The Decameron (Day 1 to Day 5)
Page 23
_The Count_ D'Angiers _being falsly accused, was banished out of_France, _& left his two children in_ England _in divers places.Returning afterward (unknowne) thorow_ Scotland, _hee found themadvanced unto great dignity. Then, repayring in the habite of aServitour, into the King of_ France _his Armie, and his innocencie madepubliquely knowne; hee was reseated in his former honourable degree._
The eight Novell.
_Whereby all men may plainely understand, that loyalty faithfully keptto the Prince (what perils so ever doe ensue) doth yet neverthelesserenowne a man, and bring him to farre greater honour._
The Ladies sighed very often, hearing the variety of wofull miserieshappening to _Alathiella_: but who knoweth, what occasion moved themto those sighes? Perhaps there were some among them, who rathersighed they could not be so often married as she was, rather then forany other compassion they had of her disasters. But leaving that totheir owne construction, they smiled merrily at the last speeches of_Pamphilus_, and the Queene perceiving the Novell to be ended: sheefixed her eye upon Madame _Eliza_, as signifying thereby, that shewas next to succeede in order, which shee joyfully embracing, spakeas followeth. The field is very large and spacious, wherein all thisday we have walked, and there is not any one here, so wearied withrunning the former races, but nimbly would adventure on as many more,so copious are the alterations of Fortune, in sad repetition of herwonderfull changes; and among the infinity of her various courses, Imust make addition of another, which I trust will no way discontentyou.
When the Romaine Empire was translated from the French to the Germains,mighty dissentions grew between both the nations, insomuch that itdrew a dismall and a lingring warre. In which respect, as well for thesafety of his owne Kingdome, as to annoy and disturbe his enemies; theKing of _France_ and one of his sonnes, having congregated the forcesof their owne dominions, as also of their friends and confederates,they resolved manfully to encounter their enemies. But before theywould adventure on any rash proceeding; they held it as the chiefestpart of pollicie and Royall providence, not to leave the Statewithout a chiefe or Governour. And having had good experience of_Gualtier_, Counte _D'Angiers_, to be a wise, worthy, and most trustyLord, singularly expert in militarie discipline, and faithfull inall affaires of the Kingdome (yet fitter for ease and pleasure, thenlaborious toyle and travaile:) hee was elected Lieutenant Governour intheir sted, over the whole Kingdome of _France_, and then they went onin their enterprize.
Now began the Counte to execute the office committed to his trust, byorderly proceeding, and with great discretion, yet not entring intoany businesse, without consent of the Queene and her faire daughterin law: who although they were left under his care and custodie, yet(notwithstanding) he honoured them as his superiours, and as thedignity of their quality required. Heere you are to observe, concerningCounte _Gualtier_ himselfe, that he was a most compleat person, agedlittle above forty yeares; as affable and singularly conditioned,as any Noble man possibly could be, nor did those times afford aGentleman, that equalled him in all respects. It fortuned, that theKing and his sonne being busie in the afore-named warre, the wife andLady of Counte _Gualtier_ died in the meane while, leaving him onelya sonne and a daughter, very young and of tender yeares, which madehis owne home the lesse welcome to him, having lost his deare Love andsecond selfe.
Hereupon, hee resorted to the Court of the said Ladies the morefrequently, often conferring with them, about the waighty affaires ofthe Kingdome: in which time of so serious interparlance, the KingsSonnes wife, threw many affectionate regards upon him, convaying suchconspiring passions to her heart (in regard of his person and vertues)that her love exceeded all capacity of governement. Her desiresout-stepping all compasse of modesty, or the dignity of her Princelycondition; throwes off all regard of civill and sober thoughts, andguides her into a Labyrinth of wanton imaginations. For, she regardsnot now the eminencie of his high authority, his gravity of yeares, andthose parts that are the true conducts to honour: but lookes upon herowne loose and lascivious appetite, her young, gallant, and over-readyyeelding nature, comparing them with his want of a wife, and likelyhope (thereby) of her sooner prevailing; supposing, that nothingcould be her hinderance, but onely bashfull shame-facednesse, whichshe rather chose utterly to forsake and set aside, then to faile ofher hote enflamed affection, and therefore, shee would needes be thediscoverer of her owne disgrace.
