Tragicall Tales translated by Tvrbervile In time of his troubles out of sundrie Italians, with the Argument and Lenuoye to eche Tale |
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 | Tragicall Tales translated by Tvrbervile |  |
50
of Lumbardie you know,
A citie very brauely builte,
and much set out to shewe:
Where as in auncient dayes
a famous knight there dwelde,
Who for good giftes and linage both
all others farre excelde:
A man commended much,
Gentile was his name.
This worthy gallant fell in loue
by fortune, with a dame
That Catilina hight,
one Nicoluccios wyfe,
A passing faire, and featurde wenche,
and ledde an honest life,
And loude her husband so,
as she did little waye
The frendship of enamored youthes,
nor ought that they could say.
This Gentleman that sawe
the Ladies faithfull breast,
And how he might by no deuice
to him her fansie wrest,
Nor enter in her grace,
whom he did loue so well,
Nor by good seruice gaine good will,
to deepe despaire he fell.
[50]
Modena he retyrde,
And bore an office in the towne,
as one there to desyrde.
It fortunde on a time
when Nicoluccio rode
From home, as touching his affaires,
and that his wife abode
A three myles off the towne,
where he had buylte a graunge,
To make her mery with her friendes,
and eke the ayre to chaunge:
Then being great with childe,
not many weekes to goe:
This Lady had a great mishap,
as here my pen shall showe.
A griefe, I wote not what,
with such a sodayne force
And monstrous might, befell the dame,
and conquerde sore her corse
As in the Ladies limmes
no sparke of life appeerde,
And more than that, another thing
there was, that most discheerde
Her kinsfolkes then in place:
for such as had good sight
And skill in Physike, deemde her dead,
and gaue her ouer quight.
51
that wiste howe matters went
By her report in time of life,
and howe that she had spent
Not full so many monthes
as giue a babee breath,
And make it vp a perfect childe:
when once they sawe her death.
Not making farther searche,
in case as there she laye,
Unto a Church, not farre from thence,
the carkasse did conuay,
And gaue it there a graue,
as Ladies vse to lye.
The bodie being buried thus,
a friende of his did hye
Him to Gentile straight,
to tell him of the newes,
Who though was fardest frō her grace,
yet could none other chuse
But sorrowe at her death.
When greatest greefe was past,
And that he had be thought awhile,
thus out he brake at last.
Loe (Lady) lo, (quoth he)
nowe art thou dead in graue,
Nowe (Madame Catilina) I,
who during life could haue
[51]
nor sweete regarding eye,
Will be so bolde to steale a kisse
as you in coffin lie.
Nowe booteth do defence,
you cannot now resist:
Wherefore (assure thee) Lady nowe,
thou shalt be sweetely kist.
Howe dead soeuer thou arte,
nowe will I take delight.
And hauing tolde his tale, the day
withdrewe, and made it night:
Then taking order howe
he mought, that none might see,
Dispatche and goe vnto the place,
his trustie frend and hee,
Upon their geldings mounte,
and neuer made a staye
Untill they came vnto the Church,
where dead the Ladie laye:
Where being lighted off
their horses, in they goe,
And vp they brake the coffyn straight,
and he that loude her so,
Laye by the Ladies side,
and clapte his face to hers,
And lent her many a louing kisse,
and bathde her breast with teares,
52
But as we daily see,
The lust of man not long content,
doth euer long to bee,
Proceeding farther on:
but moste of all the rest,
The fonde desire of such as are
with raging loue possest.
So he that had resolude
no longer there to staye,
But doe his feate, and home agayne,
thus to himselfe gan saye:
Oh, sith I nowe am here
why should I idle stande?
Why doe not I this breast of thine
imbrace, and feele with hande?
I neuer after this,
shall touch it so againe,
Nor neuer mynde, Gentile thus
proceeding in his vaine,
Into her bosome thrust
his hande beneath her pappe,
And staying there a little space,
did feele a thing by happe
Within her wombe to wagge,
and beat against her brest:
Whereof at first he woxe amazde,
but after repossest
[52]
a further triall hee
Did make, and then he found the corse,
not thorough dead to bee,
Though little were the life,
yet some he knew for trouth,
To rest within the Ladies limmes:
wherefore the gallants both,
From out the coffyn tooke
this lately buried corse,
And vp they leapte in all the poast.
and layde her on the horse
Before the saddle bowe,
and home in haste they ride,
Both to recouer life againe,
and fearing to be spyde.
Thus closely was she brought
within Bologna walles,
Unto Gentiles house, where he
vpon his mother calles,
Requesting her to helpe,
the case required haste.
