VOL. II.

Ballantyne Press

BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO. EDINBURGH AND LONDON

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VOLUME II.

Tome I: Title Page Text

The Palace of Pleasure.

THE FORTY-SEUENTH NOUELL.

A gentleman called Galgano, long time made sute to Madonna Minoccia: her husband sir Stricca (not knowing the same) diuers times praised and commended Galgano, by reason whereof, in the absence of her husband, she sent for him, and yelded herself vnto him, tellinge him what wordes her husbande had spoken of him, and for recompence he refused to dishonest her.

In the Citie of Siena in Italie there was a rich yong Gentleman called Galgano, borne of noble birth, actiue, and wel trained in al kinde of exercise, valiaunt, braue, stoute and curteous, in the maners and orders of all countries verye skilfull. This Galgano loued a Gentlewoman of Siena named Madonna Minoccia, the wyfe of sir Stricca a comely knight, and wore in his apparell the colour and deuises of his Lady, bearing the same vppon his helmet and armour, in all Iustes, Tourneyes and triumphes, obseruing noble feastes and banquettes for her sake. But for all those costly, sumptuous and noble practises, this Lady Minoccia in no wyse would giue eare vnto his sutes. Wherfore Galgano at his wittes ende, was voyde of aduise what to do or saye, seing the great crueltie and rigor raigning in her breste, vnto whom hee dayle prayed for better successe and fortune than to himselfe. There was no feast, banquet, triumph, or mariage, but Galgano was there, to do her humble seruice, and that daye his minde was not pleased and contented, wherein he had not seene her that had his louing harte in

full possession. Very many times (like a Prince 4 that coueted peace) he sente Ambassadours vnto her, wyth presentes and messages, but she (a proude and scornefull Princesse) dayned neither to heare them or receiue them. And in this state stode this passionate Louer a longe time, tormented with the exceeding hote Loue and fealtie that he bare her. And many times making his reuerent complaints to loue, did say: “Ah Loue, my deare and soueraigne Lorde, how cruell and hard harted art thou, how vnmercifully dealest thou with me, rather how deaf be thine eares, that canst not recline the same to my nightly complaintes, and dailye afflictions; How chaunceth it that I do in this maner consume my ioyfull dayes with pining plaintes? Why doest thou suffer me to Loue, and not to be beloued?” And thus oftentimes remembringe the crueltie of loue, and his ladies tyrrany, hee began to dye in maner like a wight replete with despaire. But in fine, he determined paciently to abide the good time and pleasure of Loue, still hoping to finde mercie: and daily gaue himselfe to practise and

frequent those thinges that might be acceptable and pleasant to his Lady, but shee still persisted inexorable. It chaunced that sir Stricca and his fayre wyfe, for their solace and recreation, repaired to one of their houses hard by Siena: and upon a time, Galgano passing by with a Sparhauke on his fiste, made as though he went on Hauking, but of purpose onely to see his lady. And as he was going by the house, sir Stricca espied him, and went forth to meete him, and familiarly taking him by the hand, prayed him to take parte of his supper with his wyfe and him: for which curtesie Galgano gaue him thanckes, and said: “Sir, I do thancke you for your curteous requeste, but for this time I pray you to hold me excused, because I am going about certaine affayres very requisite and necessary to be done.” Then sayde sir Stricca: “At least wise drincke with mee before you depart.” But giuing him thankes he bad him farewell. Maister Stricca seing that hee could not cause him to tary, toke his leaue, and retourned into his house. Galgano gone from

maistre Stricca, sayd to himselfe: “Ah, beast that I am, why did I not accept his offer? Why should shamefastness let me from the sight of her, whom I loue better than all the world besides.” And as he was thus pensife in complaintes his spaniells sprong a Partrich, wherat he let flee his 5 Hauke, and the Partrich flying into sir Stricca his garden, his Hauke pursued and seassed vppon the same. Maister Stricca and his Ladye hearinge that pastime, ranne to the garden window, to see the killing of the Partrich: and beholding the valiante skirmishe betweene the foule and the hauke, the lady asked whose hauke it was: her husband made aunswere that he knew well inoughe the owner, by the goodnesse and hardines of the same. “For the owner of this hauke (quoth hee) is the trimmest and most valiaunt gentleman in all Siena, and one indued with beste qualities.” The lady demaunded what he was? “Maister Galgano (said her husband,) who euen now passed by the gate, and I prayed him very earnestly to supper, but hee woulde not be intreated. And truly wyfe, he