Upon a day, being alone by her selfe, and the time seeming suteable toher intention: shee sent for the Counte, under colour of some otherimportant conference with him. The Counte _D'Angiers_, whose thoughtswere quite contrary to hers: immediately went to her, where they bothsitting downe together on a beds side in her Chamber, according asformerly shee had plotted her purpose; twice hee demaunded of her,upon what occasion she had thus sent for him. She sitting a long whilesilent, as if she had no answere to make him: pressed by the violenceof her amorous passions, a vermillion tincture leaping up into herface, yet shame enforcing teares from her eyes, with words broken andhalfe confused, at last she began to deliver her minde in this manner.
Honourable Lord, and my dearely respected friend, being so wise a manas you are, it is no difficult matter for you to know, what a frailecondition is imposed both on men and women; yet (for divers occasions)much more upon the one, then the other. Wherefore desertfully, in thecensure of a just and upright Judge, a fault of divers conditions(in respect of the person) ought not to be censured with one and thesame punishment. Beside, who will not say, that a man or woman ofpoore and meane estate, having no other helpe for maintainance, butlaborious travaile of their bodies should worthily receive more sharpereprehension, in yeelding to amorous desires, or such passions asare incited by love; then a wealthy Lady whose living relieth not onher paines or cares, neither wanteth any thing that she can wish tohave: I dare presume, that you your selfe will allow this to be equalland just. In which respect, I am of the minde, that the fore-namedallegations, ought to serve as a sufficient excuse, yea, and to theadvantage of her who is so possessed, if the passions of love shouldover-reach her: alwayes provided, that shee can pleade (in her ownedefence) the choise of a wise and vertuous friend, answerable to herowne condition and quality, and no way to be taxed with a servile orvile election.
These two especiall observations, allowable in my judgement, and livingnow in me, seazing on my youthfull blood and yeares: have found nomean inducement to love, in regard of my husbands far distance fromme, medling in the rude uncivill actions of warre, when he shouldrather be at home in more sweet imployment. You see Sir, that theseOrators advance themselves here in your presence, to acquaint youwith the extremity of my over-commanding agony: and if the same powerhath dominion in you, which your discretion (questionlesse) cannot bevoide of; then let me entreate such advise from you, as may ratherhelpe, then hinder my hopes. Beleeve it then for trueth Sir, that thelong absence of my husband from me, the solitary condition wherein Iam left, ill agreeing with the hot blood running in my veines, & thetemper of my earnest desires: have so prevailed against my strongestresistances, that not onely so weake a woman as I am, but any man ofmuch more potent might (living in ease and idlenesse as I doe) cannotwithstand such continuall assaults, having no other helpe then fleshand blood.
Nor am I so ignorant, but publique knowledge of such an error in me,would be reputed a shrewd taxation of honesty: whereas (on the otherside) secret carriage, and heedfull managing such amorous affaires,may passe for currant without any reproach. And let me tell you NobleCounte, that I repute Love highly favourable to mee, by guiding myjudgement with such moderation, to make election of a wise, worthy, andhonourable friend, fit to enjoy the grace of a farre greater Lady thenI am, and the first letter of his name, is the Count _D'Angiers_. Forif error have not misled mine eye, as in Love no Lady can be easilydeceived: for person, perfections, and all parts most to be commendedin a man, the whole Realme of _France_ containeth not your equall.Observe beside, how forward Fortune sheweth her selfe to us both inthis case, you to be destitute of
a wife, as I am of an husband; for Icount him as dead to me, when he denies me the duties belonging to awife. Wherefore, in regard of the unfaigned affection I beare you, andcompassion, which you ought to have of Royall Princesse, even almostsicke to death for your sake: I earnestly entreate you, not to denie meyour loving society, but pittying my youth and fiery afflictions (neverto be quenched but by your kindnesse) I may enjoy my hearts desire.
As shee uttered these words, the teares streamed aboundantly downeher faire cheekes, preventing her of any further speech: so thatdejecting her head into her bosome, overcome with the predominance ofher passions; shee fell upon the Countes knee, whereas else shee hadfalne upon the ground. When hee, like a loyall and most honourableman, sharply reprehended her fonde and idle love, and when shee wouldhave embraced him about the necke; hee repulsed her roughly from him,protesting upon his honourable reputation, that rather then hee wouldso wrong his Lord and Maister, he would endure a thousand deathes.
The Lady seeing her desire disappointed, and her fond expectationutterly frustrated: grewe instantly forgetfull of her intemperatelove, and falling into extremity of rage, converted her former gentlespeeches, into this harsh and ruder language. Villaine (quoth shee)shall the longing comforts of my life, be abridged by thy base andscornefull deniall? Shall my destruction bee wrought by thy currishunkindnesse, and all my hoped joyes be defeated in a moment? Knowslave, that I did not so earnestly desire thy sweet embracementsbefore, but now as deadly I hate and despise them, which either thydeath or banishment shall dearely pay for. No sooner had shee thusspoken, but tearing her haire, and renting her garments in pieces, sheeranne about like a distracted woman, crying out aloude: Helpe, helpe,the Count _D'Angiers_ will forcibly dishonour mee, the lustfull Countwill violence mine honour.
