Читать книгу The Decameron: The Original English Translation by John Florio - Джованни Боккаччо - Страница 25

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Whereby all men may plainely understand, that loyalty faithfully kept to the prince (what perils soever Doe ensue) doth yet neverthelesse renowne a man, and bring him to farre greater honour

The Count D’Angiers being falsly accused, was banished out of France, and left his two children in England in divers places. Returning afterward (unknowne) thorow Scotland, hee found them advanced unto great dignitie. Then, repayring in the habite of a Servitour, into the King of France his Armie, and his innocencie made publiquely knowne, hee was reseated in his former honourable degree.

The Ladies sighed verie often, hearing the variety of wofull miseries happening to Alathiella: but who knoweth, what occasion mooved them to those sighes? Perhappes there were some among them, who rather sighed they could not be so often maried as she was, rather then for any other compassion they had of her disasters. But leaving that to their owne construction, they smiled merrily at the last speeches of Pamphilus: and the Queene perceyving the Novell to be ended, shee fixed her eye upon Madame Eliza, as signifying thereby, that she was next to succeed in order; which shee joyfully embracing, spake as followeth. The field is very large and spacious, wherein all this day we have walked, and there is not any one here so wearied with running the former races, but nimbly would adventure on as many more, so copious are the alterations of Fortune, in sad repetition of her wonderfull changes: and among the infinity of her various courses, I must make addition of another, which I trust, will no way discontent you.

When the Romaine Empire was translated from the French to the Germaines, mighty dissentions grew betweene both the Nations, insomuch, that it drew a dismall and a lingering warre. In which respect, as well for the safety of his owne Kingdome, as to annoy and disturbe his enemies; the King of France and one of his sonnes, having congregated the forces of their owne Dominions, as also of their friends and confederates, they resolved manfully to encounter their enemies. But before they would adventure any rash proceeding, they held it as the cheefest part of policy and royall providence, not to leave the State without a Chiefe or Governour. And having had good experience of Gualtier, Count D’Angiers, to be a wise and worthy Lord, singularly expert in military discipline and faithfull in all affaires of the Kingdome (yet fitter for ease and pleasure, then laborious toyle and travalle:) he was elected Lieutenant Governour in their sted, over the whole kingdom of France, and then they went on in their enterprize.

Now began the Count to execute the office committed to his trust, by orderly proceeding, and with great discretion, yet not entering into any businesse, without consent of the Queene and her faire daughter in Law: who although they were left under his care and custodie, yet (notwithstanding) he honoured them as his superiours, and as the dignity of their quality required. Here you are to observe, concerning Count Gualtier himselfe, that he was a most compleate person, aged litle above forty yeeres, as affable and singularly conditioned, as any Nobleman possibly could be, nor did those times affoord a Gentleman, that equalled him in all respects. It fortuned, that the King and his sonne being busy in the aforenamed war, the wife and Lady of Count Gualtier died in the mean while, leaving him onely a sonne and a daughter very yong, and of tender yeeres, which made his owne home the lesse welcom to him, having lost his deere Love, and second selfe.

Heereupon, he resorted to the Court of the said Ladies the more frequently, often conferring with them, about the waighty affaires of the Kingdome: in which time of so serious interparlance, the Kings sonnes wife, threw many affectionate regards upon him, convaying such conspiring passions to her heart (in regard of his person and vertues) that her love exceeded all capacity of governement. Her desires out-stepping al compasse of modesty, or the dignity of her Princely condition, throwes off all regard of civill and sober thoughts, and guides her into a Labyrinth of wanton imaginations. For, she regards not now the eminency of his high Authority, his gravity of yeares, and those parts that are the true conducts to honour: but lookes upon her owne loose and lascivious appetite, her young, gallant, and over-ready yeelding nature, comparing them with his want of a wife, and likely hope thereby of her sooner prevailing; supposing, that nothing could be her hindrance, but onely bashfull shamefastnesse, which she rather chose utterly to forsake and set aside, then to faile of her hot enflarned affection, and therefore she would needs be the discoverer of her owne disgrace.

Upon a day, being alone by her selfe, and the time seeming suteable to her intention: shee sent for the Count, under colour of some other important conference with him. The Count D’Aongiers, whose thoughts were quite contrary to hers: immediately went to her, where they both sitting downe together on a beds side in her Chamber, according as formerly shee had plotted her purpose; twice hee demaunded of her, upon what occasion she had thus sent for him. She sitting a long while silent, as if she had no answere to make him, pressed by the violence of her amorous passions, a Vermillion tincture leaping up into her face, yet shame enforcing teares from her eyes, with words broken and halfe confused, at last she began to deliver her minde in this manner.

