sword, which he held readily prepared for the deede: he prostrated
himselfe at Nathans feet, and in teares, spake in this manner. Now
do I manifestly know (most loving Father) your admired bounty and
liberalitie; considering, with what industrious providence, you made
the meanes for your comming hither, prodigally to bestow your life
on me, which I have no right unto, although you were so willing to
part with it. But those high and supreame powers, more carefull of
my dutie, then I my selfe: even at the very instant, and when it was
most needfull, opened the eyes of my better understanding, which
internall envy had closed up before. And therefore, looke how much you
have bin forward to pleasure me; so much the more shame and
punishment, I confesse my heinous transgression hath justly
deserved: take therefore on me (if you please) such revenge, as you
thinke (in justice) answerable to my sin.
Nathan lovingly raised Mithridanes from the ground, then kissing his
cheeke, and tenderly embracing him, he said. Sonne, thou needest not
to aske, much less to obtaine pardon, for any enterprise of thine,
which thou canst not yet terme to be good or bad: because thou
soughtest not to bereave me of my life, for any hatred thou barest me,
but onely in coveting to be reputed the Woorthier man. Take then
this assurance of me, and beleeve it constantly, that there is no
man living, whom I love and honour, as I do thee: considering the
greatnesse of thy minde, which consisteth not in the heaping up of
money, as wretched and miserable Worldlings make it their onely
felicity; but, contending in bounty to spend what is thine, didst hold
it for no shame to kil me, thereby to make thy selfe so much the
more worthily famous.
Nor is it any matter to be wondred at, in regard that Emperors,
and the greatest Kings, hadde never made such extendure of their
Dominions, and consequently of their renowne, by any other Art, then
killing; yet not one man onely, as thou wouldst have done: but
infinite numbers, burning whole Countries, and making desolate huge
Townes and Cities, onely to enlarge their dominion, and further
spreading of their fame. Wherefore, if for the increasing of thine
owne renowne, thou wast desirous of my death: it is no matter of
novelty, and therefore deserving the lesse mervaile, seeing men are
slaine daily, and all for one purpose or other.
Mithridanes, excusing no further his malevolent deliberation, but
rather commending the honest defence, which Nathan made on his
behalfe; proceeded so farre in after discoursing, as to tel him
plainely, that it did wondrously amaze him, how he durst come to the
fatall appointed place, himselfe having so exactly plotted and
contrived his owne death: whereunto Nathan returned this aunswere.
I would not have thee Mithridanes, to wonder at my counsel or
determination; because, since age hath made mee Maister of mine owne
will, and I resolved to doe that, wherein thou hast begun to follow
me: never came any man to mee, whom I did not content (if I could)
in any thing he demanded of me. It was thy fortune to come for my
life, which when I saw thee so desirous to have it, I resolved
immediately to bestow it on thee: and so much the rather, because thou
shouldst not be the onely man, that ever departed hence, without
enjoying whatsoever hee demanded. And, to the end thou mightst the
more assuredly have it, I gave thee that advice, least by not enjoying
mine, thou shouldest chance to loose thine owne. I have had the use of
it full fourescore yeares, with the consummation of all my delights
and pleasures: and well I know, that according to the course of Nature
(as it fares with other men, and generally all things else) it
cannot bee long before it must leave mee.
Wherefore, I hold it much better for me to give it away freely, as I
have alwayes done my goods and treasure; then bee curious in keeping
it, and suffer it to be taken from me (whether I will or no) by
Nature. A small gift it is, if time make me up the full summe of an
hundred yeares: how miserable is it then, to stand beholding but for
foure or five, and all of them vexation too? Take it then I intreate
thee, if thou wilt have it; for I never met with any man before (but
thy selfe) that di desire it, nor (perhaps) shall finde any other to
request it: for the longer I keepe it, the worse it wil be esteemed:
and before it grow contemptible, take it I pray thee.
