Madame Agnesia one, his former Gossip.
But why doe I trouble my selfe, in talking thus of our so lately
converted Friar, holy Father Reynard, when they of longer standing,
and reputed meerely for Saints in life, are rather much more vile then
hee? Such is the wretched condition of this world, that they shame not
(fat, foggie, and nastie Abbey-lubbers) to shew how full-fedde they
live in their Cloysters, with cherry cheekes, and smooth shining
lookes, gay and gaudy garments, far from the least expression of
humility, not walking in the streets like Doves: but high-crested like
Cockes, with well cramd gorges. Nay, which is worse, if you did but
see their Chambers furnished with Gally-pots of Electuaries,
precious Unguents, Apothecary Boxes, filled with various
Confections, Conserves, excellent Perfumes, and other goodly Glasses
of artificiall Oyles and Waters: beside Rundlets and small Barrels
full of Greeke Wine, Muscatella, Lachrime Christi, and other such like
most precious Wines, so that (to such as see them) they seeme not to
bee Chambers of Religious men; but rather Apothecaries Shoppes, or
appertaining to Druggists, Grocers, or Perfumers.
It is no disgrace to them to be Gowty; because when other men know
it not, they alledge, that strict fasting, feeding on grosse Meates
(though never so little,) continuall studying, and such like
restraints from the bodies freer exercise, maketh them subject to many
infirmities. And yet, when any one of them chanceth to fall sicke, the
Physitian must minister no such counsell to them, as Chastity,
Abstinence from voluptuous meats, Discipline of the body, or any of
those matters appertaining to a modest religious life. For, concerning
the plaine, vulgar, and Plebeian people, these holy Fathers are
perswaded, that they know nothing really belonging to a
sanctimonious life; as long watching, praying, discipline and fasting,
which (in themselves) are not able, to make men look leane,
wretched, and pale. Because Saint Dominicke, Saint Fraunces, and
divers other holy Saints beside, observed the selfesame religious
orders and constitutions, as now their carefull successors do.
Moreover, in example of those fore-named Saints, who went wel
cloathed, though they had not three Garments for one, nor made of
the finest Woollen excellent cloath: but rather of the very coarsest
of all other, and of the common ordinary colour, to expell cold onely,
but not to appear brave or gallant, deceyving thereby infinite
simple credulous soules, whose purses (neverthelesse) are their best
pay-masters.
But leave we this, and returne wee backe to vertuous Fryar
Reynard, who falling again& to his former appetites; became an often
visitant of his Gossip Agnesia, and now hee had learned such a
blushlesse kinde of boldnesse; that he durst be more instant with
her (concerning his privie sute) then ever formerly he had bin, yea
even to solicite the enjoying of his immodest desires. The good
Gentlewoman, seeing her selfe so importunately pursued, and Friar
Reynard appearing now (perhappes) of sweeter and more delicate
complexion, the at his entrance into Religion: at a set time of his
secret communing with her; she answered him in as apt tearmes, as they
use to do, who are not greatly sqeamish, in granting matters
demanded of them.
Why how now Friar Reynard? quoth shee, Doe Godfathers use to move
such questions? Whereto the Friar thus replyed. Madam, when I have
laide off this holy habite (which is a matter very easie for mee to
do) I shall seeme in your eye, in all respects made like another
man, quite from the course of any Religious life. Agnesia, biting
the lip with a prety smile, said; O my faire Starres! You will never
bee so unfriendly to me. What? You being my Gossip, would you have
me consent unto such a sinne? Our blessed Lady shield mee, for my
ghostly Father hath often told me, that it is utterly unpardonable:
but if it were, I feare too much confiding on mine owne strength.
