THE EIGHT NOVELL

 

       DECLARING, THAT NOTWITHSTANDING THE FROWNES OF FORTUNE,

     DIVERSITY OF OCCURRENCES, AND CONTRARY ACCIDENTS HAPPENING:

       YET LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP OUGHT TO BE PRECIOUSLY PRESERVED

                                AMONG MEN

 

  Sophronia, thinking her selfe to be the maried wife of Gisippus, was

(indeed) the wife of Titus Quintus Fulvius, and departed thence with

him to Rome. Within a while after, Gisippus also came thither in

very poore condition, and thinking that he was despised by Titus, grew

weary of his life, and confessed that he had murdred a man, with ful

intent to die for the fact. But Titus taking knowledge of him, and

desiring to save the life of Gisippus, charged himself to have done

the bloody deed. Which the murderer himself (standing then among the

multitude) seeing, truly confessed the deed. By meanes whereof, all

three were delivered by the Emperor Octavius; and Titus gave his

Sister in mariage to Gisippus, giving them also the most part of his

goods and inheritances.

 

  By this time Madam Philomena, at command of the King, (Madam

Pampinea ceasing) prepared to follow next in order, whereupon thus she

began. What is it (Gracious Ladies) that Kings cannot do (if they

list) in matters of greatest importance, and especially unto such as

most they should declare their magnificence? He then that performeth

what he ought to do, when it is within his owne power, doth well.

But it is not so much to bee admired, neither deserveth halfe the

commendations, as when one man doth good to another, when least it

is expected, as being out of his power, and yet performed. In which

respect, because you have so extolled king Piero, as appearing not

meanly meritorious in your judgements; I make no doubt but you will be

much more pleased, when the actions of our equals are duly considered,

and shal paralell any of the greatest Kings. Wherefore I purpose to

tell you a Novel, concerning an honorable curtesie of two worthy

friends.

  At such time as Octavius Caesar (not as yet named Augustus, but only

in the office called Triumveri) governed the Romane Empire, there

dwelt in Rome a Gentleman, named Publius Quintus Fulvius, a man of

singular understanding, who having one son, called Titus Quintus

Fulvius, of towardly yeares and apprehension, sent him to Athens to

learne Philosophy, but with letters of familiar commendations, to a

Noble Athenian Gentleman, named Chremes, being his ancient friend, of

long acquaintance. This Gentleman lodged Titus in his owne house, as

companion to his son, named Gisippus, both of them studying

together, under the tutoring of a Philosopher, called Aristippus.

These two yong Gentlemen living thus in one Citty, House, and Schoole,

it bred betweene them such a brother-hoode and amity, as they could

not be severed from one another, but only by the accident of death;

nor could either of them enjoy any content, but when they were both

together in company.

  Being each of them endued with gentle spirits, and having begun

their studies together: they arose (by degrees) to the glorious height

of Philosophy, to their much admired fame and commendation. In this

manner they lived, to the no meane comfort of Chremes, hardly

distinguishing the one from the other for his Son, and thus the

Schollers continued the space of three yeares. At the ending wherof

(as it hapneth in al things else) Chremes died, whereat both the young

Gentlemen conceived such hearty griefe, as if he had bin their

common father; nor could the kinred of Chremes discerne, which of

the two had most need of comfort, the losse touched them so equally.

  It chanced within some few months after, that the kinred of Gisippus

came to see him, and (before Titus) avised him to marriage, and with a

yong Gentlewoman of singular beauty, derived from a most noble house

in Athens, and she named Sophronia, aged about fifteen years. This

mariage drawing neere, Gisippus on a day, intreated Titus to walk

along with him thither, because (as yet) he had not seene her.

Commingto the house, and she sitting in the midst betweene them, Titus

making himselfe a considerator of beauty, and especially on his

friends behalfe; began to observe her very judicially, and every

part of her seemed so pleasing in his eie, that giving them al a

privat praise, yet answerable to their due deserving; he becam so

enflamed with affection to her, as never any lover could bee more

violentlie surprized, so sodainly doth beauty beguile our best senses.