_D'Angiers_ seeing this, and fearing more the malice of theover-credulous Court, then either his owne conscience, or anydishonourable act by him committed, beleeving likewise, that herslanderous accusation would bee credited, above his true and spotlesseinnocency: closely he conveyed himselfe out of the Court, making whathast hee could, home to his owne house, which being too weake forwarranting his safety upon such pursuite as would be used against him,without any further advice or counsell, he seated his two children onhorsebacke, himselfe also being but meanly mounted, thus away thencehee went to _Calice_.
Upon the clamour and noise of the Lady, the Courtiers quickly flockedthither; and, as lies soone winne beleefe in hasty opinions, upon anysilly or shallow surmise: so did her accusation passe for currant, andthe Counts advancement being envied by many, made his honest carriage(in this case) the more suspected. In hast and madding fury, they ranto the Counts houses, to arrest his person, and carry him to prison:but when they could not finde him, they raced his goodly buildingsdowne to the ground, and used all shamefull violence to them. Now, asil newes sildome wants a speedy Messenger; so, in lesse space then youwill imagine, the King and Dolphin heard thereof in the Camp, and weretherewith so highly offended, that the Count had a sodaine and severecondemnation, all his progeny being sentenced with perpetuall exile,and promises of great and bountifull rewards, to such as could bringhis body alive or dead.
Thus the innocent Count, by his over-hasty and sodaine flight, madehimselfe guilty of this foule imputation: and arriving at _Callice_with his children, their poore and homely habites, hid them from beingknowne, and thence they crossed over into England, staying no whereuntill hee came to London. Before he would enter into the City, hegave divers good advertisements to his children, but especially twoprecepts above all the rest. First, with patient soules to support thepoore 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 theywere, 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 fathersdirection, as afterward it did sufficiently appeare. And becausethey might live in the safer securitie, hee thought it for the bestto 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 beggers, theycraved every bodies mercy and almes. It came to passe, that standingone morning at the Cathedral Church-doore, a great Lady of England,being then wife to the Lord high Marshall, comming forth of the Church,espied the Count and his children there begging. Of him she demandedwhat Countrey-man he was? and whether those children were his owne,or no? The Count replyed, that he was borne in _Picardy_, and foran unhappy fact committed by his eldest sonne (a stripling of morehopefull expectation, then proved) hee was enforced, with those histwo other children to forsake his country. The Lady being by naturevery pittiful, looking advisedly on the yong Girle, beganne to growin good liking of her; because (indeede) she was amiable, gentle, andbeautifull, whereupon shee saide. Honest man, thy daughter hath apleasing countenance, and (perhaps) her inward disposition may prooveanswerable to hir outward goods parts: if therefore thou canst beecontent to leave her with me, I will give her entertainment, and uponher dutifull carriage and behaviour, if she live to such yeares as mayrequire it, I will have her honestly bestowne in marriage. This motionwas verie pleasing to the Count, who readily declared his willingconsent thereto, and with the teares trickling downe his cheekes, inthankfull manner he delivered his prettie daughter to the Lady.
Shee being thus happily bestowne, hee minded to tarry no longer in_London_; but, in his wonted begging manner, travailing thorough theCountry with his sonne _Perotto_, at length hee came into _Wales_: butnot without much weary paine and travell, being never used before,to journey so far on foote. There dwelt another Lord, in office ofMarshalship to the King of _England_, whose power extended overthose partes; a man of very great authority, keeping a most nobleand bountifull house, which they termed the _President of Wales hisCourt_; whereto the Count and his son oftentimes resorted, as findingthere good releefe and comfort. On a day, one of the Presidents sons,accompanied with divers other Gentlemens children, were performingcertaine youthfull sports & pastimes, as running, leaping, and suchlike, wherein _Perotto_ presumed to make one among them, excelling allthe rest in such commendable manner, as none of them came any thingnere him. Divers times the President had taken notice thereof, and wasso well pleased with the Lads behaviour, that he enquired, of whencehe was? Answer was made, that hee was a poore mans son, that every daycame for an almes to his gate.
