande before." Declaringe
thereby, that being ones well matched, great heede ought to be taken,
how to chose the nexte, leaste in making hastie choise, leasure for
repentaunce should folow.

THE THIRTYETH NOUELL.

_How Melchisedech a iewe, by telling a pretie tale of three kinges,
saued his life._

Saladine, whose valiaunce was so great, that not onely the same from
base estate aduaunced him to be Souldan of Babilon, but also thereby hee
wanne diuers victories ouer the Saracene kinges and christians: who
throughe his manifolde warres and magnificent triumphes, hauing expended
al his treasure, and for th'execution of one exploite, lackinge a great
summe of money, knewe not where to haue the same so redily as he had
occasion to imploy it. At length he called to remembraunce a rich iewe
named Melchisedech, that lent out money for interest in Alexandria,
whose greedie and couetous nature was such, that with his good will he
would not do it, and to force him the Souldan was very loth. Howbeit,
compelled by necessity, he cast his wits about him to finde a meanes how
the iew might serue his tourne, and thereuppon founde out a sleight and
waye by a colourable force. Who causing the iew to be called before him,
intertayned him familiarly, making him to sit downe besides him, and
said to him these words. "Sir, I do learne by report of diuers, that you
are verye wise and well learned in thinges touching God, for which cause
I would gladly know of you which of the three lawes you iudge to be most
sincere and true: the Iewishe law, the Saracene law, or the Christian
lawe?" The Iewe which in deede was very wise, perceiued wel that
Saladine went about to intrappe him in wordes, thereby to raise some
quarell against him, and thought that it was not good for him to praise
one of those lawes more then another, leste Saladine mighte take
aduauntage of him. Wherefore, to make a wise and discrete aunswere that
he might not be ouer shotte, he sharpened his wittes, and sodainly came
into His remembraunce this aunswere. "My Lorde, the question which you
haue proponed is excellent, and to declare vnto you that which I knowe,
I muste tell you a tale, the better to open my meaninge, which if it
shall please you to heare, is this. I doe remember (if I be not
deceiued) that many times I haue heard tell, how vppon a time there was
a Noble man which was very rich, and had amonges his other treasures,
a verye beautifull ringe of great price and estimation: which for the
valour and beautie, hee was very desirous perpetually, to leaue vnto his
successors: willing and ordeining that the same sonne which should haue
that ring by the gift of his father, after his decease, should be taken
and reputed for his heire, and should be honoured and magnified of the
reste as the chiefest. He to whom the same ring was left, obserued
semblable order in his posteritie, and did the like that his predecessor
had done before him. In short time, this Ryng succeded from hand to hand
to many successors. And last of al it came to the hand of one that had
three goodly sonnes, vertuous and very obedient to their father, who
loued them all indifferently and in equall maner, which knowing the
order for the disposition of that Ring, curious to be best esteemed and
beloued, euery of them prayed his father so well as seuerally they
could, (which then was aged) that when hee died he would giue him the
Ring. The good man which loued one no better then another, knew not
which of them to chose, to whom he might dispose it, and thought best to
promise the same to euery of them to satisfie all three. Secretely he
procured an excellente Goldsmith to make two other Rings, which
accordinglye were made so like vnto the first, as the owner himselfe
vnnethes knew one from the other. And when he was vpon his death bedde,
he secretly gaue to euery of his sonnes a Ring. Who after the death of
their father desirous to enter the inheritaunce and honour, one goinge
about to displace another, euery of them to declare what title he had to
enioy the same, brought forth his Ringe: and the ringes were founde so
like, that the true Ring could not be knowen. Therefore the processe for
the title remained in doubt and yet continueth till this daye. And so I
say vnto you my Lord of the thre lawes giuen by God the father to those
three people, whereof you haue made the question: euery of those Nations
thinketh to enioy the inheritaunce of God, and to obserue the true lawe
and his commaundementes: but which of them hath the truest law, that
remaineth in doubt like the question of the Rings." Saladine perceyuing
that Melchisedech knew right well how to auoide the snare which hee had
laied for him: determined therefore to open and disclose vnto him his
necessitie, to proue if he would do him that pleasure: which hee did,
telling him his intent and meaninge, if he had not framed him that wyse
aunsweare. The Iewe liberally lent him the summe of moneye that he
demaunded, which Saladine wholie repaied vnto him againe, besides other
very great rewardes that he gaue him, vsing him still for his frende,
and afterwards maintayned him next his person, in great and honourable
state.

