filthy manner.
Constraint having now no other evasion, but that (of necessitie) all
must out: hee related to them the whole adventure, in the same sort as
it had befalne him. They greatly pittying his misfortune, one of
them said to the other: Questionlesse, this villanie was done in the
house of Scarabone Buttafucco. And then turning to Andrea, proceeded
thus. In good faith poore man, albeit thou hast lost thy money, yet
art thou much beholding to Fortune, for falling (though in a foule
place) yet in a succesfull manner, and entring no more backe into
the house. For beleeve mee friend, if thou haddest not falne, but
quietly gone to sleepe in the house, that sleepe had beene thy last in
this world, and with thy money, thou hadst lost thy life likewise. But
teares and lamentations are now helpelesse, because as easily mayest
thou plucke the Starres from the Firmament, as get againe the least
doyt of thy losse. And for that shag-haird Slave in the house, he will
be thy deathsman, if hee but understand that thou makest any
enquirie after thy money. When he had thus admonished him, he began
also in this manner to comfort him. Honest fellow,- we cannot but
pitty thy present condition: wherfore if thou wilt frendly associate
us, in a businesse which we are instantly going to effect; thy losse
hath not bene so great, but on our words we will warrant thee, that
thine immediate gaine shall farre exceede it. What will not a man
(in desperate extremity) both well like and allow of, especially
when it carryeth apparance of present comfort. So fared it with
Andrea, hee perswaded himselfe, worse then had already happened, could
not befall him; and therefore he would gladly adventure with them.
The selfe same day preceding this disastrous night to Andrea, in the
cheefe Church of the Cittie, had beene buried the Archbishop of Naples
named Signior Phillippo Minutulo, in his richest pontificall Robes and
Ornaments, and a Ruby on his finger valued to be worth five hundred
duckets of gold: this dead body they purposed to rob and rifle,
acquainting Andrea with their whole intent, whose necessitie
(coupled with a covetous desire) made him more forward then well
advised, to joyne with them in this sacriligious enterprize. On they
went towards the great Church, Andreaes unsavourie perfume much
displeasing them, whereupon the one said to his fellow: Can we
devise no ease for this foule and noysome inconveniences? the very
smell of him will be a meanes to betray us. There is a Well-pit hard
by, answered the other, with a pulley and bucket descending downe into
it, and there we may wash him from this filthinesse. To the Well-pit
they came, where they found the rope and pulley hanging readie, but
the bucket for safety was taken away; whereon they concluded, to
fasten the rope about him, and so let him downe into the Well-pit, and
when he had washed himselfe, hee should wagge the rope, and then
they would draw him up againe, which accordingly they forthwith
performed.
Now it came to passe, that while he was thus washing himselfe in the
Well-pit, the Watch of the Citie walking the round, and finding it
to bee a very hote and sweltring night, they grew dry and thirsty, and
therefore went to the Well to drinke. The other two men, perceiving
the Watch so neere upon them, left Andrea in the pit to shift for
himselfe, running away to shelter themselves. Their flight was not
discovered by the Watch, but they comming to the Wellpit, Andrea
remained still in the bottome, and having cleansed himselfe so well as
hee could, sate wagging the rope, expecting when hee should be haled
up. This dumbe signe the Watch discerned not, but sitting downe by the
Welles side, they layde downe their Billes and other weapons,
tugging to draw up the rope, thinking the Bucket was fastened thereto,
and full of water. Andrea being haled up to the Pits brim, left
holding the rope any longer, catching fast hold with his hands for his
better safety; and the Watch at the sight hereof being greatly
agrighted, as thinking that they had dragd up a Spirit; not daring
to speake one word, ran away with all the hast they could make.
Andrea hereat was not a little amazed, so that if he had not taken
very good hold on the brim: he might have falne to the bottome, and
doubtlesse there his life had perished. Being come forth of the
Well, and treading on Billes and Halbards, which he well knew that his
companions had not brought thither with them; his mervaile so much the
more encreased, ignorance and feare still seizing him, with silent
bemoaning his many misfortunes, away thence he wandred, but hee wist
not whither. As he went on, he met his two fellowes, who purposely
returned to drag him out of the Well, and seeing their intent
already performed, desired to know who had done it: wherein Andrea
could not resolve them, rehearsing what hee could, and what weapons
hee found lying about the Well. Whereat they smiled, as knowing,
that the Watch had haled him up, for feare of whom they left him,
and so declared to him the reason of their returne.
