honourable supplies of his people, under the conduct of Perotto, his
lately elected President of Wales, and Sir Roger Mandevile, Son to his
other Lord high Marshall; with whom also the poore Count went, and
continued a long while in the Campe as a common Souldier, where yet
like a valiant Gentleman (as indeed he was no lesse) both in advice
and actions; he accomplished many more notable matters, then was
expected to come from him.
It so fell out, that in the continuance of this warre, the Queene of
France fell into a grievous sicknesse, and perceiving her selfe to
be at the point of death, shee became very penitently sorrowfull for
all her sinnes, earnestly desiring that shee might be confessed by the
Archbishop of Roane, who was reputed to be an holy and vercuous man.
In the repetition of her other offences; she revealed what great wrong
she had done to the Count D'Angiers, resting not so satisfied, with
disclosing the whole matter to him alone; but also confessed the
same before many other worthy persons, and of great honour, entreating
them to worke so with the King, that (if the Count were yet living, or
any of his Children) they might be restored to their former honour
againe.
It was not long after, but the Queene left this life, and was most
royally enterred, when her confession being disclosed to the King,
after much sorrow for so injuriously wronging a man of so great valour
and honour: Proclamation was made throughout the Campe, and in many
other parts of France beside, that whosoever could produce the Count
D'Angiers, or any of his Children, should richly be rewarded for
each one of them; in regard he was innocent of the foule imputation,
by the Queenes owne confession, and for his wrongfull exile so long,
he should be exalted to his former honour with farre greater
favours, which the King franckely would bestow upon him. When the
Count (who walked up and downe in the habite of a common servitor)
heard this Proclamation, forth-with hee went to his Master Sir Roger
Mandevile, requesting his speedy repaire to Lord Perotto, that being
both assembled together, he would acquaint them with a serious matter,
concerning the late Proclamation published by the King. Being by
themselves alone in the Tent, the Count spake in this manner to
Perotto. Sir, S. Roger Mandevile here, your equall competitor in
this military service, is the husband to your naturall sister,
having as yet never received any dowry with her, but her inherent
unblemishable vertue and honor. Now because she may not stil remain
destitute of a competent Dowry: I desire that Sir Roger, and none
other, may enjoy the royall reward promised by the King. You Lord
Perotto, whose true name is Lewes, manifest your selfe to be nobly
borne, and Sonne to the wrongfull banished Count D'Angiers: avouch
moreover, that Violenta, shadowed under the borrowed name of Gianetta,
is your owne Sister; and deliver me up as your Father, the long exiled
Count D'Angiers. Perotto hearing this, beheld him more advisedly,
and began to know him: then, the tears flowing abundantly from his
eyes, he fell at his feete, and often embracing him, saide: My deere
and noble Father! a thousand times more deerely welcome to your
Sonne Lewes.
Sir Roger Mandevile, hearing first what the Count had saide, and
seeing what Perotto afterward performed; became surprized with such
extraordinary joy and admiration, that he knew not how to carry
himselfe in this case. Neverthelesse, giving credite to his words, and
being somewhat ashamed, that he had not used the Count in more
respective manner, and remembring beside, the unkinde language of
his furious Father to him: he kneeled downe, humbly craving pardon,
both for his Fathers rudenes and his owne, which was courteously
granted by the Count, embracing him lovingly in his armes.
When they had a while discoursed their severall fortunes, sometime
in teares, and then againe in joy; Perotto and Sir Roger, would have
the Count to be garmented in better manner, but in no wise he would
suffer it; for it was his onely desire, that Sir Roger should bee
assured of the promised reward, by presenting him in the Kings
presence, and in the homely habit which he did weare, to touch him
with the more sensible shame, for his rash beleefe, and injurious
proceeding. Then Sir Roger Mandevile, guiding the Count by the hand,
and Perotto following after, came before the King, offering to present
the Count and his children, if the reward promised in the Proclamation
might be performed. The King immediately commanded, that a reward of
inestimable valew should be produced; desiring Sir Roger upon the
sight thereof, to make good his offer, for forthwith presenting the
Count and his children. Which hee made no longer delay of, but turning
himselfe about, delivered the aged Count, by the title of his servant,
and presenting Perotto next, saide. Sir, heere I deliver you the
Father and his Son, his Daughter who is my wife, cannot so
conveniently be here now, but shortly, by the permission of heaven,
your Majesty shall have a sight of her.