THE THIRTY-FIRST NOUELL.

_One called Guglielmo Borsiere with certaine wordes well placed, taunted
the couetous life of Ermino Grimaldi._

Longe sithens there was a gentleman at Genoua called M. Ermino Grimaldi,
whoe as all men thoughte, was the richest of possessions and ready money
within that citie, and therin farre excelled all other citizens which
then were knowen in Italie. And as he did surpasse al other Italians in
substance and wealth, so in auarice and wretchednes he surmounted beyond
measure the most couetous and miserable of the worlde. For he kept his
purse so close that he did not onely neglecte to do good to other, but
also to himselfe, by sparinge many things necessary for his owne person:
he indured much hardnes in meate and drinke because he would spend
nothinge: contrary to the common custome of the Geneuois, who be wonte
very nobly and honourably to maintaine themselues in apparell and fare.
For which cause his surname Grimaldi deseruedly was taken away, and was
called of euery man nothing els but M. Ermino the couetous. It chaunced
in those dayes, that as he by spending nothing multiplied his goods.
There ariued at Genoua an honest gentleman and well spoken, a Courtier
of good interteignement, named Guglielmo Borsiere, (nothing like the
Courtiers in these dayes that to their great shame, for their corrupt
and rude maners would be called and reputed gentlemen, which in deede
maye bee counted Asses, broughte vppe and noseled rather in the filthye
conditions of the vilest menne, then in Courtes.) In those dayes
Courtiers occupied themselues, in treatinge of peace and endinge of
quarelles that bredde strife and dissention amonges gentlemen, or in
makinge of mariages, amities, and attonementes, and with mery woordes
and pleasaunt, did recreate troubled mindes, and exhilarated with
pastimes other Courtiers, not with sharpe reprehensions, but like
fathers rebuking the liues of the wicked, and that for no gaine or
reward. Where some of the Courtiers of oure age do imploye their time,
in ill reportes one of another, and do disseminate debate and strife,
vtteringe a thousande vnhappie and vile wordes, yea and that (which is
worst of all) in common audience. Their maner is to reproue and checke
one an other with iniuries, reproches and nipping girdes, with false and
deceiuable flatteries, villanously and dissemblingly, to begile poore
and needie gentlemen. He is also the proprest man and best beloued of
some great men of like conditions, and of them is best rewarded that can
vse the vilest and most abhominable talke, or can do semblable deeds,
which redoundeth to the great shame and dishonour, of the chiefe and
principall that beare the swaie in Courte: proofe wherof is euident
enough for that the vertues past, haue forsaken the presente sort, who
liue in the ordure and filth of all vices. But to procede in that which
I haue begon, (although vpon iust occasion I haue a litle more digressed
then I thought,) I say that the foresaid Guglielmo Borsiere, was
honoured and visited of the gentlemen of Genoua, who making his abode
for a certaine time in the Citie, and hearing tel of the miserie and
couetousnes of M. Ermino, had great desire to see him. M. Ermino hearing
tell that this Guglielmo Borsiere was an excellente man, and therefore
(although a couetous man) yet hauing in him some sparke of gentilitie,
he receiued him with friendlye woords and good countenaunce, entringe
into communication with him of diuers and sundrie matters, and in
talking brought him with certaine other Citizens to one of his houses
which was very faire and newe, where (after hee had shewed him his
house) he said vnto him: "M. Guglielmo, you that haue seene and heard
many things, can you shew vnto me any new deuise neuer seene before,
that I may cause the same to be painted in the hall of this my house."
To whom M. Guglielmo (hearing his fonde demaunde) aunsweared: "Sir I can
shewe you nothing but that which hath beene knowen before, excepte
Nesinges or such like. But if it please you sir I wil gladly teach you
one, which I thincke you neuer saw." M. Ermino glad to heare of that,
said: "I pray you sir tell mee what it is," (not thinking he would haue
made that aunswere). To whom M. Guglielmo redely said: "Cause the figure
of Liberality to be painted." At which aunsweare M. Ermino was so
sodenlye ashamed, as he was forced to chaunge his minde in maner cleane
contrarye to his accustomed vse, and trade of life, saying:
"M. Guglielmo, I will cause the same to be painted in such wise, as
neither you nor any man els, shall haue occasion iustly to obiect the
same against me." And from that time forth (such was the force of that
taunt) hee was the most liberall and bountefull gentleman that dwelte in
Genoua, and one that honoured straungers and citizens more then euer did
any in his time.

