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The third Novell

Wherein, the severall powers both of Love and Fortune, is more at large approved

There was not any one in the whole company, but much commended the Novell reported by Madam Emillia, and when the Queene perceived it was ended, she turned towards Madam Eliza, commanding her to continue on their delightfull exercise: whereto shee declaring her willing obedience, began to speak thus. Courteous Ladies, I remember one unfortunate night, which happened to two Lovers, that were not indued with the greatest discretion. But because they had very many faire and happy dayes afterwardes, I am the more willing for to let you heare it.

In the Citie of Rome, which (in times past) was called the Ladie and Mistresse of the world, though now scarsely so good as the waiting maid: there dwelt sometime a yong Gentleman, named Pedro Bocamazzo, descended from one of the most honourable families in Rome, who was much enamoured of a beautifull Gentlewoman, called Angelina, daughter to one named Giglivozzo Saullo, whose fortunes were none of the fairest, yet he greatly esteemed among the Romaines. The entercourse of love between these twaine, had so equally enstructed their hearts and souls, that it could hardly be judged which of them was the more fervent in affection. But he, not being inured to such oppressing passions, and therefore the lesse able to support them, except he were sure to compasse his desire, plainly made the motion, that he might enjoy her in honourable mariage. Which his parents and friends hearing, they went to conferre with him, blaming him with over-much basenesse, so farre to disgrace himselfe and his stocke. Beside, they advised the Father to the Maid, neither to credit what Pedro saide in this case, or to live in hope of any such match, because they all did wholly despise it.

Pedro perceiving, that the way was shut up, whereby (and none other) he was to mount the Ladder of his hopes; began to waxe weary of longer living: and if he could have won her fathers consent, he would have maried her in the despight of all his friends. Neverthelesse, he had a conceit hammering in his head, which if the maid would bee as forward as himselfe, should bring the matter to full effect. Letters and secret intelligences passing still betweene, at length he understood her ready resolution, to adventure with him thorough all fortunes whatsoever, concluding on their sodaine and secret flight from Rome. For which Pedro did so well provide, that very early in a morning, and well mounted on horsebacke, they tooke the way leading unto Alagna, where Pedro had some honest friends, in whom he reposed especiall trust. Riding on thus thorow the countrey, having no leysure to accomplish their marriage, because they stoode in feare of pursuite: they were ridden above foure leagues from Rome, still shortning the way with their amorous discoursing.

It fortuned, that Pedro having no certaine knowledge of the way, but following a trackt guiding too farre on the left hand; rode quite out of course, and came at last within sight of a small Castle, out of which (before they were aware) yssued twelve Villaines, whom Angelina sooner espyed, then Pedro could do, which made her cry out to him, saying: Help deere Love to save us, or else we shall be assayled. Pedro then turning his horse so expeditiously as he could, and giving him the spurres as neede required; mainly he gallopped into a neere adjoining Forrest, more minding the following of Angelina, then any direction of his way, or then that endeavoured to be his hinderance. So that by often winding & turning about, as the passage appeared troublesome to him, when he thought him selfe free and furthest from them, he was round engirt, and seized on by them. When they had made him to dismount from his horse, questioning him of whence and what he was, and he resolving them therein, they fell into a secret consultation, saying thus among themselves. This man is a friend to our deadly enemies, how can wee then otherwise dispose of him, but bereave him of all he hath, and in despight of the Orsini (men in nature hatefull to us) hang him up heere on one of these Trees?

All of them agreeing in this dismall resolution, they commanded Pedro to put off his garments, which he yeelding to do (albeit unwillingly) it so fell out, that five and twenty other theeves, came sodainly rushing in upon them, crying, Kill, kill, and spare not a man.

They which before had surprized Pedro, desiring nowe to shifte for their owne safetie; left him standing quaking in his shirt, and so ranne away mainely to defend themselves. Which the new crewe perceyving, and that their number farre exceeded the other: they followed to robbe them of what they had gotten, accounting it as a present purchase for them. Which when Pedro perceyved, and saw none tarrying to prey uppon him; hee put on his cloathes againe, and mounting on his owne Horsse, gallopped that way, which Angelina before had taken: yet could hee not descry any tracke or path, or so much as the footing of a horse; but thought himselfe in sufficient securitie, beeing rid of them that first seized on him, and also of the rest, which followed in the pursuite of them.

