Tragicall Tales translated by Tvrbervile :: :: University of Virginia Library

A merchants sonne that Girolanus hight,
Of tender age, in great good liking fell
VVith one Saluestra, a damsell faire and bright,
A taylers daughter, who there by did dwell:
The aged father did, and left the boy
Abounding welth, his heyre and only ioy.

The carefull mother doubting least her sonne
VVold make his choice, & marie with this maide
Dispatcht him thence to Paris, there to wonne,
Vntill his heate and humor were delaide.
To please his friends away this yonker rode,
And there a space (vnwilling) made abode.

Retires in fine to Florence backe againe,
VVhen mothers feare & doubts were layde aside,
His auncient loue aye sticking in his brayne:
But ere he came, the wench was woxe a bryde,
VVhich greude him sore, he wist not how to deale
At last deuisde into her house to steale.

VVhere being plast, vnwist of any wight,
He stayde his time, till husband fel on sleepe,
Then out he gate, defenst with darke of night,
And softly to Saluestras bed did creepe:
He sighde, he sued, he pleaded there for life,
In hope to had his pleasure of the wife.

131

But al for nought, his winde did shake no corne
The womans will was bent another way:
VVhich when he found, as one that was forlorne
He wist not how to do, nor what to say:
His griefe was such, as by Saluestras side
He laide him downe, and there for sorow dyde.

The husbād wakes, the wife bewrayes the case,
The corse was streight conueyde away by night,
When morow came, the beare was brought in place,
The graue was cast, the body lay in sight,
The mother mournd, and many matrons moe,
Bewayl the chaunce of him that died so.

Among the rest that present were to viewe
This heauie hap, Saluestra stoode as than,
She sawe her friend, whom she vnkindly slewe,
And therewithall to rewe his death began:
So deepely sanke remorse into this dame,
As downe she fell, and dyde vpon the same.

[131]

As auncient men report, there dwelt
A Merchant man of yore
In Florence, who by traficke had
Increast his stocke to more

Than any of his race had done,
A very wealthy wight:
Who on his wife begate a sonne
That (Girolamus) hight.

And after time the babe was borne,
The father chaunst to die,
But (as it hape) he made his will
Before, and orderly

Disposde his goods, as men are wont:
The carefull mother then,
A widow left, with good aduise
And ayde of learned men.

The tutors of this merchants sonne,
Both vsde the infant well,
And gaue such eye vnto his stocke
As nought to damage fell.

This childe (as common order is)
Did vse to sport and play
Among the other neighbors babes,
To driue the time away.

And (as the childrens custome is,
Some one among the rest
To fancy most,) euen so this boy
Did like a mayden best

132

A Taylers daughter dwelling by:
They daily vsde to meete
With sundrie other babees moe
Amid the open shreete.

This liking in their tender yeeres
Shot vp, and grew to more,
Euen as their limms encreast by age,
The sparke which loue before

Had kindled in his wanton brest,
Did growe to greater fire,
And Girolamus in his heart
The mayden did desire.

Their daily custome came to kinde,
And looke what day that he
Had past without the sight of her,
He thought it lost to be.

And that which set the flaxe on fire,
And bred the hoter flame,
Was, that the boy did well perceiue
The mayden ment the same,

And likte aswell of him againe,
The mother when she sawe
This matter worke, began to checke.
And keepe the wagge in awe,

And whipt him now and then among:
But when she did perceiue
The stubborne stripling set her light,
And that he would not leaue

[132]

Those wanton trickes, vnfit for youth,
She woxe a wofull dame:
And to the tutors of her sonne
This pensiue widowe came,

(As one that of that crabtree thorne
An Orenge tree would fayne
Haue made, because his stocke was great,
But all her toyle was vaine.)

And to the sages thus she said,
Ungracious graffe my sonne,
Scarce fourteene yeeres of age as yet,
Already hath begonne,

And entred in the snare of loue:
The wagge begins to frie
With one Saluestras liking lust,
A taylours daughter by.