THE THIRTY-SECOND NOUELL.

_Maister Alberto of Bologna, by a pleasaunt aunsweare made a gentlewoman
to blushe, which had thoughte to haue put him out of countenaunce, in
telling him that he was in loue with her._

Not manye yeares paste there was at Bologna a notable Phisition,
renowmed throughe out the whole worlde, called Maister Alberto, whoe
beinge old, almost LX. yeares of age, had such an excellent wit, that
although naturall heate was expired in his bodie, yet hee disdayned not
to conceiue some amorous flames of loue. Seing at a banket a verye fayre
gentlewoman a widowe called (as some saye) Madonna Margherita de
Ghisilieri, she pleased his fansie so well, that he fixed her so fast in
the siege of his remembraunce, as if he had been a yonge man of rype and
youthlye yeares. In such wise as that nighte he coulde take no reste, if
the day before hee had not seene the faire and beautifull face of this
faire gentlewoman. For which cause sometimes a foote, and sometimes on
horsebacke as he thought best, he continually vsed to passe before her
lodginge, which was the cause that shee and diuers other gentlewomen did
marke th'occasion of his ofte passing to and fro that waye. And many
times they iested and dalied amongest them selues to see a man of such
yeares and experience to be in loue, thinking that the displeasaunt
passion of loue, could fasten no hold but in the fonde mindes of yonge
people and no where els. Wherefore Maister Alberto daily passing to and
fro the house of that gentlewoman, it chaunced vppon an holye daye, that
shee sittinge with other dames before her doore, and sawe Maister
Alberto a farre off, comming towards them, she with the rest determined
curteously to receiue him, and reuerently to salute him, and afterwardes
merely to talke and sporte of his loue, which accordingly they did. The
gentlewoman rising vp conueyed him into a court, of ayre fresh and
pleasaunt, where they caused to be brought forth excellent wynes and
comfites, and in the ende with manye cherefull and pleasaunt woordes,
one of them asked him how it was possible, he could be in loue with that
fayre gentlewoman, speciallye sithens manye fayre and trimme yonge
menne, did loue her. Maister Alberto perceyuinge himselfe touched and
gested at, very honestlye aunsweared with smyling countenaunce:
"Maistres, no wyse man whatsoeuer hee be oughte to marueile whye I am in
loue, especiallye with you (lookinge vppon her whom hee loued) because
your beautye and woorthines dothe well deserue the same. And althoughe
naturally the forces which be incident to exercises of Loue, do faile
and decaie in olde men, good wil therfore is not in them depriued, nor
the iudgement in knowledge, the which ought to be beloued. But because
they haue greater experience then yonge men haue, therefore by nature
they better know the qualitie of loue. The hope that moueth mee an olde
man to loue you, that is soe well beloued of yong men, is this: I haue
many times been conuersaunte in places where I haue seene gentlewomen
for their collation and pleasure after dinner, oftentimes to eate
Lupines and Leekes, and albeit that in the Leeke, there is nothing good
or holsome, yet the heade thereof is less hurtful, and most pleasaunt to
the mouth, whereof generally (through a folish lust) ye women holde the
heade in your hands and chawe the leaues, which not onely be euil and
nought, but also of an ill fauoured smel and sauour. And what doe I
knowe (maistres) if in the choise of your frendes ye do the like? which
if ye do, no doubt it is I, whom you haue chosen to be your frende, and
haue forsaken all other." This gentlewoman somwhat ashamed blushing with
the rest, said: "Maister Alberto, you haue ful wel and curteouslye paied
vs home, and aunsweared oure presumptuous obiection. Notwithstandinge I
doe esteeme and accept your amitie and loue, as I oughte to regard the
loue of a wise and honest personage. And so (mine honestie and honour
saued) al that I haue to do you pleasure, is to be assured at your
commaundement." Therewithall M. Alberto rose vp, thanking the
gentlewoman, and with much sport and pleasaunt talke taking his leaue of
the company departed. In this maner the gentlewoman giuing ouer her
scoffes and tauntes, whereby she thoughte to putte Mayster Alberto out
of conceyt, was put to silence her selfe. Whereof I (in the name of
Pansilo Filostrato and Dioneo) by waye of intreatie do beseech yee
Ladies, Pampinea, Fiammetta, Philomena, and other gentlewomen, to beware
howe ye doe contriue your holy day talke, by waste wordes issuing forth
your delicate mouthes, in carping, gauding, and iesting at young
gentlemen, and speciallye olde men, and Maister Alberto of Bologna, that
for loue like the grene stalkes or graye heades of Lekes, doe desire to
sauer your mouthes, and by honest recreation and pleasure to gratifie
your comlie personages, lest before the banket be done, and all the
comfites spente, ye departe with blushing cheekes, hanging downe your
heades, not shaming to looke your mother in the face from whence you
came: I meane the earth. Where dame nature hath formed you by your
comely grace, and your fayre face, to beholde eche man, and to vtter
pleasaunt talke intermixed with honestie and vertue.