Honourable Lord, and my deerely respected Friend, being so wise a man as you are, it is no difficult matter for you to know, what a frayle condition is imposed both on men and women; yet (for divers occasions) much more upon the one, then the other. Wherefore desertfully, in the censure of a just and upright judge, a fault of divers conditions (in respect of the person) ought not to bee censured with one and the same punnishment. Beside, who will not say, that a man or woman of poore and meane estate, having no other helpe for maintainance, but laborious travaile of their bodies, should worthily receive more sharpe reprehension, in yeelding to amorous desires, or such passions as are incited by love; then a wealthy Lady whose living relieth not on her pains or cares, neither wanteth any thing that she can wish to have: I dare presume, that you your selfe will allow this to be equall and just. In which respect, I am of the minde, that the fore-named allegations, ought to serve as a sufficient excuse, yea, and to the advantage of her who is so possessed, if the passions of love should over-reach her: alwayes provided, that shee can pleade in her owne defence, the choice of a wise and vertuous friend, answerable to her owne condition and quality, and no way to be taxt with a servile or vile election.

These two speciall observations, allowable in my judgement, and living now in mee, seizing on my youthfull blood and yeeres, have found no mean inducement to love, in regard of my husbands far distance from me, medling in the rude uncivill actions of warre, when he should rather be at home in more sweet imployment. You see Sir, that these Oratours advance themselves here in your presence, to acquaint you with the extremity of my over-commanding agony: and if the same power hath dominion in you, which your discretion (questionlesse) cannot be voide of; then let me entreate such advice from you, as may rather helpe, then hinder my hopes. Beleeve it then for trueth Sir, that the long absence of my husband from me, the solitary condition wherein I am left, il agreeing with the hot blood running in my veines, and the temper of my earnest desires: have so prevailed against my strongest resistances, that not onely so weake a woman as I am, but any man of much more potent might, (living in ease and idlenesse as I do) cannot withstand such continuall assaults, having no other helpe then flesh and blood.

Nor am I so ignorant, but publike knowledge of such an error in mee, would be reputed a shrewd taxation of honesty: whereas (on the other side) secret carriage, and heedfull managing such amorous affaires, may passe for currant without any reproach. And let me tel you, noble Count, that I repute love highly favourable to mee, by guiding my judgement with such moderation, to make election of a wise, worthy, and honorable friend, fit to enjoy the grace of a farre greater Lady then I am, and the first letter of his name, is the Count D’Angiers. For if error have not misled mine eye, as in love no Lady can be easily deceived: for person, perfections, and all parts most to bee commended in a man, the whole Realme of France containeth not your equall. Observe beside, how forward Fortune sheweth her selfe to us both in this case; you to bee destitute of a wife, as I am of an husband; for I account him as dead to me, when he denies me the duties belonging to a wife. Wherefore, in regard of the unfained affection I beare you, and compassion which you ought to have of a Royall Princesse, even almost sicke to death for your sake, I earnestly entreat you, not to deny mee your loving society, but pittying my youth and fiery affections (never to be quenched but by your kindnesse) I may enjoy my hearts desire.

As shee uttered these words, the teares streamed aboundantly downe her faire cheekes, preventing her of any further speech: so that dejecting her head into her bosome, overcome with the predominance of her passions, she fell upon the Counts knee, whereas else shee had falne uppon the ground. When he, like a loyall and most honourable man, sharpely reprehended her fond and idle love: And when shee would have embraced him about the necke to have kissed him; he repulsed her roughly from him, protesting upon his honourable reputation, that rather then hee would so wrong his Lord and Maister, he would endure a thousand deaths.

The Ladie seeing her desire disappointed, and her fond expectation utterly frustrated: grew instantly forgetfull of her intemperate love, and falling into extremity of rage, converted her former gentle and loving speeches, into this harsh and ruder language. Villaine (quoth she) shall the longing comforts of my life, be abridged by thy base and scornefull deniall? Shall my destruction be wrought by thy most currish unkindenesse, and all my hoped joyes be defeated in a moment? Know Slave, that I did not so earnestly desire thy sweete embracements before, but now as deadly I hate and despise them; which either thy death or banishment shall deerely pay for. No sooner had she thus spoken, but tearing her haire, and renting her garments in peeces, she ranne about like a distracted Woman, crying out alowd; Helpe, helpe, the Count D’Angiers will forcibly dishonour mee, the lustfull Count will violate mine honour.