So that vnlesse me wise by deale,
And warely seeme to watch,
At length (perhaps) this foolish elfe
Will with the mayden match,

And make a rash contract with her:
Which if should happen so,
From that time foorth, I should not liue
A merrie day I knowe.

Or if he should consume and wast
With thought, or pine away,
To see her matcht some other where,
Then woe were me I say.

118

Wherefore to voyde this present ill,
I thinke it best (quoth shee)
That you conuey him hence in hast,
If you be ruld by me.

Cause him to trauaile in affayres
Concerning Merchants trade:
For that perhaps by absence from
The maide, he may be made

To quite forget his wanton loue,
And put her out of minde,
And make some other better choyce.
Abroade the boy shall finde,

A wench that is descended well,
To linke himselfe withall:
No doubt, I see him fullie bent
By loue to hazard all

The tutors liked well the tale
The mother widow told,
And made her promise presently
To doe the best they could,

By counsell and by good aduise.
And thereupon they sent
A messenger vnto the ympe,
That to the warehouse went,

And wild the boy so come away:
Who, being come in place,
The one began to speake him thus
With milde and friendlie face.

[118]

My sonne, sith you are past a childe,
I would your wit allow,
If you would somewhat looke about
Unto your profite now,

And see your selfe where all goe right
That doth concerne your gaine:
We, that your tutors are, agree,
(If you will take that paine)

That you to Paris trauaile, ther
To stay a certaine space:
For, there, your father, whilst he liude,
In banke your wealth did place,

Euen there your chiefest traficke lyes:
And eke besides the same,
You shall your selfe to manners good
And better fashion frame,

By lodging in so trim a towne
Where lustie gallants be,
There shall you store of Gentlemen,
And brauest Barons see.

And hauing learned their good grace,
And markt their vsage well,
You may returne you home againe,
Among your friends to dwell.

The boy did note his tutors tale,
That did perswade him so,
And brieflie made answere, that
He did not minde to goe

134

To Paris, for he thought he mought
Aswell in Florence stay
As any one, what neede he then
To trauaile thence away.

The sages being answerde thus,
Unto the widdow went,
And tolde the mother how her sonne,
The wilfull wag, was bent.

The matrone, mad to heare the newes,
Spake not a word at all
Of Paris matters, but foorthwith
Unto his loue did fall:

Controuling him for roysting rule,
And for his baudie life:
And did not let to tell him, how
He meant to take a wife.

But, as the mothers manner is,
For euery bitter checke,
Shee gaue her sonne a honie sop,
And hung about his necke:

And flattred him againe as fast,
And did the boy entice
By all the friendly meanes she might
To follow their aduise:

The mother widow preached had
Unto her sonne so long,
Of this and that, and in his eare
Had sung so sweete a song:

[134]

As for a yeere to trauell well,
The boy perswaded was,
To stay in Fraunce, and so his time
In forraine Realme to passe.

I leaue the taking of his horse,
I write not of his woe:
I passe of purpose all his plaints
His countrie to forgoe.

I doe omit his bitter teares
At time of his remoue,
For those to deeme, that haue assaide
The pangs of pensiue loue.

I write not of the mothers griefe,
To bid her sonne farewell,
For that herselfe was pleasde withall
And likt his voyage well.

To Paris when this gallant came,
Loue gaue the charge anew
Upon his heart, the fight was fierce,
A greater fancie grew

Within his bosome, than before:
The absence from her face,
Might not delay the hote desire
That had this youth in chace.

And thus, the boy, that meant at first
But for a yeere to stay,
Full two yeeres out, in burning loue
In Fraunce at Paris lay.

135

Which time expyrde, inwrapped more
In flakes of fancies flame,
Than when he went from Italy,
He backe to Florence came,

And being there arrivde, he heard
His auncient friend was sped:
A certaine Curten maker hapt
This wench meane while to wed.

Whereat he greatly greeued was,
And vexed out of crie:
But seeing that there was no choice,
Nor other meanes to trie.

