therefore aside this nice conceit of shame and feare, revealing the
truth boldly to me, if I may stead thee in thy love; resolving thy
selfe unfaignedly, that if my care stretch not to compasse thy
content, account me for the most cruell Mother living, and utterly
unworthy of such a Sonne.
The young Gentleman having heard these protestations made by his
Mother, was not a little ashamed of his owne follie; but
recollecting his better thoughts together, and knowing in his soule,
that no one could better further his hopes, then shee; forgetting
all his former feare, he returned her this answere; Madam, and my
dearely affected Mother, nothing hath more occasioned my loves so
strict concealement, but an especiall errour, which I finde by daily
proofe in many, who being growne to yeeres of grave discretion, doe
never remember, that they themselves have bin yong. But because herein
I find you to be both discreet and wise, I will not onely affirme what
you have seen in me to be true, but also will confesse, to whom it is:
upon condition, that the effect of your promise may follow it,
according to the power remaining in you, whereby you onely may
secure my life.
His Mother, desirous to bee resolved, whether his confession would
agree with the Physitians words, or no, and reserving another
intention to her selfe: bad him feare nothing, but freely discover his
whole desire, and forthwith she doubted not to effect it. Then
Madame (quoth hee) the matchlesse beauty, and commendable qualities of
your Maid Gianetta, to whom (as yet) I have made no motion, to
commisserate this my languishing extremity, nor acquainted any
living creature with my love: the concealing of these afflictions to
myselfe, hath brought mee to this desperate condition: and if some
meane bee not wrought, according to your constant promise, for the
full enjoying of my longing desires, assure your selfe (most Noble
Mother) that the date of my life is very short. The Lady well knowing,
that the time now rather required kindest comfort, then any severe
or sharpe reprehension, smiling on him, said: Alas deere sonne, wast
thou sicke for this? Be of good cheare, and when thy strength is
better restored, then referre the matter to me. The young Gentleman,
being put in good hope by his Mothers promise, began (in short time)
to shew apparant signes of well-forwarded amendment, to the Mothers
great joy and comfort, disposing her selfe dayly to proove, how in
honor she might keepe promise with her sonne.
Within a short while after, calling Gianetta privately to her, in
gentle manner, and by the way of pleasant discourse, she demanded of
hir, whither she was provided of a Lover, or no. Gianetta, being never
acquainted with any such questions, a scarlet Dye covering all her
modest countenance, thus replyed. Madam, I have no neede of any Lover,
and very unseemely were it, for so poore a Damosell as I am, to have
so much as a thought of Lovers, being banished from my friends and
kinsfolke, and remaining in service as I do.
If you have none (answered the Ladie) wee will bestow one on you,
which shall content your minde, and bring you to a more pleasing kinde
of life; because it is farre unfit, that so faire a Maid as you
are., should remaine destitute of a Lover. Madam, said Gianetta,
considering with my selfe, that since you received me of my poore
Father, you have used me rather like your daughter, then a servant; it
becommeth mee to doe as pleaseth you. Notwithstanding, I trust (in the
regard of mine owne good and honour) never to use any complaint in
such a case: but if you please to bestow a husband on me, I purpose to
love and honor him onely, and not any other. For, of all the
inheritance left me by my progenitors, nothing remaineth to me but
honourable honesty, and that shall be my Legacie so long as I live.
These wordes, were of a quite contrary complexion, to those which
the Lady expected from her, and for effecting the promise made unto
hir Sonne: howbeit (like a wise and noble Ladie) much she inwardly
commended the maids answers, and said unto her. But tell me
Gianetta, what if my Lord the King (who is a gallant youthfull Prince,
and you so bright a beautie as you are) should take pleasure in your
love, would ye denie him? Sodainly the Maide returned this answer:
Madame, the King perhaps might enforce me, but with my free consent,
hee shall never have any thing of me that is not honest. Nor did the
Lady dislike her Maides courage and resolution, but breaking of all
her further conference, intended shortly to put her project in proofe,
saying to her son, that when he was fully recovered, he should have
private accesse to Gianetta, whom shee doubted not but would be
tractable enough to him; for she helde it no meane blemish to her
honour, to moove the Maide any more in the matter, but let him
compasse it as he could.
