Collected Works of Giovanni Boccaccio

by Giovanni Boccaccio

  “And these pleasant years, which I desired so much to prolong, shall be now cut off by thy unjust occasion. O wicked man, and worker of my woes, tell me now with what heart thou hast entertained thy new spouse, with intent to beguile her, as thou hast done to me? With what eyes diddest thou behold her? With those eyes that thou diddest entrap me (most miserable and credulous woman)? What faith diddest thou promise her: that which thou diddest so solemnly swear to me to keep uncorrupted?

  Why, how couldest thou do it? Dost thou not remember that the thing which is once bound cannot be bound any more than once? What Gods diddest thou adjure? Ah, what perjured Gods? Alas, miserable woman, I know not what Siren flights and Circean pleasures have so bewitched thee that (in knowing thyself to be mine) thou shouldest transform thyself into so wicked a mind, and sink into the deceitful gulf of thy pleasing fantasies. For what fault (alas) did I deserve to be so smally regarded of thee? Whither is the great love between us so suddenly flown away?

  “Alas, what wicked fortune doth so miserably corrote and oppress doleful creatures? Thou hast now committed thy promised fidelity to the winds, and thy faith also of thy right hand given me to the same, the perjured Gods, by whose sacred Godheads, with great desire or show thereof, thou diddest swear to return, and thy flattering words, wherewith thou wert very well stored, and thy feigned and forced tears, with which thou didst not only bathe thy cheeks, but also mine, all these (I say) lightly and rudely heaped one upon another, thou hast rashly committed to the careless winds. And now, scornfully deriding me, thou livest merrily with thy new mistress.

  “Alas, who would have ever believed that such vile and bitter gall had been hidden in thy honeyed and flattering speeches, and such accursed disloyalty in thy unsuspected dealings? — or would have ever imagined that thy tears had been with such deceitful art sent forth? Certes, not I. But rather as thou diddest seem faithfully to speak them, and no less sincerely to lament, so I did with assured integrity give credit to thy words and tears.

  “And if peradventure thou wilt affirm the contrary, and say that thy tears were true, thy oaths simply protested, and thy faith given with a pure and upright heart, let it be granted: but what seemly excuse wilt thou allege for not performing them so entirely as thou didst promise? Wilt thou say that the enticing beauty of thy new Lady is the occasion thereof? Why, this will be but a weak reason, and a manifest note of thy inconstant mind. And shall this be besides a sufficient satisfaction of my loss? Alas, no. The sin is not pardoned unless the thing which is taken away be restored again. O most wicked man, was not the fervent love which I bear thee sufficiently known unto thee, and yet (woe is me therefore) do still bear thee against my will? Alas, yes. Thou didst not therefore need so great skill and such subtle wit to deceive me.

  “But, because thou wouldest show thyself cunning in the highest degree, thou diddest therefore use all possible art, and malice in thy filed speeches. But boast not (Panphilus) of thy brave victory and goodly conquest that thou hast got, in deceiving a simple and young woman, and her especially who did put so great trust in thee. My simplicity did merit greater sincereness than thine was. But what? I believed the reverend Gods no less invoked by thee than thy own self.

  “The which with bended knees, and bowed heart, I pray that they would make this thy greatest part of thy eternal fame, to have deceived a young Gentlewoman, who loved thee more than herself.

  “Ah, Panphilus, tell me now, did I ever work anything against thy mind, or was I at any time so oppugnant to the feeding of thy humours, whereby I deserved so slyly to be affronted and so injuriously betrayed? I never committed in sooth any other fault against thee (if this be a fault) but when I did so foolishly enamour myself of thee, and did bear thee (more than was due) so great faith and extreme love. But this offence did not deserve such accursed penance in thy cruel conceit. In one thing only (I know) I have too much failed, for doing of which I have justly deserved the anger of the Gods: and this was, to receive thee (wicked man and vile monster) into my chaste and then undefiled bed, and in suffering thy naked side to lie so near to mine. Admit that I was not (as they themselves did well perceive and say) but thou especially wert culpable of this crime, who with thy bold subtlety and cunning practices, surprising me alone, and fast asleep in the dark and silent night (as one, who at other times was accustomed to deceive me) first taking me softly in thy arms, my dear honour and unstained honesty being almost violated, before I was thoroughly awaked, what could I do then (alas) when I perceived this?