He purposde with himselfe a truce
His sorowes to expell.
But at the length he had espide
Where did this damsell dwell,

And found her standing at her dore:
Then grew this youth in heate,
And as enamored wights are wont,
He gan the streetes to beate,

Both vp, and downe, both to and fro,
He vsed oft to stalke
Before the Curten makers house,
In hope by often walke

That she would pitie of his paines,
And eke his torment rue,
He verliy presumde that shee
Her Girolanus knewe.

[135]

But fortune fell not out aright,
Shee knew the man no more,
Than one whom earst shee neuer same
In all her life before.

Or if shee did remember him,
At least shee made in wise
She wist not who the Marchant was,
So coy shee kest her eyes

On Girolamus passing by.
Yet he would neuer leaue
His wonted walke, in hope at last
Same fauour to receaue:

Deuising all the meanes he might
To bring the wife againe
In minde of him, who was her loue,
Her strangenesse bred his paine.

It greende the Marchant to the guts
That he was so forgote:
In fine he purposde with himself
(His feuer was so hote)

To speake with her, although it cost
The loosing of his life:
And heere vpon, instructed by
The neighbours, where the wife

Whom he entirely loude did dwell,
Hee watcht his season so,
That, when the husband and his spouse,
With other neighbours mo,

136

Were walkt abroade to keep the watch,
He slilie did conuey
Himselfe into Saluestras house:
And being there, he lay

Behinde the Curtaines, nie the bed,
Unspide of any man.
The Curtain maker and his wife
Returned home, began

To take their rest in wonted wife.
The man was sound asleepe
As soone as he was laid in couche:
Then gan this youth to creepe,

Upon his knees, vnto the side
Whereas Saluestra lay,
And hauing softly plast his handes
Upon her pappes, gan say:

What are you (sweeting) yet a sleepe?
With that the wife dismaide,
Would haue exclaimde, (as women wont
In such like sort afraide)

Saue that the Marchant presently
Her friendly thus bespake.
Alas, my Deere, exclaime not now,
You need no thought to take,

For I am Girolamus, he
That tender your estate.
She hearing that, said, all afraid,
What make you here so late?

[136]

Good Girolanus get you hence,
Those youthfull yeeres are spent
Wherein it was our hap to loue,
That time good faith I ment:

Then lawfull was the thing we did.
But now you see that I
Am otherwise bestowde and matcht,
I must not now apply

My liking, but to him alone.
Wherefore, I pray, quoth shee,
For loue of God depart this place
Your purpose may not bee.

For if my husband wist yon heere,
(Put case none other ill
Ensude thereof) yet this be sure,
I should haue chiding still:

Your being here would breede debate,
And purchase deadly strife,
Whereas with him, as now I leade
A iollie quiet life,

I am his darling well belovde.
When Girolanus had
Both heard, and noted all her talke,
Hee were exceeding sad.

His heart was pierst with pensiue woe
To heare the tale shee tolde,
Then gan hee wrie his former loue,
And all his flame vnfolde.

137

Declaring her, that distance had
Not flakte his burning fire:
And made request withall, that she
Should graunt him his desire.

He promisde golden mountaynes then,
But all his sute was vayne:
No iote of friendship for his life,
The merchant mought attaine.

Wherefore desirous then to die,
Saluestra he besought,
That in rewarde of all his loue,
And all his former thought

Which he had suffered for her sake,
She would but yelde him grace
To warme himselfe within her bed,
Fast by her side a space:

Whose flesh so maner frozen was,
With staying there so long,
He made her promise on his faith
He mould not offer wrong

Unto Saluastra, no not once
Let fall a worde so mutch,
Nor yet her naked carkasse with
His manly members tutche:

But hauing taken there a heate,
And warmde himselfe in bed,
He would depart, and deeme that he
Sufficiently had sped.

[136]

Saluestra taking pitie then
Of Gyrolamus case,
Upon the promise made before
Did yelde him so much grace,

As on her bed to stretch him selfe
The youth thus being laid
Besides his mistres, toucht her not
But with him selfe he waid

The great good wil that he so long
Within his brest had borne:
Upon her present rigor eke
He thought, and shamefull scorne.