His mother being graue and wyfe,
receiude the corse as fast
As she good matron mought:
which deede of pitie done,
Both who she was, and what had hapt,
demaunded of her sonne:
53
and how the fortune fell,
Which when the matron vnderstood,
and wist the matter well:
To ruth and mercy moude,
(as is a womans guise)
Shee makes her fire, she heats her bathes
and so the carkas plyes,
With chafing vp and downe,
and rubbing euerie vaine:
As shee at last had made the life
and senses come againe:
Her wandring wits retyrde,
that earst had been astray,
And being thus reuiude, at length
thus sighing gan shee say:
Alas, where am I nowe?
what place is this (quoth shee?)
Gentiles chearfull mother saide,
a place full fit for thee,
With that shee somewhat woxe
aduisde, but wist not where
Shee was bestead, when that at last
she sawe Gentile there:
Amazed in her minde,
requested of the dame
To tell her of the case, and how
vnto her house she came.
[53]
the whole discourse begonne,
And did vnfold from point to point
how euerie thing was done.
Whereof she wofull woxe
and pensiue for a space.
But yet at length shee gaue him thankes
for all his former grace
And curtesies imployde:
and as he euer bore
A true and faithfull heart to her
in all her life before,
And as he was a man
in whom good nature were:
So did shee craue him that shee might
not be abused there:
But safely be conuaide
vnto her graunge againe,
And to her husbandes house vntouchte
without dishonours staine.
To whom Gentile thus
replide: Well dame (quoth hee)
How great soeuer the loue hath been
which I haue borne to thee,
Before this present day,
I doe not purpose now,
Nor after this at any time,
(since God would this allowe
54
and raise thee from the pit:
And loue which I haue alwayes meant
to thee hath caused it:)
I purpose not, I say,
to deale in other wise,
Than if thou were my sister deare,
this promise shall suffice.
But this good turne that I
haue done to you this night,
Doth well deserue, that you the same
in some respect requight.
Wherefore I shall desire
that you with willing brest,
Wyll friendly graunt me my demaunde,
and yeeld me one request.
Whereto the humble dame
agreed, and was content,
If so shee coulde, and honest were
the sute Gentile ment.
Then spake the courteous knight,
Well (Madame) this is true,
That both your parents and your friends
of Boline, thinke that you
Are buried low enough
in coffin closlie layde,
None tarries you at home as now,
they all doe deeme you dead,
[54]
and simple sute shalbe,
That with my mother here to stay
yee will vouchsafe, and me,
In secrete and vnseene,
vntill such time as I
May to Modena goe and come
againe, I meane to hie.
The cause that makes me craue
and aske this lingring stay,
Is, that in presence of the best,
and chiefe that beare the sway
Within the towne, I minde
to giue you as a gift,
And to present you to your spouse,
this is my only drift.
The Ladie knowing that
Gentile was her friend,
And saw that honest was his sute,
did quickly condescend:
Though greatly shee desirde,
new brought to life againe,
To see and comfort those her friends
that mournde for her amaine:
Shee promist on her faith,
with her to tarrie there.
And yer her tale was throughly told,
her time was come to beare
55
shee must to trauaile straight
The Matron euer at an inch
did on this Ladie waite:
And vsde the matter so,
as in a day or twaine,
She was deliuerde of a boy,
and ouercame her paine.
Whereat Gentile ioyde,
and eke the dame that had
Such great good hap and passing lucke,
did waxe exceeding glad.
The knight disposde his things,
and vsde the matter so,
As shee had been his wedded wife:
and thereupō did goe
Unto Modena, where
an office he had borne,
And there he staied vntill such time
as all his yere was worne.
And selfe same day that he
accompted on, to make
Returne vnto his mothers house
at Boline, he bespake.
That diuers of the states,
and chiefest men that were
Within the towne, should be his guestes.
there was of purpose there,
[55]
did owe this gentle dame.
As soone as to his mothers house
this lustie gallant came,
The master of the feast
dismounted, in hee hyes:
Where, when among his other guestes,
the Ladie he espies,
And eke her sucking sonne,
that hung vpon her breast,
Hee was the meeriest man aliue:
Then plaste he euery guest
In order as their state
and calling did require,
There wanted not a deintie dish
that Courtiers could desire:
When washing time drewe nye,
and euery man at boorde
Had vittled well, and all was whiste,
and no man spake a worde:
The Ladie being taught
her lesson long ere that,
And well instructed in the case,
and knowyng what was what,
Gentile thus begunne
his solemne tale to tell:
My Lords and guestes (quoth hee) I like
the order passing well
56
for when they make a feast,
In honour of their friends, whom they
doe loue and fansie best,
They bid them to their house,
and set before their eyes
The chiefest iewell which they haue,
and good, of greatest price,
What thing soeuer it be:
his wife, with whom he sleepes,
His daintie daughter, or his wench,
whome hee for pleasure keepes.