The President being desirous to make the boy his, the Count (whosedayly prayers were to the same purpose) frankly gave his son tothe Nobleman: albeit naturall and fatherly affection, urged someunwillingnesse to part so with him; yet necessity and discretion, foundit to bee for the benefit of them both. Being thus eased of care forhis son and daughter, and they (though in different places) yet undergood and woorthie government: the Count would continue no longer in_England_: but, as best he could procure the meanes, passed over into_Ireland_, and being arrived at a place called _Stanford_, becameservant to an Earle of that Country, a Gentleman professing Armes, onwhom he attended as a serving man, & lived a long while in that estatevery 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 Lordand Lady, yea, of every one in the house beside, that it was wonderfullto behold. Such as but observed her usuall carriage, and what modestyshined clearely in her eyes, reputed her well worthy of honourablepreferment; in which regard, the Lady that had received her of herFather, not knowing of whence, or what shee was; but as himselfe hadmade report, intended to match her in honourable mariage, accordingas her vertues worthily deserved. But God, the just rewarder of allgood endeavours, knowing her to be noble by birth, and (causelesse) tosuffer for the sinnes of another; disposed otherwise of her, and thatso worthy a Virgin might be no mat
e for a man of ill conditions, nodoubt ordained what was to be done, according to his owne good pleasure.
The noble Lady, with whom poore _Gianetta_ dwelt, had but one onelySonne by her Husband, and he most deerely affected of them both, aswell in regard hee was to be their heire, as also for his vertuesand commendable qualities, wherein he excelled many young Gentlemen.Endued he was with heroycal valour, compleate in all perfections ofperson, and his mind every way answerable to his outward behaviour,exceeding _Gianetta_ about sixe yeeres in age. Hee perceiving her tobe a faire and comely Maiden, grew to affect her so entirely, that allthings else he held contemptible, and nothing pleasing in his eye butshee. Now, in regard her parentage was reputed poore, hee kept hislove concealed from his Parents, not daring to desire her in marriage:for loth hee was to loose their favour, by disclosing the vehemency ofhis afflictions, which proved a greater torment to him, then if it hadbeene openly knowne.
It came to passe, that love over-awed him in such sort, as he fell intoa violent sicknesse, and score of Physicions were sent for, to save himfrom death, if possibly it might be. Their judgements observing thecourse of his sicknesse, yet not reaching to the cause of the disease,made a doubtfull question of his recovery; which was so displeasing tohis parents, that their griefe and sorrow grew beyond measure. Manyearnest entreaties they moved to him, to know the occasion of hissicknesse, whereto he returned no other answer, but heart-breakingsighes, and incessant teares, which drew him more and more intoweakenesse of body.
It chanced on a day, a Physicion was brought unto him, being young inyeeres, but well experienced in his practise, and as hee made triallof his pulse, _Gianetta_ (who by his Mothers command, attended on himvery diligently) upon some especial occasion entred into the Chamber,which when the young Gentleman perceived, and that shee neither spakeword, nor so much as looked towards him, his heart grew great inamorous desire, and his pulse did beate beyond the compasse of ordinarycustome; whereof the Physicion made good observation, to note how longthat fit would continue. No sooner was _Gianetta_ gone forth of theChamber, but the pulse immediately gave over beating, which perswadedthe Physicion, that some part of the disease had now discovered itselfe apparantly.
Within a while after, pretending to have some speech with _Gianetta_,and holding the Gentleman still by the arme, the Physicion caused herto be sent for, and immediately shee came. Upon her very entrance intothe Chamber, the pulse began to beate againe extreamely, and when sheedeparted, it presently ceased. Now was he thorowly perswaded, that heehad found the true effect of his sicknesse; when taking the Father andmother aside, thus he spake to them. If you be desirous of your Sonshealth, it consisteth not either in Physicion or physicke, but in themercy of your faire Maide _Gianetta_; for manifest signes have made itknowne to me, and he loveth the Damosell very dearely: yet (for oughtI can perceive, the Maide doth not know it) now if you have respectof his life, you know (in this case) what is to be done. The Noblemanand his Wife hearing this, became somewhat satisfied, because thereremained a remedy to preserve his life: but yet it was no meane griefeto them, if it should so succeede, as they feared, namely, the marriagebetweene their Sonne and _Gianetta_.