D’Angiers seeing this, and fearing more the malice of the over-credulous Court, then either his owne Conscience, or any dishonourable act by him committed, beleeving likewise, that her slanderous accusation would be credited, above his true and spotlesse innocency: closely he conveyed himselfe out of the Court, making what hast he could, home to his owne house, which being too weake for warranting his safety upon such pursuite as would be used against him, without any further advice or counsell, he seated his two children on horsebacke, himselfe also being but meanly mounted, thus away thence he went to Calice.

Upon the clamour and noise of the Lady, the Courtiers quickly flocked thither; and, as lies soone winne beleefe in hasty opinions, upon any silly or shallow surmise: so did her accusation passe for currant, and the Counts advancement being envied by many, made his honest carriage (in this case) the more suspected. In hast and madding fury, they ran to the Counts houses, to arrest his person, and carry him to prison: but when they could not finde him, they raced his goodly buildings downe to the ground, and used all shamefull violence to them. Now, as ill newes sildome wants a speedy Messenger; so, in lesse space then you will imagine, the King and Dolphin heard thereof in the Campe,-and were therewith so highly offended, that the Count had a sodaine and severe condemnation, all his progeny being sentenced with perpetuall exile, and promises of great and bountifull rewards, to such as could bring his body alive or dead.

Thus the innocent Count, by his overhasty and sodaine flight, made himselfe guilty of this foule imputation: and arriving at Callice with his children, their poore and homely habites, hid them from being knowne, and thence they crossed over into England, staying no where untill hee came to London. Before he would enter into the City, he gave divers good advertisements to his children, but especially two precepts above all the rest. First, with patient soules to support the poore condition, whereto Fortune (without any offence in him or them) had thus dejected them. Next, that they should have most heedfull care, at no time to disclose from whence they came, or whose children they were, because it extended to the perill of their lives. His Sonne, being named Lewes, and now about nine yeares old, his Daughter called Violenta, and aged seaven yeares, did both observe their fathers direction, as afterward it did sufficiently appeare. And because they might live in the safer securitie, hee thought it for the best to change their names, calling his Sonne Perotto, and his Daughter Gianetta, for thus they might best escape unknowne.

Being entred into the City, and in the poore estate of beggars, they craved every bodies mercy and almes. It came to passe, that standing one morning at the Cathedrall Church doore, a great Lady of England being then wife to the Lord high Marshal, comming forth of the Church, espied the Count and his children there begging. Of him she demanded what Countrey-man he was? and whether those children were his owne, or no? The Count replyed, that he was borne in Piccardy, and for an unhappy fact committed by his eldest Sonne (a stripling of more hopefull expectation, then proved) hee was enforced, with those his two other children, to forsake his country. The Lady being by nature very pittifull, looking advisedly on the young Girle beganne to grow in good liking of her; because (indeede) she was amiable, gentle, and beautifull, whereupon shee saide. Honest man, thy daughter hath a pleasing countenance, and (perhaps) her inward disposition may proove answerable to her outward good parts: if therefore thou canst bee content to leave her with me, I will give her entertainment, and upon her dutifull carriage and behaviour, if she live to such yeares as may require it, I will have her honestly bestowne in marriage. This motion was very pleasing to the Count, who readily declared his willing consent thereto, and with the teares trickling downe his cheekes, in thankfull maner he delivered his pretty daughter to the Lady.

She being thus happily bestowne, he minded to tarry no longer in London; but, in his wonted begging manner, travailing thorough the Country with his sonne Perotto, at length he came into Wales: but not without much weary paine and travell, being never used before, to journey so far on foot. There dwelt another Lord, in office of Marshalship to the King of England, whose power extended over those parts: a man of very great authority, keeping a most noble and bountifull house, which they termed the President of Wales his Court; whereto the Count and his Son oftentimes resorted, as finding there good releefe and comfort. On a day, one of the Presidents sons, accompanied with divers other Gentlemens children, were performing certaine youthfull sports, and pastimes, as running, leaping, and such like, wherein Perotto presumed to make one among them, excelling all the rest in such commendable manner, as none of them came any thing nere him. Divers times the President had taken notice thereof, and was so well pleased with the Lads behaviour, that he enquired of whence he was? Answere was made, that he was a poore mans Son, that every day came for an almes to his gate.