THE THIRTY-THIRD NOUELL.

_Rinaldo of Esti being robbed, arriued at Castel Guglielmo, and was
succoured of a wydowe: and restored to his losses, retourning saulfe
and sounde home to his owne house._

In the tyme of Azzo Marques of Ferrara, there was a marchaunt named
Rinaldo of Esti, come to Bologna to do certaine affaires. Whiche when
hee had dispatched, in retourning homewardes, it chaunced as he departed
out of Ferrara, and riding towardes Verona, hee mette certayne men on
horsebacke, whiche semed to be Marchauntes, but in verie deede were
arrant theues: with whome he kepte companie, and without suspicion what
they were, rode together familiarly talking. These good felowes seing
this Marchaunt and thinking that he had money about hym, determined to
robbe him, when they sawe their aduauntage, and to the intent he should
not suspecte them, they rode lyke graue men of honest conuersation,
debating with him of honest causes, and faithfull, shewing them selues
counterfactely, to be lowly and gentle. Uppon whiche occasion, he
thought him selfe moste happy that he had mette with such companie,
because he and his seruaunt rode together alone. And as they were
talking of diuers matters (as chaunceth in communication) they fel in
talke of prayers, that men do make vnto God. And one of the theues (for
they were three in nomber) sayd vnto Rinaldo: "And you gentleman, what
praier bee you accustomed to saye, when you ryde by the waye?" To whom
Rinaldo answered: "To tel you the truth, I am a man very playne, and
rude in those matters, and I haue a fewe prayers at my fingers endes:
suche as myne auncestours vsed before me. And I let go currant II. S.
for XXIIII D. But neuerthelesse, I haue alwayes accustomed, when I ryde
by the way, to say in the morning at my going forth of my lodging,
a _Pater noster_ and an _Aue Maria_, for the soule of the father and
mother of sainct Iulian: and after that, I pray to God and sainct
Iulian, to sende me good lodging the night folowing. And full oft in my
time I haue founde, in trauailing of Countries many great daungers, all
whiche hauing escaped, it hath bene my fortune always (when night
approched) to chaunce vppon good lodging: whiche maketh me stedfastly
beleue that sainct Iulian (vnto whose honour I saye the same) hath
obteined this benefite of God for me, and I thought that daye wherein I
neglected, to saye in the morning that prayer, I could neither saulfely
trauell, ne yet at night obtain good harborough." He that demaunded the
question, asked him: "And haste thou said them this morning?" "Yea
verely," answered Rinaldo. Then he whiche already knewe howe the matter
would go, said to him selfe, thou shalt haue enough to doe anone, for if
thou haue not sayde them this morninge, it may so happe that thou shalt
lodge full ill this night. And afterwardes hee saide, "I haue likewyse
trauayled in my dayes a great waye, and neuer said those praiers, but I
haue heard many men greatly prayse them (although) I could neuer
perceiue but that I haue bene well lodged. And peraduenture this night
you shal proue, which of vs two shal haue best lodging, you that haue
sayd them, or I which haue not said them. It is most true that I haue
accustomed, in stede of that praier, to saye that verse _Dirupisti_,
or the antheme _Intemerata_, or the _De profundis_, which are (as my
graundmother did teach and instructe me) of verie great effecte and
vertue." And speaking thus of diuers thinges, alwayes riding, expecting
the place and time, to accomplish their wicked intent: it chaunced that
approching nere to Castel Guglielmo, when they had passed ouer a ryuer,
these three theues, late in the euening in a darke place, did sette
vppon him and robbed him, dismounting him from his horse, and left him
there in his shyrte. And as they were going awaye, they sayde vnto hym:
"Goe and seeke if thy sainct Iulian, will helpe thee to good lodging
