of his Fistula. When the King saw her, her modest lookes did
plainely deliver, that she was a faire, comely, and discreete young
Gentlewoman; wherefore, he would no longer hide it, but layed it
open to her view. When shee had seene and felt it, presently she put
the King in comfort; affirming, that she knew her selfe able to cure
his Fistula, saying: Sir, if your Highnesse will referre the matter to
me, without any perill of life, or any the least paine to your person,
I hope (by the helpe of heaven) to make you whole and sound within
eight dayes space. The King hearing her words, beganne merrily to
smile at her, saying: How is it possible for thee, being a yong
Maiden, to do that which the best Physitians in Europe, are not able
to performe? I commend thy kindnesse, and will not remaine
unthankefull for thy forward willingnesse: but I am fully
determined, to use no more counsell, or to make any further triall
of Physicke or Chirurgery. Whereto faire Juliet thus replyed: Great
King, let not my skill and experience be despised, because I am young,
and a Maiden; for my profession is not Physicke, neither do I
undertake the ministering thereof, as depending on mine owne
knowledge; but by the gracious assistance of heaven, and some rules of
skilfull observation, which I learned of reverend Gerard of Narbona
who was my worthy Father, and a Physitian of no meane fame, all the
while he lived.
At the hearing of these words, the King began somewhat to admire
at her gracious carriage, and saide within himselfe. What know I,
whether this Virgin is sent to me by the direction of heaven, or no?
Why should I disdaine to make proofe of her skill? Her promise is,
to cure me in a small times compasse, and without any paine or
affliction to me: she shall not come so farre, to returne againe
with the losse of he labour, I am resolved to try her cunning, and
thereon saide. Faire Virgin, if you cause me to breake my setled
determination, and faile of curing me, what can you expect to follow
thereon? Whatsoever great King (quoth she) shall please you. Let me be
strongly guarded, yet not hindered, when I am to prosecute the
businesse: and then if I do not perfectly heale you within eight
daies, let a good fire be made, and therein consume my body unto
ashes. But if I accomplish the cure, and set your Highnesse free
from all further greevance, what recompence then shall remaine to me?
Much did the King commend the confident perswasion which she had
of her owne power, and presently replyed. Faire beauty (quoth he) in
regard that thou art a Maide and unmaried, if thou keepe promise,
and I finde my selfe to be fully cured: I will match thee with some
such Gentleman in marriage, as shall be of honourable and worthy
reputation, with a sufficient dowry beside. My gracious Soveraigne
saide she, willing am I, and most heirtily thankfull withall, that
your Highnesse shall bestow me in marriage: but I desire then, to have
such a husband, as I shall desire or demand by your gracious favour,
without presuming to crave any of your Sonnes, Kindred, or Alliance,
or appertaining unto your Royal blood. Whereto the King gladly
granted. Young Juliet began to minister her Physicke, and within fewer
dayes then her limited time, the King was sound and perfectly cured;
which when he perceived, he saide unto her. Trust me vertuous Mayde,
most woorthily hast thou wonne a Husband, name him, and thou shalt
have him. Royall King (quoth she) then have I won the Count Bertrand
of Roussillion, whom I have most entirely loved from mine Infancy, and
cannot (in my soule) affect any other. Very loath was the King to
grant her the young Count, but in regard of his solemne passed
promise, and his royal word engaged, which he would not by any
meanes breake; he commanded, that the Count should be sent for, and
spake thus to him. Noble Count, it is not unknowne to us, that you are
a Gentleman of great honour, and it is our Royall pleasure, to
discharge your wardship, that you may repaire home to your owne House,
there to settle your affaires in such order, as you may be the readier
to enjoy a Wife, which we intend to bestowe upon you. The Count
returned his Highnesse most humble thankes, desiring to know of
whence, and what she was? It is this Gentlewoman, answered the King,
who (by the helpe of Heaven) hath beene the meanes to save my life.