The Physicion being gone, and they repairing to their sicke Sonne, theMother began with him in this manner. Sonne, I was alwayes perswaded,that thou wouldest not conceale any secret from me, or the least partof thy desires; especially, when without enjoying them, thou mustremaine in the danger of death. Full well art thou assured, or inreason oughtest to be, that there is not any thing for thy contentment,be it of what quality soever, but it should have beene provided forthee, and in as ample manner as for mine owne selfe. But though thouhast wandred so farre from duty, and hazarded both thy life and ours,it commeth so to passe, that Heaven hath been more mercifull to thee,then thou wouldest be to thy selfe or us. And to prevent thy dyingof this disease, a dreame this night hath acquainted me with theprincipall occasion of thy sickenesse, to wit, extraordinary affectionto a young Maiden, in some such place as thou hast seene her. I tellthee Sonne, it is a matter of no disgrace to love, and why shouldstthou shame to manifest as much, it being so apt and convenient forthy youth? For if I were perswaded, that thou couldst not love, Ishould make the lesse esteeme of thee. Therefore deare Sonne, be notdismayed, but freely discover thine affections. Expel those disastrousdrouping thoughts, that have indangered thy life by this long lingeringsicknesse. And let thy soule be faithfully assured, that thou canstnot require any thing to be done, remaining within the compasse ofmy power, but I will performe it; for I love thee as dearely as mineowne 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 tocompasse thy content, account me for the most cruell Mother living, andutterly unworthy of such a Sonne.
The young Gentleman having heard these protestations made by hisMother, was not a little ashamed of his owne follie; but recollectinghis better thoughts together, and knowing in his soule, that no onecould better further his hopes, then shee; forgetting all his formerfeare, he returned her this answere; Madam, and my dearely affectedMother, nothing hath more occasioned my loves so strict concealement,but an especiall error, which I finde by daily proofe in many, whobeing growne to yeeres of grave discretion, doe never remember, thatthey themselves have bin yong. But because heerein I find you to beboth discreet and wise, I will not onely affirme, what you have seen inme 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 powerremaining in you, whereby you onely may secure my life.
His Mother, desirous to bee resolved, whether his confession wouldagree with the Physitians words, or no, and reserving another intentionto her selfe: bad him feare nothing, but freely discover his wholedesire, and forthwith she doubted not to effect it. Then Madame (quothhee) the matchlesse beauty, and commendable qualities of your maid_Gianetta_, to whom (as yet) I have made no motion, to commisseratethis my languishing extremity, nor acquainted any living creature withmy love: the concealing of these afflictions to my selfe, hath broughtmee to this desperate condition: and if some meane bee not wrought,according to your constant promise, for the full enjoying of my longingdesires, assure your selfe (most noble Mother) that the date of my lifeis very short.
The Lady well knowing, that the time now rather required kindestcomfort, then any severe or sharpe reprehension; smiling on him, saide.Alas deere sonne, wast thou sicke for this? Be of good cheare, and whenthy strength is better restored, then referre the matter to me. Theyoung Gentleman, being put in good hope by his mothers promise, began(in short time) to shew apparant signes of well-forwarded amendment: tothe Mothers great joy and comfort, disposing her selfe daily to proove,how in honour she might keepe promise with her Son.
Within a short while after, calling _Gianetta_ privately to her, ingentle manner, and by the way of pleasant discourse, she demanded ofher, whither she was provided of a Lover, or no. _Gianetta_, beingnever acquainted with any such questions, a scarlet Dye covering allher modest countenance, thus replied. Madam, I have no neede of anyLover, and very unseemly were it, for so poore a Damosell as I am, tohave so much as a thought of Lovers: being banished from my friends andkinsfolke, and remaining in service as I do.
If you have none (answered the Lady) wee will bestowe one on you,which shall content your minde, and bring you to a more pleasingkinde of life; because it is farre unfit, that so faire a Maid as youare, should remaine destitute of a lover. Madam, sayde _Gianetta_,considering with my selfe, that since you received me of my pooreFather, you have used me rather like your daughter, then a servant; itbecommeth mee to doe as pleaseth you. Notwithstanding, I trust (in theregard of mine own good and honour) never to use any complaint in sucha case: but if you please to bestow a husband on me, I purpose to loveand honour him onely, & not any other. For, of all the inheritance leftme by my progenitors, nothing remaineth to me but honourable honesty,and that shall bee
my legacie so long as I live.