He nothing hides as then,
or locks from open sight:
Affirming by this deede of his,
that likewise (if he might)
He woulde vnfold the heart
that lyes within his breast,
Which custome I in Bologne minde
to practise to my guest.
You honour this my feast
with noble presence here,
And I will play the Persians part:
looke what I hold most deare,
And chiefly doe esteeme,
or fauour in my heart,
Or euer shall regard or weigh,
will show you or you part.
[56]
or ere I bring it out,
That you will heere decide a case,
and rid me out of doubt
Which I myselfe will moue.
There is a noble man,
Who hath a seruant in his house
that doth the best he can
To please his masters minde,
hee doth at nothing stick:
This trustie painfull seruant falles
at length exceeding sicke,
The retchlesse master, not
regarding him at all,
Nor forcing what by such disease
his seruant may befall,
Conuayes him out of doore,
in open streat to lie,
To sinke or swimme, to mende or paire
to liue or els to die.
A Straunger commes by happe,
and hee to mercy moude,
To see the poore diseasde soule
so slenderly beloude,
In danger of his death,
to lie amids the streat:
A place for such as are in paine.
too cold and farre vnmeete:
57
and takes such tender care
Of him, and plies him so with fire
and comfortable fare,
As both recouers limmes
and gettes his former strength,
And settes this feeble seruant vp
vpon his legges at length:
Now gladly would I learne
which of these both doth best
Deserue to haue this seruaunt, who
was lately so distrest?
Where he that ought him first
and gaue him off in grief,
Or he that pitied him in paine
and holpe him to relief?
And if the maister, who
so cruelly did deale
In time of sicknesse, will the man
that did his seruant heale,
To yeelde him vp againe,
where he by lawe and right
May well with-hold the seruant, whom
he holpe in wretched plight?
The gentlemen among
themselues debated harde,
But drewe in one selfe string at length
the matter was refarde
[57]
(because he could full well
Discerne of matters, and his tale
in skilfull order tell)
Should giue the verdit vp.
He highly did commend
The vse of Persia, with the rest
concluding in the end,
Which was, that he whom first
this silly soule did serue,
Of right could lay no lawfull clayme:
full ill he did deserue
A maisters name, that when
his seruant was at worst,
Would turne him off, and let him lie:
but he, that when the furst
Had played this cruell parte,
did curteously entreate
The sicke and outcast, ayding him
with Phisicke and with meate,
He mought by law and righte,
no preiudice at all
Done to the first, enioy the man,
and him his seruant call.
Then all the other guestes
that at the banquet were,
Affirmde the same that Nicoluccio
had pronounced there.
58
as one that was content
With such an answere, and the more,
for that with him it went,
Concluded, that he thought
as all the other saide:
And now (quoth he) I thinke that I
sufficiently haue stayde.
Now time it is that I
performe my promise made,
In that I meant to honour you,
as is the Persians trade.
With that he calls to him
a couple of his friendes,
Familiar, and of greatest trust,
whom he in message sendes
Unto the Ladie, that
was clad in braue araye,
Within a chamber, willing hir
that she would come her way,
To cheere his Royall guestes,
with presence of her selfe.
The Ladie taking in her armes
that litle puling elfe,
That was so lately borne,
came in, and thother too
Attending on her, and as earst
Gentile willde her doe,
[58]
a guest, a Noble man,
And then the Knight that made the feast
his processe thus began.
Loe, Lordings, here beholde
the thing whereof I spake,
This is the iewell, whereof I
such great accompt doe make,
And euer doe entend,
of nothing else so much
I force, as this: now iudge your selfes,
where it be worthy such
Regard as I bestowe:
marke euery member well:
With that the states, to honor of
this featurd Ladie sell,
And praisde her very much,
affirming to the Knight,
That sinne it were not to esteeme
so fayre and braue a wight.
The guestes begonne to gaze,
and some there were in place,
That would haue sworne, that she had ben
the very same she was,
Saue that they knew that she
was buried long agoe.
But most of all the other guestes,
that Nicoluccio,
59
this louely Lady eyde:
And when Gentile did by chaunce
and fortune steppe aside,
As one that had desire
to question with the Dame,
No longer able to withhold:
demaunded whence she came,
Where she a stranger were,
or els in Bologne borne:
The Lady knowing who it was,
should she not bene forsworne,
Would to her husband tolde
and opened all the case:
But to discharge her promise made,
she helde her peace, with face
As modest as she mighte.
Some other asked, where
That little pretie boy was hers
which she at breast did beare?
And other did demaund,
where she were ought allyde,
Or were Gentiles daughter deare?
she not a word replide.