Leaving off all further talke, because now it was about midnight,
they went to the great Church, where finding their enterance to be
easie: they approached neere the Tombe, which was very great, being
tall of Marble, and the cover-stone weighty, yet with crowes of yron
and other helps, they raised it so high, that a man might without
perill passe into it. Now began they to question one another, which of
the three should enter into the Tombe. Not I, said the first; so
said the second: No nor I, answered Andrea. Which when the other two
heard, they caught fast hold of him, saying. Wilt not thou goe into
the Tombe? Be advised what thou sayest, for, if thou wilt not goe
in: we will so beat thee with one of these yron crowes, that thou
shalt never goe out of this Church alive.
Thus poore Andrea is still made a property, and Fortune (this fatall
night) will have no other foole but he, as delighting in his hourly
disasters. Feare of their fury makes him obedient, into the grave he
goes, and being within, thus consults with himselfe. These cunning
companions suppose me to be simple, and make me enter the Tombe,
having an absolute intention to deceive me. For, when I have given
them all the riches that I finde here, and am ready to come forth
for mine equall portion: away will they runne for their owne safety,
and leaving me heere, not onely shall I loose my right among them, but
must remaine to what danger may follow after. Having thus meditated,
he resolved to make sure of his owne share first, and remembring the
rich Ring, whereof they had tolde him: forthwith hee tooke it from the
Archbishops finger, finding it indifferently fitte for his owne.
Afterward, hee tooke the Crosse, Miter, rich garments, Gloves and all,
leaving him nothing but his shirt, giving them all these severall
parcels, protesting that there was nothing else. Still they pressed
upon him, affirming that there was a Ring beside, urging him to search
diligently for it; yet still he answered, that he could not finde
it, and for their longer tarrying with him, seemed as if he serched
very carefully, but all appeared to no purpose.
The other two fellowes, as cunning in craft as the third could be,
still willed him to search, and watching their aptest opportunity:
tooke away the proppes that supported the Tombe-stone, and running
thence with their got booty, left poore Andrea mewed up in the
grave. Which when he perceived, and saw this miserie to exceede all
the rest, it is farre easier for you to guesse at his greefe, then I
am any way, able to expresse it. His head, shoulders, yea all his
utmost strength he employeth, to remove that over-heavy hinderer of
his libertie: but all his labour beeing spent in vaine, sorrow threw
him in a swoond upon the Byshoppes dead body, where if both of them
might at that instant have bin observed, the Arch-byshops dead
bodie, and Andrea in greefe dying, very hardly had bene distinguished.
But his senses regaining their former offices, among his silent
complaints, consideration presented him with choyse of these two
unavoydable extremities: Dye starving must he in the Tombe with
putrifaction of the dead bodie; or if any man came to open the
Grave, then must he be apprehended as a sacrilegious Theefe, and so be
hanged, according to the Lawes in that case provided.
As hee continued in these strange afflictions of minde, sodainely
hee heard a noise in the Church of divers men, who (as he imagined)
came about the like businesse, as hee and his fellowes had
undertaken before; wherein he was not a jot deceived, albeit his feare
the more augmented. Having opened the Tombe, and supported the
stone, they varied also among themselves for entrance, and an
indiffrent while contended about it. At length, a Priest being one
in the company, boldly said. Why how now you white-liver'd Rascals?
What are you affraid of? Do you thinke he will eate you? Dead men
cannot bite, and therefore I my selfe will go in. Having thus
spoken, he prepared his entrance to the tomb in such order, that he
thrust in his feete before, for his easier descending downe into it.
Andrea sitting upright in the Tombe, and desiring to make use of
this happy opportunity, caught the Priest fast by one of his legges,
making shew as if he meant to dragge him downe. Which when the
Priest felt, he cryed out aloud, getting out with all the haste he
could make, and all his companions, being well-neere frighted out of
their wits, ranne away amaine, as if they had bene followed by a
thousand divels. Andrea little dreaming on such fortunate successe,
made meanes to get out of the grave, and afterward forth of the
Church, at the very same place where he entred.
