Richard F. Burton - "The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, Volume 6"

Richard F. Burton - "Two Trips to Gorilla Land and the Cataracts of the Congo Volume 1"

James Buchanan - "Modern Atheism under its forms of Pantheism, Materialism, Secularism, Development, and Natural Laws"

Ellis Wynne - "The Sleeping Bard"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

The Palace of Pleasure, Volume 1

W >> William Painter >> The Palace of Pleasure, Volume 1




_Ill luck and chaunce thou must of force endure,
Fortune's fickle stay needs thou must sustaine:
To grudge therat it booteth not at all,
Before it come the witty wise be sure:
By wisedom's lore, and counsell not in vaine,
To shun and eke auoyde. The whirling ball,
Of fortune's threates, the sage may well rebound
By good foresight, before it light on ground._

The Emperour then hauing forgotten, or wisely dissembling that which he
could not amende, met his doughter and sonne in lawe at the Palace gate,
with so pleasaunt cheere and ioyfull countenance, as the like long time
before he did not vse. Where Alerane and Adelasia being light of from
their horse, came to kisse his handes (and both vppon their knees) began
to frame an oration for excuse of their fault, and to pray pardon of his
maiestie. The good Prince rauished with ioy, and satisfied with
repentaunce, stopped their mouthes with sweete kisses and hard
embracings. "O happie ill time (said he) and sorowful ioy, which now
bringeth to me a pleasure more great than euer was my heauy displeasure.
From whence commeth this my pleasaunt ioye? O wel deuised flight, by the
which I gaine that (by preseruinge my losse once made and committed)
which I neuer had: if I may say so, considering the ornament of my
house, and quietnesse of my life." And saying so, hee kissed and
embraced his litle neuewes, and was loth that Adelasia should make
rehersall of other talke but of mirthe and pleasure. "For (said he) it
sufficeth me that I haue ouerpassed and spent the greatest part of my
life in heauinesse, vtterly vnwilling to renewe olde sores and wounds."
Thus the mariage begon, vnknowen and againste the Emperour's will, was
consummate and celebrated with great pompe and magnificence, by his owne
commaundement, in the Citie of Sauonne, where he made sir William
knight, with his owne hand. Many goodly factes at the tourney and tilte
were done and atchieued, whereat William almost euery day bare away the
prise and victorie, to the great pleasure of his father and contentacion
of his graundfather, who then made him marques of Monferrat. To the
second sonne of Alerane, he gaue the Marquisat of Sauonne, with all the
appurtenances and iurisdictions adioyning, of whom be descended the
Marqueses of Caretto. The third he made Marques of Saluce, the race of
whom is to this daye of good fame and nobilitie. Of the fourth sonne
sprange out the original of the house of Cera. The fifte was Marques of
Incise, whose name and progeny liueth to this daye. The sixt sonne did
gouerne Pouzon. The seuenth was established Senior of Bosco, vnder the
name and title of Marques. And Alerane was made and constituted ouerseer
of the goods and dominions of his children, and the Emperor's
Lieutenaunt of his possessions which he had in Liguria. Thus the
emperoure by moderatinge his passion vanquished himselfe, and gaue
example to the posteritie to pursue the offence before it do take roote:
but when the thinge cannot be corrected, to vse modestie and mercie
which maketh kinges to liue in peace, and their Empire in assuraunce.
Hauinge taken order with all his affayres in Italye, hee tooke leaue of
his doughter and children, and retired into Almaine. And Alerane liued
honourably amonges his people, was beloued of his father in lawe, and in
good reputacion and fame, arriued to old yeares, still remembring that
aduersitie oughte not to bring us to dispaire, nor prosperitie to
insolencie or ill behauiour, and contempt of thinges that seeme small
and base, sithe there is nothing vnder the heauens that is stable and
sure. For he that of late was great and made all men to stoupe before
him, is become altogether such a one as though he had never beene, and
the poore humble man aduaunced to that estate, from whence the firste
did fall and was deposed, makinge lawes sometimes for him, vnder whom he
liued a subiect. And behold of what force the prouidence of God is, and
what poise his balance doth containe, and how blame worthy they be that
referre the effectes of that deuine counsel to the inconstant and
mutable reuolucion of fortune that is blinde and vncertaine.




THE FORTY-FIFTH NOUELL.

_The Duchesse of Sauoie, being the kinge of England's sister, was in the
Duke her husbandes absence, vniustlye accused of adulterie, by a noble
man, his Lieutenaunte: and shoulde haue beene put to death, if by the
prowesse and valiaunt combate of Don Iohn di Mendozza, (a gentleman of
Spaine) she had not beene deliuered. With a discourse of maruelous
accidentes, touchinge the same, to the singuler praise and
commendation of chaste and honest Ladies._


Loue commonly is counted the greatest passion amongs all the most
greuous, that ordinarily do assault the sprites of men, which after it
hath once taken hold of anye gentle subiecte, followeth the nature of
the corrupt humour, in those that haue a feauer, which taking his
beginning at the harte, desperseth it selfe incurablye, through all the
other sensible partes of the bodie: whereof this present historie giueth
vs amplie to vnderstand, being no lesse maruelous than true. Those that
haue read the aunciente histories and chronicles of Spaine, haue sene in
diuers places the occasion of the cruell ennimitie which raigned by the
space of XL. yeares, betweene the houses of Mendozza and Tolledo,
families not onely righte noble and aunciente, but also most aboundante
in riches, subiectes and seignories of all the whole realme. It happened
one day that their armies being redie to ioyne in battaile, the Lord
Iohn of Mendozza chief of his armie, a man much commended by al
histories, had a widow to his sister, a very deuout Lady, who after she
vnderstode the heauie newes of that battaile, falling downe vppon her
knees, praied God incessauntly, that it would please him to reconcile
the two families together, and to make an ende of so manye mischiefes.
And as she vnderstode that they were in the chiefest of the conflicte,
and that there were a greate nomber slaine on both partes, she made a
vow to God, that if her brother retorned victorious from that
enterprise, she would make a voyage to Rome on foote. The ouerthrowe
fell (after much bloudshead vpon them of Tolledo. Mendozza brought away
the victorie, with the lesse losse of his people. Wherof Isabell
aduertised, declared vnto her brother the vow that she had made. Which
seemed very straung vnto him, specially how she durst enterprise so
longe a voyage on foote, and thoughte to turne her purpose, howbeit she
was so importunate vppon him, as in the ende hee gaue her leaue, with
charge that she should go wel accompanied and by small iourneis, for
respect of her health. The Ladie Isabell being departed from Spaine,
hauing trauersed the mountaines Pirenees, passed by Fraunce, went ouer
the Alpes, and came to Thurin, where the Duke of Sauoye had then for
wyfe, a sister of the kinge of Englande, whoe was bruted to be the
fairest creature of the weste partes of the world. For this cause the
Lady Isabel desired greatly in passing by to see her, to know whether
truth did aunswere the great renowne of her beauty. Wherein she had
fortune so fauourable, that entring into Thurin, she found the Duchesse
vpon her Coche, goinge abroade to take the ayre of the fields: which the
Lady Isabell vnderstandinge, stayde to behold her, being by fortune at
that present at the doore of her Coche. And then with great admiration,
considering the wonderfull beautie of that princesse, iudging her the
chiefest of beautie of al those that she had euer seene, she spake
somewhat loude in the Spanish tongue, to those of her companie, in this
maner: "If God woulde haue permitted that my brother and this Princesse
might haue married together, euery man might well haue said, that there
had bin mette the moste excellente couple for perfection of beautie,
that were to be found in all Europa." And her wordes in deede were true:
for the Lord Mendozza was euen one of the fairest knightes that in his
time was to be found in all Spaine. The Duchesse whoe vnderstoode the
Spanishe tongue very well, passing forth, behelde all that companie: and
fayninge as thoughe shee had not vnderstande those woordes, thoughte
that shee surely was some greate Lady. Wherefore when shee was a litle
paste her, she saide to one of her pages: "Marke whether that ladye and
her companye go to their lodging, and say vnto her, that I desire her,
(at my returne) to come and see mee at my Castell." Which the page did.
So the Duchesse walking a long the riuer of Poo, mused vppon the words
spoken by the Spanishe Ladye, which made her not longe to tarie there,
but toke the waye backe againe to her Castel, where being arriued, she
founde the Lady Isabell, who at the Duchesse request, attended her with
her company: and after dutiful reuerence, the Duchesse with like
gratulacion, receiued her very courteouslie, taking her a part, and
demaunding her of what prouince of Spaine shee was, of what house, and
what fortune had brought her into that place. And then the Lady Isabell
made her to vnderstand, from the beginninge, the occasion of her long
voyage, and of what house she was: the duchesse vnderstanding her
nobilitie, excused her selfe, for that shee had not done her that honour
which shee deserved, imputinge the faulte vpon the ignorance of her
estate. And after diuers other curteous communications the Duchesse
pressed her to know whereunto the wordes tended that shee had spoken of
her, and of the beautie of her brother. The Spanishe lady somewhat
abashed, saide vnto her: "Madame, if I had knowen so much of your skill
in our tongue, as now I do, I would haue beene better aduised before I
had soe exalted the beautie of my brother, whose praise had beene more
commendable in the mouth of another: yet thus much I dare affirme
(without affection be it spoken), as they that know him can report, that
hee is one of the comliest Gentlemen that Spaine hath bredde these
twenty yeares. But of that which I haue saide touching your beautie, if
I haue offended, muche a doe shall I haue to get the same pardoned,
because I cannot repent mee, nor say otherwise, except I should speake
contrary to truth. And that durste I enterprise to be verified by
yourselfe, if it were possible that nature for one quarter of one houre
onelye had transported into some other that which with right great
wonder she sheweth to be in you." Wherunto the Duchesse to the ende shee
woulde seeme to excuse her prayse, aunswered with a litle bashfulnes,
which beautified much her liuely colour, saying: "Madame if you continue
in these termes, you will constraine me to thincke, that by chaunging of
place you haue also chaunged your iudgemente: for I am one of the leaste
to be commended for beauty of all this lande, or els I will beleeue that
you haue the beautie and valour of my Lorde your brother soe printed in
your minde, as all that whiche presenteth it selfe vnto you, hauinge
anye apparaunce of beautie, you measure by the perfection of his." And
at that instante the Ladie Isabell, whoe thoughte that the duchesse had
taken in euill parte the comparison that she had made betweene her
brother and her, somwhat in choler and heate, said vnto her: "Madame,
you shall pardon mee for that I haue so much forgotten my selfe, to
presume to compare your beautie to his: whereof if he be to be
commended, yet I maye well be blamed, being his sister, to publishe the
same in an vnknowen place: notwithstanding, I am wel assured, that when
you shall speake, euen with his enemies, that yet besides his beautie,
they will well assure him to be one of the gentlest and best condicioned
gentlemen that liueth." The Duchesse seinge her in these alterations,
and so affected to the praise of her brother, toke great pleasure in her
speach, and willingly woulde haue had her to passe further, had it not
bin for feare to offende her, and to put her in a choler. And to
thintent to turne her from that matter, she commaunded the table to be
couered for supper, where she caused her to be serued honourably of all
the most delicate and most exquisite meates that were possible to be
gotten. Supper done, and the tables vncouered, after they had a little
talked together, and that it was time to withdrawe themselues, the
Duchesse the more to honor her, would that she should lodge in her
chamber with her, where the pilgrime (wearied with the way) toke very
good rest. But the Duchesse pricked with the strange talke of the Lady
Isabell, hauing a hammer working in her head, could not sleepe. And had
so wel the beauty of the unknowen knight graued in the bottom of her
hart, as thinking to close her eyes, she thought that he flew
continuallye before her like a certaine fansie or shadowe. In sorte,
that to know further what he was, she would gladly haue made greater
inquirie. Then sodainlye after a little shame and feare intermingled
with a certain womanhoode longe obserued by her, and therewithall the
fidelitie which shee bare to the Duke her husbande, presentinge it selfe
before her, shee buried altogether her first counsell which died and
tooke ende, euen so sone almoste as it was borne. And so tossed with an
infinite number of diuers thoughtes passed the night, vntill the daye
beginning to lighten the world with his burning lampe, constrained her
to ryse. And then the Lady Isabel, ready to departe, went to take leaue
of the Duchesse, who willingly would haue wished that she had neuer sene
her, for the newe flame that she felt at her harte. Neuerthelesse,
dissembling her euill, not able to holde her any longer, made her to
promise by othe, at her retourne from her voyage, to repasse by Thurin,
and after she had made her a very liberall offer of her goodes, taking
her leaue, she left her to the tuicion of God. Certaine dayes after the
departing of the Spanish lady, the Duchesse thinking to quenche this new
fier, the same began further to flame, and the more that hope failed
her, the more did desire encrease in her. And after an infinite number
of sundrie cogitacions, Loue got the victorie. And she resolued with her
selfe in the ende, whatsoeuer might come thereof, to communicate her
cause to one of her beloued damsels called Emilia, and to haue her
aduise, in whom she wonted to repose her trust in all her secrete
affaires, and causing her to be called for secretely, she said vnto her:
"Emilia, I beleue that if thou hast taken any good heede to my auncient
maner of behauiour, euer since I departed from England, thou haste
knowen me to be the very ramper and refuge of all afflicted persons. But
now my destenies be turned contrarie. For I haue nowe more neede of
counsel than any other liuing creature, and hauing no person about me
worthy to be priuie of my misfortune, but thou, my first and last refuge
is to thee alone: of whom I hope to receiue consolation in a matter
whiche toucheth me no lesse than my life and honour." And then the
Duchesse declared vnto her priuily, how since the departing of the Lady
Isabell she had had no reste in her minde, and how she was enamoured of
a knight whome she neuer sawe, whose beautie and good grace had touched
her so nere, as being altogether vnable any longer to resiste her
mishap, she knew not to whom to haue recourse, but to the fidelitie of
her counsell: adding thereunto for conclusion, that she loued him not
dishonestly, or for hope she had to satisfie any lasciuious appetite,
but onely to haue a sight of him: whiche (as shee thought) would bring
unto her such contentation, as ther by her grief shoulde take ende.
