quicker memory. Then saide Gasparuolo: Signior Gulfardo, I finde you
alwaies a most honest Gentleman, and will be readie at any time, to
doe you the like, or a farre greater kindnesse; depart at your
pleasure, and feare not the crossing of my Booke. So Gulfardo went
away merily contented, and Ambrosia was served as she justly
merited; she paying the price of her owne leudnesse to her Husband,
which she had a more covetous intent to keepe, questionlesse, not
caring how many like lustfull matches shee coulde make, to be so
liberally rewarded, if this had succeeded to her minde: whereas he
shewed himselfe wise and discreete, in paying nothing for his
pleasure, and requiting a covetous queane in her kinde.
THE EIGHT DAY, THE SECOND NOVELL
APPROVING, THAT NO PROMISE IS TO BE KEPT WITH SUCH WOMEN AS WILL
MAKE SALE OF THEIR HONESTY FOR COYNE. A WARNING ALSO FOR MEN,
NOT TO SUFFER PRIESTS TO BE OVER FAMILIAR WITH
THEIR WIVES
A lustie youthfull Priest of Varlungo, fell in love with a pretty
woman, named Monna Belcolore. To compasse his amorous desire, hee
lefte his Cloake (as a pledge of further payment) with her. By a
subtile sleight afterward, he made meanes to borrow a Morter of her,
which when hee sent home againe in the presence of her Husband; he
demaunded to have his Cloake sent him, as having left it in pawne
for the Morter. To pacifie her Husband, offended that shee did not
lend the Priest the Morter without a pawne: she sent him backe his
Cloake againe, albeit greatly against her will.
Both the Gentlemen and Ladies gave equall commendations, of
Gulfardoes queint beguiling the Millaine Gentle-woman Ambrosia,and
wishing all other (of her minde) might alwaies be so served. Then
the Queene, smiling on Pamphilus, commaunded him to follow next:
whereupon, thus he began.
I can tell you (faire Ladies) a short Novell, against such as are
continually offensive to us, yet we being no way able to offend him;
at least, in the same manner as they do injurie us. And for your
better understanding what and who they be, they are our lusty Priests,
who advance their Standard, and make their publike predications
against our wives, winning such advantage over them, that they can
pardon them both of the sinne and punnishment, whensoever they are
once subjected unto theyr perswasions, even as if they brought the
Soldane bound and captived, from Alexandria to Avignon. Which
imperious power, we (poore soules) cannot exercise on them,
considering, we have neither heart nor courage, to do our devoire in
just revenge on their Mothers, Sisters, Daughters, and Friends, with
the like spirit as they rise in armes against our wives. And
therefore, I meane to tell you a tale of a Country mans wife, more
to make you laugh at the conclusion thereof; then for any
singularity of words or matter: yet this benefite you may gaine
thereby, of an apparant proofe, that such Sinamon, amorous and
perswading Priests, are not alwayes to be credited on their words or
promises.
Let me then tell you, that at Varlungo, which you know to bee not
farre distant hence, there dwelt an youthfull Priest, lustie, gallant,
and proper of person (especially for Womens service) commonly called
by the name of sweet Sir Simon. Now, albeit he was a man of slender
reading, yet notwithstanding, he had store of Latine sentences by
heart; some true, but twice so many maimed and false, Saint-like
shewes, holy speeches, and ghostly admonitions, which hee would preach
under an Oake in the fields, when he had congregated his
Parishioners together. When women lay in childebed, hee was their
daily comfortable visitant, and would man them from their houses, when
they had any occasion to walke abroad: carrying alwaies a bottle of
holy water about him, wherewith he would sprinkle them by the way,
peeces of halowed Candles, and Chrisome Cakes, which pleased women
extraordinarily, and all the Country affoorded not such another
frolicke Priest, as this our nimble and active sweet Sir Simon.