  “Should I have cried out, and with my bootless clamours have blotted my undoubted virtue with perpetual infamy, and for thee, Panphilus, whom I ever loved more than myself, procured a certain and sudden death?

  “I strived apace (the Gods know) and with my feminine forces (as much as I could) resisted thy eager will, which (not able to control) being overcome, and myself wearied, thou didst enjoy thy greedy prey.

  “Oh, that that black day, which did in course bring on this damned and wicked night, had been my last, to have ended in the same my virtuous and unspotted life, with an honest and patient death! Oh, how many bitter griefs and what griping corsives will assail me from henceforth: and thou, with thy Wedded wife, wilt (for thy own pastime and to delight her) by one and one unrip thy old loves, and make me (miserable woman) culpable in many matters, abasing my beauties to commend and flatter hers, and discommending my qualities, to set hers forth the more. Both which, and all things else in me, were with high praise wont to be extolled of thee above all other women’s in the world.

  “And all those unspeakable favours (which compelled by mere pity and extreme love I did so gently bestow on thee) thou wilt, perhaps, injuriously affirm, that they sprong of hot and burning lust. But amongst many other things, which thou wilt untruly declare, remember (disloyal Panphilus) to speak of thy own deceits, by means of which thou mayest truly swear and say that thou hast left me in a lamentable and miserable estate. And with these forget not also to tell of thy received honours, and infinite courtesies done thee, because thou mayest make thy ingratitude sufficiently known to thy hearer. Nor let it pass thy mind, nor escape thy mouth, to reckon up how many worthy, valiant and noble young Gentlemen have attempted many times to get my love, and the divers means which continually they practised for the least hope of it, as their glorious and daily musterings before my windows in goodly troops, in the daytime, their jealous contentions by night, and their divine prowess showed in feats of arms, and yet could never unwind me from the labyrinth of thy enchanted love.

  “And forget not to tell that (notwithstanding all this), for a woman scarcely known, thou hast of me made a sudden and dishonourable exchange. Who (if she be not perhaps so simple as myself) will with great suspect receive thy dissembling kisses, and will warily defend herself from thy deceitful dealings, from which alas I had never the power to keep myself, and whom I wish may by such an one to thee as Atreus his Philomena was to him, or as the daughters of Danaus to their new husbands, or as Clytemnestra to Agamemnon, or (at the least) as myself (thy iniquity being the occasion thereof) have lived with my dear husband, most unworthy of all these injuries.

  “And that she may bring thee to such extreme misery (which now for very pity of myself I do woefully bewail) that it may force me against my will to pour out abundant tears for thee. All which things I pray the Gods (if that with any pity they behold miserable creatures) may quickly fall and light upon thee.”

  Although that I was greatly troubled with this intolerable grief, and not that day only, but many more after, notwithstanding the alteration that I perceived in the foresaid Gentlewoman did sting me cruelly on the other side, the which drew on my mind sometimes to so ruthful and jealous thoughts as I was not other times accustomed to imagine. And therefore said with myself: “Alas, wherefore do I sorrow (Panphilus) for thy long absence, and that thou art combined to a new wife, knowing that if thou wert here present, thou shouldest be mine never the more, but another’s. O most wicked man, into how many par
ts was thy love dissected, and how fit doth the etymology of thy name and calling agree with thy nature and condition, since being (Panphilus) thou art a friend to all. To her with whom thou livest there, to this, who lives without thee here, to me, who lives and dies for thee, so that to her, to this, to me, and yet perhaps to none at all. And so, false wretch, by these means thou wert in league with many, when I thought that thou diddest defy all women besides me. And so it came to pass, that thinking to use my own goods, I was too bold in usurping that which belonged to others. And who can tell (this being now known) if any of these (more worthy of favour at the Gods’ hands than myself), objecting them for the injury received by me, and craving revenge for the harms that I have done them, have impetrated so much grace, to make me feel these unacquainted woes and undeserved griefs of mind. But whosoever she be (if any there be) let her forgive me, because I have ignorantly offended.