is the comliest gentleman, and moste vertuous personage, that euer I knewe in my life.” With those wordes they wente from the windowe to supper: and Galgano, when he had lured his Hauke, departed awaye. The Lady marked those words and fixed them in minde. It fortuned within a while after, that sir Stricca was by the state of Siena sent in ambassage to Perugia, by reason wherof, his Lady at home alone, so sone as her husband had taken his iourney, sent her most secrete and trustie maide, to intreat maister Galgano, to come and speake with her. When the message was done to Galgano, (if his heart were on a merie pinne, or whether his spirits dulled with continuall sorrowe were againe reuiued, they knowe that most haue felte the painefull pangues of Loue, and they also whose flesh haue beene pearced wyth the amorous arrowes of the little boy Cupide:) he made aunswere that hee would willingly come, rendringe thanckes both to the maistresse and maide, the one for her paine, and the other for her good remembraunce. Galgano vnderstanding

that sir Stricca was gone to Perugia, in the eueninge at conuenient time, repaired to the house of her whose sight he loued better than his owne eyes. And being come before his Lady, with great submission and reuerence hee saluted her, (like those whose hartes do throbe, as foretellinge the possession of good tournes and benefites, after which with longe sute and trauaile they haue aspired) wherewith the Lady delighted, very pleasantly took him by the hande, and imbracing him, said: “Welcome mine owne sweet Galgano, a hundred times I say welcome.” 6 And for the time with kisses, makinge truce with their affections, the lady called for comfictes and wyne. And when they had dronke and refreshed themselues, the lady toke him by the hande and said: “My sweete Galgano, night beginneth to passe awaye, and the time of sleepe is come, therefore let vs yeld our selues to the seruice and commaundment of our very good Ladye, madame Cytherea, for whose sake I intreated you to come hither.” Galgano aunswered, that he was very wel

contented. Being within the chamber, after much pleasaunte talke and louing discourse betweene them, the Lady did put of her clothes, and went to bed. Galgano being somewhat bashfull, was perceyued of the Lady, vnto whom she said: “Me thincke, Galgano, that you be fearful and shamefast. What do you lacke? Do I not please you? Doth not my personage content you? Haue you not the thing which you desire?” “Yes madame,” said Galgano: “God himself could not do me a greater pleasure, than to suffer me to be cleped within your armes.” And reasoning in this sort, he put of his clothes also, and laide himselfe by her, whom he had coueted and desired of long time. Being in the bed, he said: “Madame, I beseech you graunt me one resquest.” “What is that, Galgano?” (quoth she.) “It is this, madame,” said Galgano: “I do much maruell, why this night aboue all other, you haue sent for mee: considering how long I haue bin a suter vnto you, and although I haue prosecuted my sute, by great expence and trauaile, yet you would never

yelde before now: what hath moued you now thus to do?” The Lady answered: “I wil tell you sir: true it is, that not many dayes agoe, passing by this house, with your Hauke on your fiste, my husband told me that so sone as he sawe you, he wente oute to meete you, of purpose to intreate you to supper, but you would not tarrie: then your Hauke pursued a Partrich, euen into my garden, and I seing the Hauke so egerly seasing vpon the same, demaunded of my husband whose Hauke it was. He told me that the Hauke did belong to the most excellent yong man of all Siena: and that he neuer in all his life knewe a gentleman better accomplished with all vertues and good qualities, and therewithal gaue vnto you singuler prayse and commendacion. Whereuppon hearing him in such wise to prayse you, and knowing 7 righte well your affectionate minde and disposition towards mee, my hart attached with loue, forced me to sende for you that I mighte hereafter auoyde disdaine and other scornefull demeaner, to impeache or hinder your loue: and this briefely is the cause.” “Is this true?” said