For the losse of his beloved Angelina, he was the most wofull man in the world, wandering one while this way, and then againe another, calling for her all about the Forrest, without any answere returning to him. And not daring to ride backe againe, on he travailed still, not knowing where to make his arrivall. And having formerly heard of savage ravenous beasts, which commonly live in such unfrequented Forrests: he not onely was in feare of loosing his owne life, but also despayred much for his Angelina, least some Lyon or Woolfe, had torne her body in peeces.

Thus rode on poore unfortunate Pedro, untill the breake of day appeared, not finding any meanes to get forth of the Forrest, still crying and calling for his fayre friend, riding many times backeward, when as hee thought hee rode forward, untill hee became so weake and faint, what with extreame feare, lowd calling, and continuing so long a while without any sustenance, that the whole day beeing thus spent in vaine, and darke night sodainly come uppon him, hee was not able to hold out any longer.

Now was hee in farre worse case then before, not knowing where, or how to dispose of himselfe, or what might best bee done in so great a necessity. From his Horse hee alighted, and tying him by the bridle unto a great tree, uppe he climbed into the same Tree, fearing to bee devoured (in the night time) by some wilde beast, choosing rather to let his Horsse perish, then himselfe. Within a while after, the Moone beganne to rise, and the skies appeared bright and cleare: yet durst hee not nod, or take a nap, lest he should fall out of the tree; but sate still greeving, sighing, and mourning, despairing of ever seeing his Angelina any more, for he could not be comforted by the smallest hopefull perswasion, that any good fortune might befall her in such a desolate Forrest, where nothing but dismall feares was to be expected, and no likelihood that she should escape with life.

Now, concerning poore affrighted Angelina, who (as you heard before) knew not any place of refuge to flye unto: but even as it pleased hir horse to carry her: she entred so farre into the Forest, that she could not devise where to seeke her owne safety. And therefore, even as it fared with her friend Pedro, in the same manner did it fall out with her, wandering the whole night, and all the day following, one while taking one hopefull tracke, and then another, calling, weeping, wringing hir hands, and greevously complaining of her hard fortune. At the length, perceyving that Pedro came not to her at all, she found a little path (which shee lighted on by great good fortune) even when dark night was apace drawing, and followed it so long, till it brought her within the sight of a small poore Cottage, whereto she rode on so fast as she could; and found therein a very old man, having a wife rather more aged then he, who seeing hir to be without company, the old man spake thus unto her.

Faire daughter (quoth he) whether wander you at such an unseasonable houre, and all alone in a place so desolate? The Damosell weeping, replied; that shee had lost her company in the forest, and enquired how neere shee was to Alagna. Daughter (answered the old man) this is not the way to Alagna, for it is above sixe leagues hence. Then shee desired to knowe, how farre off shee was from such houses, where she might have any reasonable lodging? There are none so neere, said the old man, that day light will give you leave to reach. May it please you then good Father (replied Angelina) seeing I cannot travaile any whether else; For Gods sake, to let me remaine heere with you this night. Daughter answered the good old man, wee can gladly give you entertainement here, for this night, in such poore manner as you see: but let mee tell you withall, that up and downe these wooddes (as well by night as day) walke companies of all conditions, and rather enimies then friends, who doe us many greevious displeasures and harmes. Now if by misfortune, you beeing heere, any such people should come, and seeing you so loovely faire, as indeed you are, offer you any shame or injurie: Alas you see it lies not in our power to lend you any helpe or succour. I thought it good (therefore) to acquaint you heerewith; because if any such mischance do happen, you should not afterward complaine of us.

The yong Maiden, seeing the time to be so farre spent, albeit the olde mans words did much dismay her, yet she thus replyed. If it be the will of heaven, both you and I shall be defended from any misfortune: but if any such mischance do happen, I account the matter lesse deserving grief, if I fall into the mercy of men, then to be devoured by wild beasts in this Forrest. So, being dismounted from her horse, and entred into the homely house; she supt poorely with the olde man and his wife, with such mean cates as their provision affoorded: and after supper, lay downe in hir garments on the same poore pallet, where the aged couple tooke their rest, and was very well contented therewith, albeit she could not refraine from sighing and weeping, to bee thus divided from her deare Pedro, of whose life and welfare she greatly despaired.