Emilia who euer loued her maistresse as she did her owne heart, had
great compassion vpon her, when she vnderstode the light foundation of
her straunge loue: neuerthelesse desiring to please her euen to the last
point of her life, she said vnto her: "Madame if it wil please you to
recreate your selfe from these your sorrowes, and to respite me onely
twoo dayes, I hope to prouide by some good meanes that you shal shortly
see him who vndeseruedly doth worke you all this euill." The Duchesse
nourished with this hope, desired her effectually to thinke vppon it:
promising vnto her, that if her woordes came to good effect, she would
make her such recompence as she her self should confesse she had not
done pleasure to an ingrate or vnthankefull woman. Emilia which had the
brute to be one of the moste subtile and sharpe witted dames of all
Thurin, slept not during the time of her prescription. But after she had
searched an infinite number of meanes to come to that which she desired,
there was one that semed moste expedient for that purpose, and of least
perill aboue other. And her time of delaye expired, shee went to Madame
the Duchesse, and sayd: "Madame, God knoweth howe many troubles my minde
hath sustayned, and how much I haue striued with mine own conscience to
satisfie your commaundement, neuerthelesse, after I had debated thinges
so substantially as was possible, I coulde deuise nothing more worthy
your contente, than that whiche I wyll nowe declare vnto you, if it wyll
please you to heare mee. Whiche to be short is, that for the execution
of this our enterpryse, it behoueth you to fayne your selfe to be sicke,
and to suffer your selfe to be trayned into suche maladies as there
shall rather appeare in you token of death, than hope of lyfe. And being
brought into such extremitie, you shall make a vowe (your health
recouered) to go within a certayne time to Saint Iames on pilgrimage,
which thing you may easely obtayne of the Duke your husbande. And then
may you make your voyage liberally with the Ladye Isabell, who will
passe this waye vpon her retourne, without discouering your affection
vnto her, and wyll not fayle by reknowledging the curtesie that you haue
vsed towardes her in these partes, to conduct you by her brother's
house, wher you may see him at your ease, that maketh you to suffer this
great torment. And I will aduertise you furthermore of one thing, which
till this time I haue kept close, whiche is: that for as mutch as we two
togethers cannot without great difficultie accomplishe our businesse, it
hath seemed good vnto me to know of you, if you would that a third
persone shalbe called hereunto, who is so much at my commaundement as I
dare comit my trust vnto him. It is maister Fraunces Appian the
Millanor, your phisitian, who (to say the very truth vnto you) hath bene
so affectioned to mee this yeare or two, as he hath not ceassed by al
meanes possible, to wynne me (but to honest loue) for he pretendeth to
marry me. And because that hetherto I haue made small accompt of him,
and haue not vsed any fauour towards him, nor hitherto any good
entertainement, I assure my self seing the great amitie that he beareth
me, that if I did but fauorably behold him fiue or sixe times with
pleasaunt lookes, adding therunto a few kisses, he would hazard a
thousand liues for my sake if he had them, to content me. And for as
much as I know him to be a diligent man, learned, and of great
reputation, and one that may stande vs to great stead in this busines,
I thought good not to conceale or kepe from your knowledge my aduise
herein." The Duchesse vnderstanding all this pretie discourse, so apt
for her affections (rauished with great ioye) embraced hard Emilia, and
saide vnto her: "Emilia my deare friend, if thou diddest knowe in what
wise I do esteme thee, and what I meane in time to come, to bestowe vpon
thee, I am well assured, albeit thou hast hetherto sufficiently shewed
thy good will, yet thou wilt hereafter doe me greater pleasure promising
thee, by the faithe of a Prince, that if our enterprise doe well
succeede, I will not vse thee as a seruaunt, but as my kinswoman and the
best beloued frend I haue. For I holde my selfe so satisfied with that
thou hast sayd vnto me, as if fortune be on our side, I see no maner of
impediment that may let our enterprise. Goe thy way then, and entertaine
thy Phisitian, as thou thinkest best, for it is very expedient that he
be a partie, and for the rest let me alone: for neuer was there any
Lazar that better coulde dissemble his impotencye, than I knowe how to
counterfeit to be sicke." The Duchesse being departed from Emilia, began
to plaine her selfe bitterly, faining sometime to fele a certain paine
in her stomack, sometime to haue a disease in her head, in such sort, as
after diuers womanly plaintes (propre to those that feele themselues
sicke) she was in the end constrayned to laye her self downe, and knew
so well howe to dissemble her sicknesse, as (after she had certaine
dayes kept her bedde) there was mutch doubt of her health. And during
this time Emilia had layed so many amorous baytes to seede her
Phisitian, that he whiche knewe very well the moste happy remedies for
the body, could not now finde out any that was able to heale the maladie
of his owne minde. Emilia hauing noseled maister Appian with amorous
toyes, began to make him vnderstande the originall of the Duchesse
sickenesse, the effectes of her passion, the order that she had vsed
during the furious course of the same: adding thereunto for conclusion,
that if he would keepe the matter secrete, and ayde them with his
counsell, she would by and by promise hym mariage by woordes, for the
present tyme, and that from thenceforth she would neuer denie him any
fauour or priuitie. That onely reserued which no man can honestly
demaunde, till the mariage be solempnized in the face of the church. In
witnesse wherof she kissed him with great affection. The Phisitian more
eased there withall, than if he had sene his Hippocrates or Galen,
raysed againe from death, promised rather to lose his life than she
should want his helpe. And for the better beginning of this enterprise,
they wente presentlye to visite the Duchesse: in whom they found her
pulse so to beate, the tongue so charged, the stomacke so weakened by
continuall suffocation of the matrice, that the pacient was in verye
great perill of death. Whereunto euery man did easely geue credite for
the reputation and great experience of the Phisitian: and maister Appian
hauing commauuded all the chamber to be voyded, made the Duchesse to
vnderstande in fewe wordes, how it behoued her to gouerne her selfe. And
the better to cloke her cause, he brought her at that instant a little
perfume, by receiuing the sauour wherof she should often times fal into
certaine litle soundinges, and by vsing the perfume it woulde diminishe
her colour for a time, and make her looke as though she had kepte her
bed halfe a yeare before: neuerthelesse it should doe her no other
displeasure, and that in three or foure dayes, with certaine other
drugges, hee would restore her colour so freshe as euer it was. Whiche
counsell the Duchesse liked best of any thing in the world. And they
three together played their partes so wel, as the common brute
throughout all the citie was, that the Duchesse was in great daunger of
death. The duke being aduertised of these thinges, caused all the
phisitians of Thurin to assemble, to prouide for the health of the
Duchesse: who being come together, with the Duke into her bedde chamber,
a litle after she had receiued maister Appian's perfumes: and seing her
to sowne diuers times before them, were in great dispaire of her health.
And after they had somewhat debated the matter with Maister Appian, not
knowing wherupon to resolue, they said vnto the Duke, that it behoued
him to prouide for her soule, for that they saw in her the ordinarie
tokens and messangers of death. The poore Duke being sorowfull beyond
measure, for that he loued the Duchesse entierly, sent for the
Suffragane of the Bishop of Thurin, a man of uery holy life, to thintent
he might geue her ghostly councell. To whom she confessed her self with
a voyce so feeble, that it seemed to be more than halfe dead. Her talke
was not long, but yet she made him beleue that nature failed her, and
that by litle and litle she drewe towardes her ende: desiring him to
haue her and her poore soule in remembraunce when he made his orisons
and praiers. The Suffragan being gone, the Duke and others, with a great
number of Gentlemen and Ladies, went into the chamber. But she began
then to enter into so great rauing, as euery body was afeard of her. And
after that she had tossed her selfe in her bed like a senselesse
creature, her speach fayled her. Whereat those present, stricken with no
smal wonder, thinking the soule would straight wayes haue departed the
body, some of them cried vpon her, Madame remember Iesus, som other
S. Barbara. But wilie Emilia more priuie of her counsell than the rest,
taking her tenderly by the arme, cried upon her with a loude voice:
"Madame call vpon S. Iames, who hath so often succoured you in youre
aduersities.{"} And with that the Duchesse awaked as it wer out of a
heauy sleepe, and rowling her eyes to and fro, with a straunge trembling
of all her members, began to pronounce with an interrupted voyce: "O
glorious Apostle, in whome from my tender youth, I haue euer had my
stedfast trust and hope, be now mine intercessor in this cruel assault
of death, to Iesus Christ. And I make a vowe nowe vnto thee, that if I
may recouer health, I will my self in person, go honor thy sacred body,
in the proper place where it reposeth." And hauing ended her fayned
prayer, she counterfaited a sleepe, and so continued the space of twoo
or three houres, whiche caused all the companie to withdrawe themselues,
excepte the poore Duke, who would not depart from her vntil she waked,
and in the meane time ceassed not to praye to God for the health of his
loyall spouse. After shee had so well plaied this pageaunt by the space
of an houre or twoo, faining then to awake, she began to stretche forth
her armes and legges with suche force, as whosoeuer had heard the noyse,
would easely haue iudged that she had bene deliuered from some great
torment. And beholding the Duke her husband, with a pitifull eye (who
had leaned his head nere vnto her's in the bed) she cast her stretched
armes negligently vpon his neck, and kissing him sayd; "Now may I safely
kisse you my Lorde, that within these three houres was in such pitifull
plight, as I thought my self for euer depriued of that benefit. Thankes
be geuen to God and that good Sainct to whom I made my vow I am
presently so wel eased, as if I fele myself no worse, I will yet deteine
you (husband) a while from an other mariage." But the poore Duke
altogether rauished with ioye, hauing his white beard all tempered with
teares, knew not what answere to make, but behelde her with such
admiration, as he seemed to be besides himself. And in the meane time
certayn whiche wer at the dore, hearing them speake, entred the chamber,
who finding the Duchesse somwhat better then she was, published her
recouerie incontinently throw al the citie, whereof the citizens being
aduertised (because they loued her dearly) made processions and other
thankesgeuing to God, as in cases like are accustomed. Within a whyle
after, the Duchesse began by litle and litle to taste her meates, and to
vse suche diet as shee recouered her former health. Except the newe
plague which pynched her tender harte for the Lorde Mendozza, whiche she
could not cure, but by the presence of him that bare the oyntment boxe
for that sore. And so long she continued in the amorous thoughtes, till
the Lady Isabell retourned from her pilgrimage, who came to the castell
according to her promise. And after friendly gretinges one of an other,
the Duchesse made her to vnderstande how since her departure she had
neuer almost commen out of her bed, for that she had been afflicted with
a moste grieuous sickenesse. Neuerthelesse by the helpe of God, and the
intercession of good S. Iames (to whom she had vowed her selfe) she had
recouered health. And if she could obtaine leaue of the Duke her
husband, she would thinke her selfe happy to make a voyage thither in
her companie. Which the Spanishe Lady persuaded by all meanes possible,
shewing vnto her many commodities, she should finde in Spayne, and the
honorable company of Gentlemen and Ladies, who at her arriuall there (if
it would please her to doe them so muche honor as to visite them in
passing by) would leaue nothing vndone for the best manner of
entertainement that possibly might be deuised. And by this meane the
Ladye Isabell thought to pricke her forward, who was in dede but to
quicke of the spurre already, and thinking euery houre VII. determined
one morning thereof to moue the Duke her husbande, to whom she sayd: "My
Lorde, I beleue that you doe sufficiently well remember my trouble
paste, and the extreme martyredome that I suffred in my late sickenesse,
and namely of the vowe whiche I made for recouery of my health. Nowe
finding my selfe whole and strong, my desire is that with your licence I
might accomplishe my voyage, specially with so good opportunitie: for
the noble woman of Spayne of whome I have heretofore told you, is
returned, and it should be a great ease to vs both to go in companie
together. And for so much as it is a matter of necessitie, and that
early or late, I must aduenture to paye my vowed debte, it is best both
for my commoditie and also for my honour, to goe in her companie."