  After they had sate an indifferent while with her, they returned

home to their lodging, where Titus being alone in his chamber, began

to bethink himselfe on her, whose perfections had so powerfully

pleased him: and the more he entred into this consideration, the

fiercer he felt his desires enflamed, which being unable to quench, by

any reasonable perswasions, after hee had vented foorth infinite

sighes, thus he questioned with himselfe.

 Most unhappie Titus as thou art, whether doost thou transport thine

understanding, love, and hope? Dooest thou not know as well by the

honourable favours, which thou hast received of Chremes and his house,

as also the intire amity betweene thee and Gisippus (unto whom faire

Sophronia is the afflanced friend) that thou shouldst holde her in the

like reverent respect, as if shee were thy true borne Sister? Darest

thou presume to fancie her? Whether shall beguiling Love allure

thee, and vaine immaging hopes carrie thee? Open the eyes of thy

better understanding, and acknowledge thy selfe to bee a most

miserable man. Give way to reason, bridle thine intemperate appetites,

reforme all irregulare desires, and guide thy fancy to a place of

better direction. Resist thy wanton and lascivious will in the

beginning, and be master of thy selfe, while thou hast opportunity,

for that which thou aimest at, is neyther reasonable nor honest. And

if thou wert assured to prevaile upon this pursuite, yet thou

oughtst to avoide it, if thou hast any regard of true friendship,

and the duty therein justly required. What wilt thou do then Titus?

Fly from this inordinate affection, if thou wilt be reputed to be a

man of sensible judgement.

  After he had thus discoursed with himselfe, remembring Sophronia,

and converting his former allegations, into a quite contrarie sense,

in utter detestation of them, and guided by his idle appetite, thus he

began againe. The lawes of love are of greater force, then any other

whatsoever, they not only breake the bands of friendship, but even

those also of more divine consequence. How many times hath it bin

noted, the father to affect his own daughter, the brother his

sister, and the stepmother her son in law, matters far more monstrous,

then to see one friend love the wife of another, a case happening

continually? Moreover, I am yong, and youth is wholly subjected to the

passions of Love: is it reasonable then, that those should be bard

from me, which are fitting and pleasing to Love? Honest things, belong

to men of more years and maturity, then I am troubled withall, and I

can covet none, but onely those wherein Love is directer. The beauty

of Sophronia is worthy of generall love, and if I that am a yongman do

love her, what man living can justly reprove me for it? Shold not I

love her, because she is affianced to Gisippus? That is no matter to

me, I ought to love her, because she is a woman, and women were

created for no other occasion, but to bee Loved. Fortune had sinned in

this case, and not I, in directing my frends affection to her,

rather then any other; and if she ought to be loved, as her

perfections do challenge, Gisippus understanding that I affect her,

may be the better contented that it is I, rather then any other.

  With these, and the like crosse entercourses, he often mockt

himselfe, falling into the contrary, and then to this againe, and from

the contrary, into another kind of alteration, wasting and consuming

himselfe, not only this day and the night following, but many more

afterward, til he lost both his feeding and sleepe, so that through

debility of body, he was constrained to keepe his bed. Gisippus, who

had divers dayes noted his melancholly disposition, and now his

falling into extreamitie of sicknesse, was very sorry to behold it:

and with all meanes and inventions he could devise to use, hee both

questioned the cause of this straunge alteration, and essayed everie

way, how hee might best comfort him, never ceassing to demaunde a

reason, why he should become thus sad and sickely. But Titus after

infinite importuning (which still he answered) with idle and frivolous

excuses, farre from the truth indeede, and (to the no meane affliction

of his friend) when he was able to use no more contradictions; at

length, in sighes and teares, thus he replyed.