When it was almost day, she heard a great noise of people travailing by, whereupon sodainly she arose, and ranne into a Garden plot, which was on the backside of the poore Cottage, espying in one of the corners a great stacke of Hay, wherein she hid her selfe, to the end, that travelling strangers might not readily finde her there in the house. Scarsely was she fully hidden, but a great company of Theeves and Villaines, finding the doore open, rushed into the Cottage, where looking round about them for some booty, they saw the Damosels horse stand ready sadled, which made them demand to whom it belonged. The good olde man, not seeing the Maiden present there, but immagining that shee had made some shift for her selfe, answered thus. Gentlemen, there is no body here but my wife and my selfe: as for this Horse, which seemeth to bee escaped from the Owner; hee came hither yesternight, and we gave him house-roome heere, rather then to be devoured by Wolves abroad. Then said the principall of the Theevish crew; This horse shall be ours, in regard he hath no other master, and let the owner come claime him of us.

When they had searched every corner of the poore Cottage, & found no such prey as they looked for, some of them went into the backe side; where they had left their Javelins and Targets, wherewith they used commonly to travaile. It fortuned, that one of them, being more subtily suspitious then the rest, thrust his Javeline into the stacke of Hay, in the very same place where the Damosell lay hidden, missing very little of killing her; for it entred so farre, that the iron head pierced quite thorough her Garments, and touched her left bare brest: whereupon, shee was ready to cry out, as fearing that she was wounded: but considering the place where she was, she lay still, and spake not a word. This disordred company, after they had fed on some young Kids, and other flesh which they brought with them thither, they went thence about their theeving exercise, taking the Damosels horse along with them.

After they were gone a good distance off, the good old man beganne thus to question his Wife. What is become (quoth hee) of our young Gentlewoman, which came so late to us yesternight? I have not seen hir to day since our arising. The old woman made answer, that she knew not where she was, and sought all about to finde her. Angelinaes feares being well over-blowne, and hearing none of the former noise, which made her the better hope of their departure, came forth of the Hay-stack; whereof the good old man was not a little joyfull, and because she had so well escaped from them: so seeing it was now broad day-light, he sayde unto her. Now that the morning is so fairely begun, if you can be so well contented, we will bring you to a Castle, which stands about two miles and an halfe hence, where you will be sure to remaine in safety. But you must needs travaile thither on foote, because the night-walkers that happened hither, have taken away your horse with them.

Angelina making little or no account of such a losse, entreated them for charities sake, to conduct her to that Castle, which accordingly they did, and arrived there betweene seven and eight of the clocke. The Castle belonged to one of the Orsini, being called, Liello di Campo di Fiore, and by great good fortune, his wife was then there, she being a very vertuous and religious Lady. No sooner did shee looke upon Angelina, but shee knew her immediately, and entertaining her very willingly, requested, to know the reason of her thus arriving there: which shee at large related, and moved the Lady (who likewise knew Pedro perfectly well) to much compassion, because he was a kinsman and deare friend to her Husband; and understanding how the Theeves had surprized him, shee feared, that he was slaine among them, whereupon shee spake thus to Angelina. Seeing you know not what is become of my kinsman Pedro, you shall remaine here with me, untill such time, as (if we heare no other tidings of him) you may with safety be sent backe to Rome.

Pedro all this while sitting in the Tree, so full of griefe, as no man could be more; about the houre of midnight (by the bright splendour of the Moone) espied about some twenty Wolves, who, so soone as they got a sight of the Horse, ran and engirt him round about. The Horse when he perceived them so neere him, drew his head so strongly back-ward, that breaking the reines of his bridle, he laboured to escape away from them. But being beset on every side, and utterly unable to helpe himselfe, he contended with his teeth & feete in his owne defence, till they haled him violently to the ground, and tearing his body in peeces, left not a jot of him but the bare bones, and afterward ran ranging thorow the Forrest. At this sight, poore Pedro was mightily dismayed, fearing to speed no better then his Horse had done, and therefore could not devise what was best to be done; for he saw no likelihood now, of getting out of the Forrest with life. But day-light drawing on apace, and he almost dead with cold, having stood quaking so long in the Tree; at length by continuall looking every where about him, to discerne the least glimpse of any comfort; he espied a great fire, which seemed to be about halfe a mile off from him.

