faiths) helpe me to be baptized.
Jehannot, who expected a farre contrary conclusion then this,
hearing him speake it with such constancy; was the very gladdest man
in the world, and went with him to the Church of Nostre Dame in Paris,
where he requested the Priests there abiding, to bestow baptisme on
Abraham, which they joyfully did, hearing him so earnestly to desire
it. Jehannot was his Godfather, and named him John, and afterward,
by learned Divines he was more fully instructed in the grounds of
our faith; wherein he grew of great understanding, and led a very
vertuous life.
THE FIRST DAY, THE THIRD NOVELL
WHEREBY THE AUTHOR, APPROVING THE CHRISTIAN FAITH,
SHEWETH, HOW BENEFICIALL A SODAINE AND INGENIOUS ANSWERE
MAY FALL OUT TO BEE, ESPECIALLY WHEN A MAN FINDS HIMSELFE
IN SOME EVIDENT DANGER
Melchisedech a Jew, by recounting a Tale of three Rings, to the
great Soldan, named Saladine, prevented a great danger which was
prepared for him.
Madame Neiphila having ended her Discourse, which was well allowed
of by all the company; it pleased the Queene, that Madame Philomena
should next succeede in order, who thus began.
The Tale delivered by Neiphila, maketh mee remember a doubtfull
case, which sometime hapned to another Jew. And because that God,
and the truth of his holy Faith, hath bene already very well
discoursed on: it shall not seeme unfitting (in my poore opinion) to
descend now into the accidents of men. Wherefore, I will relate a
matter unto you, which being attentively heard and considered; may
make you much more circumspect, in answering to divers questions and
demands, then (perhaps) otherwise you would be. Consider then (most
woorthy assembly) that like as folly or dulnesse, many times hath
overthrowne some men from place of eminencie, into most great and
greevous miseries: even so, discreet sense and good understanding,
hath delivered many out of irksome perils, and seated them in safest
security. And to prove it true, that folly hath made many fall from
high authority, into poore and despised calamity; may be avouched by
infinite examples, which now were needelesse to remember: But, that
good sense and able understanding, may proove to be the occasion of
great desolation, without happy prevention, I will declare unto you in
very few words, and make it good according to my promise.
Saladine, was a man so powerfull and valiant, as not onely his
very valour made him Soldan of Babylon, and also gave him many signall
victories, over Kings of the Sarrazens, and of Christians likewise.
Having in divers Warres, and other magnificent employments, of his
owne, wasted all his treasure, and (by reason of some sodaine accident
happening to him) standing in neede to use some great summe of
money, yet not readily knowing where, or how to procure it; he
remembred a rich Jew named Melchisedech, that lent out money to use or
interest in the City of Alexandria. This man he imagined best able
to furnish him, if he could be won to do it willingly: but he was
knowne to be so gripple and miserable, that hardly any meanes would
drawe him to it. In the end, constrained by necessity, and labouring
his wits for some apt device whereby he might have it: he concluded,
though hee might not compell him to do it, yet by a practise
shadowed with good reason to ensnare him. And having sent for him,
entertained him very familiarly in his Court, and sitting downe by
him, thus began.
Honest man, I have often heard it reported by many, that thou art
very skilfull, and in cases concerning God, thou goest beyond all
other of these times: wherefore, I would gladly bee informed by
thee, which of those three Lawes or Religions, thou takest to be
truest; that of the Jew, the other of the Sarazen, or that of the
Christian? The Jew, being a very wise man, plainely perceived, that
Saladine sought to entrap him in his answere, and so to raise some
quarrell against him. For, if he commended any one of those Lawes
above the other, he knew that Saladine had what he aymed at.
Wherefore, bethinking himselfe to shape such an answere, as might no
way trouble or entangle him: summoning all his sences together, and
considering, that dallying with the Soldane might redound to his no
meane danger, thus he replied.