And being brought to deepe dispaire,
He purposde not to liue,
But die the death without delay,
And vp the ghost to geue.

And hereupon his sprites withdrew
Themselues from outward parts,
His senses fled, he stretcht him selfe,
And so the youth departs

Fast by Saluestras sauage side
To whom he sude for grace:
When Girolam thus dead had line
Upon her bed a space

The wench did wonder very much
That he was woxe so chaste.
Whose flame of late so burning was
And fancie fride so fast.

137

At length in feare her husband would
Awake, she gan to say
Oh Gyrolamus how be this?
When wil you packe away?

But hearing him no answere make
She thought him sound asleepe
Which made her reach her hand to wake,
The man that slept so deepe.

She felt and found him colde as yce
Whereof she marueld much:
And therupon with greater force
She gan his limmes to touch.

And thrust him, but he stirred not,
With that within her head
The wife conceaued and wist ful wel
That Girolam was dead.

Where of she was the soriest wench,
That euer liued by breath:
She knew not what to doe to see
So strange and sodaine death.

But yet at last she did deuise
To feele her husbands thought
In person of another, not
As though her selfe had wrought

Or been a party in the fact.
Put case, good sir (quoth she,)
A yonker loued a maried wife
As I my selfe mought be:

[138]

And comming to her chamber late,
In hope to winne the wife,
Were both begilde of all his hope,
And eke berefte of life,

By only force of franticke loue
And lacke of his desire,
And want of pities water, to
Delay his scalding fire.

What would you doe in such a pinche?
How would you deale as than?
Whereto the husband answered, that
He would conuay the man

Unto his home, without mistrust
Or malice to the dame
His wife, that had resisted so
The force of Cupides flame.

Which whē she herd, she answered thus
Then (husband) doth it lye
Upon vs nowe to practise that,
And eake that tricke to trye.

And taking of his hand, she put
It on the coarse that laye
Upon the other side of her,
As colde as any kaye.

Wherat the wilfull wight dismayde,
And ierst with sodaine feare,
Lepte of the bed full sore amazde,
To feele a body there.

139

And out he ran to lighten linke,
Without debating more
Of further matter with his wife,
Of what they spake before.

The candle light bewrayed the corse,
He sawe the partie playne,
He made no more a doe, but put
Him in his robes agayne,

And bore him on his shoulders thence:
And knowing verie well
His lodging, set him at the doore,
Where did his mother dwell:

When day was come, and people sawe
The carkasse of the dead
Before the gate, the fame thereof
Throughout the citie spread.

Each one did wonder at the chaunce,
That passed by the way,
They knewe the partie passing well,
But wist not what to say.

Yet most of all, the mother musde,
And vexed was in minde,
That hauing searchte the body, coulde
No wounded member finde.

Which made Phisitions flatly say,
That sorowe stopte his breath:
With one assent they all agreede,
That griefe did cause his death.

[139]

As custome is, the corse was borne
Into a temple by
Where merchant men of his estate
And welthie wights did lie.

The mourning mother thether came
To waile her sonnes decease
And with the matrone thousands moe
Of neighbors more and lesse.

Were come to church to shed their teares
Saluestras husband then.
Perceiuing that the preace was great,
Of women and of men,

Ran home & wilde his wife do on
A kerchiefe on her head:
And throng amid the wiues to beare
What newes went of the dead.

And he him selfe thrust in among
The men, to learne what they
Imaginde of the marchants death,
Where any one did say

Or had him in suspect thereof
Saluestra hereupon
Made hast to church, and felt remorse
Within her brest anone.

But all to late her pitie came,
For she desired to vew
Him being dead, whom earst aliue
She tooke disdaine to rewe.

140

Or recompence so much as with
A kisse. O wenche vnkind,
A maruels thing, to thinke how hard
It is for man to finde

Or sounde the depth of louers thoughts,
Or knowe the force of loue:
For loe hir brest, whom Gyrolams
Good fortune might not moue,

Nor during life procure to ruth,
His death did raze hir harte.
His misaduentures did renewe
The stroke of Cupides darte.

