to his shee-Messenger, which brought them with lookes sufficient to
declare my discontentment: I called her backe againe, fearing least
she would keep them to her selfe, and make him beleeve that I had
received them (as I have heard such kinde of women use to do
sometimes) and in anger I snatcht them from her, and have brought them
you, to the end, that you may give him them againe; and tell him, I
have no need of any such things, thankes be to heaven and my
husband, as no woman can be better stored then I am. Wherefore good
Father, purposely am I now come to you, to let him know, that if he
will not abstaine from thus molesting me, I will disclose it to my
Husband, Father, and Brethren, whatsoever befall. For I had rather
he should receive the injury, then I to be causelessly blamed for him;
wherein good Father tell me, if I dooe not well. With many
counterfet sobbes, sighes, and teares these words were delivered;
and drawing foorth from under her gowne, a very faire and rich
purse, as also a Girdle of great worth, she threw them into the Friars
lappe.
He verily beleeving all this false report, being troubled in his
minde thereat beyond measure, tooke the Gentlewoman by the hand,
saying: Daughter, if thou be offended at these impudent follies,
assuredly I cannot blame thee, nor will any wiseman reproove thee
for it; and I commend thee for following my counsell. But let me alone
for schooling of my Gentleman, ill hath he kept his promise made to
me; wherefore, in regard of his former offence, as also this other
so lately committed, I hope to set him in such heate, as shall make
him leave off from further injurying thee. Suffer not thy selfe to
be conquerd by choller, in disclosing this to thy kindred or
husband, because too much harme may ensue thereon. But feare not any
wrong to thy selfe; for I am a true witnesse of thine honesty and
vertue.
Now began she to seeme better comforted, and forbearing to play on
this string any longer, as well knowing the covetousnes of him and his
equals, she said: Holy Father, some few nights past, me thought in
my sleepe, that divers spirits of my kindred appeared to me in a
vision, who me thought were in very great pains, and desired nothing
els but Almes; especially my Godmother, who seemed to be afflicted
with such extrem poverty, that it was most Pittifull to behold. And
I am halfe perswaded, that her torments are the greater, seeing me
troubled with such an enemy to goodnesse. Wherefore (good Father) to
deliver her soule and the others out of those fearfull flames, among
your infinite other devout prayers, I would have you to say the
forty Masses of S. Gregory, as a means for their happy deliverance,
and so she put ten ducates into his hand. Which the holy man accepted
thankfully, and with good words, as also many singular examples,
confirmed her bountifull devotion: and when he had given her his
benediction, home she departed.
After that the Gentlewoman was gone, hee sent for his friend whom
she so much seemed to be troubled withall; and when he was come, hee
beholding his Holy Father to looke discontentedly, thought, that now
he should heare some newes from his Mistresse, and therefore
expected what he would say. The Friar, falling into the course of
his former reprehensions, but yet in more rough and impatient
minner, sharpely checkt him for his immodest behaviour towards the
Gentlewoman, in sending her the Purse and Girdle. The Gentleman, who
as yet could not guesse whereto his speeches tended; somewhat coldly
and temperately, denied the sending of such tokens to her, to the
end that he would not bee utterly discredited with the good man, if so
bee the Gentlewoman had shewne him any such things. But then the
Frier, waxing much more angry, sternly said. Bad man as thou art,
how canst thou deny a manifest truth? See sir, these are none of
your amorous tokens? No, I am sure you doe not know them, nor ever saw
them till now.
The Gentleman, seeming as if he were much ashamed, saide. Truely
Father I do know them, and confesse that I have done ill, and very
greatly offended: but now I will sweare unto you, seeing I
understand how firmely she is affected, that you shall never heare any
more complaint of me. Such were his vowes and protestations, as in the
end the ghostly Father gave him both the Purse and Girdle: then
after he had preached, and severely conjured him, never more to vexe
her with any gifts at all, and he binding himselfe thereto by a
solemne promise, he gave him license to depart. Now grew the Gentleman
very jocond, being so surely certifyed of his Mistresses love, and
by tokens of such worthy esteeme; wherefore no sooner was he gone from
the Frier, but he went into such a secret place, where he could let
her behold at her Window, what precious tokens he had received from
her, whereof she was extraordinarily joyfull, because her devices grew
still better and better; nothing now wanting, but her husbands
absence, upon some journey from the City, for the full effecting of
her desire.