My Lord, the question propounded by you, is faire and worthy, and to
answere my opinion truely thereof, doth necessarily require some
time of consideration, if it might stand with your liking to allow it:
but if not, let me first make entrance to my reply, with a pretty
tale, and well worth the hearing. I have oftentimes heard it reported,
that (long since) there was a very wealthy man, who (among other
precious Jewels of his owne) had a goodly Ring of great valew; the
beauty and estimation whereof, made him earnestly desirous to leave it
as a perpetuall memory and honour to his successors. Whereupon, he
willed and ordained, that he among his male children, with whom this
Ring (being left by the Father) should be found in custody after his
death; hee and none other, was to bee reputed his heire, and to be
honoured and reverenced by all the rest, as being the prime and
worthiest person. That Sonne, to whom this Ring was left by him,
kept the same course to his posterity, dealing (in all respects) as
his predecessor had done; so that (in short time) the Ring (from
hand to hand) had many owners by Legacie.
At length, came to the hand of one, who had three sonnes, all of
them goodly and vertuous persons, and verie obedient to their
Father: in which regard, he affected them all equally, without any
difference or partiall respect. The custome of this Ring being
knowne to them, each one of them (coveting to beare esteeme above
the other) desired (as hee could best make his meanes) his Father,
that in regard he was now growne very old, he would leave that Ring to
him, whereby he should bee acknowledged for his heire. The good man,
who loved no one of them more then the other, knew not how to make his
choise, nor to which of them he should leave the Ring: yet having past
his promise to them severally, he studied by what meanes to satisfie
them all three. Wherefore, secretly having conferred with a curious
and excellent Goldsmith, hee caused two other Rings to bee made, so
really resembling the first made Ring, that himselfe (when he had them
in his hand) could not distinguish which was the right one.
Lying upon his death-bed, and his Sonnes then plying him by their
best opportunities, he gave to each of them a Ring. And they (after
his death) presuming severally upon their right to the inheritance and
honor, grew to great contradiction and square: each man producing then
his Ring, which were so truely all alike in resemblance, as no one
could know the right Ring from the other. And therefore, suite in Law,
to distinguish the true heire to his Father, continued long time,
and so it dooth yet to this very day. In like manner my good Lord,
concerning those three Lawes given by God the Father, to three such
people as you have propounded: each of them do imagine that they
have the heritage of God, and his true Law, and also duely to performe
his Commandements; but which of them do so indeede, the question (as
of the three Rings) is yet remaining.
Saladine well perceyving, that the Jew was too cunning to bee caught
in his snare, and had answered so well, that to doe him further
violence, would redound unto his perpetuall dishonour; resolved to
reveale his neede and extremity, and try if hee would therein friendly
sted him. Having disclosed the matter, and how he purposed to have
dealt with him, if he had not returned so wise an answere; the Jew
lent him so great a sum of money as hee demanded, and Saladine repayed
it againe to him justly, giving him other great gifts beside:
respecting him as his especiall friend, and maintaining him in very
honourable condition, neere unto his owne person.
THE FIRST DAY, THE FOURTH NOVELL
WHEREIN MAY BEE NOTED, THAT SUCH MEN AS WILL REPROVE THOSE
ERROURS IN OTHERS, WHICH REMAINE IN THEMSELVES, COMMONLY ARE
THE AUTHORS OF THEIR OWNE REPREHENSION
A Monke having committed an offence, deserving to be very greevously
punished, freed himselfe from the paine to be inflicted on him, by
wittily reprehending his Abbot, with the very same fault.
So ceased Madame Philotnena, after the conclusion of her Tale:
when Dioneus sitting next unto her, (without tarrying for any other
command from the Queene, knowing by the order formerly begun, that hee
was to follow in the same course) spake in this manner.
Gracious Ladies, if I faile not in understanding your generall
intention, we are purposely assembled heere to tell Tales; and
especially such as may please our selves. In which respect, because
nothing shold be done disorderly, I hold it lawfull for every one
(as our Queene decreed before her Dignity) to relate such a
Noveltie, as in their owne judgement may cause most contentment.
Wherefore having heard that by the good admonitions of Jehannot de
Chevigny, Abraham the Jew was advised to the salvation of his soule,
and Melchisedech (by his witty understanding) defended his riches from
the traines of Saladine: I now purpose to tell you in a few plaine
words, without feare of receiving any reprehension, how cunningly a
Monke compassed his deliverance, from a punishment intended towards
him.