Whereunto the good Duke did willingly accorde: who neuer had any manner
of suspicion that sutch a treason was lodged in the harte of so great a
Princesse. And hauing giuen order for all things requisite for her
departing, she tooke a certaine number of Gentlemen and damsels, amongst
which, Maister Appian and Emilia were not forgotten, and being all
apparelled in pilgrimes weedes, by long trauaile and weary iourneis,
after they had passed the cold Alpes, they came into the countie of
Rossilion, and entred into Spayne: and then the Duchesse feling her
selfe to approche the place where her harte of long tyme had taken hold,
desired the Lady Isabell and her company earnestly, not to make it
knowen to any persone what she was. And so traueiling by small
iourneyes, and deuising of diuerse matters, they arriued within two
litle dayes iourney to the place where the Lorde of Mendozza kept his
ordinarie housholde. For which cause the Spanishe lady entreated the
Duchesse not to be offended, if she sent some one of her men before to
geue aduertisement of their comming, which the Duchesse graunted. And
the messenger finding the Lord of Mendozza readie to receiue them, and
hauing done him to vnderstand of the coming of the Duchesse, of the
first talke betwene her and his syster, of the great entertainement that
she had geuen them, of the singuler beautie with the which she was
adorned: he was not so grosse but that he knewe by and by, that the
Duchesse at those yeares, had not bene so liberall of her labour, to
make such a voiage one foote, without some other respect: and
dissembling what he thought, caused thirty or fortie of his gentlemen
incontinently to make them ready. To whome making as though hee would
goe hunte the Hare, he went to meete the Duchesse: and hauing discouered
them a farre of in a fielde, the Lady Isabelle did forthwith knowe
theim. Who aduertised the Duchesse that he which ridde vppon the whyte
Ienet of Spayne, was the Lorde of Mendozza her brother, and that the
other were his servauntes. The Prince then after he had made his horse
to vaute three or foure times aloft in the ayre, with an excellent grace
and marueilous dexteritie lighted from his horse, and kissing her hand,
sayd vnto her: "Madame, I beleue that if the wandering knightes of olde
tyme, who haue eternized their memorie, by an infinite numbre of
renowmed victories, had had so muche good lucke, as many tymes in their
aduentures to meete with such pilgrimes as you be, they woulde
willinglye haue abandoned the Launce and Murrion, to take the Staffe and
Scrippe." The Duchesse then beyng comparable with anye ladye of her
tyme, for her education and comely talke, assayled with ioye, feare, and
shame, that no lacke of dutie might be founde in her, sayde vnto hym:
"And in deede my Lorde like as if the knightes of whom you speake, had
tasted of some good hap (as you terme it) by meting with such pilgrimes:
so also we hope that the Saint to whome we be vowed, in the honor of
whom we haue enterprised this perillous voyage, will receiue vs in good
parte: otherwyse our payne were altogether loste, and our iourney euil
imployed." And after they had geuen this first amorous atteint, the Lord
of Mendozza taking her by the arme, conducted her vnto his castell,
deuising of pleasaunt matters. And he was greatlye astonned, to see so
rare a beautie, as appeared in the Princesse: whiche neither the
wearinesse of the waye, nor the parching beames of the Sunne, coulde in
any wyse so appaire, but that there rested ynough, to drawe vnto her the
very hartes of the moste colde and frosen men of the world. And albeit
the Lorde of Mendozza tooke great pleasure and admiration in beholding
her, yet was it nothing in respect of the Duchesse: who after she had
aduised and well marked the beautie, excellency, and other good giftes
of grace, in the Lorde of Mendozza, she confessed that al that which she
had heard of his sister, was but a dreame in comparison of the proufe,
which discouered it selfe vpon the first viewe: seeming vnto her by good
iudgement, that all the beauties of the worlde were but paintinges, in
respect of the perfection of that whiche shee sawe with her eyes. Wherin
she was not deceiued, albeit that her feruent loue might haue bewitched
her senses. For all the histories in Latine, Spanishe, and Italian, the
whiche make mention of Mendozza, geue vnto him the firste place in
beautie of all the Princes and Lordes that were in his tyme. The poore
Duchesse, after she had manifested by outwarde gestures, and
countenaunces, to the Lord of Mendozza, that which was in the inward
part of her harte, without receiuing the full satisfaction of his sight,
whiche she desired, determined (hauing soiourned three dayes in his
castell) to departe the nexte morning (vnwares to the knight), to
performe her voyage. And so soone as the light of the daye began to
appeare, she went to the chamber of the Lady Isabell, whom she thanked
affectuously, aswell for her good companye, as for the great courtesie
and humanitie, that she had receiued in her house. And hauing taken
leaue of her, departed with her traine. The knight Mendozza, about an
houre or two after her departure, aduertised thereof, was greatly
troubled, what the matter might be that she was gone without taking
leaue of him. And after that he had a little thought therupon, he easely
perceiued, that all the fault therof was in him selfe: and that this
great Princesse had abandoned her countrie, of purpose by all iudgement
to visite him, and that he had shewed himself very slacke for her
satisfaction, in that he had not offred her his seruice: wherat being
iustly greued, she did not vouchsafe to geue him a farewell. And so
accusing himselfe, he determined to followe after her, accompanied
onelye with twoo pages. And beyng on horsebacke, it was not long before
hee espied her in the hyghe waye to Saint Iames, where lighting, hee
walked twoo myles with her, reasonyng the matter without intermission:
desiring her amonges other thynges, to let hym vnderstand what
displeasure shee had concerned in his house, that caused her so spedy
and secret a departure: adding thereunto, that if her pleasure were, he
would accompanie her to the place whether she was vowed, and would also
reconduct her in his owne persone to Thurin, in so honourable sorte, as
she should finde cause to be contented. Then passing further, with
sighes sayd vnto her: "Madame, fortune had done me a great benefite, if
when my sister made her vowe to go to Rome, I had lost the battaile
against mine enemies, and that her vowe had bene without effect. For it
might haue bene that I should haue remained quiet by the losse of some
of my people. But alas, I fele now, since your comming into this
countrie, a battaile so cruel, and assault so furious in my harte, as
not being able any longer to resiste it, I finde my selfe vanquished,
and caught captiue, in such sorte as I know not to whom to complain, but
to you, which is the motion of all my disquietnesse: and yet, which
grieueth me most, you dissemble as though you did not vnderstand it. And
to bring me to my last end, you are departed this day out of my house,
not daining to see me, or to appease me with one farewel, which hath so
further inflamed my passion, as I die a thousand times a day. Beseching
you for the time to come, to entreate me more fauourably, or you shall
see me, in that state, wherein you would be loth to see your enemy:
which is, most cruel death." And in dede, he shewed sufficiently, how
great the grief was that pressed him, and how well the passion that he
felt, was agreable to the wordes which he spake: for in pronouncing his
wordes he sighed so in his tale, and changed his colour so often, and
had his face so besprent with teares, as it semed his soule attached
with superfluous sorrowe, would at that very instant haue abandoned his
bodye. Which the Princesse perceiuinge, touching at the quicke the very
spring of all his euill, sayd vnto him: "Seignior Mendozza, I know not
what you wold that I should do more for you, nor for what occasion you
do pretende, that I should be the cause of your death: for if the
occasion thereof should happen through my default, my life by strengthe
or abilitie, could not endure one houre after, for the sorowe I should
conceiue therof. Thinke me to be yours, and be not offended, I besech
you, if openly I doe no longer talke with you: for I would not to winne
al the goodes in the world, that any of this traine which doth accompany
me, should perceiue any one sparke of the great kindled fire, wherin my
harte burneth day and night for you, being assured that if you had felt
one houre of my payne, in place to accuse me of crueltie, your self
complaining, wold pitie the griefe whiche I haue sustained for your long
absence: for without the continual presence of your persone,
representing it selfe in the eyes of mine understanding, with a firme
hope once to haue seen you: it had bene impossible for me, to resist the
long and hard assaulte, wherwith loue hath euery houre assailed me. But
one thing I must nedes confesse vnto you, that by reason of the cold
welcome which you made me in the beginning, I thought it preceded of
some euill opinion conceiued of me or peraduenture that you had thought
me ouer liberall of mine honour, to haue left the countrie where I
commaunde, to render my selfe subiect to your good grace, which caused
me without leaue to depart your house. But now that I do know by your
countenaunce and teares, the contrarie, I acknowledge my fault, and
desire you to forget it. With full promise that vppon my retourne from
my voiage of S. Iames, I will make you amendes, in the very same place,
wher I committed the fault: and remaining your prisoner for a certaine
time, I wil not depart from you, vntill I have satisfied, by sufficient
penance the greatnes of my trespas. In the meane time you shal content
your selfe with my good will: and without passing any further retorne
againe home to your castell, for feare least some suspicious persone in
my company should conceiue that in me, which all the dayes of my life I
neuer gaue occasion so much as once to thinke." To whome the Lorde of
Mendozza obeied, more to content her than otherwise, for hee had the
beauties and good behauiours of the Princesse, so imprinted in the moste
pleasaunt place of his harte, as he would haue desired neuer to haue
departed her companie. But like as they determined iocundly, to imploy
and satisfie their desire, at her retorne from her voyage, euen so
fortune in the meane while did beset the same, and so fully brake the
threde of their enterprises, as the issue had not so good successe, as
was their prefixed hope. Now leaue we the Duchesse to perfourme her
voyage, and the Lord of Mendozza to entertain his amorous passions, and
let vs digresse to the duke, who about X. or XII. dayes after the
Duchesse his wife was departed, began to fele her absence, which not
being able to susteine for the great loue he bare vnto her, and
specially knowing the great fault that he had committed (being the
sister of a king and wife of such a Prince) so to let her go like an
vnfeathered shaft, in so long a voyage: determined with him selfe (for
feare least if any misfortune happening vnto her, the same should touch
his honour) to call together his counsel, and to prouide some remedie.