  Gisippus, were the Gods so wel pleased, I could more gladly yeild to

dye, then continue any longer in this wretched life, considering, that

Fortune hath brought mee to such an extremity, as proofe is now to

be made of my constancie and vertue; both which I finde conquered in

me, to my eternall confusion and shame. But my best hope is, that I

shal shortly be requited, as I have in justice deserved, namely with

death, which will be a thousand times more welcome to me, then a

loathed life, with remembrance of my base dejection in courage,

which because I can no longer conceale from thee; not without blushing

shame, I am well contented for to let thee know it.

  Then began hee to recount, the whole occasion of this straunge

conflict in him, what a maine battaile hee had with his private

thoughts, confessing that they got the victory, causing him to die

hourely for the love of Sophronia, and affirming withall, that in

due acknowledgement, how greatly hee had transgressed against the

lawes of friendship, he thought no other penance sufficient for him,

but onely death, which he willingly expected every houre, and with all

his heart would gladly bid welcome.

  Gisippus hearing this discourse, and seeing how Titus bitterly wept,

in agonies of most moving afflictions: sat an indifferent while sad

and pensive, as being wounded with affection to Sophronia, but yet

in a well-governed and temperate manner without any long delaying, hee

concluded with himselfe; that the life of his friend ought to be

accounted much more deare, then any love hee could beare unto

Sophronia: And in this resolution, the teares of Titus forcing his

eyes to flow forth like two Fountaines, thus he replyed.

  Titus, if thou hadst not neede of comfort, as plainly I see thou

hast, I would justly complaine of thee to my selfe, as of the man

who hath violated our friendship, in keeping thine extreamitie so long

time concealed from mee, which hath beene overtedious for thee to

endure. And although it might seeme to thee a dishonest case, and

therefore kept from the knowledge of thy friend, yet I plainly tell

thee, that dishonest courses (in the league of amitie) deserve no more

concealment, then those of the honestest nature. But leaving these

impertinent wandrings, let us come to them of much greater necessitie.

  If thou doest earnestly love faire Sophronia, who is betroathed

and afflanced to me, it is no matter for me to marvaile at: but I

should rather be much abashed, if thou couldst not intyrely affect

her, knowing how beautifull she is, and the nobility of her minde,

being as able to sustaine passion, as the thing pleasing is fullest of

excellence. And looke how reasonable thou fanciest Sophronia, as

unjustly thou complainest of thy fortune, in ordaining her to be my

wife, although thou doest not speake it expresly: as being of opinion,

that thou mightst with more honesty love her, if she were any

others, then mine. But if thou art so wise, as I have alwayes held

thee to be, tell me truely upon thy faith, to whom could Fortune

better guide her, and for which thou oughtest to be more thankfull,

then in bestowing her on me? Any other that had enjoyed her,

although thy love were never so honest, yet he would better affect her

himselfe, then for thee, which thou canst not (in like manner) looke

for from me, if thou doest account me for thy friend, and as

constant now as ever.

  Reason is my warrant in this case, because I cannot remember,

since first our entrance into friendship, that ever I enjoyed any

thing, but it was as much thine, as mine. And if our affaires had such

an equall course before, as otherwise they could not subsist; must

they not now be kept in the same manner? Can any thing more

perticularly appertaine to me, but thy right therein is as absolute as

mine? I know not how thou maist esteeme of my friendship, if in any

thing concerning my selfe, I can plead my priviledge to be above

thine. True it is, that Sophronia is affianced to me, and I love her

dearely, daily expecting when our nuptials shall be celebrated. But

seeing thou doest more fervently affect her, as being better able to

Judge of the perfections, remaining in so excellent a creature as

she is, then I doe: assure thy selfe, and beleeve it constantly,

that she shall come to my bed, not as my wife but onely thine. And

therefore leave these despairing thoughts, shake off this cloudy

disposition, reassume thy former joviall spirit, with comfort and what

else can content thee: in expectation of the happy houre, and the just

requitall of thy long, loving, and worthy friendship, which I have

alwayes valued equall with mine owne life.