Farre from the yong Gentlemans humour was this answer of his Mother,
because he aimed not at any dishonourable end: true, faithfull, and
honest love was the sole scope of his intention, foule and loathsome
lust he utterly defied; whereupon he fell into sickenesse againe,
rather more violently then before. Which the Lady perceiving, revealed
her whole intent to Gianetta, and finding her constancie beyond common
comparison, acquainted her Lord with all she had done, and both
consented (though much against their mindes) to let him enjoy her in
honourable marriage: accounting it better, for preservation of their
onely sons life, to match him farre inferiour to his degree, then by
denying h desire, to let him pine and dye for her love.
After great consultation with Kindred and Friends, the match was
agreed upon, to the no little joy of Gianetta, who devoutly returned
infinite thankes to heaven, for so mercifully respecting her
dejected poore estate, after the bitter passage of so many miseries,
and never tearming her selfe any otherwise, but the daughter of a
poore Piccard. Soone was the yong Gentleman recovered and married,
no man alive so well contented as he, and setting downe an absolute
determination, to lead a loving life with his Gianetta.
Let us now convert our lookes to Wales, to Perotto; being lefte
there with the other Lord Marshall, who was the President of that
Countrey. On hee grew in yeeres, choisely respected by his Lord,
because hee was most comely of person, and forward to all valiant
attempts: so that in Tourneyes, joustes, and other actions of Armes,
his like was not to bee found in all the Island, being named onely
Perotto the valiant Piccard, and so was he famed farre and neere. As
God had not forgotten his Sister, so in mercy he became as mindefull
of him; for, a contagious mortalitie hapning in the Country, the
greater part of the people perished thereby, the rest flying thence
into other partes of the Land, whereby the whole Province became
dispeopled and desolate.
In the time of this plague and dreadful visitation, the Lord
President, his Lady, Sonnes, Daughters, Brothers, Nephewes, and
Kindred dyed, none remaining alive, but one onely Daughter
marriageable, a few of the houshold servants, beside Perotto, whom
(after the sickenesse was more mildly asswaged) with counsell and
consent of the Countrey people, the young Lady accepted to be her
husband, because hee was a man so worthy and valiant; and of all the
inheritance left by her deceased Father, she made him Lord, and sole
commander. Within no long while after, the King of England
understanding that his President of Wales was dead, and Fame liberally
relating the vertues, valour, and good parts of Perotto the Piccard,
hee created him President thereof, and to supply the place of his
deceased Lord. These faire fortunes, within the compasse of so short a
time, fell to the two innocent children of the Count D'Angiers after
they were left by him as lost and forlorne.
Eighteene yeeres were now fully overpast, since the Count
D'Angiers fled from Paris, having suffered (in miserable sort) many
hard and lamentable adversities; and seeing himselfe now to be
growne aged, hee was desirous to leave Ireland, and to know (if hee
might) what was become of both his Children. Heereupon, perceiving his
wonted forme to be so altered, that such as formerly had conversed
most with him, could now not take any knowledge of him, and feeling
his body (through long labour and exercise endured in service) more
lustie then in his idle youthfull yeeres, especially when he left
the Court of France, hee purposed to proceede in his determination.
Being verie poore and simple in apparrel, he departed from the Irish
Earle his Master, with whom he had continued long in service, to no
advantage or advancement, and crossing over into England, travayled to
the place in Wales, where he left Perotto, and where he found him to
be Lord Marshall and President of the country, lusty and in good
health, a man of goodly feature, and most honorably respected and
reverenced of the people.