Well did the Count know her, as having very often before seene her;
and although she was very faire and amiable, yet in regard of her
meane birth, which he held as a disparagement to his Nobility in
blood; he made a scorne of her, and spake thus to the King. Would your
Highnesse give me a Quacksalver to my Wife, one that deales in drugges
and Physicarie? I hope I am able to bestowe my selfe much better
then so. Why? quoth the King, wouldst thou have us breake our faith;
which for the recovery of our health, we have given to this vertuous
virgin, and she will have no other reward, but onely Count Bertrand to
be her husband? Sir, replied the Count, you may dispossesse me of
all that is mine, because I am your Ward and Subject, any where else
you may bestow me: but pardon me to tell you, that this marriage
cannot be made with any liking or allowance of mine, neither will I
ever give consent thereto.
Sir, saide the King, it is our will that it shall be so, vertuous
she is, faire and wise; she loveth thee most affectionately, and
with her mayest thou lead a more Noble life, then with the greatest
Lady in our Kingdome. Silent, and discontented stoode the Count, but
the King commanded preparation for the marriage; and when the
appointed time was come, the Count (albeit against his will)
received his wife at the Kings hand; she loving him deerly as her owne
life. When all was done, the Count requested of the King, that what
else remained for further solemnization of the marriage, it might be
performed in his owne Country, reserving to himselfe what else he
intended. Being mounted on horseback, and humbly taking their leave of
the King, the Count would not ride home to his owne dwelling, but into
Tuscany, where he heard of a warre between the Florentines and the
Senesi, purposing to take part with the Florentines, to whom he was
willingly and honourably welcommed, being created Captaine of a worthy
Company, and continuing there a long while in service.
The poore forsaken new married Countesse, could scarsely be
pleased with such dishonourable unkindnesse, yet governing her
impatience with no meane discretion, and hoping by her vertuous
carriage, to compasse the meanes of his recall: home she rode to
Roussillion, where all the people received her very lovingly. Now,
by reason of the Counts so long absence, all things were there farre
out of order; mutinies, quarrels, and civill dissentions, having
procured many dissolute irruptions, to the expence of much blood in
many places. But she, like a jolly stirring Lady, very wise and
provident in such disturbances, reduced all occasions to such civility
againe, that the people admired her rare behaviour, and condemned
the Count for his unkindnesse towards her.
After that the whole Country of Roussillion (by the policy and
wisedome of this worthy Lady) was fully reestablished in their ancient
liberties; she made choise of two discreet knights, whom she sent to
the Count her husband, to let him understand, that if in displeasure
to her, hee was thus become a stranger to his owne Country: upon the
returne of his answer, to give him contentment, she would depart
thence, and by no meanes disturbe him. Roughly and churlishly he
replied; Let her do as she list, for I have no determination to
dwell with her, or neere where she is. Tell her from me, when she
shall have this Ring, which you behold heere on my finger, and a Sonne
in her armes begotten by me; then will I come live with her, and be
her love. The Ring he made most precious and deere account of, and
never tooke it off from his finger, in regard of an especiall vertue
and property, which he well knew to be remaining in it. And these
two Knights, hearing the impossibility of these two strict conditions,
with no other favour else to be derived from him; sorrowfully returned
backe to their Lady, and acquainted her with this unkinde answer, as
also his unalterable determination, which well you may conceive,
must needs be very unwelcome to her.
After she had an indifferent while considered with her selfe, her
resolution became so indauntable; that she would adventure to practise
such meanes, whereby to compasse those two apparant impossibilities,
and so to enjoy the love of her husband. Having absolutely concluded
what was to be done, she assembled all the cheefest men of the
country, revealing unto them (in mournfull manner) what an attempt she
had made already, in hope of recovering her husbands favour, and
what a rude answer was thereon returned. In the end, she told them,
that it did not sute with her unworthinesse, to make the Count live as
an exile from his owne inheritance, upon no other inducement, but
onely in regard of her: wherefore, she had determined betweene
heaven and her soule, to spend the remainder of her dayes in
Pilgrimages and prayers, for preservation of the Counts soule and
her owne; earnestly desiring them, to undertake the charge and
government of the Country, and signifying unto the Count, how she
had forsaken his house, and purposed to wander so farre thence, that
never would she visit Roussillion any more. In the deliverie of
these words, the Lords and Gentlemen wept and sighed
extraordinarily, using many earnest imprecations to alter this resolve
in her, but all was in vaine.