Galgano. “Most certaine and true,” aunsweared the Lady.” “Was there no other occasion?” “No, verely:” said the lady. “God defend,” (quoth Galgano,) “that I should recompence the curtesie and good will of so noble a gentleman (as your husband is) with reproch and villany. Is it meete that good turnes should be requited with vnkindnes? If euer man had cause to defende the honor of his vnknowen frend, cause haue I right good and apte. For now knowinge such a frende, that would by vertuous reportes haue aduaunced me to higher matters, than wherof I am in possession, should I reward with pollucion of his stocke and wife? No, no, lady! my raginge sute by loue, is by vertue quenched. Vertue onely hath staunched the flames of vile affections. Seeke another frende, to glut your lecherous minde. Finde out some other companion, to coole thy disordinate loue. Shal I be disloyal to him, that hath been faithfull vnto me? Shall I be traytor to him, that frendly hath commended me? What can be more required of humane hearte, or more

desired of manlike mind, but wilfull bente, and fixed to do him good, that neuer erst by iuste desert deserued the same.” With which wordes sodenly hee lept out of the bed, and when he had furnished himselfe againe with his apparell, hee also put vppon him vertuous friendship, and takinge his leaue of the Lady, neuer after that time he gaue himself to matters of Loue. And maister Stricca he continually obserued both with singuler loue and dutifull friendship: whereby it is vncertaine whether was most singuler in him, his continency at the very instante by refrayning that vehement heate of loue, which so long time with great trauaile and coste he had pursued, or his regard of frendship to sir Stricca vppon wordes of commendacion spoken behinde his backe. Both no doubte be singuler vertues meete for all men to be obserued: but the subduing of his affections surmounted and passed.

THE FORTY-EIGHTH NOUELL.

Bindo a notable Architect, and his sonne Ricciardo, with all his familie, from Florence went to dwell at Venice where being made Citizens for diuers monuments by them done there, throughe inordinate expences were forced to robbe the treasure house. Bindo beinge slaine by a pollicie deuised by the Duke and state, Ricciardo by fine subtelties deliuereth himselfe from foure daungers. Afterwards the Duke (by his owne confession) vnderstandinge the sleightes, giueth him his pardon and his doughter in marriage.

In the goodly citie of Venice there was once a duke, that was a noble gentleman and of greate experience and wisedome, called Valeriano di messer Vannozzo Accettani. In the chiefest Churche of which Citie called San Marco, there was a steple, very faire and sumptuous, and of greatest fame of any thinge at that time that was in Venice, which steeple was like to fall downe by reason of certaine faultes and decayes in the foundacion. Wherfore the Duke caused to be searched thorow out all Italie, some cunning workeman that would take in hand the reparacion and amendmente of the same: with promise of so much money as he would demaund for doing thereof. Whereuppon an excellent Architect of Florence, named Bindo, hearing tel of this offer, determined to go to Venice for the accomplishmente of that worke, and for that purpose with his onelye sonne and wyfe, hee departed Florence. And when he had seene and surueyed the steeple, he went straight to the Duke, and told him that he was come thither to offer his seruice for repayringe of the same, whom the Duke curteously intertayned and prayed

him, that he would so sone as he coulde begin that worke. Whereunto Bindo accorded, and wyth great diligence and small time he finished the same, in better forme and surety than it was at the first: which greatly pleased the Duke, and gaue Bindo so much money as he demaunded, making him besides a Citizen of Venice, for the maintenaunce of whose state, hee allotted him a sufficient stipend: 9 afterwards the Duke called him vnto him, and declared that he would haue a Treasure house made, wherein should be disposed and layde vp all the Treasure and common ornamentes for the furniture of the whole Citie, which Bindo by and by toke vppon him to do, and made it of such singuler beautie, as it excelled all the monuments of the Citie, wherein all the said Treasure was bestowed. In which worke hee had framed a stone by cunninge, that mighte be remoued at pleasure, and no man perceiue it: meaning thereby to goe into the Chamber when he liste: whereunto none in all the world was priuie but himselfe. When this Palace and Treasure house was done, he caused all the furnitures of Silkes, hanginges,