Mithridanes, being exceedingly confounded with shame, bashfully
sayde: Fortune fore-fend, that I should take away a thing so
precious as your life is, or once to have so vile a thought of it as
lately I had; but rather then I would diminish one day thereof, I
could wish, that my time might more amply enlarge it. Forthwith
aunswered Nathan, saying. Wouldst thou (if thou couldst) shorten thine
owne dayes, onely to lengthen mine? Why then thou wouldest have me
to do that to thee, which (as yet) I never did unto any man, namely,
robbe thee, to enrich my selfe. I will enstruct thee in a much
better course, if thou wilt be advised by mee. Lusty and young, as now
thou art, thou shalt dwell heere in my house, and be called by the
name of Nathan. Aged, and spent with yeares, as thou seest I am, I
will goe live in thy house, and bee called by the name of Mithridanes.
So, both the name and place shall illustrate thy Glorie, and I live
contentedly, without the very least thought of envie.
Deare Father, answered Mithridanes, if I knew so well howe to direct
mine owne actions, as you doe, and alwayes have done, I would gladly
accept your most liberall offer: but because I plainlie perceive, that
my very best endeavours, must remayne darkened by the bright renowne
of Nathan: I will never seeke to impayre that in another, which I
cannot (by any means) increase in my selfe, but (as you have
worthily taught me) live contented with my owne condition.
After these, and many more like loving speeches had passed between
them; according as Nathan very instantly requested, Mithridanes
returned back with him to the Pallace, where many dayes he highly
honored and respected him, comforting and counselling him, to persever
alwayes in his honourable determination. But in the end, when
Mithridanes could abide there no longer, because necessary occasions
called him home: he departed thence with his men, having found by good
experience, that hee could never goe beyond Nathan in liberality.
THE TENTH DAY, THE FOURTH NOVELL
WHEREIN IS SHEWNE, THAT TRUE LOVE HATH ALWAYES BIN, AND SO STILL
IS, THE OCCASION OF MANY GREAT AND WORTHY COURTESIES
Signior Gentile de Carisendi, being come from Modena, took a
Gentlewoman, named Madam Catharina, forth of a grave, wherin she was
buried for dead: which act he did, in regard of his former honest
affection to the said Gentlewoman. Madame Catharina remaining there
afterward, and delivered of a goodly Sonne: was (by Signior Gentile)
delivered to her owne Husband, named Signior Nicoluccio
Caccianimico, and the yong infant with her.
By judgment of all the honorable assembly, it was reputed
wonderfull, that a man should be so bountifull, as to give away his
owne life, and to his hatefull enemy. In which respect, it passed with
generall affirmation, that Nathan (in the vertue of liberallity) had
exceeded Alphonso, King of Spain, but (especially) the Abbot of
Clugny. So, after every one had delivered their opinion, the King,
turning himselfe to Madame Lauretta, gave her such a signe, as well
instructed her understanding, that she should be the next in order,
whereto she gladly yeelding, began in this manner.
Youthfull Ladies, the discourses already past, have been so worthy
and magnificent, yea, reaching to such a height of glorious splendour;
as (me thinkes) there remaineth no more matter, for us that are yet to
speake, whereby to enlarge so famous an Argument, and in such manner
as it ought to be: except we lay hold on the actions of love,
wherein is never any want of subject, it is so faire and spacious a
field to walke in. Wherefore, as well in behalfe of the one, as
advancement of the other, whereto our instant age is most of all
inclined: I purpose to acquaint you with a generous and magnificent
act, of an amourous Gentleman, which when it shall be duely considered
on, perhaps will appeare equall to any of the rest. At least, if it
may passe for currant, that men may give away their treasures, forgive
mighty injuries, and lay downe life it selfe, honour and renowne
(which is farre greater) to infinite dangers, only to attaine any
thing esteemed and affected.
Understand then (Gracious hearers) that in Bologna, a very famous
City of Lombardicy there lived sometime a Knight, most highly
respected for his vertues, named Signior Gentile de Carisendi, who (in
his yonger dayes) was enamoured of a Gentlewoman, called Madam
Catharina, the Wife of Signior Nicoluccio Caccianimico. And because
during the time of his amourous pursuite, he found but a sorry
enterchange of affection from the Lady; hee went (as hopelesse of
any successe) to be Potestate of Modena, whereto he was called by
place and order.