The counsel assembled, and the cause proponed, euerie of them told the
Duke that he had ouer lightly consented to the will of the Duchesse, and
that if she should chaunce to incure any inconuenience, all men would
impute it to his reproch wherof they would haue aduertised him at the
beginning, sauing for feare they had to displease him: adding for
conclusion, that it was most expedient the Duke should put himselfe on
the sea to goe seeke her in Galisia. Which he did, and imbarked him
selfe with a great companie of gentlemen, to whome the winde was so
fauourable, as he ariued at S. Iames before her: and hauing made
enquirie for her, vnderstode she was not come. Neuerthelesse he was
aduertised by certaine pilgrims, that it could not be long before she
would be there, for that they had left her not paste three or foure
dayes iourney from thence, traueiling with her trayne, by small
iourneis: wherof the Duke was exceading glad, and sent certaine of his
gentlemen to mete her vpon the way, as she came, who rode not farre
before they met the Duchesse with her companie, and did her to
vnderstand of the Duke's arriuall, and of the cause of his comming from
Thurin. Which tidinges was not very ioyfull to her, and by her will
would have wished that he had not taken so much paynes: neuerthelesse,
preferring honor before affection, she made the more haste to see him,
and at her arriuall seemed to bee glad of his comming, and to lament the
payne that he had taken by committing himselse in so many daungers for
her sake. Afterwardes they entred into the churche with great deuotion,
where when the Duchesse had made certaine particuler praiers, shee began
to perceiue that God had withstanded her lasciuious wil, and pitying the
good Duke her husband, would not permit him to be deceiued in suche
disloyal sort, repentantly bewayling her forepassed faulte. And feling
herself pressed euen at the very soule with a certaine remorse of
conscience, she was so victorious over her affections, as she determined
wholly to forget Mendozza and his beautie: praysing God neuerthelesse
that it had pleased him to graunt her the grace so well to dispose her
matters, that her affections had not exceeded the bondes of honor:
determining from thenceforth, not onely to put Mendozza in vtter
obliuion, but also for euer clerely to cut of his amorous prastise, and
therfore would not so much as bid him once farewell, nor yet to let him
in any wise vnderstand those newes. And so settled in this deliberation,
solicited her husbande very instantly to departe, whiche he did, and all
thinges prepared to the Sea, they toke againe their course to Thurin,
and had the wynde so prosperous, as from thence in fewe dayes after,
they arriued at Marsellis; and wearye of the Seas, he caused horses to
be prepared to ryde from thence to Thurin by land, wher he and his wife
liued together in right great ioy and amitie. The Lorde of Mendozza
greatly payned with the long absence of the Duchesse, sent a gentleman
of purpose to Galisia to know the cause of her long tarying. Who brought
certain newes that the Duke was comen in persone to fetche his wife, and
that he caried her awaye with him by Sea; wherewithal he was
marueilously out of pacience, determining neuerthelesse one daye when
his affaires were in good order, to go visite her at Thurin. During the
time that these thinges remained in this estate, as well of the one
side, as of the other: the Almaines prepared a great army, and entred
into Fraunce, where they wasted and burned al the countrey as they
passed. The king being aduertised hereof, sent for the Duke of Savoie,
to goe mete them with the men of armes of Fraunce. But before his
departure from Thurin, he lefte for his Lieutenant generall, the Earle
of Pancalier, by the aduise and counsell of whome he intended that all
the affaires of the Duchie should be ruled and gouerned in his absence,
and that he should in so ample wyse be honoured and obeyed, as his owne
persone. This Earle of Pancalier was a nobleman, verie prudent in his
doinges, and knewe right well how to gouerne the common wealth, who
seing that hee had the whole countrie at his commaundement, and hym
selfe many tymes in presence of the Duchesse, viewing her so fayre and
comelie, could not so well rule his affections, but that by litle and
litle he fell into loue with her, in such wyse as hee forgat hym selfe,
making no conscience to offer his seruice vnto her. But the Princesse,
who was resolued to lyue a good woman, abhorred all his lasciuious
orations, requiring hym to bee better aduysed another tyme, before he
presumed to vtter sutche talke, excepte to sutch that were his equals.
Telling hym that a man ought not to bee so vnshamfast to offer his
seruice to anye great Ladie, or to make other sute vnto her, before hee
hadde fyrste knowen by her gesture or woordes, some lykelyhoode of loue:
which he could not deeme in her, for so much as she neither to him or to
any other had euer, (til that day in all her life) shewed such fauour,
as other suspicion could be conceiued, but that which was conuenable and
meete for her honour. Which when the Countie of Pancalier vnderstoode,
he toke his leaue of her, ashamed of that he had done. But he folowing
the custome of louers, not thinking himselfe cast of for the first
refuse, eftsones renewed his requestes: and framing a louing stile,
besought her to haue pitie vppon him, and to respect the greatnesse of
his passion: and that he could not prolonge his life without the fauour
of her good grace, who onely was the very remedie of his euill. The
Duchesse pestred with such like talke, said vnto him: "Sir Countie, me
thinke you ought to haue satisfyed your selfe with my first deniall,
without further continuance in the pursuing of your rash enterprise.
Haue you forgotten the place that you keepe, and the honour whereunto my
Lorde the Duke my husbande hath exalted you? Is this nowe the loyall
reward that you render vnto him for creating you his Lieutenaunt ouer
all his landes and seignories, to demaund the preheminence of his bedde?
Assure your selfe for final warning, that if euer hereafter you shal
againe fall into like error, I sweare vnto you by the faith of a
Princesse, that I will make you to be chastised in suche sort, as al
semblable traytors and disloyal seruants shal take example." The Earle
seeing himselfe refused, and thus rebuked, and in doubt that the
Princesse woulde make her husbande to vnderstande his enterprise upon
his retourne, chaunging his greate loue into hatred more then mortall,
determined whatsoeuer should come thereof, to inuente all meanes
possible, vtterly to destroye the Duchesse. And after that he fansied
diuers thinges in minde, he deuised (by the instinct of the deuil) to
cause one of his nephewes, being of the age of XVIII. or twentie yeares,
which was his heire apparant, for that he had no children, and was one
of the fayrest and best condicioned gentlemen of all Thurin, to sort
that deuilish attempt to purpose. And finding opportunitie, one daye hee
saide to the yonge man (that depended wholly vppon him) these words:
"Nephew, thou knowest that all the hope of liuing thou hast in this
world resteth in me alone, of whom I make so good accompte as of my
childe. And for that it pleased God to giue me no children, I haue
constituted and ordeined thee my sole and ouely heyre with ful hope that
from henceforth thou wilt dutifully acknowledge thy selfe most bounde
vnto mee, and therefore obedient in all thinges which I shal commaunde
thee, specially in that which may be most for thine aduancemente. The
Duke as thou knowest, is absent, olde, and crooked, and at all houres in
the mercy of death throughe the daungers of the warres. Nowe if he
should chaunce to die, my desire is to mary thee with some great Lady:
yea and if it were possible with the Duchesse her selfe, which God
knoweth what profite it would bring both to thee and thy frendes, and in
my iudgement an easie matter to compasse, if thou wilt dispose thy selfe
after my counsell, or at leaste wise, if thou canst not come to the
title of husband, thou maiest not faile to be receiued as her frend.
Thou art a comly gentleman, and in good fauour with the Duchesse, as I
haue oftentimes percieued by her communication, albeit that holdinge
fast the bridle of her honor, shee hath been afraid hetherto to open
herselfe vnto thee. Spare not my goods, make thy selfe braue and gallant
from henceforth whatsoeuer it coste, and be dilligente to please her in
all that thou maiest, and time shall make thee know that which thy
tender yeares hath hitherto hidden from thee." The poore yonge man
giuing faith to the vnfaithfull inuentions of his vncle (whom hee
counted as his father) began oft to frequent the presence of the
Duchesse, and shamefastlye to solicite her by lookes and other offices
of humanitie, as nature had taught him, continuing that order the space
of a moneth. Which by the Duchesse wel viewed and marked, she was
diligent for her part to accept the honest and affectionate seruice
which the yong man dailye did vnto her, and shewed vnto him likewise a
certaine more curteous fauour than to the rest of the pages, as wel for
the birth and beautie wherwithal nature had enriched him, as for that
she saw him enclined to do her better seruice than the rest, not
thinking of any dishonest appetite in the yong man, nor the malice of
his vncle, who conceiued none other felicitie but in reuenge of the
Duchesse, his ennemie, and not able to beare the cruell mallice rooted
in his harte, determined to play double or quit. And callinge his nephew
before him he said vnto him: "My childe, I do perceiue and see that thou
art one of the most happiest gentlemen of al Europe, if thou knewest how
to folow thine owne good luck. For the Duchesse not onely is amorous of
thee, but also consumeth for the earnest loue shee beareth thee. But as
thou knowest women be shamefast and woulde be sued vnto in secrete, and
do delight to be deceiued of men, to thend it might seeme how with
deceit or force they were constrained to yeld to that which of their own
minds they would willingly offer, were it not for a litle shamefastnes
that doth withdrawe them. And thereof assure thy sefe, for I haue
oftentimes experimented the same, to my great good lucke. Wherfore
credite my councel, and follow mine aduise. And thou thy selfe shalt
confesse vnto me, before to morrow at this time, that thou art the
happiest man of the world. I will, then, that this night when thou seest
conuenient time, thou shalt conueye thy selfe secretlye into the chamber
of the Duchesse, and there hide thy selfe vnder her bedde, for feare of
being espied: where thou shalt remaine vntil an houre after midnight,
when all men be in the depth of their sleepe. And when thou perceiuest
euery man at rest, thou shalte closely rise, and approching the Duchesse
bed, thou shalt tell what thou art, and I am sure for the earnest loue
she beareth thee, and for the long absence of her husband, she wil
curteouslie receiue thee betwene her armes, and feast thee with such
delights as amorous folke doe embrace their louers." The simple yong man
giuing faith to the words of his vncle that was honoured as a king
(thinking perhaps that it proceeded by the perswasion of the Duchesse)
followed his commaundement, and obeied whollie his traiterous and
abhominable hest. Who (oportunitie found) accomplished from pointe to
point, that which his cruel vncle had commaunded. And a litle before
midnight, fearing least his treason shoulde be discouered, toke with him
three councellors, and certaine other of the guarde of the castell.