Within a few dayes after, such an occasion hapned, as her husband of
necessity must journey to Geneway; and no sooner was he mounted on
horsebacke, taking leave of her and all his friends: but she, being
sure he was gone, went in all hast to her Ghostly Father; and, after a
few faigned outward shewes, thus she spake. I must now plainely tell
you, holy Father, that I can no longer endure this wicked friend of
yours; but because I promised you the other day, that I would not do
any thing, before I had your counsell therein, I am now come to tell
you, the just reason of my anger, and full purpose to avoid all
further mollestation.
Your friend cannot terme him, but (questionlesse) a very divell of
hell: this morning, before the breake of day, having heard (but how, I
know not) that my husband was ridden to Geneway: got over the wall
into my Garden, and climbing up a tree which standeth close before
my Chamber window, when I was fast asleepe, opened the Casement, and
would have entred in at the window. But, by great good fortune, I
awaked, and made shew of an open outcry: but that he entreated me,
both for Gods sake and yours, to pardon him this error, and never
after he would presume any more to offend me. When he saw, that (for
your sake) I was silent, he closed fast the window againe, departed as
he came, and since I never saw him, or heard any tidings of him. Now
Judge you, holy Father, whether these be honest courses or no, and
to be endured by any civill Gentlewoman; neither would I so
patiently have suffered this, but onely in my dutifull reverence to
you.
The Ghostly Father hearing this, became the sorrowfullest man in the
world, not knowing how to make her any answere, but only demanded of
her divers times, whether she knew him so perfectly, that she did
not mistake him for some other? Quoth she, I would I did not know
him from any other. Alas deere daughter (replied the Frier) what can
more be sayd in this case, but that it was over-much boldnesse, and
very ill done, and thou shewedst thy selfe a worthy wise woman, in
sending him away so mercifully, as thou didst. Once more I would
entreat thee (deere and vertuous daughter) seeing grace hath
hitherto kept thee from dishonor, and twice already thou hast credited
my counsell, let me now advise thee this last time. Spare speech, or
complaining to any other of thy friends, and leave-it to me, to try if
I can overcome this unchained divell, whom I tooke to be a much more
holy man. If I can recall him from this sensuall appetite, I shall
account my labour well employed; but if I cannot do it, henceforward
(with my blessed benediction) I give thee leave to do, even what thy
heart will best tutor thee to. You see Sir (said shee) what manner
of man he is, yet would I not have you troubled or disobeyed, only I
desire to live without disturbance, which worke (I beseech you) as
best you may: for I promise you, good Father, never to solicite you
more uppon this occasion: And so, in a pretended rage, she returned
backe from the ghostly Father.
Scarsely was she gone forth of the Church, but in commeth the man
that had (supposedly) so much transgressed; and the Fryer taking him
aside, gave him the most injurious words that could be used to a
man, calling him disloyall, perjured, and a traitor. He who had
formerly twice perceived, how high the holy mans anger mounted, did
nothing but expect what he would say; and, like a man extreamly
perplexed, strove how to get it from him, saying; Holy Father, how
come you to be so heinously offended? What have I done to incense
you so strangely? Heare me dishonest wretch answered the Frier, listen
what I shall say unto thee. Thou answerest me, as if it were a yeare
or two past, since so foule abuses were by thee committed, and they
almost quite out of thy remembrance. But tell me wicked man; where
wast thou this morning, before breake of the day? Wheresoever I was,
replyed the Gentleman, mee thinkes the tidings come very quickly to
you. It is true, said the Frier, they are speedily come to me
indeed, and upon urgent necessity.
After a little curbing in of his wrath, somewhat in a milder
straine, thus he proceeded. Because the Gentlewomans husband is
journeyed to Geneway, proves this a ladder to your hope, that to
embrace her in your armes, you must climbe over the Garden wall,
like a treacherous robber in the night season, mount up a tree
before her Chamber window, open the Casement, as hoping to compasse
that by importunity, which her spotlesse chastity will never permit.