The President being desirous to make the boy his, the Count (whose dayly prayers were to the same purpose) frankly gave his Son to the Nobleman: albeit naturall and fatherly affection, urged some unwillingnesse to part so with him; yet necessity and discretion, found it best for the benefit of them both. Being thus eased of care for his Son and Daughter, and they (though in different places) yet under good and worthy government; the Count would continue no longer in England: but, as best hee could procure the meanes, passed over into Ireland, and being arrived at a place called Stanford, became servant to an Earle of that Country, a Gentleman professing Armes, on whom he attended as a serving man, and lived a long while in that estate very painfully.

His daughter Violenta, clouded under the borrowed name of Gianetta, dwelling with the Lady at London, grew so in yeares, beauty, comelinesse of person, and was so gracefull in the favour of her Lord and Lady, yea, of every one in the house beside, that it was wonderfull to behold. Such as but observed her usuall carriage, and what modesty shined clearely in her eyes, reputed her well worthy of honourable preferment; in regard, the Lady that had received her of her Father, not knowing of whence, or what shee was; but as himselfe had made report, intended to match her in honourable marriage, according as her vertues worthily deserved. But God, the just rewarder of all good endeavours, knowing her to be noble by birth, and (causelesse) to suffer for the sinnes of another; disposed otherwise of her: and that so worthy a Virgin might be no mate for a man of ill conditions, no doubt ordained what was to be done, according to his owne good pleasure. The Noble Lady, with whom poore Gianetta dwelt, had but one onely Sonne by her Husband, and he most deerely affected of them both, as well in regard he was to be their heire, as also for his vertues and commendable qualities, wherein he excelled many young Gentlemen. Endued he was with heroycall valour, compleate in all perfections of person, and his minde every way answerable to his outward behaviour, exceeding Gianetta about sixe yeeres in age. Hee perceiving her to be a faire and comely Maiden, grew to affect her so entirely, that all things else he held contemptible, and nothing pleasing in his eye but shee. Now, in regard her parentage was reputed poore, he kept his love concealed from his Parents, not daring to desire her in marriage: for loath he was to loose their favour, by disclosing the vehemency of his afflictions, which proved a greater torment to him, then if it had beene openly knowne.

It came to passe, that love over-awed him in such sort, as he fell into a violent sicknesse, and store of Physicions were sent for, to save him from death, if possibly it might be. Their judgements observing the course of his sicknesse, yet not reaching to the cause of the disease, made a doubtfull question of his recovery; which was so displeasing to his parents, that their griefe and sorrow grew beyond measure. Many earnest entreaties they moved to him, to know the occasion of his sickenesse, whereto he returned no other answere, but heart-breaking sighes, and incessant teares, which drew him more and more into weakenesse of body.

It chanced on a day, a Physicion was brought unto him, being young in yeeres, but well experienced in his practise: and as hee made triall of his pulse, Gianetta (who by his Mothers command, attended on him very diligently) upon some especiall occasion entred into the Chamber, which when the young Gentleman perceived, and that shee neither spake word, nor so much as looked towards him, his heart grew great in amorous desire, and his pulse did beate beyond the compasse of ordinary custome; whereof the Physicion made good observation, to note how long that fit would continue. No sooner was Gianetta gone forth of the Chamber, but the pulse immediately gave over beating, which perswaded the Physicion, that some part of the disease had now discovered it selfe apparantly.

Within a while after, pretending to have some speech with Gianetta, and holding the Gentleman still by the arme, the Physicion caused her to be sent for; and immediately shee came. Upon her very entrance into the Chamber, the pulse began to beate againe extreamely, and when shee departed, it presently ceased. Now was he thorowly perswaded, that he had found the true effect of his sicknesse, when taking the Father and mother aside, thus he spake to them. If you be desirous of your Sons health, it consisteth not either in Physicion or physicke, but in the mercy of your faire Maide Gianetta; for manifest signes have made it knowne to me, and he loveth the Damosell very dearely: yet (for ought I can perceive, the Maide doth not know it:) now if you have respect of his life, you know (in this case) what is to be done. The Nobleman and his Wife hearing this, became somewhat satisfied, because there remained a remedy to preserve his life: but yet it was no meane griefe to them, if it should so succeede, as they feared, namely, the marriage betweene this their Sonne and Gianetta.