Gossip, the Friar, you speake like a Foole, and feare (in this case)
is wholly frivolous, especially, when the motions mooved by such an
one as my selfe, who (upon repentance) can grant you pardon and
indulgence presently. But I pray you let mee aske you one question,
Who is the neerest Kinsman to your Son; either I, that stood at the
Font for his Baptisme, or your Husband that begot him? The Lady made
answere, that it was her Husband. You say very true Gossip, replyed
the Friar, and yet notwithstanding, doth not your Husband (both at
boord and bed) enjoy the sweet benefit of your company? Yes, said
the Lady, why shold he not? Then Lady (quoth Reynard) I, who am not so
neere a Kinsman to your Sonne, as your Husband is, why may ye not
afford mee the like favour, as you do him? Agnesia, who was no
Logitian, and therefore could not stand on any curious answer,
especially being so cuningly moved; beleeved, or rather made shew of
beleeving, that the Godfather said nothing but truth, and thus
answered. What woman is she (Gossip) that knoweth how to answer your
strange speeches? And, how it came to passe, I know not, but such an
agreement passed betweene them, that, for once onely (so it might
not infrindge the league of Gossip-ship, but that title to countenance
their further intent) such a favour should be affoorded, so it might
stand cleare from suspition.
An especiall time being appointed, when this amorous Combate
should be fought in loves field, Friar Reynard came to his Gossips
house, where none being present to hinder his purpose, but onely the
Nursse which attended on the child, who was an indifferent faire and
proper woman: his holy brother that came thither in his company
(because Friars were not allowed to walke alone) was sent aside with
her into the Pigeon loft, to enstruct her in a new kinde of Pater
noster, lately devised in their holy Convent. In the meane while, as
Friar Reynard and Agnesia were entring into hir chamber, she leading
her little son by the hand, and making fast the doore for their better
safety: the Friar laide by his holie habit, Cowle, Hood, Booke, and
Beads, to bee (in all respects) as other men were. No sooner were they
thus entred the Chamber, but her husband Credulano, being come into
the house, and unseen of any, staid not till he was at the Chamber
doore, where hee knockt, and called for his Wife.
She hearing his voice: Alas Gossip (quoth she) what shall I do? My
Husband knocketh at the doore, and now he will perceive the occasion
of our so familiar acquaintance. Reynard being stript into his
Trusse and straite Strouses, began to tremble and quake exceedingly. I
heare your Husbands tongue Gossip, said he, and seeing no harme as yet
hath bin done, if I had but my garments on againe; wee would have
one excuse or other to serve the turne, but till then you may not open
the doore. As womens wits are sildome gadding abroad, when any
necessitie concerneth them at home: even so Agnesia, being sodainly
provided of an invention, both how to speake and carry her selfe in
this extreamitie, saide to the Friar. Get on your garments quickely,
and when you are cloathed, take your little God-son in your armes, and
listning wel what I shall say, shape your answeres according to my
words, and then refer the matter to me. Credulano had scarsely ended
his knocking, but Agnesia stepping to the doore said: Husband, I
come to you. So she opened the doore, and (going forth to him) with
a chearefull countenance thus spake. Beleeve me Husband, you could not
have come in a more happy time, for our yong Son was sudainly
extreamly sicke, and (as good Fortune would have it) our loving Gossip
Reynard chanced to come in; and questionlesse, but by his good prayers
and other religious paynes, we had utterly lost our childe, for he had
no life left in him.
Credulano, being as credulous as his name imported, seemed ready
to swoune with sodaine conceit: Alas good wife (quoth he) how hapned
this? Sit downe sweet Husband said she, and I wil tell you al. Our
child was sodainly taken with a swouning, wherein I being unskilful,
did verily suppose him to be dead, not knowing what to doe, or say. By
good hap, our Gossip Reynard came in, and taking the childe up in
his armes, said to me. Gossip, this is nothing else but Wormes in
the bellie of the childe, which ascending to the heart, must needs
kill the child, without all question to the contrary. But be of good
comfort Gossip, and feare not, for I can charme them in such sort,
that they shall all die, and before I depart hence, you shall see your
Son as healthfull as ever. And because the maner of this charm is of
such nature, that it required prayer and exorcising in two places at
once: Nurse went up with his Holye Brother into our Pigeon loft, to
exercise their devotion there, while we did the like heere. For none
but the mother of the childe must bee present at such a mystery, nor
any enter to hinder the operation of the charme; which was the
reason of making fast the Chamber doore. You shall see Husband anon
the Childe, which is indifferently recovered in his armes, and if
Nurse and his holy Brother were returned from theyr meditations; he
saith, that the charme would then be fully effected: for the child
beginneth to looke chearefull and merry.