  Titus hearing this answer of Gisippus, looke how much the sweet hope

of that which he desired gave him pleasure, as much both duty and

reason affronted him with shame; setting before his eyes this du

consideration, that the greater the liberality of Gisippus was,

farre greater and unreasonable it appeared to him in disgrace, if

hee should unmannerly accept it. Wherefore, being unable to refrain

from teares, and with such strength as his weaknesse would give leave,

thus he replyed.

  Gisippus, thy bounty and firme friendship suffereth me to see

apparantly, what (on my part) is no more then ought to be done. All

the Gods forbid, that I should receive as mine, her whom they have

adjudged to be thine, by true respect of birth and desert. For if they

had thought her a wife fit for me, doe not thou or any else imagine,

that ever she should have beene granted to thee. Use freely

therefore thine owne election, and the gracious favour wherewith

they have blessed thee: leave me to consume away in teares, a mourning

garment by them appointed for me, as being a man unworthy of such

happinesse; for either I shall conquer this disaster, and that wil

be my crowne, or else will vanquish me, and free me from all paine:

whereto Gisippus presently thus answered.

  Worthy Titus, if our amity would give me so much licence, as but

to contend with my selfe, in pleasing thee with such a thing as I

desire, and could also induce thee therein to be directed: it is the

onely end whereat I aime, and am resolved to pursue it. In which

regard, let my perswasions prevaile with thee, and thereto I conjure

thee, by the faith of a friend, suffer me to use mine authority,

when it extendeth both to mine owne honour, and thy good, for I will

have Sophronia to bee onely thine. I know sufficiently, how farre

the forces of love doe extend in power, and am not ignorant also,

how not once or twice, but very many times, they have brought lovers

to unfortunate ends, as now I see thee very neere it, and so farre

gone, as thou art not able to turne backe againe, nor yet to conquer

thine owne teares, but proceeding on further in this extremity, thou

wilt be left vanquished, sinking under the burthen of loves

tyrannicall oppression, and then my turne is next to follow thee.

And therefore, had I no other reason to love thee, yet because thy

life is deare to me, in regard of mine owne depending thereon; I stand

the neerer thereto obliged. For this cause, Sophronia must and shal be

thine, for thou canst not find any other so conforme to thy fancy:

albeit I who can easily convert my liking to another wife, but never

to have the like friend againe, shall hereby content both thee, and my

selfe.

  Yet perhaps this is not a matter so easily done, or I to expresse

such liberality therein, if wives were to be found with the like

difficultie, as true and faithfull friends are: but, (being able to

recover another wife) though never such a worthy friend; I rather

chuse to change, I doe not say loose her (for in giving her to thee, I

loose her not my selfe) and by this change, make that which was good

before, tenne times better, and so preserve both thee and my selfe. To

this end therefore, if my prayers and perswasions have any power

with thee, I earnestly entreat thee, that, by freeing thy selfe out of

this affliction, thou wilt (in one instant) make us both truely

comforted, and dispose thy selfe (living in hope) to embrace that

happinesse, which the fervent love thou bearest to Sophronia, hath

justly deserved.

  Now although Titus was confounded with shame, to yeeld consent, that

Sophronia should be accepted as his wife, and used many obstinate

resistances: yet notwithstanding, Love pleading on the one side

powerfully, and Gisippus as earnestly perswading on the other, thus he

answered. Gisippus, I know not what to say, neither how to behave my

selfe in this election, concerning the fitting of mine contentment, or

pleasing thee in thy importunate perswasion. But seeing thy liberality

is so great, as it surmounteth all reason or shame in me, I will yeeld

obedience to thy more then noble nature. Yet let this remaine for

thine assurance, that I doe not receive this grace of thine, as a

man not sufficiently understanding, how I enjoy from thee, not onely

her whom most of all I doe affect, but also doe hold my very life of

thee. Grant then you greatest Gods (if you be the Patrones of this

mine unexpected felicitie) that with honor and due respect, I may

hereafter make apparantly knowne: how highly I acknowledge this thy

wonderfull favour, in being more mercifull to me, then I could be to

my selfe.