The Physicion being gone, and they repairing to their sicke Sonne, the Mother began with him in this manner. Sonne, I was alwayes perswaded, that thou wouldest not conceale any secret from me, or the least part of thy desires; especially, when without enjoying them, thou must remaine in the danger of death. Full well art thou assured, or in reason oughtest to be, that there is not any thing for thy contentment, be it of what quality soever, but it should have beene provided for thee, and in as ample manner as for mine owne selfe. But though thou hast wandred so farre from duty, and hazarded both thy life and ours, it commeth so to passe, that Heaven hath beene more mercifull to thee, then thou wouldest be to thy selfe, or us. And to prevent thy dying of this disease, a dreame this night hath acquainted me with the principall occasion of thy sickenesse, to wit extraordinary affection to a young Maiden, in some such place as thou hast seene her. I tell thee Sonne, it is a matter of no disgrace to love, and why shouldst thou shame to manifest as much, it being so apt and convenient for thy youth? For if I were perswaded, that thou couldst not love, I should make the lesse esteeme of thee. Therefore deare Sonne, be not dismayed, but freely discover thine affections. Expell those disastrous drouping thoughts, that have indangered thy life by this long lingering sicknesse. And let thy soule be faithfully assured, that thou canst not require any thing to be done, remaining within the compasse of my power, but I will performe it; for I love thee as dearely as mine owne life. Set therefore aside this nice conceit of shame and feare, revealing the truth boldly to me, if I may stead thee in thy love; resolving thy selfe unfaignedly, that if my care stretch not to compasse thy content, account me for the most cruell Mother living, and utterly unworthy of such a Sonne.

The young Gentleman having heard these protestations made by his Mother, was not a little ashamed of his owne follie; but recollecting his better thoughts together, and knowing in his soule, that no one could better further his hopes, then shee; forgetting all his former feare, he returned her this answere; Madam, and my dearely affected Mother, nothing hath more occasioned my loves so strict concealement, but an especiall errour, which I finde by daily proofe in many, who being growne to yeeres of grave discretion, doe never remember, that they themselves have bin yong. But because herein I find you to be both discreet and wise, I will not onely affirme what you have seen in me to be true, but also will confesse, to whom it is: upon condition, that the effect of your promise may follow it, according to the power remaining in you, whereby you onely may secure my life.

His Mother, desirous to bee resolved, whether his confession would agree with the Physitians words, or no, and reserving another intention to her selfe: bad him feare nothing, but freely discover his whole desire, and forthwith she doubted not to effect it. Then Madame (quoth hee) the matchlesse beauty, and commendable qualities of your Maid Gianetta, to whom (as yet) I have made no motion, to commisserate this my languishing extremity, nor acquainted any living creature with my love: the concealing of these afflictions to myselfe, hath brought mee to this desperate condition: and if some meane bee not wrought, according to your constant promise, for the full enjoying of my longing desires, assure your selfe (most Noble Mother) that the date of my life is very short. The Lady well knowing, that the time now rather required kindest comfort, then any severe or sharpe reprehension, smiling on him, said: Alas deere sonne, wast thou sicke for this? Be of good cheare, and when thy strength is better restored, then referre the matter to me. The young Gentleman, being put in good hope by his Mothers promise, began (in short time) to shew apparant signes of well-forwarded amendment, to the Mothers great joy and comfort, disposing her selfe dayly to proove, how in honor she might keepe promise with her sonne.

Within a short while after, calling Gianetta privately to her, in gentle manner, and by the way of pleasant discourse, she demanded of hir, whither she was provided of a Lover, or no. Gianetta, being never acquainted with any such questions, a scarlet Dye covering all her modest countenance, thus replyed. Madam, I have no neede of any Lover, and very unseemely were it, for so poore a Damosell as I am, to have so much as a thought of Lovers, being banished from my friends and kinsfolke, and remaining in service as I do.

If you have none (answered the Ladie) wee will bestow one on you, which shall content your minde, and bring you to a more pleasing kinde of life; because it is farre unfit, that so faire a Maid as you are., should remaine destitute of a Lover. Madam, said Gianetta, considering with my selfe, that since you received me of my poore Father, you have used me rather like your daughter, then a servant; it becommeth mee to doe as pleaseth you. Notwithstanding, I trust (in the regard of mine owne good and honour) never to use any complaint in such a case: but if you please to bestow a husband on me, I purpose to love and honor him onely, and not any other. For, of all the inheritance left me by my progenitors, nothing remaineth to me but honourable honesty, and that shall be my Legacie so long as I live.