Hir auncient flame rekindled was,
And to such pitie grewe,
When as she did the carcasse dead
Of Gyrolamus vewe,

That being but in simple weede,
As meanest women were,
By one and one she gate before
The richest matrons there,

Not stintyng till she came vnto
The body where it lay,
And being there she gaue a shoute,
And yelded forth a bray.

So loude as for hir life she could,
And groueling with hir face,
On Gyrolamus carcasse fell,
His bodie to imbrace.

[140]

And bathde his limmes with brackish teares,
That issued from her eyes
As long as life would giue her leaue:
Which done, Saluestra dyes.

And looke how griefe & hidden thought,
Had slayne her desperate friend,
Euen so remorse of couerte cares,
Her loathed life did ende.

Which when ye mourning matrons saw
Eache one in friendliest wise,
To comfort her in words began,
And willd her thence to rise,

As then not witting who she was:
But at the last, when that
She would not mount, but lay me still
Upon the body flat,

They came to lift her on her legges,
And rayse her from the grounde,
And then, both that the wife was dead,
And who she was, they founde.

Saluestra then she did appeare,
Then dubble woxe the woe
Of all the wiues that mourners were,
When they the dame did knowe.

Then gan they mourne as fast againe
As ere they did before,
For euery sighe, a hundred sobbes,
For euery teare a score.

141

This brute no sooner out of Church,
Among the people came:
But out of hand her husband hearde
The tidings of the same.

Who (as I said) was gone among
The men, to lend an eare,
And hearken what report there went
Of them that died there.

Then like a louing husband, that
Imbrast Saluestra well,
From sobbing sighes, to trickling teares,
For her misfortune fell.

And waild her death no little time,
And after that, to some
That were in place, declard, by night
How Gyrolam did come

Unto his house, through burning loue
Which he Saluestra bore,
And tolde the tale from point to point,
As I haue pend before.

Whereat the audience wofull woxe,
That vnderstood the case,
Then taking vp the carkasse of
The wife that lay in place,

And hauing knit the shrowding sheete,
As common custome is,
They layd her body on the beare,
And set her side to his.

[141]

Thus hauing wept vpon the dead
In proofe of inward paine:
And buried both together, home
The people went againe,

See lucke, whom loue was not of force,
Aliue to linke in one:
Death found the meanes to couple close,
Within a marble stone.

141

Lenuoy.

VVhether stars doe stir good lykyng from aboue,
By hidden force and couert power deuyne
Or chaunce breede choyce & leades vs on to loue
And fancy falles as fortune list assigne,
I cannot iudge nor perfectly defyne
But this I know once let it gather roote
And to remoue it then is slender boote.

Let sicknes grow, let cankers worke theyr wyl
Seeke not at first their malyce to suppresse
Scorne wholsome helpe doe floute at physikes skil
In hope thy greefe wyl swage and vvaxen lesse
And thou at last shalt neuer haue redresse
Diseases more admitte no cunning cure
The cause by tyme is fastned on so sure.

When fire is once crept yn among the straw
And flame hath raught the rotten roofe on hye
Tis hardly quencht hys fury hath no law
It seldome sinkes tyl all on ground do ly
The way to help is busily to ply
The matter fyrst before it grow too far
When steedes are stolne tys bootles doores to barre.

Euen so it fares when fancy blowes the cole
Of frendship first and sets abroach good will
A man may ympes with ease from loue controle
Whilst feare doth force them stoupe to parents wyl
But let them run their race at ryot styl
And not rebukte by reason at the fyrst
Along they go let parents doe their worst.

Too late comes salues to cure confyrmed sores
When loue is linkt and choyce is chayned fast
You may as soone plucke trees vp by the rootes
As breake the knot or sunder promise past

[141]

The tackle hangs so sure vnto the Mast
When shype from shore haue hoyste vp all their sailes,
To bend about againe it little vailes.

So statelie is the stroke of Cupids bow,
So fell his force, so huge his heauie hand,
No striuyng serues, no shift to shun the blow.
No might nor meane his Godhead to withstand,
Who fastest runnes sinks deapest in the sands:
Wherefore I wish that parents giue consent,
And not repine when mindes to match are bent.