There was in the Country of Lunigiana (which is not far distant from
our owne) a Monastery, which sometime was better furnished with
holinesse and Religion, then now adayes they are: wherein lived (among
divers other) a yong Novice Monke, whose hot and lusty disposition
(being in the vigour of his yeeres) was such, as neither Fasts nor
prayers had any great power over him. It chanced on a fasting day
about high noon, when all the other Monkes were asleep in their
Dormitaries or Dorters, this frolicke Friar was walking alone in their
Church, which stoode in a very solitarie place, where ruminating on
many matters by himselfe, hee espyed a prettie handsome Wench (some
Husbandmans daughter in the Countrey, that had beene gathering
rootes and hearbes in the field) upon her knees before in Altar;
whom he had no sooner seene, but immediately hee felt effeminate
temptations, and such as ill fitted with his profession.
Lascivious desire, and no religious devotion, made him draw neere
her, and whether under shrift (the onely cloake to compasse carnal
affections) or some other as close conference to as pernitious and
vile a purpose, I know not: but so farre he prevailed upon her
frailety, and such a bargaine passed betweene them, that from the
Church, he wonne her to his Chamber, before any person could
perceive it. Now, while this yong lusty Monke (transported with
overfond affection) was more carelesse of his dalliance, then he
should have bene: the Lord Abbot being newly arisen from sleepe, and
walking softly about the Cloyster, came to the Monkes Dorter doore,
where hearing what noyse was made betweene them, and a feminine
voyce more strange then hee was wont to heare; he layed his eare close
to the Chamber doore, and plainly perceived, that a woman was
within. Wherewith being much moved, he intended sodainly to make him
open the doore; but (upon better consideration) hee conceyved it farre
more fitting for him, to returne backe to his owne Chamber, and
tarry till the Monke should come forth.
The Monke, though his delight with the Damosell was extraordinary,
yet feare and suspition followed upon it; for, in the very height of
all his wantonnesse, he heard a soft treading about the doore. And
prying thorow a small crevice in the same dore, perceived apparantly,
that the Abbot himselfe stood listening there, and could not be
ignorant but that the Maide was with him in the Chamber. As after
pleasure ensueth paine, for the veniall Monke knew well enough (though
wanton heate would not let him heede it before) that most greevous
punishment must bee inflicted on him, which made him sad beyond all
measure: Neverthelesse, without disclosing his dismay to the yong
Maiden, he began to consider with himselfe on many meanes, whereby
to find out one that might best fit his turne. And suddenly
conceited an apt stratagem, which sorted to such effect as he would
have it: whereupon, seeming satisfied for that season, he tolde the
Damosell, that (being carefull of her credit) as hee had brought her
in unseene of any, so he would free her from thence againe, desiring
her to tarrie there (without making any noyse at all) untill such time
as he returned to her.
Going forth of the chamber, and locking it fast with the key, he
went directly to the Lord Abbots lodging, and delivering him the saide
key (as every Monke used to doe the like, when he went abroade out
of the Convent) setting a good countenance on the matter, boldly
saide; My Lord, I have not yet brought in all my part of the wood,
which lieth ready cut downe in the Forrest; and having now
convenient time to doe it, if you please to give me leave, I will
goe and fetch it. The Abbot perswading himselfe, that he had not beene
discovered by the Monke, and to be resolved more assuredly in the
offence committed; being not a little jocund of so happy an
accident, gladly tooke the key, and gave him leave to fetch the wood.
No sooner was he gone, but the Abbot beganne to consider with
himselfe, what he were best to doe in this case, either (in the
presence of all the other Monkes) to open the Chamber doore, that so
the offence being knowne to them all, they might have no occasion of
murmuring against him, when he proceeded in the Monkes punishment;
or rather should first understand of the Damosell her selfe, how,
and in what manner shee was brought thither. Furthermore, he
considered, that shee might be a woman of respect, or some such mans
daughter, as would not take it well, to have her disgraced before
all the Monkes. Wherefore hee concluded, first to see (himselfe)