By this time it was broade day, when he descended downe out of the Tree, (yet not without much feare) and tooke his way towards the fire, where being arrived, he found a company of Shepheards banquetting about it, whom he curteously saluting, they tooke pity on his distresse, and welcommed him kindly. After he had tasted of such cheare as they had, and was indifferently refreshed by the good fire; hee discoursed his hard disasters to them, as also how he happened thither, desiring to know, if any Village or Castle were neere thereabout, where he might in better manner releeve himselfe. The Shepheards told him, that about a mile and an halfe from thence, was the Castle of Signior Liello di Campo di Fiore, and that his Lady was now residing there; which was no meane comfort to poore Pedro, requesting that one of them would accompany him thither, as two of them did in loving manner, to ridde him of all further feares.

When he was arrived at the Castle, and found there divers of his familiar acquaintance; he laboured to procure some meanes, that the Damosell might be sought for in the Forrest. Then the Lady calling for her, and bringing her to him; he ran and caught her in his armes, being ready to swoune with conceit of joy, for never could any man be more comforted, then he was at the sight of his Angelina, and questionlesse, her joy was not a jot inferiour to his, such a simpathy of firme love was sealed between them. The Lady of the Castle, after shee had given them very gracious entertainement, and understood the scope of their bold adventure; shee reproved them both somewhat sharpely, for presuming so farre without the consent of their Parents. But perceiving (notwithstanding all her remonstrances) that they continued still constant in their resolution, without any inequality on either side; shee saide to her selfe. Why should this matter be any way offensive to me? They love each other loyally; they are not inferiour to one another in birth, but in fortune; they are equally loved and allied to my Husband, and their desire is both honest and honourable. Moreover, what know I, if it be the will of Heaven to have it so? Theeves intended to hang him, in malice to his name and kinred, from which hard fate he hath happily escaped. Her life was endangered by a sharpe pointed Javeline, and yet her fairer starres would not suffer her so to perish: beside, they both have escaped the fury of ravenous wild beasts, and all these are apparant signes, that future comforts should recompence former passed misfortunes; farre be it therefore from me, to hinder the appointment of the Heavens.

Then turning her selfe to them, thus shee proceeded. If your desire be to joyne in honourable marriage, I am well contented therewith, and your nuptials shall here be sollemnized at my Husbands charges. Afterward both he and I will endeavour, to make peace between you and your discontented Parents. Pedro was not a little joyfull at her kind offer, and Angelina much more then he; so they were maried together in the Castle, and worthily feasted by the Lady, as Forrest entertainment could permit, and there they enjoyed the first fruits of their love. Within a short while after, the Lady and they (well mounted on Horse-backe, and attended with an honourable traine) returned to Rome; where her Lord Liello and shee prevailed so wel with Pedroes angry Parents: that all variance ended in love and peace, and afterward they lived lovingly together, till old age made them as honourable, as their true and mutuall affection formerly had done.

Ricciardo Manardy, was found by Messer Lizio da Valbonna, as he sate fast asleepe at his Daughters Chamber window, having his hand fast in hers, and shee sleeping in the same manner. Whereupon, they were joyned together in marriage, and their long loyall love mutually recompenced

The fourth Novell

Declaring the discreete providence of Parents, in care of their Childrens love and their owne credit, to cut off inconveniences, before they doe proceede too farre

Madam Eliza having ended her Tale, and heard what commendations the whole company gave thereof; the Queene commanded Philostratus, to tell a Novell agreeing with his owne minde, who smiling thereat, thus replyed. Faire Ladies, I have beene so often checkt & snapt, for my yester dayes matter and argument of discoursing, which was both tedious and offensive to you; that if I intended to make you any amends, I should now undertake to tell such a Tale, as might put you into a mirthfull humour. Which I am determined to doe, in relating a briefe and pleasant Novell, not any way offensive (as I trust) but exemplary for some good notes of observation.