Having taken her sad and sorrowfull farewell of them all,
accompanied onely with her Maide, and one of her Kinsmen, away she
went, attired in a Pilgrimes habit, yet well furnished with money
and precious jewels, to avoyde all wants which might: befall her in
travaile; not acquainting any one whether she went. In no place stayed
she, untill she was arrived at Florence, where happening into a
poore Widdowes house, like a poore Pilgrime, she seemed well contented
therewith. And desiring to heare some tydings of the Count, the next
day shee saw him passe by the house on horse-backe, with his
company. Now, albeit shee knew him well enough, yet shee demanded of
the good old Widdow, what Gentleman he was? She made answer, that he
was a stranger there, yet a Nobleman, called Count Bertrand of
Roussillion, a very courteous Knight, beloved and much respected in
the City. Moreover, that he was farre in love with a neighbour of
hers, a young Gentlewoman, but very poore and meane in substance,
yet of honest life, vertuous, and never taxed with any evill report:
onely her poverty was the maine imbarment of her marriage, dwelling in
house with her mother, who was a wise, honest, and worthy Lady.
The Countesse having well observed her words, and considered thereon
from point to point; debating soberly with her owne thoughts, in
such a doubtfull case what was best to be done. When she had
understood which was the house, the ancient Ladies name, and
likewise her daughters, to whom her husband was now so
affectionately devoted; she made choise of a fit and convenient
time, when (in her Pilgrimes habit) secretly she went to the house.
There she found the mother and daughter in poore condition, and with
as poore a family: whom after she had ceremoniously saluted, she
told the old Lady, that she requested but a little conference with
her. The Lady arose, and giving her kinde entertainement, they went
together into a withdrawing Chamber, where being both set downe, the
Countesse began in this manner.
Madame, in my poore opinion, you are not free from the frownes of
Fortune, no more then I my selfe am: but if you were so well
pleased, there is no one that can comfort both our calamities in
such manner, as you are able to do. And beleeve me answered the
Lady, there is nothing in the world that can be so welcome to me, as
honest comfort. The Countesse proceeding on in her former speeches
said: I have now need (good Madame) both of your trust and fidelity,
whereon if I should rely, and you faile me, it will be your owne
undoing as well as mine. Speake then boldly, replied the old Lady, and
remaine constantly assured, that you shall no way be deceived by me.
Hereupon, the Countesse declared the whole course of her love, from
the very originall to the instant, revealing also what she was, and
the occasion of her comming thither, relating every thing so
perfectly, that the Lady verily beleeved her, by some reports which
she had formerly heard, and which mooved her the more to compassion.
Now, when all circumstances were at full discovered, thus spake the
Countesse.
Among my other miseries and misfortunes, which hath halfe broken
my heart in the meere repetition, beside the sad and afflicting
sufferance; two things there are, which if I cannot compasse to
have, all hope is quite frustrate for ever, of gaining the grace of my
Lord and Husband. Yet these two things may I obtaine by your helpe, if
all be true which I have heard, and you can therein best resolve
mee. Since my comming to this City, it hath credibly bene told me,
that the Count my husband, is deeply in love with your daughter. If
the Count (quoth the Ladie) love my daughter, and have a wife of his
owne, he must thinke, and so shall surely finde it, that his
greatnesse is no priviledge for him, whereby to worke dishonour upon
her poverty. But indeede, some apparances there are, and such a matter
as you speake of, may be so presumed; yet so farre from a very thought
of entertaining in her or me; as whatsoever I am able to doe, to yeeld
you any comfort and content, you shall find me therein both willing
and ready: for I prize my daughters spotlesse poverty at as high a
rate, as he can doe the pride of his honour.
Madame, quoth the Countesse, most heartily I thanke you. But
before I presume any further on your kindnesse, let me first tell you,
what faithfully I intend to do for you, if I can bring my purpose to