  For abridging of all further circumstances, answered Gisippus, and

for easier bringing this matter to full effect, I hold this to be

our onely way. It is not unknowne to thee, how after much discourse

had between my kindred, and those belonging to Sophronia, the

matrimoniall conjunction was fully agreed on, and therefore, if now

I shall flye off, and say, I will not accept thee as my wife: great

scandall would arise thereby, and make much trouble among our friends,

which could not be greatly displeasing to me, if that were the way

to make her thine. But I rather stand in feare, that if I forsake

her in such peremptory sort, her kinred and friends will bestow her on

some other, and so she is utterly lost, without all possible meanes of

recovery. For prevention therefore of all sinister accidents, I thinke

it best, (if thy opinion jumpe with mine) that I still pursue the

busines, as already I have begun, having thee alwaies in my company,

as my dearest friend and onely associate. The nuptials being performed

with our friends, in secret manner at night (as we can cunningly

enough contrive it) thou shalt have her maiden honour in bed, even

as if she were thine owne wife. Afterward, in apt time and place, we

will publiquely make knowne what is done; if they take it well, we

will be as jocond as they: if they frowne and waxe offended, the

deed is done, over-late to be recalled, and so perforce they must rest

contented.

  You may well imagine, this advise was not a little pleasing to

Titus, wherupon Gisippus received home Sophronia into his house,

with publike intention to make her his wife, according as was the

custome then observed, and Titus being perfectly recovered, was

present at the Feast very ceremonially observed. When night was

come, the Ladies and Gentlewomen conducted Sophronia to the

Bride-Chamber, where they left her in her Husbands bed, and then

departed all away. The Chamber wherein Titus used to lodge, joyned

close to that of Gisippus, for their easier accesse each to the other,

at all times whensoever they pleased, and Gisippus being alone in

the Bride-Chamber, preparing as if he were comming to bed:

extinguishing the light, he went softly to Titus, willing him to goe

to bed to his wife. Which Titus hearing, overcome with shame and

feare, became repentant, and denyed to goe. But Gisippus, being a true

intyre friend indeed, and confirming his words with actions: after a

little lingring dispute, sent him to the Bride, and so soone as he was

in the bed with her, taking Sophronia gently by the hand, softly he

moved the usuall question to her, namely, if she were willing to be

his wife.

  She beleeving verily that he was Gisippus, modestly answered. Sir, I

have chosen you to be my Husband, reason requires then, that I

should be willing to be your wife. At which words, a costly Ring,

which Gisippus used daily to weare, he put upon her finger, saying.

With this Ring, I confesse my selfe to be your Husband, and bind you

(for ever) my Spouse and Wife; no other kind of marriage was

observed in those dayes, and so he continued all the night with her,

she never suspecting him to be any other then Gisippus, and thus was

the marriage consumated, betweene Titus and Sophronia, albeit the

friends (on either side) thought otherwise.

  By this time, Publius, the father of Titus, was departed out of this

mortall life, and letters came to Athens, that with all speed he

should returne to Rome, to take order for occasions there concerning

him; wherefore he concluded with Gisippus about his departure, and

taking Sophronia thither with him, which was no easie matter to be

done, until it were first known, how occasions had bin caried among

them. Wherupon, calling her one day into her Chamber, they told her

entirely, how all had past, which Titus confirmed substantially, by

such direct passages betweene themselves, as exceeded all

possibility of denyall, and moved in her much admiration; looking each

on other very discontentedly, she heavily weeping and lamenting, and

greatly complaining of Gisippus, for wronging her so unkindly.

  But before any further noyse was made in the house, shee went to her

Father, to whom, as also to her Mother, shee declared the whole

trecherie, how much both they and their other friends were wronged

by Gisippus, avouching her selfe to be the wife of Titus, and not of

Gisippus, as they supposed. These newes were highly displeasing to the

Father of Sophronia, who with hir kinred, as also those of Gisippus,

made great complaints to the Senate, very dangerous troubles and

commotions arising daily betweene them, drawing both Gisippus and

Sophronia into harsh reports; he being generally reputed, not onely

worthy of all bitter reproofe, but also the severest punishment.