Not long since, there lived in Romania, a Knight, a very honest Gentleman, and well qualified, whose name was Messer Lizio da Valbonna, to whom it fortuned, that (at his entrance into age) by his Lady and wife, called Jaquemina, he had a Daughter, the very choycest and goodliest gentlewoman in all those parts. Now because such a happy blessing (in their olde yeeres) was not a little comfortable to them; they thought themselves the more bound in duty, to be circumspect of her education, by keeping her out of over-frequent companies, but onely such as agreed best with their gravity, & might give the least ill example to their Daughter, who was named Catharina; as making no doubt, but by this their provident and wary respect, to match her in mariage answerable to their liking. There was also a young Gentleman, in the very flourishing estate of his youthfull time, descended from the Family of the Manardy da Brettinoro, named Messer Ricciardo, who oftentimes frequented the House of Messer Lizio, and was a continuall welcome guest to his Table, Messer Lizio and his wife making the like account of him, even as if he had beene their owne Sonne.

This young Gallant, perceiving the Maiden to be very beautifull, of singular behaviour, and of such yeeres as was fit for mariage, became exceedingly enamoured of her, yet concealed his affection so closely as he could; which was not so covertly caried, but that she perceived it, and grew in as good liking of him. Many times he had an earnest desire to have conference with her, which yet still he deferred, as fearing to displease her; till at the length he lighted on an apt opportunity, and boldly spake to her in this manner. Faire Catharina, I hope thou wilt not let me die for thy love? Signior Ricciardo (replyed shee suddenly againe) I hope you will extend the like mercy to me, as you desire that I should shew to you. This answere was so pleasing to Messer Ricciardo, that presently he saide. Alas deare Love, I have dedicated all my fairest fortunes onely to thy service, so that it remaineth soly in thy power, to dispose of me as best shall please thee, and to appoint such times of private conversation, as may yeeld more comfort to my poore afflicted soule.

Catherina standing musing awhile, at last returned him this answere. Signior Ricciardo, quoth shee, you see what a restraint is set on my liberty, how short I am kept from conversing with any one, that I hold this our enterparlance now almost miraculous. But if you could devise any convenient meanes, to admit us more familiar freedome, without any prejudice to mine honour, or the least distaste of my Parents; doe but enstruct it, and I will adventure it. Ricciardo having considered on many wayes and meanes, thought one to be the fittest of all; and therefore thus replyed. Catharina (quoth he) the onely place for our more private talking together, I conceive to be the Gallery over your Fathers Garden. If you can winne your Mother to let you lodge there, I will make meanes to climbe over the wall, and at the goodly gazing window, we may discourse so long as we please. Now trust me deare Love (answered Catharina) no place can be more convenient for our purpose, there shall we heare the sweete Birds sing, especially the Nightingale, which I have heard singing there all the night long; I will breake the matter to my Mother, and how I speede, you shall heare further from me. So, with divers parting kisses, they brake off conference, till their next meeting.

On the day following, which was towards the ending of the moneth of May, Catharina began to complaine to her Mother, that the season was over-hot and tedious, to be still lodged in her Mothers Chamber, because it was an hinderance to her sleeping; and wanting rest, it would be an empairing of her health. Why Daughter (quoth the Mother) the weather (as yet) is not so hot, but (in my minde) you may very well endure it. Alas Mother, said shee, aged people, as you and my Father are, doe not feele the heates of youthfull bloud, by reason of your farre colder complexion, which is not to be measured by younger yeeres. I know that well Daughter, replyed the Mother; but is it in my power, to make the weather warme or coole, as thou perhaps wouldst have it? Seasons are to be suffered, according to their severall qualities; and though the last night might seeme hot, this next ensuing may be cooler, and then thy rest will be the better. No Mother, quoth Catherina, that cannot be; for as Summer proceedeth on, so the heate encreaseth, and no expectation can be of temperate weather, untill it groweth to Winter againe. Why Daughter, saide the Mother, what wouldest thou have me to doe? Mother (quoth shee) if it might stand with my Fathers good liking and yours, I would be lodged in the Garden Gallery, which is a great deale more coole, and temperate. There shall I heare the sweete Nightingale sing, as every night shee useth to doe, and many other pretty Birds beside, which I cannot doe, lodging in your Chamber.