Among many other of his feminine Parishioners, all of them being
hansome and comely Women: yet there was one more pleasing in his
wanton eye, then any of the rest, named Monna Belcolore, and wife to a
plaine mecanicke man, called Bentivegna del Mazzo. And, to speake
uprightly, few Countrey Villages yeelded a Woman, more fresh and
lovely of complexion, although not admirable for beauty, yet sweete
Sir Simon thoght her a Saint, and faine would be offering at her
shrine. Divers prety pleasing qualities she had, as sounding the
Cymball, playing artificially on the Timbrill, and singing thereto
as it had beene a Nightingale, dancing also so dexteriously, as
happy was the man that could dance in her company. All which so
enflamed sweet Sir Simon, that he lost his wonted sprightly behaviour,
walked sullen, sad and melancholly, as if he had melted all his
mettall, because hee could hardly have a sight of her. But on the
Sonday morning, when hee heard or knew that she was in the Church, hee
would tickle it with a Kyrie and a Sancsingular skill in singing, when
it had beene as good to heare an Asse bray. Whereas on the contrary,
when she came not to Church Masse, and all else were quicklie shaken
uppe, as if his devotion waited onely on her presence. Yet he was so
cunning in the carriage of his amorous businesse, both for her credite
and his owne; as Bentivegna her husband could not perceive it, or
any neighbor so much as suspect it.
But, to compaise more familiar acquaintance with Belcolore, hee sent
her sundry gifts and presents, day by day, as sometime a bunch of
dainty greene Garlicke, whereof he had plenty growing in his Garden,
which he manured with his owne hands, and better then all the countrey
yeelded; otherwhiles a small basket of Pease or Benes, and Onyons or
Scallions, as the season served. But when he could come in place where
she was; then he darted amourous wincks and glances at her, with
becks, nods, and blushes, Loves private Ambassadours, which shee
(being but countrey-bred) seeming by outward appearance, not to see,
retorted disdainefully, and forthwith would absent her selfe, so
that sweet Sir Simon laboured still in vaine, and could not compasse
what he coveted.
It came to passe within a while after, that on a time, (about high
noone) Sir Simon being walking abroad, chanced to meete with
Bentivegna, driving an Asse before him, laden with divers commodities,
and demaunding of him, whither he went, Bentivegna, thus answered.
In troth Sir Simon, I am going to the City, about some especiall
businesse of mine owne, and I carry these things to Signior
Bonacorci da Ginestreto, because he should helpe me before the
Judge, when I shall be called in question concerning my patrimony. Sir
Simon looking merily on him, said. Thou doest well Bentivegna, to make
a friend sure before thou need him; goe, take my blessing with thee,
and returne againe with good successe. But if thou meet with Laguccio,
or Naldino, forget not to tell them, that they must bring me my
shooe-tyes before Sunday. Bentivegna said, hee would discharge his
errand, and so parted from him, driving his Asse on towards Florence.
Now began Sir Simon to shrug, and scratch his head, thinking this to
be a fit convenient time, for him to goe visite Belcolore, and to make
triall of his fortune: wherefore, setting aside all other businesse,
he stayed no where till he came to the house, whereinto being
entred, he saide: All happinesse be to them that dwell heere.
Belcolore being then above in the Chamber, when she heard his
tongue, replyed. Sweet Sir Simon! you are heartely welcome, whether
are you walking, if the question may bee demaunded? Beleeve me
dainty Ducke, answered Sir Simon, I am come to sit a while with
thee, because I met thy Husband going to the Citie. By this time,
Belcolore was descended downe the stayres, and having once againe
given welcome to Sir Simon, she sate downe by him, cleansing of
Colewort seeds from such other course chaffe, which her Husband had
prepared before his departure.
Sir Simon hugging her in his armes, and fetching a vehement sigh,
said. My Belcolore, how long shall I pine and languish for thy love?
How now Sir Simon? answered she, is this behaviour fitting for an holy
man? Holy-men Belcolore, (quoth Sir Simon) are made of the same matter
as others be, they have the same affections, and therefore subject
to their infirmities. Santa Maria, answered Belcolore, Dare Priests
doe such things as you talke of? Yes Belcolore (quoth he) and much
better then other men can, because they are made for the very best
businesse, in which regard they are restrained from marriage. True
(quoth Belcolore) but much more from medling with other mens wives.
Touch not that Text Belcolore, replyed Sir Simon, it is somewhat above
your capacity: talke of that I come for, namely thy love, my Ducke,
and my Dove, Sir Simon is thine, I pray thee be mine.