These wordes, were of a quite contrary complexion, to those which the Lady expected from her, and for effecting the promise made unto hir Sonne: howbeit (like a wise and noble Ladie) much she inwardly commended the maids answers, and said unto her. But tell me Gianetta, what if my Lord the King (who is a gallant youthfull Prince, and you so bright a beautie as you are) should take pleasure in your love, would ye denie him? Sodainly the Maide returned this answer: Madame, the King perhaps might enforce me, but with my free consent, hee shall never have any thing of me that is not honest. Nor did the Lady dislike her Maides courage and resolution, but breaking of all her further conference, intended shortly to put her project in proofe, saying to her son, that when he was fully recovered, he should have private accesse to Gianetta, whom shee doubted not but would be tractable enough to him; for she helde it no meane blemish to her honour, to moove the Maide any more in the matter, but let him compasse it as he could.

Farre from the yong Gentlemans humour was this answer of his Mother, because he aimed not at any dishonourable end: true, faithfull, and honest love was the sole scope of his intention, foule and loathsome lust he utterly defied; whereupon he fell into sickenesse againe, rather more violently then before. Which the Lady perceiving, revealed her whole intent to Gianetta, and finding her constancie beyond common comparison, acquainted her Lord with all she had done, and both consented (though much against their mindes) to let him enjoy her in honourable marriage: accounting it better, for preservation of their onely sons life, to match him farre inferiour to his degree, then by denying h desire, to let him pine and dye for her love.

After great consultation with Kindred and Friends, the match was agreed upon, to the no little joy of Gianetta, who devoutly returned infinite thankes to heaven, for so mercifully respecting her dejected poore estate, after the bitter passage of so many miseries, and never tearming her selfe any otherwise, but the daughter of a poore Piccard. Soone was the yong Gentleman recovered and married, no man alive so well contented as he, and setting downe an absolute determination, to lead a loving life with his Gianetta.

Let us now convert our lookes to Wales, to Perotto; being lefte there with the other Lord Marshall, who was the President of that Countrey. On hee grew in yeeres, choisely respected by his Lord, because hee was most comely of person, and forward to all valiant attempts: so that in Tourneyes, joustes, and other actions of Armes, his like was not to bee found in all the Island, being named onely Perotto the valiant Piccard, and so was he famed farre and neere. As God had not forgotten his Sister, so in mercy he became as mindefull of him; for, a contagious mortalitie hapning in the Country, the greater part of the people perished thereby, the rest flying thence into other partes of the Land, whereby the whole Province became dispeopled and desolate.

In the time of this plague and dreadful visitation, the Lord President, his Lady, Sonnes, Daughters, Brothers, Nephewes, and Kindred dyed, none remaining alive, but one onely Daughter marriageable, a few of the houshold servants, beside Perotto, whom (after the sickenesse was more mildly asswaged) with counsell and consent of the Countrey people, the young Lady accepted to be her husband, because hee was a man so worthy and valiant; and of all the inheritance left by her deceased Father, she made him Lord, and sole commander. Within no long while after, the King of England understanding that his President of Wales was dead, and Fame liberally relating the vertues, valour, and good parts of Perotto the Piccard, hee created him President thereof, and to supply the place of his deceased Lord. These faire fortunes, within the compasse of so short a time, fell to the two innocent children of the Count D’Angiers after they were left by him as lost and forlorne.

Eighteene yeeres were now fully overpast, since the Count D’Angiers fled from Paris, having suffered (in miserable sort) many hard and lamentable adversities; and seeing himselfe now to be growne aged, hee was desirous to leave Ireland, and to know (if hee might) what was become of both his Children. Heereupon, perceiving his wonted forme to be so altered, that such as formerly had conversed most with him, could now not take any knowledge of him, and feeling his body (through long labour and exercise endured in service) more lustie then in his idle youthfull yeeres, especially when he left the Court of France, hee purposed to proceede in his determination. Being verie poore and simple in apparrel, he departed from the Irish Earle his Master, with whom he had continued long in service, to no advantage or advancement, and crossing over into England, travayled to the place in Wales, where he left Perotto, and where he found him to be Lord Marshall and President of the country, lusty and in good health, a man of goodly feature, and most honorably respected and reverenced of the people.

Well may you imagine, that this was no small comfort to the poore aged Countes heart, yet would he not make himselfe knowne to him, or any other about him, but referred his joy to a further enlarging and diminishing, by sight of the other limbe of his life, his deerely affected daughter Gianetta, denying rest to his bodie in any place, until such time as he came to London. Making there secret enquiry concerning the Ladie with whom hee had left his daughter; hee understoode, that a young Gentlewoman, named Gianetta, was married to that Ladies onely Son, which made a second addition of joy to his soule, accounting all his passed adversities of no valew, both his children being living, and in so high honour.