Whereunto as Lieutenaunt to the Duke, he might both enter and issue at
al times when he list, and not opening the cause of his intent, went
straight to the portall of the Duchesse chamber, and knockinge at the
dore, said that the Duke was come. Which being opened, hee entred in
with a nomber of lightes, accompanied with the guarde, hauinge a rapier
readye drawen in his hande, like a furious man besides himselfe, began
to looke rounde about, and vnder the bedde of the Duchesse: from whence
he caused his owne proper nephew to be drawne. To whom, without geuing
him leisure to speake, for feare lest his malice should be discouered,
he saide: "O detestable villaine thou shalt die." And therewithall he
thruste the rapier into him, to the hard hiltes, and doubling another
blowe to make him faile of his speache, hee pearced his throte, so
fiercely, as the poore innocente after he had a little staggered, fell
downe deade to the grounde. When he had put up his rapier, he turned
towards the Counsellers, and saide vnto them: "My frends, this is not
the first time I haue espied the lasciuious and dishonest loue betweene
this my lecherous nephew and the Duchesse, whom I haue caused to die to
honourably in respect of his desert, for by the very rigor of the law,
he deserued to haue bin burnt quick, or els to be torne in peeces with
foure horses. But my Ladie the Duchesse I meane not to punishe, or to
prouide chastisement for her: For you be not ignoraunt, that the
auncient custome of Lombardie and Sauoye requireth that euery woman
taken in adulterie, shal be burned aliue, if within a yeare and a day
she finde not a Champion to fight the combate for her innocencie. But
for the bounden duetie that I beare to my Lord the Duke, and for respect
of the estate which he hath committed to my charge, I will tomorrow
dispatch a poaste, to make him vnderstande the whole accident as it is
come to passe. And the Duchesse shall remaine in this chamber, with
certaine of her maids, vnder sure keeping and safegarde." All this time
the Duchesse who had both iudgemente and spirite so good as any
Princesse that raigned in her time, suspected by and by the treason of
the Earle. And with a pitifull eye beholding the dead body of her page,
fetching a deepe sighe, cried out: "Oh, innocent soule: which sometime
gauest life to this bodye that nowe is but earth, thou art nowe in place
where thou seest clearelye the iniquitie of the murderer, that latelye
did put thee to death." And hauing made an ende of this exclamation with
her armes a crosse, shee remained as in a sowne with out mouing either
hande or foote. And after she had continued a while in that state, shee
desired the Counsellers to cause the bodye to be buried, and to restore
it to the earth whereof it had the first creation. "For (quoth she) it
hath not deserued to be tied to the gibet, and to be foode for birds of
the ayre." Which they graunted not without a certaine greuous suspicion
betweene her and the page. For so muche as she excused not herselfe, but
the innocencie of him, without speaking any worde of her owne particular
iustification. This pitifull aduenture was out of hande published
through all the Citie, with so great sorrow and murmure of the people,
as it seemed the enemies had sacked the towne. For there was not one,
from the very least to the greateste of al, but did both loue and
reuerence the Duchesse, in such sort as it seemed vnto them, that this
misfortune was fallen vpon euery one of their children. The Earle of
Pancalier did nothing all that day, but dispatch the poastes. And hauing
caused all the whole matter to be registred as it was seen to be done,
he commaunded the Counsellers, and them of the Garde, to subscribe his
letters. And all the matter being put in order he sent away two currors
with diligence, the one into Englande to aduertise the king her brother,
and the other to the Duke: who being arriued, ech man in his place,
presented their charges. Whereunto both the brother and the husband gaue
full credite without any maner of difficultie: perswaded principally
thereunto by the death of the nephew: who (as it was very likely) had
not been put to death by his owne vncle, and of whom he was also the
very heire, without his most greueous fault, praysinge greatly the
fidelitie of the Earle, that had not pardoned his owne proper bloud, to
conserue his dutie and honour to his soueraigne Lorde. And it was
concluded betweene them, by deliberate aduise and counsaile, as well of
those of the king of England, as by a great nomber of learned men of
Fraunce, whom the French kinge made to assemble for that respect in
fauour of the Duke, that the custome should be so inuiolably kepte, as
if the Duchesse were the most simple damsell of all the countrie: to the
ende that in time to come, greate Lordes and Ladyes which be as it were
lampes to giue lighte to others, might take example. And that from
thenceforth they should not suffer their vertues to be obscured by the
clouds of such execrable vices. The king of England to gratifie the
Earle of Pancalier: who (in his iudgement) had shewed himself right
noble in this act, sent him an excellent harnesse, with a sword of the
selfe same trampe by the Currour, with letters of aunsweare written with
his owne hand, how he vnderstode the maner of his proceedings. And the
messenger vsed such diligence, as within few daies he arriued at Thurin.
Shortly after that the king of England had sent back the Currour, the
Duke of Sauoie retorned his, whom he staied so much the longer, because
the matter touched him most neere: for he would that the matter should
be debated by most graue and deliberate counsell. And when he had
resolued what to do, he wrote to the counsellers and other Magistrates
of Thurin, aboue al things to haue respecte that the custome should be
inuiolably obserued, and that they should not in any case fauour the
adultery of his wife, vpon paine of death. Then in particuler, hee wrote
his letters to the Earle, whereby he did greatly allow his fidelitie,
for the which he hoped to make him suche recompence, as both he and his
should taste therof during their liues. The Currour of the duke arriued,
and the matter proponed in counsell, it was iudged, that (followinge the
auncient custome) a piller of marble should be placed in the fieldes
neere Thurin: which is betweene the bridge of the riuer Poo and the
Citie, wherupon should be written the accusation of the Earle of
Pancalier against the Duchesse, which the Duchesse vnderstanding (hauing
none other companie but Emilia, and a yong damsell) dispoiled herselfe
of her silken garmentes, and did put on mourninge weede, martired with
an infinite nomber of sondrie tormentes, seing herselfe abandoned of al
worldly succour, made her complaints to God: beseeching him with teares
to be protector of her innocencie. Emilia who vnderstode by her that
shee was vniustlie accused, and seing the iminent perill that was
prepared for her, determined by her accustomed prudence to prouide
therfore. And after she had a litle comforted her she saide vnto her:
"Madame, the case so requireth that now you must not consume time in
teares and other womanish plaints, which can nothing diminishe your
euill. It seemes most expediente vnto mee, that you fortefie your selfe
againste your enemye, and finde some meane to sende maister Appian in
poaste to the Duke of Mendozza, one of the best renowmed in prowesse of
all the knightes in Spaine, whoe being aduertised of your misfortune,
wyll prouide so well for your affaires, (that your honour being
recouered) your life shall remaine assured. Wherefore if you will follow
mine aduise, you shall write him an earnest letter (as you know right
wel how to indite) which Appian shal present on your behalfe. For if you
follow not this counsel, I know none els (as the world goeth now) that
will hazarde his life vnder the condicion of so straunge a lotte as
yours is, specially hauing respect to the renowne and magnanimitie of
the Earle, who as you know, is in reputation to be one of the most
valiaunt men and most happy in armes that is in all Sauoie or
Lombardie." "My deare frende (quoth the Duchesse) doe what thou wilt:
for I am so resolued and confirmed in my sorowe, as I haue no care
either of death or life, no more than if I had neuer been borne. For
neither in the one nor in the other, can I forsee anye remedie for mine
honour alreadie lost.{"} "Madame (quoth Emilia) let us for this time
leaue the care of honour in the hands of God, who knoweth both howe to
keepe it and restore it, as shall seeme good vnto him. And let vs giue
order for our parte that there be no want of diligence, for feare of
being ouertaken." And hauing made an ende of her tale, shee gaue her
incke and paper, sayinge vnto her: "Now Madame I shall see at this
pinche, if your harte will serue you at a neede or no." The Duchesse
withdrew her selfe a part, and after she had longe discoursed in her
minde of that which was paste betweene the knight and her, she wrote
vnto him as followeth: "My Lord Mendozza, I do not write these letters
vnto you, vppon any hope to be deliuered by your meane from the poinaunt
pricke of fierce death which doth now besiege me, knowing death alwayes
to be the true port and sure refuge of all afflicted persons. For since
that God willeth it, nature permitteth it, and my heauie fortune
consenteth to it, I will receiue it with righte good will, knowinge that
the graue is none other but a strong rampier and impregnable cartel,
wherein we close our selues against the assaults of life, and the
furious stormes of fortune. It is farre better (as appeareth manifestly
by me) with eyes shut to waite in graue, than no longer to experimente
life (the eyes beinge open) liuing with so many troubles vpon earth. But
gladly woulde I bringe to remembraunce, and set before your eyes how
sometime I abandoned the place which was no lesse deare vnto me than
mine owne country where I was borne, and delicatelye nourished in honor
and delightes, to extende my selfe into an infinite nomber of perills,
contrarye to the deutie of those that be of mine estate, losinge the
name of a Princesse to take the title of a caytife pilgrim, for the
onely seruent and vnmeasured loue which I bare you, before I did euer
see you, or by anye meanes bounde thereunto by any your preceding
benefites. The remembraunce whereof (as I thinke) ought now to deliuer
such an harde enterprise, to the port of your conscience, that breaking
the vaile of your tender hart, you shoulde therefore take pitie and
compassion of my straunge and cruell fortune. Which is not onely reduced
to the mercy of a most dolorous prison, and resteth in the power of a
bloudie and mercilesse tyrant: but (which is worse) in the continuall
hazarde of a shamefull death. Which I do not much lament hauing long
desired to accelerate the same with mine owne hands, to finde rest in an
other worlde: were it not that by death I shoulde leaue an eternall blot
to my good name, and a perpetuall heritage of infamie to my house and
kindred. Wherefore if it so be, that frendship loketh for no rewarde, or
that frendship cannot be paid but by the tribute of an other, make me
now to taste the auncient fruite of frendship. And if pitie be the sole
and onely keye of Paradise, displaye it now on the behalfe of her, who
(forsaken of al humaine succour) attendeth but the fatall houre to be
throwen into the fier as a poore innocent lambe in sacrifice. And for
that the bearer shal make you vnderstand the rest by mouth (whom it may
please you to credite as mine owne selfe) I will make an ende of my
heauie letter. Beseching God to giue a good life vnto you, and to mee an
honorable death." The letter closed and sealed vp with the seale of the
Duchesse, shee commaunded Emilia to deliuer it to Appian, and to require
him to vse diligence, not ceasing to ride day and night vntil he come to
the place where they left the knight Mendozza, giuinge charge to make
him vnderstande (at length) her innocencie and false accusation. Appian
being dispatched, was so affected to please his maistresse, and so
desirous to see her deliuered of her imprisonmente, as hee ceassed not
to trauaile day and night, till he came within the frontiers of Spaine.
And after that he had ridden yet two or three dayes iourney, approching
nere the place wher he thought to find the knight Mendozza, he began to
inquire of the host of the inne where he laye that nighte, as well of
his good health, as of his other affayres, whoe made him aunswere, that
it wente euen so euill with him at that present, as with the poorest
gentleman of al Spaine: although that he were in deede a very great
Lorde. "For (quoth he) within these few monethes past, his ennemies of
Tolledo, whom he hath diuers times vanquished, have so wel allied
themselues together out of al partes of Spaine, that they haue brought a
great armie to the field. And fortune of the warre hath been so
fauourable unto them, that they discomfited Mendozza and all his armie.
Who hath retired himselfe, with those few of his people that hee could
saue aliue, into a litle towne of his, where yet to this present he is
besieged. And so it is (as euery man sayth) that he doth his endeuour
maruellouslie well, in such sort as his ennemies cannot enter the
towne." Master Appian then demaunded of him, if the towne besieged were
farre of. And he answered, that it was about VII. or VIII. poastes. Then
withoute making any longer inquirie, he toke a guide that accompanied
him euen almoste to the campe. And when he sawe the towne a farre of, he
sent the guide backe againe, and went the same daye to offer his seruice
to a certaine captaine of lighte horsemen, who receiued him into wages,
and then he bought armour to serue his purpose. And maister Appian
besides his learning was a wise and polliticke man, and determined so
sone as any skirmishe did begin to be formost, and in deede he vsed the
matter so well, as hee suffred himselfe to be taken prisoner and to be
caried into the towne. And being within, he desired those that had taken
him, to conduct him to the Lorde of Mendozza their chieftaine: whoe knew
him by and by, for that in the voyage which the Duchesse made into
Spaine, he saw him euer more neere her then any other of her gentlemen.
And after that the Lord of Mendozza had demaunded of him by what meanes
he entred the towne, vpon his aunswere, he perceyued that he was a man
of good experience, and well affected to the seruice of his maistres,
that durst hazard his life in such wise to obey her desire.
Incontinently maister Appian deliuered vnto him the Duchesse letter:
which when he had read, he retired into his chamber with maister Appian,
hauing his face all bedewed with teares: and because that the letter did
import credite, he prayed maister Appian to declare his charge. Who said
unto him, "My lady the Duchesse which is at this day the most afflicted
Princesse vnder the coape of Heauen, commendeth herselfe vnto your
honour, and doth humbly besech you not to be offended for that at her
last being in Galisia, shee departed withoute accomplishing her promise
made vnto you: prayinge you to impute the fault vpon the importunitie of
the Duke her husband: whom being constrained to obey, she could not
satisfye the good will that she bare vnto you.{"} Then he began to
declare in order howe the Earle of Pancalier fell in loue with her, and
not beinge able to obtaine his desire, caused his nephew to hide him
vnder her bedde: and how hee had slaine him with his owne handes.
Finallye, the imprisonmente of the Duchesse, and the iudgemente giuen
againste her. Wherat the Lord of Mendozza was greatly astonned: and when
hee had heard the whole discourse, hee began to conceiue some euill
opinion of the duchesse: thinkinge it to be incredible, that the earle
of Pancalier woulde so forget himselfe, as to murder his owne proper
nephewe and adopted sonne, to be reuenged of a seely woman.