At the same time, Signior Nicoluccio being absent from Bologna,
and his Lady at a Farme-house of his in the Countrey (about three
miles distant from the City) because she was great with child,; and
somewhat neere the time of her teeming: it came to passe, that some
dangerous accident befell her, which was so powerfull in operation, as
no signe of life appeared remained in her, but she was reputed (even
in the judgement of the best Phisitians, whereof she wanted no
attendance) to be verily dead. And because in the opinion of her
parents and neerest kinred, the time for her deliverance was yet so
farre off, as the Infant within her, wanted much of a perfect
creature: they made the lesse mourning; but in the next Church, as
also the vault belonging to her Ancestors, they gave her buriall
very speedily.
Which tydings comming to the hearing of Signior Gentile, by one that
was his endeared friend: Although (while she lived) he could never
be gracious n her favour, yet her so sudden death did greatly grieve
him, whereupon he discoursed in this sort with himselfe. Deare
Madame Catharina, I am not a little sorry for thy death, although
(during thy life-time) I was scarcely worthy of one kind looke: Yet
now being dead, thou canst not prohibite me, but I may robbe thee of a
kisse. No sooner had hee spoke the words, but it beeing then night,
and taking such order, as none might know of his departure: hee
mounted on horsebacke, accompanied onely with one servant, and
stayed no where, till hee came to the vault where the Lady was buried.
Which when he had opened, with instruments convenient for the purpose,
he descended downe into the vault, and kneeled downe by the Beere
whereon she lay, and in her wearing garments, according to the
usuall manner; with teares trickling mainly downe his cheekes, he
bestowed infinite sweet kisses on her.
But as we commonly see, that mens desires are never contented, but
still will presume on further advantages, especially such as love
entirely: so fared it with Gentile, who being once minded to get him
gone, as satisfied with the oblation of his kisses; would needs yet
step backe againe, saying. Why should I not touch her yvory breast,
the Adamant that drew all desires to adore her? Ah let me touch it
now, for never hereafter can I bee halfe so happy. Overcome with
this alluring appetite, gently he laid his hand upon her breast,
with the like awefull respect, as if she were living, and holding it
so an indifferent while: either he felt, or his imagination so
perswaded him, the heart of the Lady to beate and pant. Casting off
all fond feare, and the warmth of his increasing the motion: his
inward soule assured him, that she was not dead utterly, but had
some small sense of life remaining in her, whereof he would needs be
further informed.
So gently as possible he could, and with the helpe of his man, he
tooke her forth of the monument, and layingher softly on his horse
before him, conveighed her closely to his house in Bologna. Signior
Gentile had a worthy Lady to his Mother, a woman of great wisdome
and vertue, who understanding by her Sonne, how matters had
happened, moved with compassion, and suffering no one in the house
to know what was done, made a good fire, and very excellent Bathe,
which recalled back againe wrongwandering life. Then fetching a
vehement sigh, opening her eyes, and looking very strangly about
her, she said. Alas! where am I now? whereto the good old Lady
kindly replyed, saying. Comfort your selfe Madame, for you are in a
good place.
Her spirits being in better manner met together, and she still
gazing every way about her, not knowing well where she was, and secing
Signior Gentile standing before her: he entreated his mother to tell
her by what meanes she came thither; which the good old Lady did,
Gentile himselfe helping to relate the whole history. A while she
grieved and lamented, but afterward gave them most hearty thankes,
humbly requesting, that, in regard of the love he had formerly borne
her, in his house she might finde no other usage, varying from the
honour of her selfe and her Husband, and when day was come, to be
conveighed home to her owne house. Madame, answered Signior Gentile,
whatsoever I sought to gaine from you in former dayes, I never
meane, either here, or any where else, to motion any more. But
seeing it hath been my happy fortune, to prove the blessed means of
reducing you from death to life: you shal find no other
entertainment here, then as if you were mine owne Sister. And yet
the good deed which I have this night done for you doth well
deserve some courteous requitall: in which respect, I would have you
not to deny me one favour, which I will presume to crave of you.
Whereto the Lady lovingly replyed, that she was willing to grant it;
provided, it were honest, and in her power: whereto Signior Gentile
thus answered.
Madame, your parents, kindred and friends, and generally all