this nighte, for our saincte wyll helpe vs to good." And repassing
through the Riuer, they went their waye. The seruaunt of Rinaldo, seyng
the theues sette vppon his maister (like a cowarde) helped him nothing,
but tourned his brydle and neuer left galloping vntill he came to
Castell Guglielmo: where because it was nighte, he lodged in an Inne,
without any further care for his Maister. Rinaldo being stil there in
his shyrte, bare footed and bare legged, in the great Frost and Snowe,
not knowing what to doe, and seing night already approche, quaking, and
his teethe clacketing in his head, began to looke about hym, if he
coulde see anye place there for hym to resorte for succour, that he
might not dye for colde: but (seyng none at all, because a litle before,
the warres had with fyre consumed all thynges) being sore afflicted for
colde, he began to make spede towardes the Castell Guglielmo, not
knowyng that his seruaunt was fledde thither: thynking that if he might
come in, God would sende hym some succour, but darke night ouertooke him
a good waye of, before hee coulde come to the Castell, almoste the space
of a mile, by whiche meanes he arriued there verye late, the gates being
shutte vp and the bridges drawen, that he could not goe in. By reason
whereof hee was verie sorowefull and discomforted, lamentable casting
his eyes about, to espie if it wer possible that at the lest he might
shroude him selfe free from the snowe: and by chaunce he sawe a house
vpon the walles of the Castell, vnder whiche he determined to reste tyll
it was daye, and repairing thether, he found vnder the house a doore,
(whiche was locked) vnder which doore gathering a litle strawe that he
founde thereabout, he sat down very heauie and pensife: making his
complaint many tymes vnto saincte Iulian, that the faith which he
reposed in him had nowe deceiued him. But saincte Iulian taking pitie
vpon him, without any further delaye, prepared him (as it chaunced) a
good lodging: for there dwelled in that Castell a woman whiche was a
wydowe so faire a persone as might be seene, whom the Marques Azzo lou d
as his life, and kepte her there for his owne pleasure. And the same
woman dwelte in the house, vnder the porche wherof Rinaldo was gone to
reste him selfe, vnto whome the daye before, the Marques resorted to
disport him selfe that night, and in her house had secretly caused a
bathe to be made, and a great supper to be prepared. All which being
readie, and the good wyfe expecting nothing els but the comming of the
Marques, it chaunced that one of his men called at the gates of the
Castell, with newes to the Marques, that sodainly he must ryde awaye;
wherefore he sent woorde to the wydowe, that shee should not attende his
comming: who, not a litle displeased with the message, not knowing what
to doe, determined to enter the Bathe whiche was prepared for the
marques, and when she had supped to goe to bedde. This Bathe was harde
by the doore whereunto poore Rinaldo was approched. The widowe being in
the Bathe, hearing the plaintes and trembling voyce of Rinaldo, thought
it had been the noyse of a Storke. Whereupon she called her mayde and
saide vnto her: "Goe vp, and looke ouer the walles, to know who is at
the doore and what he would haue." The mayde, according to her maistres
commaundement, went to the doore, and the night being somewhat cleare,
sawe Rinaldo sitting in his shyrte, bare legged, shaking for colde, as
is before said, and asked him what he was. Rinaldo with his teethe
shyuering in his head, coulde scarse well speake, or vtter a woorde, but
yet so brieflie as he coulde, he tolde her what he was, howe and for
what purpose he was come thither. Afterwardes he piteously began to
praye her (if she could) not to suffer him that night to sterue for
colde. The maide pitying his estate, returned to her maistres, and tolde
her what she sawe: who likewyse hauiug compassion vppon him, remembring