The Mother loving her Daughter dearely, as being some-what over-fond of her, and very willing to give her contentment; promised to impart her minde to her Father, not doubting but to compasse what shee requested. When shee had moved the matter to Messer Lizio, whose age made him somewhat froward and teasty; angerly he said to his wife. Why how now woman? Cannot our Daughter sleepe, except shee heare the Nightingale sing? Let there be a bed made for her in the Oven, and there let the Crickets make her melody. When Catharina heard this answere from her Father, and saw her desire to be disappointed; not onely could shee not take any rest the night following, but also complained more of the heate then before, not suffering her Mother to take any rest, which made her goe angerly to her Husband in the morning, saying. Why Husband, have we but one onely Daughter, whom you pretend to love right dearely, and yet can you be so carelesse of her, as to denie her a request, which is no more then reason? What matter is it to you or me, to let her lodge in the Garden Gallery? Is her young bloud to be compared with ours? Can our weake and crazie bodies, feele the frolicke temper of hers? Alas, shee is hardly (as yet) out of her childish yeeres, and Children have many desires farre differing from ours: the singing of Birds is rare musicke to them, and chiefly the Nightingale; whose sweete notes will provoke them to rest, when neither art or physicke can doe it.

Is it even so Wife? answered Messer Lizio. Must your will and mine be governed by our Daughter? Well be it so then, let her bed be made in the Garden Gallerie, but I will have the keeping of the key, both to locke her in at night, and set her at libertie every morning. Woman, woman, young wenches are wily, many wanton crochets are busie in their braines, and to us that are aged, they sing like Lapwings, telling us one thing, and intending another; talking of Nightingales, when their mindes run on Cocke-Sparrowes. Seeing Wife, shee must needes have her minde, let yet your care and mine extend so farre, to keepe her chastity uncorrupted, and our credulity from being abused. Catharina having thus prevailed with her Mother, her bed made in the Garden Gallery, and secret intelligence given to Ricciardo, for preparing his meanes of accesse to her window; old provident Lizio lockes the doore to bed-ward, and gives her liberty to come forth in the morning, for his owne lodging was neere to the same Gallery.

In the dead and silent time of night, when all (but Lovers) take their rest; Ricciardo having provided a Ladder of Ropes, with grapling hookes to take hold above and below, according as he had occasion to use it. By helpe thereof, first he mounted over the Garden wall, and then climbde up to the Gallery window, before which (as is every where in Italie) was a little round engirting Tarras, onely for a man to stand upon, for making cleane the window, or otherwise repairing it. Many nights (in this manner) enjoyed they their meetings, entermixing their amorous conference with infinite kisses and kinde embraces, as the window gave leave, he sitting in the Tarras, and departing alwayes before breake of day, for feare of being discovered by any.

But, as excesse of delight is the Nurse to negligence, and begetteth such an over-presuming boldnesse, as afterward proveth to be sauced with repentance: so came it to passe with our over-fond Lovers, in being taken tardy through their owne folly. After they had many times met in this manner, the nights (according to the season) growing shorter and shorter, which their stolne delight made them lesse respective of, then was requisite in an adventure so dangerous: it fortuned, that their amorous pleasure had so farre transported them, and dulled their sences in such sort, by these their continued nightly watchings; that they both fell fast asleepe, he having his hand closed in hers, and shee one arme folded about his body, and thus they slept till broade day light. Old Messer Lizio, who continually was the morning Cocke to the whole House, going foorth into his Garden, saw how his Daughter and Ricciardo were seated at the window. In he went againe, and going to his wives Chamber, saide to her. Rise quickly wife, and you shall see, what made our Daughter so desirous to lodge in the Garden Gallery. I perceive that shee loved to heare the Nightingale, for shee hath caught one, and holds him fast in her hand. Is it possible, saide the Mother, that our Daughter should catch a live Nightingale in the darke? You shall see that your selfe, answered Messer Lizio, if you will make haste, and goe with me.