wrought with Golde, Canapees, clothes of state, riche Chayres, Plate, and other Ornaments of Golde and Siluer to be caried thither, whiche he called La Turpea del Doge, and was kept vnder fiue keyes: whereof foure were deliuered to foure of the chiefe Citizens, deputed to that office, which were called Chamberlaynes of the Treasure house, and the fift keye the Duke himselfe did keepe, so that the Chamber coulde not bee opened excepte they were all fiue presente. Nowe Bindo and his famelie dwelling at Venice, and beinge a citizen there, beganne to spende liberallye and to liue a riche and wealthye life, and hys sonne Ricciardo consumed disordinatelye, whereby in space of time, they wanted Garmentes to furnishe their bodies, whiche they were not able to maintaine for their inordinate expences: wherefore the father vpon a night calling his sonne vnto him, got a ladder, and a certaine yron instrumente made for the purpose, and taking also with him a litle lime, went to the hole, which Bindo artificially had made, who taking out the stone, crept in, and

toke out a faire cup of gold, which was in a closet, and afterward he wente out, cowching the stone againe in due place. And when they were come home, they brake the cup and caused it to be solde by peece meale, in certaine Cities of Lombardie. And in this sorte, they maintayned their disordinate life begonne. It chaunced not long after, that a Cardinall arriued at Venice, about affayres with the Duke, and the state, who the more honorablie to receiue him, opened the Treasure house to take oute certaine furnitures within, as plate, clothes 10 of state, and other thinges. When the dore was opened, and had taken out the saide necessaries, they founde a cuppe lesse than oughte to be, wherewith the Chamberlaines contended amonge themselues, and wente to the Duke, telling him that there wanted a cuppe: whereat the Duke marueiled, and said that amonges them it must needes be gone. And after many denialls, and much talke, he willed them to saye nothing, till the Cardinall was departed. When the Cardinall was come, he was receyued

with honorable interteignemente, and beinge departed, the Duke sente for the foure Chamberlaines, to consult about the losse of the cup, commaunding them not to departe the Palace before the same was found, saying that amongs them it muste needes be stolen. These four persons being together, and debating how and by what meanes the cup should be taken away, were at their wittes ende. At length one of them saide: “Let vs consider whether ther bee anye comminge into the Chamber besides the doore.” And viewinge it they coulde not perceiue anye entrie at all. And to proue the same more effectuallye, they strawed the chamber aboute with fyne fifted chaffe, setting the same on fier, which done, they shutte fast the windowes and doores, that the smoke and smoulder might not goe out. The force of which smoke was sutche as it issued through the hole that Bindo made, whereby they perceiued the way howe the robbery was committed, and went to the Duke to tell him what they had done. The duke vnderstanding the fact, wylled them to saye nothing, for

that he woulde deuise a pollicie how to take the theefe: who caused to be brought into the chamber a caldron of pitche, and placed it directly vnder the hole, commaunding that a fyre should be kept daye and night vnder the caldron, that the same might continually boyle. It come to passe that when the money was spent which the father and sonne had receiued for the cup, one night they went agayne to the hole, and remouing the stone, the father went in as he did before, and fell into the caldron of pitche (which continually was boyling there) vp to the waste, and not able to liue any longer, he called his sonne vnto him, and fayde: “Ricciardo myne owne sweete sonne, death hath taken me prysoner, for halfe my body is dead, and my breath also is 11 ready to departe. Take my head with thee, and burie it in some place that it be not knowen, which done, commend me to thy mother, whome I pray thee to cherishe and comforte, and in any wyse take hede that warely and circumspectlye thou doe departe from hence: and if any man do

aske for me, say that I am gone to Florence about certaine businesse.” The sonne lamentably began to lament his father’s fortune, saying: “Oh deare father, what wicked furie hath thus cruelly deuised sodaine death.” “Content thy selfe, my sonne,” sayd the father, “and be quiet, better it is that one should dye, than twoo, therefore doe what I haue tolde thee, and fare well.” The sonne tooke vp his father’s head, and went his waye, the reste of his bodye remayned in the caldron, like a block without forme. When Ricciardo was come home, he buried his father’s head so well as he could, and afterwardes tolde his mother what was become of his father, who vnderstanding the maner of his death, began piteously to cry out, to whom her sonne holding up his hands, sayd: “Good mother holde your peace, and geue ouer your weeping: for our life is in great perill and daunger, if your outcrie be heard. Therefore good mother, quiet yourselfe, for better it were for vs to liue in poore estate, than to die with infamie, to the vtter reproche and shame of all