These words were of a quite contrary complexion, to those whichthe Lady expected from her, and for effecting the promise madeunto hir Sonne: howbeit (like a wise and noble Lady) much sheeinwardly commended the maids answers, and saide unto her. But tellme _Gianetta_, what if my Lord the King (who is a gallant youthfullPrince, and you so bright a beauty as you are) should take pleasurein your love, would ye denie him? Sodainly the Maide returned thisanswer; Madam, the King (perhaps) might enforce me; but with my freeconsent, hee shall never have any thing of me that is not honest. Nordid the Lady mislike her Maides courage and resolution, but breakingoff all her further conference, intended shortly to put her project inproofe, saying to her son, that when he was fully recovered, he shouldhave private accesse to _Gianetta_, whom shee doubted not but wouldbe tractable enough to him; for she held it no meane blemish to herhonour, to moove the Maide any more in the matter, but let him compasseit 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, &honest love was the sole scope of his intention, foule and loathsomelust he utterly defied; whereupon, he fell into sickenesse againe,rather more violently then before. Which the Lady perceiving, revealedher whole intent to _Gianetta_, and finding her constancie beyondcommon comparison, acquainted her Lord with all she had done, and bothconsented (though much against their mindes) to let him enjoy her inhonourable marriage: accounting it better, for preservation of theironely sons life, to match him farre inferiour to his degree, then (bydenying his desire) to let him pine away, and die for her love.
After great consultation with kindred and friendes, the match wasagreed upon, to the no little joy of _Gianetta_, who devoutly returnedinfinite thankes to heaven, for so mercifully respecting her dejectedpoore estate, after the bitter passage of so many miseries, andnever tearming her selfe any otherwise, but the daughter of a poore_Piccard_. Soone was the yong Gentleman recovered and married, noman alive so well contented as he, and setting downe an absolutedetermination, to lead a loving life with his _Gianetta_.
Let us now convert our lookes to _Wales_, to _Perotto_; being leftethere with the other Lord Marshall, who was the President of thatCountrey. On he grew in yeares, choisely respected by his Lord, becausehee was most comely of person, and addicted to all valiant attempts:so that in Tourneyes, Justes, and other actions of Armes, his like wasnot to bee found in all the Island, being named onely _Perotto_ thevaliant _Piccard_, and so was he famed farre and neere. As God had notforgotten his Sister, so in mercy he became as mindefull of him; for, acontagious mortalitie hapning in the Country, the greater part of thepeople perished thereby, the rest flying thence into other partes ofthe Land, whereby the whole Province became dispeopled and desolate.
In the time of this plague and dreadfull visitation, the Lord President,his Lady, Sonnes, Daughters, Brothers, Nephewes, and Kindred dyed, noneremaining alive, but one onely Daughter marriageable, a few of thehoushold servants, beside _Perotto_, whom (after the sicknesse was moremildly asswaged) with counsaile and consent of the Country people, theyoung Lady accepted to be her husband, because hee was a man so worthyand valiant, and of all the inheritance left by her deceased Father,she made him Lord and sole commaunder. Within no long while after, theKing of _England_, understanding that his President of _Wales_ wasdead, and fame liberally relating, the vertues, valour, and good partsof _Perotto_ the Piccard: hee created him to be his President there,and to supply the place of his deceased Lord. These faire fortunes,within the compasse of so short a time, fell to the two innocentchildren of the Count _D'Angiers_, after they were left by him as lostand forlorne.
Eighteene yeares were now fully over-past, since the Count _D'Angiers_fled from _Paris_, having suffered (in miserable sort) many hard andlamentable adversities, and seeing himselfe now to be growne aged, heewas desirous to leave Ireland, and to know (if hee might) what wasbecome of both his children. Hereupon, perceiving his wonted forme tobe so altered, that such as formerly had conversed most with him, couldnow not take any knowledge of him, & feeling his body (through longlabour and exercise endured in service) more lusty, then in his idleyouthfull yeares, especially when he left the Court of _France_, heepurposed to proceede in his determination. Being very poore and simplein apparell, hee departed from the Irish Earle his Maister, with whomhee had continued long in service, to no advantage or advancement, andcrossing over into _England_, travailed to the place in _Wales_, wherehe left _Perotto_: and where hee found him to be Lord Marshall andPresident of the Country, lusty and in good health, a man of goodlyfeature, and most honourably respected and reverenced of the people.
Well may you imagine, that this was no small comfort to the pooreaged Countes heart, yet would he not make himselfe knowne to him orany other about him? but referred his joy to a further enlarging ordiminishing, by sight of the other limme of his life, his dearelyaffected daughter _Gianetta_, denying rest to his body in anyplace, untill such time as he came to _London_. Making there secretenquiry, concerning the Lady with whom he had left his daughter: heeunderstoode, that a young Gentlewoman, named _Gianetta_, was marriedto that Ladies onely Son; which made a second addition of joy to hissoule, accounting all his passed adversities of no value, both hischildren being living, and in so high honour.