With that the feaster came,
your iewell sir (quoth some
That sate at borde) is passing faire.
but is too seeming dombe.
[59]
whereto Gentile said:
It yeeldes no slender token of
her vertue that she staid
And helde her tong as now.
Declare (quoth they) to vs
What Dame she is, to which request
Gentile answearde thus.
I will with all my heart
declare the truth (quoth he)
If you, vntill the whole discourse
be told, will promise me,
Not once to moue a foote,
but euery one to keepe
His place: whereto they all agreed,
and gan to sweare by deepe
And very solemne othes
to complishe his request.
The table being taken vp,
the keeper of the feast
Sate by the Ladies side,
and thus began to tell:
This woman, is the seruant true,
that serude her master well,
Of whom I spake right now,
when I your iudgements craude
This is the seruaunt ilbeloude,
that when she had behaude
60
as fitted such a one,
Was shaken off, and turnd to grasse,
in streetes to make her moane:
Whom I, to pitie moude,
did succour as I might,
And by my care and handie helpe,
from present death did quight:
And mightie God, that sawe
the great good heart I bare,
Restord her from that loathsome corse
vnto this bewtie rare.
But to the ende you may
more plainely vnderstand
How these aduentures me befell:
I purpose out of hand
In short discourse to shewe
and open all the case.
Then gan he to vnfold his loue,
and how he sude for grace
Unto this worthy dame,
whose bewtie pearst his brest:
And passed so, from point to point,
vnripping all the rest,
Distinctly from the first:
which made the hearers muse,
To listen to this long discourse
of strange and wondrous newes.
[60]
as I before haue pende,
Both how he loude, and how she died,
thus closde he vp the ende.
Wherefore (my Lordes) quoth he,
vnlesse you haue of late
Ychangd your thoughts & minds anew
since you at table sate:
And chiefly you, (and points
to Nicoluccio) she
Whom here you view, of right is mine,
and only due too me.
No lawfull tittle may,
or rightfull clayme be layde
To chalenge her from me againe,
was no man there that sayde
A woorde, but all were still
to heare those matters paste,
And for desire to learne the rest,
and what he meant at laste.
Good Nicaluccio,
and all the rest beside
That present were, and eake the dame
no longer could abide,
But out they burst in teares,
and wept for pities sake.
With that Gentile standing vp,
the little babe did take,
61
and led the Ladie eke
By one hand to her husband warde,
and thus began to speake.
Stand by (good Gossup mine)
I doe not heere restore
To you your wife, whom both her Friends
and yours refusd before,
And as an outcast scornd:
but frankly giue this dame
My Gossup, and her little childe
that of her bodie came,
To thee, for this of troth
I know, the babe is thine,
Begot by thee, I christened it,
it beares this name of mine,
And is Gentile calde:
and my request shall bee,
That through three months, this Ladie hath
been soiornesse with me,
Thou wilt no lesse esteeme
of her, or worse good will
Bestow on her, than though shee had
with thee continued still.
And by that selfe same God
which forced me to beare
Such loue, as by that loue to saue
her life, to thee I sweare,
[61]
nor with thy parents, shee,
No, not with thee her spouse, she coulde
in greater suretie be
As touching honest life,
than with my mother deare:
Assure thy selfe, shee neuer was
abusde, nor tempted heere.
This processe being tolde,
Gentile turnde him rounde
Unto the Ladie (dame quoth he)
you know, I had you bounde
By faith and lawfull oath:
I quit you heere of all,
And set you free aboorde againe,
and goe againe you shall
To Nicoluccio, and
with that both wife and brat
To Nicoluccios handes he gaue,
and downe Gentile sate.
The husbande did receiue
his wife with willing hande,
And eke the babe: and how much more
he in dispayre did stande
Of hauing her againe,
whom hee accounted dead:
The greater was his ioy and mirth
when he so happily sped.
62
he yeelded to the Knight
Gentile, for his great good turne,
the greatest thankes he might.
And all the rest beside,
that were to pitie moude,
Gentiles nature did commend:
hee dearely was beloude
Of all that heard the case,
and feasted there that day.
Thus will I leaue the matron, and
her sonne at home to stay.
These matters ended thus,
ech guest his horse did take,
And parted from Gentiles house,
that did the banket make.
Home rode the man and wife
vnto their grange with speede,
The cheare which was at her returne,
and welcome, did exceede.
The people maruailde much,
that shee who buried was,
Could liue againe, and euer as
shee through the streetes should passe,
In Bolyne men did gaze,
and greatly view the dame.
And from that day Gentile still
a faithfull friend became
[62]
the parents of his wife,
Whom hee by vertue of his loue
had raisde from death to life.
| Tragicall Tales translated by Tvrbervile | |