When the King heard this, stedfastly he looked on the Count; and,
notwithstanding his wonderfull alteration, both from his wonted
feature and forme: yet, after he had very seriously viewed him, he
knew him perfectly; and the teares trickling downe his cheekes
partly with remorsefull shame, and joy also for his so happy recovery,
he tooke up the Count from kneeling, kissing, and embracing him very
kindely, welcomming Perotto in the selfe same manner. Immediately also
he gave commaund, that the Count should be restored to his honors,
apparell, servants, horses, and furniture, answerable to his high
estate and calling, which was as speedily performed. Moreover, the Kin
greatly honoured Sir Roger Mandevile, desiring to be made acquainted
with all their passed fortunes.
When Sir Roger had received the royall reward, for thus surrendering
the Count and his Sonne, the Count calling him to him, saide. Take
that Princely remuneration of my soveraigne Lord and King, and
commending me to your unkinde Father, tell him that your Children
are no beggars brats, neither basely borne by their Mothers side.
Sir Roger returning home with his bountifull reward, soone after
brought his Wife and Mother to Paris, and so did Perotto his Wife
where in great joy and triumph, they continued with while with the
noble Count; who had all his goods and honours restored to him, in
farre greater measure then ever they were before: his Sonnes in Law
returning home with their Wives into England, left the Count with
the King at Paris, where he spent the rest of his dayes in great
honour and felicity.
THE SECOND DAY, THE NINTH NOVELL
WHEREIN IS DECLARED, THAT BY OVERLIBERALL COMMENDING THE
CHASTITY OF WOMEN, IT FALLETH OUT (OFTENTIMES) TO BE VERY
DANGEROUS, ESPECIALLY BY THE MEANES OF TREACHERERS WHO YET
(IN THE ENDE) ARE JUSTLY PUNNISHED FOR THEIR TREACHERY
Bernardo, a Merchant of Geneway, being deceived by another Merchant,
named Ambroginolo, lost a great part of his goods. And commanding
his innocent Wife to be murthered, she escaped, and (in the habite
of a man) became servant to the Soldane. The deceiver being found at
last, shee compassed such meanes, that her Husband Bernardo came
into Alexandria, and there, after due punnishment inflicted on the
false deceiver, she resumed the garments againe of a woman, and
returned home with her Husband to Geneway.
Madam Eliza having ended her compassionate discourse, which indeede
had moved all the rest to sighing; the Queene, who was faire, comely
of stature, and tarrying a very majesticall countenance, smiling
more familarly then the other, spake to them thus. It is very
necessary, that the promise made to Dioneus, should carefully be kept,
and because now there remaineth none, to report any more Novels, but
onely he and my selfe: I must first deliver mine, and he (who takes it
for an honour) to be the last in relating his owne, last let him be
for his owne deliverance. Then pausing a little while, thus she
began againe. Many times among vulgar people, it hath passed as a
common Proverbe: That the deceiver is often trampled on, by such as he
hath deceived. And this cannot shew it selfe (by any reason) to be
true, except such accidents as awaite on treachery, doe really make
a just discovery thereof. And therefore according to the course of
this day observed, I am the woman that must make good what I have
saide for the approbation of that Proverbe: no way (I hope)
distastfull to you in the hearing, but advantageable to preserve you
from any such beguiling.
There was a faire and goodly Inne in Paris, much frequented by
many great Italian Merchants, according to such variety of occasions
and businesse, as urged their often resorting thither. One night among
many other, having had a merry Supper together, they began to
discourse on divers matters, and falling from one relation to another;
they communed in very friendly manner, concerning their wives, lefte
at home in their houses. Quoth the first, I cannot well imagine what
my wife is now doing, but I am able to say for my selfe, that if a
pretty female should fall into my company: I could easily forget my
love to my wife, and make use of such an advantage offered.