Well may you imagine, that this was no small comfort to the poore
aged Countes heart, yet would he not make himselfe knowne to him, or
any other about him, but referred his joy to a further enlarging and
diminishing, by sight of the other limbe of his life, his deerely
affected daughter Gianetta, denying rest to his bodie in any place,
until such time as he came to London. Making there secret enquiry
concerning the Ladie with whom hee had left his daughter; hee
understoode, that a young Gentlewoman, named Gianetta, was married
to that Ladies onely Son, which made a second addition of joy to his
soule, accounting all his passed adversities of no valew, both his
children being living, and in so high honour.
Having found her dwelling, and (like a kinde Father) being earnestly
desirous to see her; he dayly resorted nere to the house, where Sir
Roger Mandevile (for so was Gianettaes husband named) chauncing to see
him, being moved to compassion, because he was both poore and aged:
commaunded one of his men, to take him into the house, and to give him
some foode for Gods sake, which (accordingly) the servant performed.
Gianetta had divers children by her husband, the eldest being but
eight yeeres of age, yet all of them so faire and comely as could
be. As the old Count sate eating his meate in the Hall, the children
came all about him, embracing, hugging, and making much of him, even
as if Nature had truly instructed them, that this was their aged
(though poor) Grandfather, and hee as lovingly receiving these kilde
relations from them, wisely and silently kept all to himselfe, with
sighes, teares, and joyes intermixed together. Insomuch that the
children would not part from him though their Tutor and Master
called them often, which being tolde to their Mother, shee came foorth
of the neere adjoyning Parlour, and threatned to beate them, if they
would not doe what their Maister commanded them.
Then the Children began to cry, saying; that they would tarrie
stil by the good olde man, because he loved them better then their
Master did; whereat both the Lady and the Count began to smile. The
Count, a poore Begger, and not as Father to so great a Lady, arose,
and did her humble reverence, because she was now a Noble Woman,
conceyving wonderfull joy in his soule, to see her so faire and goodly
a creature: yet could she take no knowledge of him, Age, want, and
misery had so mightily altered him; his head all white, his beard
without any comly forme, his Garments so poore, and his face so
wrinkled, leane and meager, that he seemed rather some Carter, then
a Count. And Gianetta perceiving that when her Children were fetcht
away, they returned againe to the olde man, and would not leave him,
she desired their Maister to let them alone.
While thus the Children continued making much of the good olde man,
Lord Andrew Mandevile, Father to Sir Roger, came into the Hall, as
being so willed to doe by the Childrens Schoolemaster. He being a
hastie-minded man, and one that ever-despised Gianetta before, but
much more since her marriage to his sonne, angerly said; Let them
alone with a mischeefe, and so befall them, their best company ought
to bee with beggers, for so they are bred and borne by the Mothers
side: and therefore it is no mervaile, if like will to like, a beggers
brats to keepe company with beggers. The Count hearing these
contemptible wordes, was not a little greeved thereat; and although
his courage was greater then his poore condition would permit him to
expresse; yet, clouding all injuries with noble patience, hanging
downe his head, and shedding many a salt teare, endured this reproach,
as hee had done many, both before and after.
But honourable Sir Roger, perceiving what delight his Children tooke
in the poore mans company; albeit he was offended at his Fathers harsh
words, by holding his wife in such base respect: yet favoured the
poore Count so much the more, and seeing him weepe, did greatly
compassionate his case, saying to the poore man, that if he would
accept of his service, he willingly would entertaine him. Whereto
the Count replyed, that very gladly he would embrace his kinde
offer: but he was capeable of no other service, save onely to be an
horsekeeper, wherein he had imployed the most part of his time.
Heereupon, more for pleasure and pitty then any necessity of his
service, he was appointed to the keeping of an Horse, which was
onely for his Daughters saddle, and daily after he had done his
diligence about the Horse, he did nothing else but play with the
children. While Fortune pleased thus to dally with the poore Count
D'Angiers, and his children, it came to passe, that the King of France
(after divers leagues of truces passed betweene him and the Germaines)
died, and next after him, his Son the Dolphin was crowned King, and it
was his wife that wrongfully caused the Counts banishment. After
expiration of the last league with the Germains, the warres began to
grow much more fierce and sharpe, and the King of England, (upon
request made to him by his new brother of France) sent him very