For barre the sick whom Feuer doth molest,
To drinke his fill, his thirst will be the more,
Restraine thy Ienates course, thy bridle wrest,
The beast becommes farre fiercer than before,
Where streames be stopt, there riuers most doe rore,
Downe goe the banks, and ouer flowes the flood,
Where swellyng waters feele themselues withstood.

No trauayle serues to sunder louing heartes,
No absence breedes in friendes forgetfull mindes,
The farther of that ech from other parts,
The hotter ech his flaming fancie findes.
Who striues to stop, doth most enrage the wynds:
No louer true, but beares within hys brest,
The shape of her whom he doth fancie best.

As thunder showres, whom weather calmes againe,
Gyue greater drought and helpes along the string,
By meanes of heate mixt with the blowting raine:
So safe returne of absent friends, doth bring
Increase of loue and faster streames the spryng:
Respect of birth, of state, or ought beside,
Stops not the boat, that driues with such a tide.

A folly then for parents to restraine,
For lucres sake their children, sith we see

143

That both theyr care and labour is in vaine,
And sundrie times a thousand ples there bee
That doe ensue, when they will not agree:
Is in this tale the Florentine doth showe
The great mishaps by such restraint that grow.

Could mothers threates, or tutors taunts reuoke
This Marchants minde, or make him alter loue,
Could Parris pleasure once this youth prouoke,
His auncient friend from fancie to remoue?
Yea, though it were a thing for his behoue,
No, backe he came the selfe same man he went,
He chaungde the ayre, but not his first entent.

And loue, to helpe him onward on his race,
Assisted with deuise and subtile sleight,
Eke Uenus taught him how to come in place,
And shrowded him in cloudie cloke of night,
Whereby he might approch to his delight,
But all for nought. The game that he pursude,
Was caught before, and thence his bane ensude.

So Pyramus in Babylon of yore,
Faire Thisbe loued, but parents disagreed,
They might not match, but prisoned were therefore:
Yet loue at length this faithfull couple freed,
The time was set, the place and all decreed,
When foule mishap bereft them both of life,
Who slue themselues with one vnluckie knife.

Had pitie lodge within Saluestras brest,
Would she haue forst so true a man to die,
Who chargde with loue and thousand woes distrest,
Did hazard life to presse in place so nie,
Unto a dame that with her spouse dyd lie?
O blooddie Beare, nay rather Tygers whelp
That would refuse her auncient friend to helpe.

[143]

O marble mynde O stayne of womans stocke
Not fed with milke of kindly nurses pappe
But hewed with toole out of some ruthles rocke
And layd withyn some Lionesses lap
Couldst thou alow thy frend so hard a hap
As by thy syde amid his sute to see
Him dee the death and all for loue of thee?

Draw hether dames and read this bloody fact
Note wel the fruite of frovvardnes in loue
Peruse the plague of her that pyty lackt
See how in that she pleasd the gods aboue
Example take your rygor to remoue
And you that are Cupydos knyghts take heede
Bestovv no more good wil then shalbe need.

Renounce the loue of such as are forsped
Forgoe those, frends vvhom law forbids to lyke
Courte no mans wyfe embrace no maryage bed
Leaue of your luste by others harmes to seeke
No such good vvyl can last aboue a vveeke
Looke vvhen you thynke your selues in cheefest pryce
They set you by vvhylst others throvv the dyce.

When once regard of honor lyes asyde
When credyt is respected nought at all
Then shame ensues and follovves after pride
From vertue then to fylthy vice they fall
And to allure they vse a pleasant call
And beyng once entangled in the tvvyg
To make you fat they feede you vvith a fyg.

For one delyght ten thousand yls ensues
For little glee much bytter gall you gayne
You may not hope to fynde those vvomen true
Theyr husbands beds that doe not stick to stayne
And make them serue for clokes agaynst the rayne
Wherfore I say force not of any dame
That for a frend forgoes an honest name.