So deerely did Credulano love the childe, that hee verily
beleeved, what his Wife had saide, never misdoubting any other
treachery: and, lifting up his eyes, with a vehement sigh, said. Wife,
may not I goe in and take the child into my armes? Oh no, not yet good
husband (quoth she) in any case, least you should overthrow all that
is done. Stay but a little while, I will go in againe, and if all
bee well, then will I call you. In went Agnesia againe, making the
doore fast after her, the Fryar having heard all the passed
speeches, by this time he was fitted with his habite, and taking the
childe in his armes, he said to Agnesia. Gossip methought I heard your
Husbands voice, is hee at your Chamber doore? Yes Gossip Reynard
(quoth Credulano without, while Agnesia opened the doore, and admitted
him entrance) indeede it is I. Come in Sir, I pray you, replyed the
Friar, and heere receive your childe of mee, who was in great
danger, of your ever seeing him any more alive. But you must take
order, to make an Image of waxe, agreeing with the stature of the
childe, to be placed on the Altar before the Image of S. Frances, by
whose merites the childe is thus restored to health.
The childe, beholding his Father, made signes of comming to him,
rejoycing merrily, as yong infants use to do, and Credulano clasping
him in his armes, wept with conceite of joy, kissing him infinitely,
and heartily thanking his Gossip Reynard, for the recovery of his
God-son. The Friars brotherly Companion, who had given sufficient
enstructions to the Nurse, and a small purse full of Sisters white
thred, which a Nunne (after shrift) had bestowed on him, upon the
husbands admittance into the Chamber (which they easily heard) came in
also to them, and seeing all in very good tearmes, they holpe to
make a joyfull conclusion, the Brother saying to Friar Reynard:
Brother, I have finished all those foure jaculatory prayers, which you
commanded me.
Brother, answered Reynard, you have a better breath then I, and your
successe hath prooved happier then mine, for before the arrivall of my
Gossip Credulano, I could accomplish but two jaculatory prayers onely.
But it appeareth, that we have both prevailed in our devout desire,
because the childe is perfectly cured. Credulano calling for Wine
and good cheare, feasted both the Friars very jocondly, and then
conducting them forth of his house, without any further
intermission, caused the childs Image of waxe to be made, and sent
it to be placed on the Altar of Saint Frances, among many other the
like oblations.
THE SEVENTH DAY, THE FOURTH NOVELL
WHEREIN IS MANIFESTED, THAT THE MALICE AND SUBTILTY OF
WOMAN, SURPASSETH ALL THE ART OR WIT IN MAN
Tofano in the night season, did locke his wife out of his house, and
shee not prevailing to get entrance againe, by all the entreaties
she could possiblie use: made him beleeve that she had throwne her
selfe into a Well, by casting a great stone into the same Well. Tofano
hearing the fall of the stone into the Well, and being perswaded
that it was his Wife indeed; came forth of his house, and ran to the
Welles side. In the meane while, his wife gotte into the house, made
fast the doore against her Husband, and gave bim many reproachfull
speeches.
So soone as the King perceyved, that the Novell reported by Madame
Eliza was finished: hee turned himselfe to Madame Lauretta, and told
her as his pleasure, that she should now begin the next, whereto she
yeelded in this manner. O Love: What, and how many are thy
prevailing forces? How straunge are thy foresights? And how
admirable thine attempts? Where is, or ever was the Philosopher or
Artist, that could enstruct the wiles, escapes, preventions, and
demonstrations, which sodainly thou teachest such, as are thy apt
and understanding Schollers indeede? Certaine it is, that the
documents and eruditions of all other whatsoever, are weak, or of no
worth, in respect of thine: as hath notably appeared, by the
remonstrances already past, and whereto (worthy Ladies) I wil adde
another of a simple woman, who taught her husband such a lesson, as
shee never learned of any, but Love himselfe.
There dwelt sometime in Arezzo (which is a faire Village of Tuscany)
a rich man, named Tofano, who enjoyed in marriage a young beautifull
woman, called Cheta: of whom (without any occasion given, or reason
knowne to himselfe) he became exceeding- jealous. Which his wife
perceyving, she grew much offended thereat, and tooke it in great
scorne, that she should be servile to so vile and slavish a condition.
Oftentimes, she demanded of him, from whence this jealousie in him
received originall, he having never seene or heard of any; he could
make her no other answer, but who his owne bad humour suggested, and