Neuerthelesse, he dissembled that which he thoughte, in the presence of
maister Appian, and said vnto him: "Appian my frende, if mine aduerse
fortune did not speake sufficiently for me, I could tel thee here a long
tale of my miseries: but thou seest into what extremitie I am presently
reduced, in sorte that I am vtterly vnable to succour thy maistresse, I
my selfe stil attending the houre of death: and all the pleasures which
presentlye I can doe for thee, is to set thee at libertie from the
perill prepared for vs." And without longer talke, hee caused a hot
skirmishe to be giuen to his enemies, to set Appian at large: who being
issued forth, made certaine of his men to conduct him to place of
suretie. Appian seinge no way for Mendozza to abandon his citie for
peril of death prepared for him and his, thoughte his excuse reasonable.
And to attempt some other fortune, he vsed such diligence, as he in
short time was retourned to Thurin, wher hauing communicated the whole
matter to Emilia, she went straight to the Duchesse, to whom she said:
"Madame, God giue you the grace to be so constant in your aduersities,
as you haue an occasion to be miscontented with the heauy newes that
Appian hath brought you." And then she began to recompt vnto her the
misfortune of Mendozza, the thraldome wherunto his enemies had brought
him, and for conclusion, that there was no hope of helpe to be expected
at his handes. Which when the Duchesse vnderstoode she cryed out: "Oh,
poore vnhappy woman, amongste all the most desolate and sorowfull: thou
mayst well now say that the lighte of thy life from henceforth beginneth
to extinguishe and growe to an ende: seing the succour of him, vpon whom
depended thine assuraunce, is denied thee. Ah, ingrate knight: now knowe
I righte well (but it is to late) that of the extreme loue which I did
beare thee, sprong the first roote of all mine euil, which came not by
any accident of fortune, but from celestiall dispensation and deuine
prouidence of my God: who now doth permit that mine hipocrisie and
counterfaite deuotion shall receiue condigne chastisemente for my
sinne." And then Emilia, seing her so confounded in teares, said vnto
her: "Madame, it doth euil become a greate and wise Princesse, (as you
hitherto haue euer been reputed) to tormente her selfe, sith that you
know howe all the afflictions which we receive from heauen, be but
proues of oure fidelitie: or as your selfe confesseth by your
complaintes, to bee iust punishment for our sinnes. Nowe then be it the
one or the other, you ought to be fortified against the hard assault of
your sorow: and to remit the whole to the mercie of God, who of his
aboundant grace, will deliuer you of your trouble, as he hath done many
others when they thought themselues forsaken of all helpe, by causinge
certaine dropps of his pitie to raine down vpon them." "Alas, deare
hart," (quoth the Duchesse,) "how easie a matter it is for one that that
is hole to comforte her that is sicke: but if thou feltest my griefe
thou wouldest helpe me to complaine: so greuous a matter it is vnto mee,
with life to loose mine honour. And I must confesse vnto thee, that I
sustaine a very cruel assault both againste death and life, and I cannot
either with the one or with the other, haue peace or truce in my selfe.
Ne yet do know how to dissemble my sorrowe, but that in the ende the
same will be discouered by the fumes of myne ardente sighes, which
thinking to constraine or retaine, I do nothinge els but burie my selfe
within mine owne bodye: assuringe thee, that greater is one droppe of
bloude that swelteth the harte within, then all the teares that maye be
wept in the whole life without. Wherefore I pray thee leaue mee a litle
to complaine my dolor, before I go to the place from whence I shal neuer
retorne." Emilia, that willingly would haue sacrificed herselfe to
redeeme the Princesse from perill, not beinge able anye longer to endure
the hard attempte wherewith pitie constrayned her hart, was forced to
goe forth and to withdraw herselfe into another chamber, where she began
to lament after so straunge maner, as it seemed that it had been shee
that was destened to death. Whiles these ladies continued thus in their
sorowes, the knight Mendozza toke no rest by day or night, ne ceassed
continually to thincke vpon the distresse of the Duchesse. And after
that he had well considered the same, hee accused himselfe for fayling
her at that greate neede, saying: "Now do I well knowe that I am for
euer hereafter vtterly vnworthy to beare armes, or to haue the
honourable title of knight, sith the same order was giuen me, wyth
charge to succour afflicted persons, specially Ladies, whose force onely
consisteth in teares. And yet neuerthelesse, I (like a caytife) haue so
shamefullye neglected my dutye towards the chiefe person of the worlde,
to whom I am greatly bounden, as I die a thousand times that day wherein
I thincke vpon the same. It behoueth mee then from henceforth to
establishe new lawes to my deliberation, and that I breake the gate of
mine auncient rigor: louing much better to die in honour, poore, and
disinherited, than to liue puissant, vnhappie, and a cowarde. Wherfore
let fortune worke her wil: sithens the Duchesse did forsake her
countrie, to come to see me in her prosperitie, I may no lesse do now,
but visite her in her aduersitie." Pressed and solicited inwardlye with
this newe desire, determined whatsoeuer happened to go to her rescue,
and hauinge giuen order to all that was necessary for the defence of the
Citie: putting his confidence in the fidelitie of those that were
within, caused all his Captaynes to be called before him: whom hee did
to vnderstande, how he was determined to go seeke succour, to leuie the
siege of his enemies. Duringe which time he constituted his nere
kinsman, his Liefetenaunte generall, and the nexte morning before the
daye appeared hee gaue a great alarme to his ennemies, wherein hee
escaped vnknowen. Being mounted vppon a Ienet of Spaine and out of
daunger, he toke post horse, and made such expedition as hee arriued at
Lions, where he prouided the beste armour that he could get for money,
and two excellent good horses, whereof the one was a courser of Naples.
And hauing gotten a certaine unknowen page, toke his waye to Thurin,
where beinge arriued, hee lodged in the suburbs, demaunding of his host
if there dwelt anye Spaniards in the towne, whoe made aunsweare, that
hee knewe but one, which was a good olde religious father, that for the
space of twentie yeares was neuer out of Thurin, a man of vertuous life,
and welbeloued of all the Citizens, and had the charge of a certaine
conuente. Neuerthelesse his lodginge was aparte from his brethren, to
solace himselfe, and to auoide the incommoditie of his age. The knight
hauinge learned of his hoste the place wher this good father dwelled,
went with diligence betimes in the morning, to see him, and said vnto
him in the Spanish tongue: "Father, God saue you: I am a Spaniarde comen
hither into this country for certaine mine affaires, towardes whom you
mighte doe a charitable deede, if it woulde please you to suffer mee to
remayne with you foure or fiue dayes onelye, crauinge nothinge els but
lodginge: for my seruaunte shall prouide for other necessaries." Whiche
the good father willingly graunted, muche maruelling at his goodlye
personage. And whiles the seruante was gone to the towne to bye
victualls, the good father demaunded of him, of what countrye in Spaine
hee was, whiche the knighte francklye confessed. And the fatherlye man
then hauinge his face all be sprent with teares, sayde: "Praysed be the
name of GOD, that he hath giuen mee the grace before I dye, to see so
great a Lorde in my poore house, of whom I am both the subiecte and
neighbour." And then he began to tell him how for deuocion he had
forsaken his natiue countrey and had bestowed himselfe there, the better
to withdrawe him from worldly vanitie. Neuerthelesse he said: that he
knew his father, his mother, and his graundfather. Desiring him to vse
his house at commaundement, where he should be obeyed as if he were in
his owne: and then the lord of Mendozza said vnto him, that he was
departed from Spaine of purpose to see Fraunce, and there to make his
abode for a time. And that passing by Lions one aduertised him of the
infortunate chaunce of the Duchesse, whom if he thought to be innocent
of the crime whereof she was accused, he would defend her to the
sheading of the last drop of his bloude. Neuerthelesse he would not
hazard his life or soule to defend her, if he knew her to be guiltie.
Which wordes the good man greatly allowed, saying vnto him: "My Lord,
touchinge her innocencie, I beleue there is at this day no man liuing,
but herselfe and the Earle, her accuser, that can iudge. But one thinge
I can well assure you, that wee heere, do deeme her to be one of the
beste Princesses, that euer raigned in this countrie, specially for that
a yeare paste she went on foote to S. Iames, with suche deuotion and
humilitie, as there was no man but pitied to see her so mortified for
her soules healthe. And to combate with the Earle of Pancalier, you
seeme vnto me very yong: for besides the continual exercise that he hath
alwayes had in armes, he is withal esteemed to be one of the strongest,
readiest, and most redoubted knights of all Lombardie: the victorie
notwithstanding is in the hand of God, who can giue it to whom he
pleaseth: which hee made manifest in the yong infante Dauid, against the
monstrous Giante Golias." To whome the knighte aunswered: "Father, I
have deuised a waye how to prouide against the scruple of my conscience,
touchinge the doubte conceyued by mee, whether the combat that I shall
take in hande against the earle of Pancalier, be iust or not, which is,
that I vnder colour of confession, might vnderstand of the duchesse, the
trouth of the matter. And therfore if you thinke good I may cause my
head and beard to be shauen, and apparelling my selfe in such habite as
you do weare, we two may easely (as I thinke) with the leaue of her
keepers, go into the Duchesse Chamber, to exhort her to pacience: for
about this time of the yeare, the day is expired." Wherunto the good
father without any great difficultie, consented, aswell for respect of
his good zeale, as for his reuerent duty to the nobility of the stock
whereof he came. And so all things prouided, they wente together towards
the castle of the Duchesse. And he that had seen the knight Mendozza in
his fryer's apparell, would vnethes haue discerned him, to be so great a
Lorde as he was: for besides his dissembled gestures and countenaunces,
wherwith he knew right wel how to behaue himselfe, he was so leane and
poore, aswell for the care of the battell he lost, and ouerthrowe of his
people, as for the mishap of the Duchesse, and the peril of his life at
hand, by reason of the combate betweene the Earle and him, as he
resembled rather a holy S. Hierome, mortified in some desert, then a
Lorde, so noble and valiaunt as he was. Arriued at the castell, the olde
father addressed himself to the guarde and sayd: "Maisters, because the
time for the death of the miserable duchesse doth approche, we be come
hither to geue her such spirituall comforte, as wherwith God hath
inspired vs, hoping that hee will this daye geue vs the grace to induce
her to die paciently, to the intent that by losse of the bodye, her
soule may be saued." Wherunto they accorded willinglye, and caused the
chamber to be opened vnto them. They within the chamber went forth
incontinently, thinking that the Gouernour had caused the good fathers
to come to heare the last confession of the poore Duchesse, who was so
sorowefull and pensife as she was forced to kepe her bed: which came
very well to passe, for the knight Mendozza, comming neare vnto her
bedde, with his face towardes her, so counterfayted hym selfe as he
coulde not in any manner of wyse be knowen. And the good olde father
fryer taried in a corner of the chamber a farre of, that he might heare
none of their talke: and as the Lorde of Mendozza leaned vpon her
bedsyde, he sayde vnto her in the Italian tongue, which was so familiar
to him as the Spanishe: "Madame, the peace of our Lorde be with you."