There is nothing in the world, that she can hate more then you, and
possibly yet you will love her whether [she] will or no. Many
demonstrations her selfe hath made to you, how retrograde you are to
any good conceit of her, and my loving admonishments might have had
better successe in you, then as yet they shew of outward apparance.
But one thing I must tell you, her silent sufferance of your
injuries all this while, hath not bin in any respect of you, but at my
earnest entreaties, and for my sake. But now she w be patient no
longer, and I have given her free license, if ever heereafter you
offer to attempt her any more, to make her complaint before her
Brethren, which will redound to your no meane danger.
The Gentleman, having wisely collected his Love-lesson out of the
Holy Fathers angry words, pacified the good old man so well as he
could with very solemne promises and protestations, that he should
heare no more) any misbehaviour of his. And being gone from him,
followed the instructions given in her complaint, by climbing over the
Garden Wall, ascending the Tree, and entering at the Casement,
standing ready open to welcome him. Thus the Friers simplicity,
wrought on by her most ingenious subtiltie, made way to obtaine both
their longing desires.
THE THIRD DAY, THE FOURTH NOVELL
WHEREIN IS DECLARED, WHAT CRAFT AND SUBTILTY SOME WILY WITS
CAN DEVISE, TO DECEIVE THE SIMPLE, AND COMPASSE THEIR OWNE
DESIRES.
A yong Scholler, named Felice, enstructed Puccio di Rinieri, how
to become rich in a very short time. While Puccio made experience of
the instructions taught him; Felice obtained the favour of his
Daughter.
After that Philomena had finished her Tale, she sate still; and
Dioneus (with faire and pleasing Language) commended the
Gentlewomans quaint cunning, but smiling at the Confessors witlesse
simplicity. Then the Queene, turning with chearefull looks toward
Pamphilus, commaunded him to continue on their delight; who gladly
yeelded, and thus began. Madame, many men there are, who while they
strive to climbe from a good estate, to a seeming better; doe become
in much worse condition then they were before. As happened to a
neighbour of ours, and no long time since, as the accident will better
acquaint you withall.
According as I have heard it reported, neere to Saint Brancazio,
there dwelt an honest man, and some-what rich, who was called Puccio
di Rinieri, and who addicted all his paines and endeavours to Alchimy:
wherefore, he kept no other family, but onely a widdowed daughter, and
a servant; and because he had no other Art or exercise, he used
often to frequent the market place. And in regard he was but a weake
witted man and a gourmand or grosse feeder; his language was the
more harsh and rude; like to our common Porters or sottish men, and
his carriage also absurd, boore-like, and clownish. His daughter,
being named Monna Isabetta, aged not above eight and twenty, or thirty
yeeres; was a fresh indifferent faire, plumpe, round woman, cherry
cheekt, like a Queene-Apple; and, to please her Father, fed not so
sparingly, as otherwise she would have done, but when she communed
or jested with any body, she would talke of nothing, but onely
concerning the great vertue in Alchimy, extolling it above all other
Arts.
Much about this season of the yeare, there returned a young Scholler
from Paris, named Felice, faire of complexion, comely of person,
ingeniously witted and skilfully learned, who (soone after) grew
into familiarity, with Puccio: now because he could resolve him in
many doubts, depending on his profession of Alchimy, (himselfe
having onely practise, but no great learning) he used many questions
to him, shewed him very especiall matters of secrecy, entertaining him
often to dinners and suppers, whensoever he pleased to come and
converse with him; and his daughter likewise, perceiving with what
favour her Father respected him, became the more familiar with him,
allowing him good regard and reverence.
The young man continuing his resort to the House of Puccio, and
observing the widdow to be faire, fresh, and prettily formall; he
began to consider with himselfe, what those things might be, wherein
she was most wanting; and (if he could) to save anothers labour,
supply them by his best endeavours. Thus not alwayes carrying his eyes
before him, but using many backe and circumspect regards, he proceeded