that she had the keye of the dore (whiche sometimes serued the turne,
when the marques was disposed secretly to come in) she sayde to her
mayde: "Go open the doore softly, for we haue prepared a supper, and
here is no man to eate it: and also here is lodging sufficient to
harbour him." The mayde greatly praysing her maistres for her curtesie,
wente forth and opened the doore. And when he was let in, they sawe him
to be almoste frosen for colde: sayinge vnto him, dispatche good felowe,
goe into the Bathe, being yet hotte. Whiche thinge he right willingly
did, not looking that he should be bidden againe, and being recomforted
with the warmth therof, he felt him selfe reuiued from death to life.
The good wyfe caused certayne apparel of her late dead husband, to be
searched out for him, and when he had put them on, they were so mete, as
though they had bene made of purpose, and waiting what it should please
the good wife to commaunde him, he began humbly to thanke God and
saincte Iulian, that hee was deliuered from that euill nighte (contrarie
to his expectation) to so good a lodging. After this the fayre wydowe,
somewhat reposing her selfe, caused a great fyre to be made in one of
her great chambers, into the whiche shee came, and demaunded her mayde
what maner of man he was. The maid aunswered: "Maistres, nowe he is in
good apparell, he is a verie handsome felowe, and seemeth to be of good
reputation and honestie." "Goe thy wayes (quod her maistres) and call
hym hether. Bidde him come to the fyre, and tell hym that he shall suppe
with me, for perchaunce he hath eaten no meate this nighte." Rinaldo
came into the chamber, and seing the wydowe, he made to her great
reuerence: thanking her for her kindnesse shewed vnto him. When the
wydowe had seene him, and heard him speake, perceiuing him to be suche a
one as her mayde reported, shee intertaigned him in curteous wyse,
causing him familiarly to sitte downe before the fire, and demaunded
what mishap brought him to that place. To whome Rinaldo rehersed the
whole discourse. For she had heard at the comming of Rinaldo his
seruaunt to the Castell, a brute of his roberie, whiche made her to
beleue him the better: She tolde him also, that his man was come to the
towne, and howe hee might easely finde him the next morning. And after
meate was serued to the table, Rinaldo and she washed together, and then
sat down to supper. He was a goodly personage, faire and pleasaunt to
beholde, yonge and of good behauiour, vpon whom the woman many times did
cast her eyes, and liked him well. To be shorte, this lecherous Lady,
burning inwardlye with amourous desyre, abused her selfe with hym, in
steede of the Marques. But when the morning began to shewe foorth her
light, the wydowe, to the intent no suspicion might bee hadde, gaue him
certayne base and course apparell, and filled his purse with money,
praying him to kepe her counsell, and first tolde him whiche way he
should take to seeke his man, letting him out at the doore whereat he
came in. Who seming as though he had traueiled a great waye that
morning, when the gates were opened, went into the Castell, and founde
his seruaunte. And then putting vppon hym suche apparell as was in his
male, and being about to mounte vpon his man's horse, it came to passe,
like as it had bene a diuine miracle, that the three theues, whiche had
robbed him the night before, were taken for doing an other robberie a
little whyle after, and were brought to the Castell, and vppon their
confession, his horse, apparell, and money, were restored to him againe,
losing nothing but a payre of garters. Wherefore Rinaldo thanking God
and saint Iulian, mounted vppon his horse and retourned whole and saulfe
to his owne house. And the nexte daye, the three theues were conueied
foorth, to blesse the worlde with their heeles.

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