Neverthelesse, hee maintained publikely what he had done, avouching it

for an act both of honour and honestie, wherewith Sophronia's

friends had no reason to bee offended, but rather to take it in very

thankfull part, having married a man of farre greater worth and

respect, than himselfe was, or could be.

  On the other side, Titus hearing these uncivill acclamations, became

much moved and provoked at them, but knowing it was a custome observed

among the Greeks, to be so much the more hurried away with rumours and

threatnings, as lesse they finde them to be answered, and when they

finde them, shew themselves not onely humble enough, but rather as

base men, and of no courage; he resolved with himselfe, that their

braveries were no longer to be enclured, without some bold and manly

answere. And having a Romane heart, as also an Athenian understanding,

by politique perswasions, he caused the kinred of Gisippus and

Sophronia, to be assembled in a Temple, and himselfe comming

thither, accompanied with none but Gisippus onely, he began to deliver

his minde before them all, in this manner following.

  "Many Philosophers doe hold opinion, that the actions performed by

mortall men, doe proceed from the disposing and ordination of the

immortall gods. Whereupon some doe maintaine, that things which be

done, or never are to be done, proceed of necessity: howbeit some

other doe hold, that this necessity is onely referred to things

done. Both which opinions (if they be considered with mature judgment)

doe most manifestly approve, that they who reprehend any thing which

is irrevocable, doe nothing else but shew themselves, as if they

were wiser then the Gods, who we are to beleeve, that with

perpetuall reason, and void of any error, doe dispose and governe both

us, and all our actions; In which respect, how foolish and

beast-like a thing it is, presumptuously to checke or controule

their operations, you may very easily consider; and likewise, how

justly they deserve condigne punishment, who suffer themselves to be

transported in so temerarious a manner.

  "In which notorious transgression, I understand you all to be

guiltie, if common fame speake truely, concerning the marriage of my

selfe and Sophronia, whom you imagined as given to Gisippus; for you

never remember that it was so ordained from eternitie, shee to be

mine, and no Wife for Gisippus, as at this instant is made manifest by

full effect. But because the kinde of speaking, concerning divine

providence, and intention of the Gods, may seeme a difficult matter to

many, and somewhat hard to bee understood: I am content to presuppose,

that they meddle not with any thing of ours, and will onely stay my

selfe on humane reasons, and in this nature of speech, I shall be

enforced to doe two things, quite contrary to my naturall disposition.

The one is, to speake somewhat in praise and commendation of my selfe:

And the other, justly to blame and condemne other mens seeming

estimation. But because both in the one and the other, I doe not

intend to swerve a jot from the Truth, and the necessitie of the

present case in question, doth not onely require, but also command it,

you must pardon what I am to say.

  "Your complaints doe proceed, rather from furie then reason, and

(with continuall murmurings, or rather seditions) slander,

backe-bite and condemne Gisippus, because (of his owne free will and

noble disposition) hee gave her to be my Wife, whom (by your election)

was made his; wherein I account him most highly praiseworthy: and

the reasons inducing mee thereunto, are these. The first, because he

hath performed no more then what a friend ought to doe: And the

second, in regard he hath dealt more wisely, then you did. I have no

intention, to display (at this present) what the sacred law of

amitie requireth, to be acted by one friend towards another, it

shall suffice mee onely to informe you, that the league of

friendship (farre stronger then the bond of bloud and kinred)

confirmed us in our election of either at the first, to be true,

loyall and perpetuall friends; whereas that of kinred, commeth onely

by fortune or chance. And therefore if Gisippus affected more my life,

then your benevolence, I being ordained for his friend, as I

confesse my selfe to be; none of you ought to wonder thereat, in

regard it is no matter of mervaile.