Having found her dwelling, and (like a kinde Father) being earnestly desirous to see her; he dayly resorted nere to the house, where Sir Roger Mandevile (for so was Gianettaes husband named) chauncing to see him, being moved to compassion, because he was both poore and aged: commaunded one of his men, to take him into the house, and to give him some foode for Gods sake, which (accordingly) the servant performed. Gianetta had divers children by her husband, the eldest being but eight yeeres of age, yet all of them so faire and comely as could be. As the old Count sate eating his meate in the Hall, the children came all about him, embracing, hugging, and making much of him, even as if Nature had truly instructed them, that this was their aged (though poor) Grandfather, and hee as lovingly receiving these kilde relations from them, wisely and silently kept all to himselfe, with sighes, teares, and joyes intermixed together. Insomuch that the children would not part from him though their Tutor and Master called them often, which being tolde to their Mother, shee came foorth of the neere adjoyning Parlour, and threatned to beate them, if they would not doe what their Maister commanded them.

Then the Children began to cry, saying; that they would tarrie stil by the good olde man, because he loved them better then their Master did; whereat both the Lady and the Count began to smile. The Count, a poore Begger, and not as Father to so great a Lady, arose, and did her humble reverence, because she was now a Noble Woman, conceyving wonderfull joy in his soule, to see her so faire and goodly a creature: yet could she take no knowledge of him, Age, want, and misery had so mightily altered him; his head all white, his beard without any comly forme, his Garments so poore, and his face so wrinkled, leane and meager, that he seemed rather some Carter, then a Count. And Gianetta perceiving that when her Children were fetcht away, they returned againe to the olde man, and would not leave him, she desired their Maister to let them alone. While thus the Children continued making much of the good olde man, Lord Andrew Mandevile, Father to Sir Roger, came into the Hall, as being so willed to doe by the Childrens Schoolemaster. He being a hastie-minded man, and one that ever-despised Gianetta before, but much more since her marriage to his sonne, angerly said; Let them alone with a mischeefe, and so befall them, their best company ought to bee with beggers, for so they are bred and borne by the Mothers side: and therefore it is no mervaile, if like will to like, a beggers brats to keepe company with beggers. The Count hearing these contemptible wordes, was not a little greeved thereat; and although his courage was greater then his poore condition would permit him to expresse; yet, clouding all injuries with noble patience, hanging downe his head, and shedding many a salt teare, endured this reproach, as hee had done many, both before and after.

But honourable Sir Roger, perceiving what delight his Children tooke in the poore mans company; albeit he was offended at his Fathers harsh words, by holding his wife in such base respect: yet favoured the poore Count so much the more, and seeing him weepe, did greatly compassionate his case, saying to the poore man, that if he would accept of his service, he willingly would entertaine him. Whereto the Count replyed, that very gladly he would embrace his kinde offer: but he was capeable of no other service, save onely to be an horsekeeper, wherein he had imployed the most part of his time. Heereupon, more for pleasure and pitty then any necessity of his service, he was appointed to the keeping of an Horse, which was onely for his Daughters saddle, and daily after he had done his diligence about the Horse, he did nothing else but play with the children. While Fortune pleased thus to dally with the poore Count D’Angiers, and his children, it came to passe, that the King of France (after divers leagues of truces passed betweene him and the Germaines) died, and next after him, his Son the Dolphin was crowned King, and it was his wife that wrongfully caused the Counts banishment. After expiration of the last league with the Germains, the warres began to grow much more fierce and sharpe, and the King of England, (upon request made to him by his new brother of France) sent him very honourable supplies of his people, under the conduct of Perotto, his lately elected President of Wales, and Sir Roger Mandevile, Son to his other Lord high Marshall; with whom also the poore Count went, and continued a long while in the Campe as a common Souldier, where yet like a valiant Gentleman (as indeed he was no lesse) both in advice and actions; he accomplished many more notable matters, then was expected to come from him.

It so fell out, that in the continuance of this warre, the Queene of France fell into a grievous sicknesse, and perceiving her selfe to be at the point of death, shee became very penitently sorrowfull for all her sinnes, earnestly desiring that shee might be confessed by the Archbishop of Roane, who was reputed to be an holy and vercuous man. In the repetition of her other offences; she revealed what great wrong she had done to the Count D’Angiers, resting not so satisfied, with disclosing the whole matter to him alone; but also confessed the same before many other worthy persons, and of great honour, entreating them to worke so with the King, that (if the Count were yet living, or any of his Children) they might be restored to their former honour againe.