A second replyed; And trust me, I should do no lesse, because I am
perswaded, that if my wife be willing to wander, the law is in her
owne hand, and I am farre enough from home: dumbe walles blab no
tales, and offences unknowne are sildome or never called in
question. A third man unapt in censure, with his former fellowes of
the Jury; and it plainely appeared, that all the rest were of the same
opinion, condemning their wives over-rashly, and alledging, that
when husbands strayed so far from home, their wives had wit enough
to make use of their time.
Onely one man among them all, named Bernardo Lomellino, and dwelling
in Geneway, maintained the contrary; boldly avouching, that by the
especiall favour of Fortune, he had a wife so perfectly compleate in
all graces and vertues, as any Lady in the world possibly could be,
and that Italy scarsely contained her equall. But, she was goodly of
person, and yet very young, quicke, quaint, milde, and courteous,
and not any thing appertaining to the office of a wife, either for
domesticke affayres, or any other imployment whatsoever, but in
womanhoode shee went beyond all other. No Lord, Knight, Esquire, or
Gentleman, could bee better served at his Table, then himselfe dayly
was, with more wisedome, modesty and discretion. After all this, hee
praised her for riding, hawking, hunting, fishing, fowling, reading,
writing, enditing, and most absolute keeping his Bookes of accounts,
that neither himselfe, or any other Merchant could therein excell her.
After infinite other commendations, he came to the former point of
their argument, concerning the easie falling of women into
wantonnesse, maintaining (with a solemne oath) that no woman
possibly could be more chaste and honest then she: in which respect,
he was verily perswaded, that if he stayed from her ten years space
(yea all his life time) out of his house; yet never would shee
falsifie her faith to him, or be lewdly allured by any other man.
Amongst these Merchants thus communing together, there was a young
proper man, named Ambroginolo of Placentia, who began to laugh at
the last prayses which Bernardo had used of his Wife, and seeming to
make a mockerie thereof, demaunded, if the Emperour had given him this
priviledge, above all other married men? Bernardo being somewhat
offended, answered: No Emperour hath done it, but the especiall
blessing of heaven, exceeding all the Emperours on the earth in grace,
and thereby have received this favour; whereto Ambroginolo presently
thus replyed. Bernardo, without all question to the contrary, I
beleeve that what thou hast said, is true; but (for ought I can
perceive) thou hast slender judgement in the Nature of things:
because, if thou diddst observe them well, thou couldst not be of so
grosse understanding. For, by comprehending matters in their true
kinde and nature, thou wouldst speake of them more correctly then thou
doest. And to the end, thou mayest not imagine, that we who have
spoken of our Wives, doe thinke any otherwise of them, then as well
and honestly as thou canst of thine, nor that any thing else did
urge these speeches of them, or falling into this kinde of
discourse, but onely by a naturall instinct and admonition, I wil
proceede familiarly, a little further with thee, uppon the matter
alreadie propounded. I have evermore understoode, that man was the
most noble creature, formed by God to live in this World, and woman in
the next degree to him: but man, as generally is beleeved, and as is
discerned by apparant effects is the most perfect of both. Having then
the most perfection in him, without all doubt, he must be so much
the more firme and constant. So in like manner, it hath beene, and
is universally graunted, that Woman is more various and mutable, may
be approved by and the reason thereof may be approved by many naturall
circumstances, which were needlesse now to make any mention of. If a
man then be possessed of the greater stability, and yet cannot
containe himselfe from condiscending, I say not to one that
entreates him, but to desire any other that please him; and beside, to
covet the enjoying of his owne pleasing contentment (a thing not
chancing to him once in a moneth, but infinite times in a dayes
space). What can you then conceive of a fraile Woman, subject (by
nature) to entreaties, flatteries, giftes, perswasions, and a thousand
other inticing meanes, which a man (that is affected to her) can
use? Doest thou thinke then that she hath any power to containe?
Assuredly, though thou shouldest rest so resolved, yet cannot I be
of the same opinion. For I am sure thou beleevest, and must needes
confesse it, that thy wife is a Woman, made of flesh and blood, as
other women are: if it be so, she cannot bee without the same desires,