Having found her dwelling, and (like a kinde Father) being earnestlydesirous to see her; he dayly resorted neere to the house, where Sir_Roger Mandavill_ (for so was _Gianettaes_ husband named) chauncing tosee 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 himsome foode for Gods sake, which (accordingly) the servant performed._Gianetta_ had divers children by her husband, the eldest of them beingbut eight yeares olde, yet all of them so faire and comely as couldbe. As the olde Count sate eating his meate in the Hall, the childrencame all about him, embracing, hugging, and making much of him, even asif Nature had truly instructed them, that this was their aged, thoughpoore Grandfather, and hee as lovingly receiving these kinde relationsfrom them, wisely and silently kept all to himselfe, with sighes,teares, and joyes entermixed together. So that the children would notpart from him, though their Tutour and Maister called them often, whichbeing tolde to their Mother, shee came foorth of the neere adjoiningParlour, and threatned to beate them, if they would not doe what theirMaister commanded them.
Then the children began to cry, saying, that they would tarie still bythe good olde man, because he loved them better then their Maister did;whereat both the Lady and the Count began to smile. The Count, likea poore beggar, and not as father to so great a Lady, arose, and didher humble reverence, because shee was now a Noble woman, conceivingwonderfull 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 hadso mightily altred him, his head all white, his beard without anycomely forme, his garments so poore, and his face so wrinkled, leaneand meager, that hee seemed rather some Carter, then a Count. And_Gianetta_ perceiving, that when her children were fetcht away, theyreturned againe to the olde man, and would not leave him; desired theirMaister 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 Schoolemaister. He being ahastie minded man, and one that ever despised _Gianetta_ before, butmuch more since her mariage to his sonne, angerly said. Let them alonewith a mischiefe, and so befall them, their best company ought to bewith beggers, for so are they bred and borne by the Mothers side: andtherefore it is no mervaile, if like will to like, a beggers brats tokeepe company with beggers. The Count hearing these contemptible words,was not a little greeved thereat, and although his courage was greater,then his poore condition would permit him to expresse; yet, cloudingall injuries with noble patience, hanging downe his head, and sheddingmany a salt teare, endured this reproach, as hee had done many, bothbefore and after.
r /> But honourable Sir _Roger_, perceiving what delight his children tookein the poore mans company; albeit he was offended at his Fathers harshwords, by holding his wife in such base respect; yet favoured the pooreCount so much the more, and seeing him weepe, did greatly compassionatehis case, saying to the poore man, that if hee would accept of hisservice, he willingly would entertaine him. Whereto the Count replied,that very gladly he would embrace his kinde offer: but hee was capableof no other service, save onely to be an horse-keeper, wherein he hadimployed the most part of his time. Heereupon, more for pleasure andpitty, then any necessity of his service, he was appointed to thekeeping of one Horse, which was onely for his Daughters saddle, anddaily after he had done his diligence about the Horse, he did nothingelsee but play with the children. While Fortune pleased thus to dallywith the poore Count _D'Angiers_, & his children, it came to passe,that the King of _France_ (after divers leagues of truces passedbetween him & the _Germaines_) died, and next after him, his Son thedolphin was crowned King, and it was his wife that wrongfully causedthe Counts banishment. After expiration of the last league with the_Germains_, the warres began to grow much more fierce and sharpe, andthe King of _England_, (upon request made to him by his new brother of_France_) sent him very honourable supplies of his people, under theconduct of _Perotto_, his lately elected President of _Wales_, and Sir_Roger Mandevile_, Son to his other Lord high Marshall; with whom alsothe poore Count went, and continued a long while in the Campe as acommon Souldier, where yet like a valiant Gentleman (as indeed he wasno lesse) both in advice and actions; he accomplished many more notablematters, then was expected to come from him.
It so fell out, that in the continuance of this warre, the Queen of_France_ fell into a grievous sicknes, and perceiving her selfe to beat the point of death, shee became very penitently sorrowfull for allher sinnes, earnestly desiring that shee might be confessed by theArchbishop of _Roane_, who was reputed to be an holy and vertuous man.In the repetition of her other offences, she revealed what great wrongshe had done to the Count _D'Angiers_, resting not so satisfied, withdisclosing the whole matter to him alone; but also confessed the samebefore many other worthy persons, and of great honour, entreating themto worke so with the King; that (if the Count were yet living, or anyof his Children) they might be restored to their former honour againe.
