The Decameron (Day 1 to Day 5)

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 which 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 mariage, 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 hee was to be their heire, as also for his vertues and commendable qualities, wherein he excelled many young Gentlemen. Endued he was with heroycal valour, compleate in all perfections of person, and his mind 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, hee kept his love concealed from his Parents, not daring to desire her in marriage: for loth hee 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 score 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 sicknesse, whereto he returned no other answer, 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 especial 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 hee 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 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 been 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. Expel 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 error, 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 heerein 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 my selfe, 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, saide. 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 daily to proove, how in honour she might keepe promise with her Son.

Within a short while after, calling Gianetta privately to her, in gentle manner, and by the way of pleasant discourse, she demanded of her, 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 replied. Madam, I have no neede of any Lover, and very unseemly 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 Lady) wee will bestowe 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, sayde 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 own 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 honour him onely, & not any other. For, of all the inheritance left me 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 which the Lady expected from her, and for effecting the promise made unto hir Sonne: howbeit (like a wise and noble Lady) much shee inwardly commended the maids answers, and saide unto her. But tell me Gianetta, what if my Lord the King (who is a gallant youthfull Prince, and you so bright a beauty as you are) should take pleasure in your love, would ye denie him? Sodainly the Maide returned this answer; Madam, 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 mislike her Maides courage and resolution, but breaking off 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 held 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, & 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 his desire) to let him pine away, and die for her love.

After great consultation with kindred and friendes, 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 he grew in yeares, choisely respected by his Lord, because hee was most comely of person, and addicted to all valiant attempts: so that in Tourneyes, Justes, 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 sicknesse was more mildly asswaged) with counsaile and consent of the Country 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 commaunder. 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 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 innocent children of the Count D'Angiers, after they were left by him as lost and forlorne.

Eighteene yeares were now fully over-past, 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. Hereupon, 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, & feeling his body (through long labour and exercise endured in service) more lusty, then in his idle youthfull yeares, especially when he left the Court of France, hee purposed to proceede in his determination. Being very poore and simple in apparell, hee departed from the Irish Earle his Maister, with whom hee had continued long in service, to no advantage or advancement, and crossing over into England, travailed to the place in Wales, where he left Perotto: and where hee found him to be Lord Marshall and President of the Country, lusty and in good health, a man of goodly feature, and most honourably 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 or diminishing, by sight of the other limme of his life, his dearely affected daughter Gianetta, denying rest to his body in any place, untill such time as he came to London. Making there secret enquiry, concerning the Lady with whom he 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 value, 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 neere to the house, where Sir Roger Mandavill (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 of them being but eight yeares olde, yet all of them so faire and comely as could be. As the olde 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 poore Grandfather, and hee as lovingly receiving these kinde relations from them, wisely and silently kept all to himselfe, with sighes, teares, and joyes entermixed together. So that the children would not part from him, though their Tutour and Maister called them often, which being tolde to their Mother, shee came foorth of the neere adjoining 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 tarie still by the good olde man, because he loved them better then their Maister did; whereat both the Lady and the Count began to smile. The Count, like a poore beggar, and not as father to so great a Lady, arose, and did her humble reverence, because shee was now a Noble woman, conceiving 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 altred him, his head all white, his beard without any comely forme, his garments so poore, and his face so wrinkled, leane and meager, that hee 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; 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 Schoolemaister. He being a hastie minded man, and one that ever despised Gianetta before, but much more since her mariage to his sonne, angerly said. Let them alone with a mischiefe, and so befall them, their best company ought to be with beggers, for so are they 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 words, 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 hee would accept of his service, he willingly would entertaine him. Whereto the Count replied, that very gladly he would embrace his kinde offer: but hee was capable of no other service, save onely to be an horse-keeper, 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 one 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, & his children, it came to passe, that the King of France (after divers leagues of truces passed between him & 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 Queen of France fell into a grievous sicknes, 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 vertuous 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 Camp, 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 he 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 equal 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 & honour. Now because she may not still 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 said, 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, & 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 be assured of the promised reward, by presenting him in the Kings presence, and in the homely habit which he did then 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 uppon 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, said. Sir, heere I deliver you the Father and his Son, his daughter who is my wife, cannot so conveniently be heere now, but shortly, by the permission of heaven, your Majesty shall have a sight of her.