Wherunto the lady aunswered: "Father why speake you of peace, sithe I am
in continuall warre, depriued of al contentation, and doe but attende
the last end of my calamitie, whiche is a moste cruell and shamefull
death, without desert." And then the Lorde of Mendozza, who had consumed
the moste parte of his youthe in good letters, saide vnto her: "I beleue
madame you be not ignoraunt howe miseries and tribulations, fall not by
accident or fortune, but by the prouidence or dispensation of God,
before whome one litle sparrowe onely is not forgotten, as the prophete
Amos doth manifeste vnto vs when he sayth: 'there is none euil in the
Citie that I haue not sent thither:' whiche is also apparaunt in Job,
whome the Deuil could not afflicte before he had first obtayned licence
of God. And it is necessarye for you to knowe, that tribulations and
affliction bee tokens of the fore chosen and elected people of God, and
the true markes of our saluation: so that if you consider the order of
all the Scriptures, from the beginning of the worlde vntyll this tyme,
you shall fynde that they whome God hath alwayes best loued and
cherished, he hath commaunded to drinke of the cup of his passion, and
to be more afflicted than others: examples whereof be common in the
Scriptures. As when Abell was afflicted by Caine his brother, Isaac by
his brother Ismaell, Ioseph by his brethren, Dauid by Absolon his sonne,
the children of Israel (the electe people of God) by Pharao: whiche
thinges beinge profoundlye considered by Sainct Paule, he sayde: 'If we
had not an other hope in Iesus Christe, than in the lyfe present, we
might well say that we were the most miserable of al others. And yet
moreouer, saith he, it is litle or nothing that we endure, in respect of
that which Iesus Christe hath suffered.' Who (although he framed the
whole worke of the worlde) was called the Carpenter's sonne, for
preaching he was sclaundered, he was caried vp to a mountaine to be
throwen down, he was called Glotton, Dronkard, louer of Publicanes and
sinners, Samaritane, Seducer, Diuell: saying, that in the name of
Belzebub he did cast out Diuels. But let vs consider, madame, a litle
further, what thinges were done vnto him, hee was naked to clothe vs,
prisoner and bounde to vnbinde vs from the chain of the Diuell, made a
sacrifice to cleanse vs of all our inward filth, we doe see that he
suffred his side to be opened, to close vp hell from vs, we see his
handes whiche in so comely order made both heauen and earth for the loue
of vs, pearced with pricking nailes, his head crowned with three sharped
thornes to crowne vs with heauenly glorie. Let vs way that by his dolour
came our ioye, our health grew of his infirmitie, of his death was
deriued our life: and should we be ashamed to haue our head touched with
a fewe thornes of trouble? Strengthen your self then (madame) in the
name of God, and make you ready to receiue death in the name of him that
was not ashamed to indure it for you. Is his strong hande any thing
weakened? Is it not in him to ouerthrow the furie of your enemie, and so
to humble your aduersarie that he shall neuer be able to be relieued?
How many poore afflicted persones haue there bene seene to be abandoned
of all succour, whom he hath behelde with his pitiful eye, and restored
to greater ease and contentation, then euer they were in before? learne
then from henceforth, to comforte your selfe in God, and say as the
great doctor holy Ignatius sayd in his Epistle to the Romaines: 'I
desire that the fier, the gallowes, the beastes, and all the tormentes
of the Diuil might exercise their crueltie vpon me, so as I may haue
fruition of my Lorde God.'" And after that the knight had made an ende
of his consolation, the Duchesle was so rapte in contentation, as it
seemed her soule had already tasted of the celestiall delightes, and
would flie euen vp into heauen. And then feeling her selfe lightened
like one that had escaped some furious tempest of the seas, she began to
confesse her selfe vnto him from point to point, without omitting any
thing of that whiche she thought might greue her conscience. And when
she came to the accusation of the Earle, she prayed God not to pardon
her sinnes, if she had committed in deede or thought, any thing
contrarie to the dutie of mariage, except it were one dishonest
affection that she had borne to a knight of Spaine, whom vnder pretence
of a fained deuotion she had visited in Spayne, not committing any thing
sauing good will whiche shee bare vnto him. "Which maketh me thinke
(quod she) that God being moued against myne hypocrisie, hath permitted
this false accusation to be raysed against me by the Earle of Pancalier,
whiche I will paciently suffer, sithe his will is so." Her confession
finished, she plucked of a rich diamonde from her finger, saying: "Good
father, albeit I haue heretofore bene a riche Princesse, as you knowe,
yet nowe myne ennemies haue taken awaye all my goodes from me (this
diamond except) which my brother the kyng of Englande gaue me, when I
was maried to the Duke of Sauoie. And because I can not otherwise doe
you good, I geue it vnto you, praying you to remember me in your
prayers, and to kepe it for my sake: for it is of a greater price then
you thinke, and may serue one daie to supply the necessitie of your
conuent." The confession ended and the diamond receiued, the twoo friers
retourned home to their conuent. And so sone as they were arriued there,
the Lorde of Mendozza sayde vnto hym: "Father, nowe doe I know
certainly, that this poore woman is innocent, wherefore I am resolued to
defende her so long as life doth last. And I feele my selfe so touched
and pressed in mynde, as I thinke it long till I be at the combat.
Wherefore I praye you if it chaunce that fortune be contrary vnto me,
after my death, make it to be openly knowen what I am, and chiefly that
the Duchesse may vnderstande it, for speciall purpose. And if it fortune
that I escape with life (which can not be but by the death of the Earle)
be secrete vnto me in these thinges which I haue declared vnder the
vayle of confession." The good father promised so to doe. And hauing
passed all that day and night in praiers and supplications, he armed
himselfe, and made ready his courser. And when the dawning of the daye
began to appeare, he went in his armour to the gates of the Citie, and
calling one of the Guarde, he sayd vnto him: "Good fellowe, I pray thee
bidde the Counte of Pancalier to prepare him selfe, to mainteine the
false accusation, which he hath falsely forged against the Duchesse of
Sauoie. And further tell him, that there is a knight here, that will
make him to denie his horrible vilany before hee parte the fielde, and
will in the presence of al the people cut out that periured toung, which
durst commit such treason against an innocent Princesse." This matter
was in a moment published throughout all the citie, in such sorte, as
you might haue sene the churches full of men and women, praying to God
for the redemption of their maistresse. During the time that the guarde
had done his ambassage, the Lord of Mendozza went towardes the piller
where the accusation was written, attending when the accuser should come
forth. The Earle of Pancalier aduertised hereof, began incontinently to
feele a certaine remorse of conscience, which inwardly gript hym so
nere, as he endured a torment lyke to very death. And being vnable to
discharge himself therof, would willingly haue wished that he had neuer
attempted the dishonour of the Lady. Neuerthelesse that he might not
seeme slacke in that he had begonne, he sent woorde to the knight, that
he mould write his name vppon the Piller, to whome Mendozza made
aunswere, that he might not know his name, but the combat he would make
him feele before the daye went downe. The Earle of Pancalier made
difficultie of the combat, if firste he knewe not the name of hym with
whom he should haue to doe. The matter well aduised, it was clearely
resolued by the Iudges, that the statutes made no mention of the name,
and therefore he was not bounde thereunto, but that the statute did
expreslye fauour the defendant, geuing vnto him the election of the
armour, and semblablie it was requisite that the persone accused should
be brought forth in the presence of the twoo Champions. Which thinges
vnderstanded by the Earle, albeit that he trusted not his quarell, yet
making a vertue of necessitie, and not vnlearned in the order of such
conflictes, forthwith armed hymselfe, and came into the place ordayned
for the campe, where he founde his enemy armed in a black armour, in
token of mourning. Immediately after they sent for the Duchesse, who
ignoraunt of the matter wondered much when she vnderstode that there was
a knight in the field all armed in black, seming to be a noble man, that
promised some great matter by his dexteritie and bolde countenaunce, and
would also mainteine against the Earle of Pancalier his accusation to be
false. The poore Duchesse then not being able to imagine what he should
be, greatly troubled in mind, and comming forth of the Castel was
conducted in a litter couered with black cloth, accompanied with more
then two hundreth ladies and damsels, in semblable attire vnto the place
where the Iudges, the people and the two knightes were, who did but
attend her comming. And after they had wayted her going vp to a litle
stage ordained for that purpose, the Deputies for the assurance of the
campe, demaunded of her these wordes, saying: "Madam, for that you be
accused of adulterie by the Earle of Pancalier here present, and the
custome requireth that you present a Knight within the yeare and daye,
by force of armes to trye your right: are you determined to accepte him
that is here present, and to repose your selfe vpon him, both for your
fault and innocencie?" The Duchesse aunswered: that shee committed all
her right into the mercie of God, who knew the inwarde thoughtes of her
harte, and to the manhode of the knight, albeit she thought that she had
neuer seen him. And when she had ended those woordes, she fell downe
vppon her knees, then lifting vp her eyes all blubbered with teares
towardes heauen, she prayed: "O Lorde God, which art the very veritie it
self, and knowest the bytternesse that I fele in my harte, to see my
self falsely accused, shew forth now the treasure of thy grace vpon me
wretched Princesse: and as thou diddest deliuer Susanna from her
trouble, and Iudith from Holofernes, deliuer me from the hande of a
tiraunt: who like a lion hungrie for my bloud, deuoureth both myne
honour and life." And hauing made an ende of her prayer, shee remained
vnmoueable as if shee had bene in a traunce. And nowe the knight
Mendozza, offended to see the Earle to praunce his horse vp and downe
the campe, making him to vaut and leape, with a countenaunce very
furious sayd vnto him: "Traytour Counte, because I am certayne that the
accusation which thou hast forged against this Princesse, is inuented by
the greatest villany of the world, I do maintaine here before al the
people, that thou hast falsely accused her, and that thou liest in thy
throte, in all that thou hast contriued against her, and that thou haste
deserued to bee put into a sacke, to bee caste into the Riuer for the
murder that thou haste committed vppon thy Nephewe, the innocent bloud
of whom doth nowe crie for vengeance to be taken for thy synne before
God." And scarce had he made an ende of his woordes, but the Earle
aunswered him with a marueilous audacitie: "Infamous villain, which
hidest thy name for feare lest thy vices should be knowen, thou arte
nowe fouly deceiued by thinking to warrant her, who hath offended
against the Duke her husbande, by her whoredome and adulterie: and for
that thou hast parled so proudly, and wilt not be knowen, I can not
otherwyse thinke but that thou art some one of her ruffians: and
therefore I doe mainteine, that thou thy selfe doest lie, and that thou
deseruest to be burnt in the same fire with her, or els to be drawen
with foure horses by the crosse pathes of this towne, to serue for an
example in the worlds to come, not onely for all lasciuious Ladies and
Damsels, but also for such abhominable whoremongers, as be lyke thy
selfe." Incontinently after, the Harraulde of armes began to make the
accustomed crie, and the Knightes to put their launces in their restes:
they let run their horses with such violence, as ioyning together their
shieldes, their bodies and heads, they brake their staues, euen to their
Gauntlets, so roughly, as they fel both down to the ground without
losing, neuerthelesse, the raines of the bridles. But the heate of the
harte, and desire to vanquishe, made them readily to get vp againe, and
hauing cast away the troncheons of their staues, layd handes on their
swordes, and there began so straunge and cruell a sturre betwene them,
as they which were the beholders were affrighted to see them able to
endure so much: for they were so fleshed one vppon another, and did so
thicke bestowe their strokes without breathing, as the lookers on
confessed neuer to haue seene any combat in Piemonte betwene twoo single
persons, so furious, nor better followed then that of the Earle and of
the knight Mendozza. But the Spanishe knight encouraged with the Iustice
of his quarell, and the rewarde of his fight, seemed to redouble his
force: for euen when euery man thought that power must needes fayle him,
it was the houre wherin he did best behaue himselfe. In such sort, as
his enemy not being able any longer to susteine his puissaunt strokes,
being wounded in diuers partes of his bodye, did nowe no more but
defende himselfe, and beare of the blowes which were bestowed vpon hym
without intermission: whiche the Spanishe knight perceiuing, desirous to
make an ende of the combat, made so full a blowe with all his force ypon
the top of his helmet, as he wounded his head very sore. Wherewithall
the harte of the Earle began very muche to faint, and staggering here
and there like a dronken man or troubled in his senses, was constrained
to fall downe from his horse: and then the Lorde of Mendozza dismounting
him selfe, and takyng holde vpon the corps of his shield, plucked it so
rudely to him, as he ouerturned him on his other syde. Then with the
pomell of his sworde he did so swetely bumbast him, as he made his
helmet to flye of his head: and setting his foote vpon his throte, made
as though with the point of his swearde he woulde haue killed hym,
saying: "Counte, the houre is now come that thou must goe make an
accompt with God of thine vntrouth and treason which thou hast committed
against the Duchesse." "Ah, sir knight (quoth the Earle) haue pitie vpon
me, and kil me not I beseche thee, before I haue a litle bethought me of
my conscience." "Villaine (quoth the Spaniard) if I had any hope of
thine amendement, I would willingly geue thee dalay of life: but being a
traytour as thou art, thou wilt neuer ceasse to afflicte innocentes.