  “And my simple ignorance doth deserve some favourable pardon. But with what fine art didst thou feign these things, with what a vile conscience didst thou practise them, by what kind of love, or of what tenderness of mind wert thou drawn to this? I have heard it more than once said, that none can love no more but one, at one and selfsame time. But this rule took exception in thee.

  “For thou diddest love many or else diddest carry a show thereof too much by one. Ah, careless wretch, diddest thou give to all, or to this one (which could not so well nor so craftily conceal that which thou diddest so maliciously hide from me), that faith, those tears, those sighs, and promises, which thou diddest so prodigally bestow on me. If thou diddest this thou mayest then securely live, and at thy liberty love all, and yet not bound to any woman. Because that which is distinctly given to many cannot be properly said given to one.

  “Alas, how may it then otherwise be but that he who robbeth so many simple women of their yielding hearts must needs be despoiled of his by some woman again. Narcissus beloved of many, and being most rigorous to all, was at the last overtaken with the shadow of his own beauty. Atalanta, most swift and pitiless in her race, left her miserable lovers behind, combatting between love, life and death, until Hippomenes with a brave and mastered deceit overran and overcame her, she consenting also willingly to the same.

  “But why do I allege old examples? Myself, who could never be taken of anyone, was at last (ah me, therefore) unfortunately surprised by thee. Hast riot thou therefore amongst so many of thy spoil found out some brave one who hath entangled thee? I do not think, but do assuredly believe, that thou wert once subdued by him, who may tame thee, and subject to her, who had but little cause to be proud of her captive.

  “But if thou wert (whatsoever she was, that with so great force did conquer thy subtle heart) why dost thou not apply thy love only to her likings? But if neither to her nor to me thou hast desire to return, at least come back again to this, who could not cover thy secret and false love, nor conceal her own fond passions. And if thou wilt needs have my fates and fortune so contrary to me (which perhaps according to thy erroneous opinion I have deserved), let not my offences prejudicate the right of other women. Return again to them at the least, and keep thy faith first perhaps promised to them, and then to me, and to hurt me only, offend not so many, as I believe thou hast left here, and elsewhere, in vain and fond hope. And let not one prevail more there, than many here.

  “She is already thine, nor cannot (although she would) but be still thine. Leaving her therefore in safety, and with infallible assurance of thy love, come, because those which are not able to be made thine, but with thy presence, thou mayest with the same keep them also thine.”

  After many of these vain speeches, because they did neither smite into the ears of the Gods, nor sound in those of that obdurate and ungrateful young man, it came to pass, sometimes, that suddenly I changed my counsels into these speeches, saying: “O miserable young woman, wherefore dost thou desire that Panphilus should come hither again? Dost thou think with greater patience to suffer that consuming corsive near thee, which being so far off is most grievous to thy thoughts? Thou desirest, fond woman, thy own harm. And if now thou remainest in (peradventure) that he loveth thee. So if he did return thou mayest be assured that he were come not for thy sake, but for the love of some other woman. Let him therefore remain still there, and from henceforth being far from thee, let him rather hold thy love in doubtful suspense, than living here, by contrary examples, and by too apparent demonstrations, show that he doth not love thee at all. And content thyself at the least, that thou dost not remain alone in these consuming pains, and forsake not that comfort that miserable and distressed women, when they have companions in their miseries, are wont to take.”