It was not long after, but the Queene left this life, and was mostroyally enterred, when her confession being disclosed to the King,after much sorrow for so injuriously wronging a man of so great valourand honour: Proclamation was made throughout the Camp, and in manyother parts of _France_ beside, that whosoever could produce the Count_D'Angiers_, or any of his Children, should richly be rewarded for eachone of them; in regard he was innocent of the foule imputation, by theQueenes owne confession, and for his wrongfull exile so long, he shouldbe exalted to his former honour with farre greater favours, which theKing franckely would bestow upon him. When the Count (who walked upand downe in the habite of a common servitor) heard this Proclamation,forth-with he went to his Master Sir _Roger Mandevile_, requesting hisspeedy repaire to Lord _Perotto_, that being both assembled together,he would acquaint them with a serious matter, concerning the lateProclamation published by the King. Being by themselves alone in theTent, the Count spake in this manner to _Perotto_. Sir, S. _RogerMandevile_ here, your equal competitor in this military service, is thehusband to your naturall sister, having as yet never received any dowrywith her, but her inherent unblemishable vertue & honour. Now becauseshe may not still remain destitute of a competent Dowry: I desire thatSir _Roger_, and none other, may enjoy the royall reward promised bythe King. You Lord _Perotto_, whose true name is _Lewes_, manifestyour selfe to be nobly borne, and sonne to the wrongfull banishedCount _D'Angiers_: avouch moreover, that _Violenta_, shadowed underthe borrowed name of _Gianetta_, is your owne Sister; and deliver meup as your Father, the long exiled Count _D'Angiers. Perotto_ hearingthis, beheld him more advisedly, and began to know him: then, the tearsflowing abundantly from his eyes, he fell at his feete, and oftenembracing him, saide: My deere and noble Father! a thousand times moredeerely welcome to your Sonne _Lewes_.
Sir _Roger Mandevile_, hearing first what the Count had said, andseeing what _Perotto_ afterward performed; became surprized withsuch extraordinary joy and admiration, that he knew not how to carryhimselfe in this case. Neverthelesse, giving credite to his words,and being somewhat ashamed, that he had not used the Count in morerespective manner, & remembring beside, the unkinde language of hisfurious Father to him: he kneeled downe, humbly craving pardon, bothfor his fathers rudenes and his owne, which was courteously granted bythe Count, embracing him lovingly in his armes.
When they had a while discoursed their severall fortunes, sometimein teares, and then againe in joy, _Perotto_ and Sir _Roger_, wouldhave the Count to be garmented in better manner, but in no wise hewould suffer it; for it was his onely desire, that Sir _Roger_ shouldbe assured of the promised reward, by presenting him in the Kingspresence, and in the homely habit which he did then weare, to touchhim with the more sensible shame, for his rash beleefe, and injuriousproceeding. Then Sir _Roger Mandevile_, guiding the Count by thehand, and _Perotto_ following after, came before the King, offeringto present the Count and his children, if the reward promised in theProclamation might be performed. The king immediately commanded,that a reward of inestimable valew should be produced; desiring Sir_Roger_ uppon the sight thereof, to make good his offer, for forthwithpresenting the Count and his children. Which hee made no longer delayof, but turning himselfe about, delivered the aged Count, by the titleof his servant, and presenting _Perotto_ next, said. Sir, heere Ideliver you the Father and his Son, his daughter who is my wife, cannotso conveniently be heere 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 featureand forme: yet, after he had very seriously viewed him, he knew himperfectly; and the teares trickling downe his cheekes, partly withremorsefull shame, and joy also for his so happy recovery, he tookeup the Count from kneeling, kissing, and embracing him very kindely,welcomming _Perotto_ in the selfesame manner. Immediately also he gavecommaund, that the Count should be restored to his honours, apparrell,servants, horses, and furniture, answerable to his high estate andcalling, which was as speedily performed. Moreover, the King greatlyhonoured Sir _Roger Mandevile_, desiring to be made acquainted with alltheir passed fortunes.
When Sir _Roger_ had received the royall reward, for thus surrendringthe Count and his Sonne, the Count calling him to him, saide. Take thatPrincely remuneration of my soveraigne Lord the King, and commendingme to your unkinde Father, tell him that your Children are no beggarsbrats, neither basely borne by their Mothers side. Sir _Roger_returning home with his bountifull reward, soone after brought his Wifeand Mother to _Paris_, and so did _Perotto_ his Wife, where in greatjoy and triumph, they continued a long while with the noble Count; whohad all his goods and honours restored to him, in farre greater measurethen ever they were before: his Sonnes in Law returning home with theirWives into _England_, left the Count with the King at _Paris_, where hespent the rest of his dayes in great honour and felicity.