Neuerthelesse if thou wilt acknowledge thy fault publikely, and require
pardon of the Duchesse, I wil willingly leaue thee to the mercy of the
Duke, although that if I did obserue the rigour of the lawe, I should
cause the presently to receiue the payne prepared for the Duchesse." To
whom he obeied for safegarde of his life, and kneeling on his knees
before the Duchesse in the presence of al the people, made a long
discourse of his loue towardes her, of the repulse that she gaue him,
and that for reuenge, he ayded him self with his nephewe, thinking to
ouerthrowe her chastitie. Finally, howe he had slayne his Nephewe, to
induce the Duke to iudge her to be culpable of the adulterie. And then
tourning his face towardes the Duchesse, sayde vnto her: "Madame it
behoueth me to confesse that the losse of this one life is to litle to
paye the tribute of the curelesse faulte that I haue committed against
you. Yet sithe it is so, I beseche you by preferring pitie and mercy
before the rigor of your iustice, you will permit that I may liue yet
certayn dayes to make a view of my life past, and to prouide for the
scruple of my conscience." Then new ioye approched to garnishe the
spirite of the Duchesse, and both the soule and the harte began to shewe
theim selues ioyful, in such wyse, as she was a long tyme without power
to speake, and did nothing els but ioyne her handes and lifte vp her
eyes to heauen, saying: "O Lorde God, praysed be thy holy name, for that
thou hast caused the bright beames of thy diuinitie, to shyne vpon the
darkenesse of my sorrowfull life, enforcing so well the mynde of this
traytour the murderer of mine honour by the prickes of thy rigorous
iustice, openly to acknowledge before all men, the iniurie that he hath
done me." And without speaking any more wordes, she torned her face for
feare lest she should make him any other aunswere. Then all the people
began to laude and magnifie God, and to sing psalmes for ioye of the
deliueaunce of their Duchesse, who was brought backe and reconducted
into the Citie, with so great triumphe, as if she had made a seconde
entrie. Whilest these things were adoing, the Deputies for the suretie
of the campe caused the wounded Earle to be borne to pryson. The knight
Mendozza stale secretly awaye, and after that he had in the next village
dressed certaine small woundes that he had receiued in the combat, he
toke his way into Spain. In the meane time, the Duchesse caused him to
be sought for in euery place, but it was not possible to know any more
newes of him, than if he had ben neuer seene. Whereat being grieued
beyond measure, she made her mone to Emilia, to know wherefore he should
so absent himself from her. "Madame (quoth Emilia,) he is sure some
French knight, or els it may be some kinsman of your own, that is come
out of England into these partes for certayne other affaires: and
fearing least he should bee staied here, will not be knowen, reseruing
the manifestation of himself till an other tyme more apte for his
purpose." "Let him bee what he may bee (sayde the Duchesse) for so long
as my soule shall remayne within this bodye, I wyll doe hym homage
during life: for the whiche I am so duelye bounde debtour vnto him, as
neuer subiecte was to his soueraigne Lorde." In this tyme whylest these
matters went thus at Thurin, the Duke of Sauoie, the Lieutenant generall
for the king against the Almaines, encountring with his enemies in a
skirmishe, by fortune was slayne: whereof the king of England being
aduertised, and specially of the deliuerie of his syster, desirous to
haue her about him, sente for her to marrie her agayne, and to leaue
vnto her the entier gouernement of his householde: and to gratifie her
at her firste arriuall, he gaue the rule of his daughter vnto her, which
was of the age of sixtene or seuentene yeares, with whom by certayne
meanes there was a mariage practized for the Prince of Spayne. Let vs
now leaue the Duchesse to liue in honor with her brother, and retorne we
to the Lorde of Mendozza, who being arriued nere vnto his Citie,
vnderstode incontinently that they which had besiedged it had leuied
their campe. For that they of the towne had so well done their endeauour
as not onely their enemies were not able to enter, but also they had in
a certain skirmishe taken the Lord Ladolpho their chieftaine prisoner,
who was yet to that present detained: because meanes were made for peace
to be concluded on al sides: neuerthelesse they durst doe nothing
without hym: whereat the Lorde of Mendozza beyng replenyshed with greate
ioye to see his affaires prosper so well in all partes, entred the
Citie: and the articles of the peace communicated vnto him, hee founde
them verie profitable for him: and being concluded and approued by him
he began to solace himselfe in his owne house, without taking care for
any thing saue onely from thenceforth to thinke by what meane he might
goe to see the Duchesse, and recount vnto her the issue of his affaires.
But fortune prepared him a more readie occasion than he thought of: for
the kyng of Spaine being aduertised of certaine talkes that had bene
bruted of the mariage of his sonne with the daughter of the king of
Englande, determined with speede to send a great companie of noble men
thyther, to demaunde his daughter in mariage: of the which the Lorde of
Mendozza, as wel for his nobilitie, as for the knowledge he had in
languages and other good disciplines, was elected chiefe, with speciall
commission to accorde the mariage in case it should so please the kyng.
The Ambassadours vsed suche expedition, that they arriued at London,
where the kynge for that presente made his abode: who aduertised of
their comming, gaue commandement to the Princesse his daughter, and to
the Duchesse his sister, to prepare them selues to receyue a great
companye of Lordes of Spayne, whiche that daye would come to his Courte
to treate of the aforesayde mariage. And God knoweth if the ladies
spared oughte of that, whiche they thought might augmente their beautie.
The king also for his part, to doe them more honour, wente to meete them
in persone, and at their arriuall, gaue them a moste friendly welcome:
but sodaynly as they presented themselues to doe their reuerence to the
ladies, the Duchesse who incontinently knew the Lord of Mendozza, began
so to deteste him as she was not able to rule her selfe, but (with a
sodayne mutation of colour) she abandoned the companie: the Lorde of
Mendozza knowyng the originall of her griefe, lefte not his dutie vndone
towardes the Princesse and other ladyes which accompanied her,
dissembling to haue taken no regarde to the absence of the Duchesse. And
Emilia, who had followed her mistresse into the chambre, fearynge leaste
there were some sodaine mischaunce happened, demaunded of her, wherfore
she was retired from a company so honourable: and sayd that she did
great wrong to her owne estimation: to whom the Duchesse (with extreme
choler) made aunswere: "Why Emilia, thinkest thou that I haue the harte
to suffer my hand to be kissed by that moste trayterous and moste
cowardly knight of the world, who made no conscience to abandone me in
the greatest necessitie of my life? where as I, contrary to the dutie of
all the lawes of honour, and contrary to my sexe, did so muche abase my
selfe as to visite hym in Spayne. Naye rather my dayes shall ceasse
their course than myne affection shall euer reuiue in him: he shall
neuer receiue any other fauour of me, but as of his most cruell and
mortall enemy." And then Emilia smiling, sayd vnto her: "In good
earnest, madame, I thought that the sharpenesse of your imprisonement,
with the other tormentes paste, whiche you indured, might haue put all
these matters quite in obliuion, and woulde so haue mortified you, that
you had wholly lost all desire of reuenge: but so farre as I can
perceiue, I am deceiued of mine accompte, seying that sodaynly so soone
as you behelde the knight Mendozza, you began to flie, as if your
ghostly enemie had come before you, in his moste hideous and horrible
forme." Yet could not Emilia perswade her, to shewe her selfe abroade
before dynner, tyll the king sent for her, with woorde that if she came
not, he would himselfe fetche her. And then a little shamefast colour
began to renew her alablaster cheekes, which rendred her so ruddye and
fayre, as the Spanyards confessed neuer to haue seene in any parte of
the worlde, where they had bene, one so faire and beautifull a wydow.
The tables couered for dynner, the king tooke his place, and for their
more honourable entertaynement, caused them to be set at his owne table:
and made the Lorde of Mendozza to be placed right ouer against the
Duchesse his sister: who was so inflamed and moued with choler, as shee
duste not lift vp her eyes for feare least vpon the sodayne she should
bee perceyued: whiche eyes sparkeling sometymes with greate yre,
resembled properlye twoo starres of the night, that shoote forth their
brightnesse vpon the earth, when all thinges be in silence. And all this
tyme the Lorde of Mendozza conceyued suche pleasure at these pretie
toyes, as he would not haue chaunged his ioy for the best Citie in all
Englande: and as the Duchesse in this order did firmely fix her eyes,
shee sawe by fortune a ryche diamonde that Mendozza ware vpon his
finger, wherupon hauing oftentymes caste her eyes, she sodaynly knew
that it was the very same that shee had geuen to the good father that
confessed her at Thurin, the daye before shee was leadde to the Piller,
and began then to imagine with her selfe, how it might be that he could
come by the same: and not knowing what to saye, immediatly after shee
had dyned and the tables taken vp, she caused maister Appian her
Phisitian to be called vnto her: whome she desyred to know of the Lord
of Mendozza, by what meanes he came by the Diamonde that he ware vpon
his finger: which Appian did. And after he had talked with the knight of
certain common matters, he sayde vnto hym: "My Lorde, you haue a very
fayre Diamonde there, whiche as I thinke I haue sene before this tyme,
wherefore sir I praye you tel me where you had it." To whome the Lorde
of Mendozza answered in laughing wise: "Maister Appian, where I had the
ring, is to secret for you to know, but tell my lady the Duchesse, that
the knowledge thereof onely appertayneth vnto her." Whiche aunswere
Appian declared to the Duchesse: and albeit that she tooke no great
pleasure in the aunswere, yet neuerthelesse very desyrous to vnderstande
the truth, she repayred to the Knight whiche the same time walked alone
in a Gallerie, who after he had kyssed her handes, began to discourse of
his fortunes past, declaring vnto her, that he repented of the refusall
that he made to maister Appian for her succour, and howe within a while
after he rode to Thurin: adding the deuise whereby he had heard her
confession, and how the Diamonde came into his handes, putting her in
remembraunce from worde to worde, of all his talke with her, during the
tyme that he was in frier's weede, then finally his victorie against the
Earle, his secret flyght, and all the whole as before hath bene
declared. Whereat the Duchesse no lesse abashed than rapt with ioy and
admiration, fel downe in a swoune betwene his armes, holding her mouth
so faste closed against his, that it seemed she would drawe the soule
out of his bodye, to ioyne and vnite with her's: and after she had
remayned a whyle in this traunce, shee cried out: "O poore harte so long
tyme plagued, whiche hast for the space of a yeare nowe passed, bene
tossed with so many tempestes and diuers assaultes of fortune: receiue
at this present the medicine apt for thy health, sithens thou enioyest
him betwene thine armes, that by the pryce of his blood, valiant force
and extreme trauailes, hath raised thee from death to life: let fortune
from henceforth doe her will in that she is able to deuise against me:
and yet wyll I, for this onely benefite, confesse my selfe this daye to
be eternally bounde vnto her." "Madame (quod the knight) I pray you let
vs not renewe the memorie of our former griefes: wherein, if by any
meane I haue done you good, I was but the organe or instrumente thereof:
for God, who is the righter of all wrong, did neuer suffer iustice
without his due acquitall, howe long so euer he taried. So (you not
beyng in any wyse culpable) if I had neuer enterprysed the combate
whereunto I was bounde, our Lorde God would haue raysed some other to
achieue the same." "Well then my Lord, (quoth the Duchesse) sithens it
pleaseth you not, that I renewe my dolours past, which have taken ende
by your meane, I shall humbly beseche you to excuse mee, if this daye I
haue not geuen you that honour and good entertainement whiche you
deserued: assuring you that before you shall departe this countrey, I
wyll make you amendes according vnto your own discretion." "Madame,
(quod the knyght) for all the wronges that euer you did vnto me, (if
they may be called wronges) the curtesie, fauour and gentlenesse which
alreadie I haue receiued, doth at one instant requite and recompence.
Neuerthelesse if it may please you to receyue me for your seconde
husbande, sithe it hath pleased God to call your first out of this lyfe
into an other: that is and shal bee the fulnesse of all the felicitie
that I looke for in this worlde." "My Lorde Mendozza, (sayd the
Duchesse) the recompence whiche you demaunde of me, is very little in
respect of the amendes and satisfaction whiche I ought to make you. But
of one thing I can well assure you, that if I had the whole world at my
commaundement, and that I were the greatest Princesse of the earth, in
all kinde of beauties and gif