  It were too hard a task for me (good Ladies) to show with what incensed ire, with what quantity of tears, with what burning sighs, and choking sobs, with what gripping griefs of my poor heart, and with what vehement and doleful passions, I was almost every day wont to meditate on these thoughts, and to think of these matters. But because every hard thing in time is mollified and changed, it happened that having many days together led this kind of life, and not able to sink any further into the Gulf of grief than I was already fallen, by little and little it began somewhat to relent. And the more it departed from my affected soul, the more was my fervent love and lukewarm hope kindled there again, both which remaining in the place of my surceasing sorrows, made me change my present will, and alter my first desires of having my Panphilus again, and to descant somewhat of his return to me again. And as even now the despair of never enjoying him again was most contrary to me in this, so much the more did my repugnant desire of the contrary increase. And as kindled flames tossed abroad, and blown about with boisterous winds, do grow into greater flakes, so Love, by contrary thoughts in me, was not only nourished, but made of greater force. Wherefore I was moved with repentance of these foresaid frantic passions, and superfluous speeches. And now considering well of that in my mind which unbridled anger had provoked me to say, I was as much ashamed as if they themselves had heard me. And therefore I gently blamed that senseless rage, which in the first assaults of it, with so great force and fury doth take hold of our blind minds that it doth not permit any truth (be it never so much apparent) to be manifest unto them. But notwithstanding, the more it is kindled, the more in space of time it weareth cold again, and doth make that afterwards clearly known which rashly before it condemned in words and deeds. Wherefore having recovered my right mind again, and after my senses were better settled, I began thus to say:— “O most foolish young Woman, wherefore dost thou thus molest thyself? Wherefore without any certain occasion or knowledge dost thou consume thyself in the heat and rage of thine own anger? Say that this is true that the Merchant told (which perhaps is not), and admit that he hath married a wife, is this so great a matter? An inopinate thing indeed (I must confess), which thou didst not think would so soon fall out. And yet it is most requisite that young men in these causes must please and obey their Fathers’ wills. For if his Father would have it so, with what face or colour could he deny it? And thou must also believe, that most of them that take wives, may love them as well, and yet esteem of others more. And, that the copious plenty which busybodied wives yield to their quiet Husbands is an occasion of sudden cloying, although they never did so much please and delight them in the beginning. And what dost thou know, how much, or whether, she doth content him or not? Perhaps Panphilus took her by mere compulsion, and loving thee more than ever he did her, it is (perhaps) no small grief unto him, and doth think the time too long and tedious in being with her. And if she please him, thou mayest yet hope, that she will quickly seem unpleasant, and irksome unto him.

  “And of his promised faith and religious oaths thou canst not truly, with any reason, accuse him, because, coming to thee again, he shall in thy Chamber fulfil the one and the other, and what else he hath avowed to our mutual and great joy. Have therefore recourse to the Gods with prayers, that Love, which is able to do more than pledged oaths, or pawned faith, may mo
ve and make him return to thee again. And besides this, why shouldest thou have any suspicion of his disloyalty, persuaded thereunto by the troubled mind, only, and altered countenance of the young Gentlewoman? Dost thou not know how many young Gentlemen love thee in vain, who if they knew thee to be Panphilus his Mistress could not choose but be greatly aggrieved? So must thou think it possible, and no strange thing, if he is beloved again of many women, who would be as sorrowful and as heavy to hear that of him which grieved thee so much, although for divers occasions everyone might be especially discontent.”

  And in this manner, forging sundry fancies with myself, I came (as it were) again to my first hope. And whereas I had before thundered forth many blasphemous curses against his dealings, now with humble and mild petitions I entreated him, and persuaded myself to the contrary. Thus hope recovered once again, my tormented heart had not, for all that, any force to be merry, but there appeared rather in my countenance signs of sorrow, and I felt in my mind a continual molestation, so that I knew not what to do, or how to think of these perplexities. My first cares were fled away, and in the first fury of my sudden anger I had in rage cast away all the stones which were memorial testimonies of the overpassed days, and had burned all the Letters I received from him, broken all his favours, and rent in pieces all his other trash.

  I took no pleasure now to gaze upon the heaven, as she, who was uncertain and doubtful of his return? being thoroughly persuaded of it before. The desire that once I had to hear amorous histories and tales, and to pass the night away in such exercises, was quite dead, and the present time, which had abbreviated now the Summer nights, did not grant these things, of which oftentimes either all or some great part I passed away without sleep, continually spending them in pitiful plaints, and in sad cogitations. And if I enjoyed sometimes the benefit of sweet sleep, my fancies were nevertheless troubled and tossed about sundry dreams, some of them seeming very joyful unto me, and some full of sorrow and care. The resorting to public places, temples and feasts was irksome now unto me, and I did never (or else very seldom, when I could do no other) visit or desire to go to them. My face being on the sudden become lean and pale caused so many marvels, doubts and sadness in my house that everyone talked diversely of the same.