Belcolore observing his smirking behaviour, his proper person,
pretty talke, and queint insinuating; felt a motion to female frailty,
which yet she would withstand so long as she could, and not be
over-hasty in her yeelding. Sir Simon promiseth her a new paire of
shoes, garters, ribbands, girdles, or what else she would request. Sir
Simon (quoth she) all these things which you talke of, are fit for
women: but if your love to mee be such as you make choice of,
fulfill what I will motion to you, and then (perhaps) I shall tell you
more. Sir Simons heate made him hasty to promise whatsoever she
would desire; whereupon, thus shee replyed. On Saturday, said she, I
must goe to Florence, to carry home such yarne as was sent me to
spinne, and to amend my spinning wheele: if you will lend mee ten
Florines, wherewith I know you are alwayes furnished, I shall
redeeme from the Usurer my best peticote, and my wedding gowne (both
well neere lost for lacke of repaiment) without which I cannot be
seene at Church, or in any other good place else, and then afterward
other matters may be accomplished.
Alas sweete Belcolore answered Sir Simon, I never beare any such sum
about me, for men of our profession, doe seldome carry any money at
all: but beleeve me on my word, before Saturday come, I will not faile
to bring them hither. Oh Sir (quoth Belcolore) you men are quicke
promisers, but slow performers. Doe you thinke to use me, as poore
Billezza was, who trusted to as faire words, and found her selfe
deceived? Now Sir Simon, her example in being made scandall to the
world, is a sufficient warning for me: if you be not so provided,
goe and make use of your friend, for I am not otherwise to be moved.
Nay Belcolore (quoth he) I hope you will not serve me so, but my
word shall be of better worth with you. Consider the conveniency of
time, wee being so privately here alone: whereas at my returning
hither againe, some hinderance may thwart me, and the like opportunity
be never obtained. Sir, she) you have heard my resolution; if you will
fetche the Florines, doe; otherwise, walke about your businesse, for I
am a woman of my word.
Sir Simon perceiving, that she would not trust him upon bare
words, nor any thing was to be done, without Salvum me fac, whereas
his meaning was Sine custodia; thus answered. Well Belcolove, seeing
you dare not credit my bringing the tenne Florines, according to my
promised day: I will leave you a good pawne, my very best Cloake,
lyned quite thorough with rich Silke, and made up in the choysest
manner.
Belcolore looking on the Cloake, said. How much may this Cloake
bee worth? How much? quoth Sir Simon, upon my word Belcolore, it is of
a right fine Flanders Serdge, and not above eight dayes since, I
bought it thus (ready made) of Lotto the Fripperer, and payed for it
sixe and twenty Florines, a pledge then sufficient for your ten. Is it
possible, said shee, that it should cost so much? Well, Sir Simon,
deliver it me first, I will lay it up safe for you against Saturday,
when if you fetch it not; I will redeeme mine owne things with it, and
leave you to release it your selfe.
The Cloake is laid up by Belcolore, and Sir Simon so forward in
his affection; that (in briefe) he enjoyed what hee came for; and
departed afterward in his light tripping Cassocke, but yet thorow
by-Lanes, and no much frequented places, smelling on a Nosegay, as
if hee had beene at some wedding in the Countrey, and went thus
lightly without his Cloake, for his better ease. As commonly after
actions of evill, Repentance knocketh at the doore of Conscience,
and urgeth a guilty remembrance, with some sence of sorrow: so was
it now with sweet Sir Simon, who survayin over all his vailes of
offering Candles, the validity of his yearely benefits, and all
comming nothing neere the summe of (scarce halfe) sixe and twenty
Florines; he began to repent his deed of darkenesse, although it was
acted in the day-time, and considered with himselfe, by what honest
(yet unsuspected meanes) hee might recover his Cloake againe, before
it went to the Broaker, in redemption of Belcolores pawned
apparrell, and yet to send her no Florines neither.
Having a cunning reaching wit, especially in matters for his owne
advantage, and pretending to have a dinner at his lodging, for a few
of some invited friends: he made use of a neighbours Boy, sending
him to the house of Belcolore, with request of lending him her Stone
Morter, to make Greenesawce in for his guests, because hee had meate
required such sawce. Belcolore suspecting no treachery, sent him the
Stone Morter with the Pestell, and about dinner time, when he knew
Bentivegna to bee at home with his wife, by a spye which was set for
the purpose; hee called the Clearke (usually attending on him) and
said. Take this Morter and Pestell, beare them home to Belcolore,
and tell her: Sir Simon sends them home with thankes, they having
sufficiently served his turne, and desire her likewise, to send me
my Cloake, which the Boy left as a pledge for better remembrance,
and because she would not lend it without a pawne.