Now began day-light to appeare, when he (having the rich Ring on his
finger) wandred on hee knew not whether: till comming to the Sea side,
he found the way directing to his Inne, where al his company were with
his Host, who had bene verie carefull for him.
Having related his manifold mischances, his Hoste friendly advised
him with speede to get him out of Naples. As instantly he did,
returning home to Perouse, having adventured his five hundred
Crownes on a Ring, wherewith hee purposed to have bought Horses,
according to the intent of his journey thither.
THE SECOND DAY, THE SIXT NOVELL
HEEREIN ALL MEN ARE ADMONISHED, NEVER TO DISTRUST THE POWERFULL
HAND OF HEAVEN, WHEN FORTUNE SEEMETH TO BE MOST
ADVERSE AGAINST THEM
Madame Beritola Caracalla, was found in an Island with two Goates,
having lost her two Sonnes, and thence travailed into Lunigiana: where
one of her Sonnes became servant to the Lord thereof, and was found
somewhat overfamiliar with his Masters daughter, who therefore
caused him to be imprisoned. Afterward, when the country of Sicely
rebelled against King Charles, the aforesaid Sonne chanced to bee
knowne by his Mother, and was married to his Masters daughter. And his
Brother being found likewise, they both returned to great estate and
credit.
The Ladies and Gentlemen also, having smiled sufficiently at the
severall accidents which did befall the poore Traveller Andrea,
reported at large by Madam Fiammetta, the Lady Aimillia seeing her
tale to be fully concluded, began (by commandement of the Queene) to
speak in this manner.
The diversitie of changes and alterations in Fortune as they are
great, so must they needs be greevous; and as often as we take
occasion to talke of them, so often do they awake and quicken our
understandings, avouching, that it is no easie matter to depend upon
her flatteries. And I am of opinion, that to heare them recounted,
ought not any way to offend us, be it of men wretched, or fortunate;
because, as they instruct the one with good advice, so they animate
the other with comfort. And therefore, although great occasions have
beene already related, yet I purpose to tell a Tale, no lesse true
then lamentable; which albeit it sorted to a successefull ending,
yet notwithstanding, such and so many were the bitter thwartings, as
hardly can I beleeve, that ever any sorrow was more joyfully sweetned.
You must understand then (most gracious Ladies) that after the death
of Fredericke the second Emperour, one named Manfred, was crowned King
of Sicily, about whom, lived in great account and authority, a
Neapolitane Gentleman, called Henriet Capece, who had to Wife a
beautifull Gentlewoman, and a Neapolitane also, named Madam Beritola
Caracalla. This Henriet held the government of the Kingdome of Sicily,
and understanding that King Charles the first, had wonne the battle at
Beneventum, and slaine King Manfred, the whole Kingdome revolting also
to his devotion, and little trust to be reposed in the Sicillians,
or he willing to subject himselfe to his Lordes enemie; provided for
his secret flight from thence. But this being discovered to the
Sicillians, he and many more, who had beene loyall servants to King
Manfred, were suddenly taken and imprisoned by King Charles, and the
sole possession of the Iland confirmed to him.
Madam Beritola not knowing (in so sudden and strange an alteration
of State affaires) what was become of her Husband, fearing also
greatly before, those inconveniences which afterward followed; being
overcome with many passionate considerations, having left and forsaken
all her goods, going aboord a small Barke with a Sonne of hers, aged
about some eight yeeres, named Geoffrey, and growne great with child
with another, she fled thence to Lapary, where she was brought to
bed of another Sonne, whom she named (answerable both to his and her
hard fortune,) The poore expelled.
Having provided her selfe of a Nurse, they altogether went aboard
againe, setting sayle for Naples to visit her Parents; but it
chanced quite contrary to her expectation, because by stormie windes
and weather, the vessell being bound for Naples, was hurried to the
Ile of Ponzo, where entring into a small Port of the Sea, they
concluded to make their aboade, till a time more furtherous should