It was not long after, but the Queene left this life, and was most royally enterred, when her confession being disclosed to the King, after much sorrow for so injuriously wronging a man of so great valour and honour: Proclamation was made throughout the Campe, and in many other parts of France beside, that whosoever could produce the Count D’Angiers, or any of his Children, should richly be rewarded for each one of them; in regard he was innocent of the foule imputation, by the Queenes owne confession, and for his wrongfull exile so long, he should be exalted to his former honour with farre greater favours, which the King franckely would bestow upon him. When the Count (who walked up and downe in the habite of a common servitor) heard this Proclamation, forth-with hee went to his Master Sir Roger Mandevile, requesting his speedy repaire to Lord Perotto, that being both assembled together, he would acquaint them with a serious matter, concerning the late Proclamation published by the King. Being by themselves alone in the Tent, the Count spake in this manner to Perotto. Sir, S. Roger Mandevile here, your equall competitor in this military service, is the husband to your naturall sister, having as yet never received any dowry with her, but her inherent unblemishable vertue and honor. Now because she may not stil remain destitute of a competent Dowry: I desire that Sir Roger, and none other, may enjoy the royall reward promised by the King. You Lord Perotto, whose true name is Lewes, manifest your selfe to be nobly borne, and Sonne to the wrongfull banished Count D’Angiers: avouch moreover, that Violenta, shadowed under the borrowed name of Gianetta, is your owne Sister; and deliver me up as your Father, the long exiled Count D’Angiers. Perotto hearing this, beheld him more advisedly, and began to know him: then, the tears flowing abundantly from his eyes, he fell at his feete, and often embracing him, saide: My deere and noble Father! a thousand times more deerely welcome to your Sonne Lewes.

Sir Roger Mandevile, hearing first what the Count had saide, and seeing what Perotto afterward performed; became surprized with such extraordinary joy and admiration, that he knew not how to carry himselfe in this case. Neverthelesse, giving credite to his words, and being somewhat ashamed, that he had not used the Count in more respective manner, and remembring beside, the unkinde language of his furious Father to him: he kneeled downe, humbly craving pardon, both for his Fathers rudenes and his owne, which was courteously granted by the Count, embracing him lovingly in his armes.

When they had a while discoursed their severall fortunes, sometime in teares, and then againe in joy; Perotto and Sir Roger, would have the Count to be garmented in better manner, but in no wise he would suffer it; for it was his onely desire, that Sir Roger should bee assured of the promised reward, by presenting him in the Kings presence, and in the homely habit which he did weare, to touch him with the more sensible shame, for his rash beleefe, and injurious proceeding. Then Sir Roger Mandevile, guiding the Count by the hand, and Perotto following after, came before the King, offering to present the Count and his children, if the reward promised in the Proclamation might be performed. The King immediately commanded, that a reward of inestimable valew should be produced; desiring Sir Roger upon the sight thereof, to make good his offer, for forthwith presenting the Count and his children. Which hee made no longer delay of, but turning himselfe about, delivered the aged Count, by the title of his servant, and presenting Perotto next, saide. Sir, heere I deliver you the Father and his Son, his Daughter who is my wife, cannot so conveniently be here now, but shortly, by the permission of heaven, your Majesty shall have a sight of her.

When the King heard this, stedfastly he looked on the Count; and, notwithstanding his wonderfull alteration, both from his wonted feature and forme: yet, after he had very seriously viewed him, he knew him perfectly; and the teares trickling downe his cheekes partly with remorsefull shame, and joy also for his so happy recovery, he tooke up the Count from kneeling, kissing, and embracing him very kindely, welcomming Perotto in the selfe same manner. Immediately also he gave commaund, that the Count should be restored to his honors, apparell, servants, horses, and furniture, answerable to his high estate and calling, which was as speedily performed. Moreover, the Kin greatly honoured Sir Roger Mandevile, desiring to be made acquainted with all their passed fortunes.

When Sir Roger had received the royall reward, for thus surrendering the Count and his Sonne, the Count calling him to him, saide. Take that Princely remuneration of my soveraigne Lord and King, and commending me to your unkinde Father, tell him that your Children are no beggars brats, neither basely borne by their Mothers side. Sir Roger returning home with his bountifull reward, soone after brought his Wife and Mother to Paris, and so did Perotto his Wife where in great joy and triumph, they continued with while with the noble Count; who had all his goods and honours restored to him, in farre greater measure then ever they were before: his Sonnes in Law returning home with their Wives into England, left the Count with the King at Paris, where he spent the rest of his dayes in great honour and felicity.