  "But let us come now to our second reason, wherein, with farre

greater instance I will shew you, that he hath (in this occasion)

shewen himselfe to be much more wise, then you did, or have done:

because it plainely appeareth, that you have no feeling of the

divine providence, and much lesse knowledge in the effects of

friendship. I say, that your foresight, councell and deliberation,

gave Sophronia to Gisippus, a yong Gentleman, and a Philosopher:

Gisippus likewise hath given her to a yong Gentleman, and a

Philosopher, as himselfe is. Your discretion gave her to an

Athenian; the gift of Gisippus, is to a Romaine. Yours, to a Noble and

honest man; that of Gisippus, to one more Noble by race, and no

lesse honest then himselfe. Your judgement hath bestowed her on a rich

young man: Gisippus hath given her to one farre richer. Your

wisedome gave her to one who not onely loved her not, but also one

that had no desire to know her: Gisippus gave her unto him, who, above

all felicitie else, yea, more than his owne life, both entirely

loved and desired her.

  "Now, for proofe of that which I have said, to be most true and

infallible, and that his deede deserveth to bee much more commended

then yours, let it bee duely considered on, point by point. That I

am a young man and a Philosophe, as Gisippus is; my yeares, face,

and studies, without seeking after further proofe, doth sufficiently

testifie: One selfe-same age is both his and mine, in like quality

of course have wee lived and studied together. True it is, that hee is

an Athenian, and I am a Romaine. But if the glory of these two

Cities should bee disputed on: then let mee tell you, that I am of a

Citie that is Francke and Free, and hee is of a Tributarie Citie. I

say that I am of a Citie, which is chiefe Lady and Mistresse of the

whole World and hee is of a Citie subject to mine. I say that I am

of a Citie, that is strong in Arms, Empire, and studies: whereas his

can commend it selfe but for Studies onely. And although you seeme

heere to bee a Scholler, in appearance meane enough, yet I am not

descended of the simplest stocke in Rome.

  "My houses and publique places, are filled with the ancient

Statues of my Predecessors, and the Annales recorde the infinite

triumphs of the Quintij, brought home by them into the Romane

Capitole, and yeares cannot eate out the glory of our name, but it

will live and flourish to all posteritie.

  "Modest shame makes me silent in my wealth and possessions, my minde

truely telling mee, that honest contented povertie, is the most

ancient and richest inheritance, of our best and Noblest Romanes,

which opinion, if it bee condemned by the understanding of the

ignorant multitude, and heerein wee shall give way to them by

preferring riches and worldly treasures, then I can say that I am

aboundantly provided, not as ambitious, or greedily covetous, but

sufficiently stored with the goods of Fortune.

  "I know well enough, that you held it as a desired benefit, Gisippus

being a Native of your Citie, should also be linked to you by

alliance: but I know no reason, why I should not be as neere and deere

to you at Rome, as if I lived with you heere. Considering, when I am

there, you have a ready and well wishing friend, to stead you in all

beneficiall and serviceable offices, as carefull and provident for

your support, yea, a protectour of you and your affaires, as well

publique as particular. Who is it then, not transported with

partiall affection, that can (in reason) more approve your act, then

that which my friend Gisippus hath done? Questionlesse, not any one,

as I thinke. Sophronia is married to Titus Quintus Fulvius, a Noble

Gentleman by antiquitie, a rich Citizen of Rome, and (which is above

all) the friend of Gisippus: therfore, such a one as thinkes it

strange, is sorrie for it, or would not have it to be; knoweth not

what he doth.

  "Perhaps there may be some, who will say, they doe not so much

complain, that Sophronia is the wife to Titus; but of the manner

whereby it was done, as being made his wife secretly, and by theft,

not any of her parents, kinred or friends called thereto: no, nor so

much as advertised thereof. Why Gentlemen, this is no miraculous

thing, but heeretofore hath oftentimes happened, and therefore no

noveltie.

  "I cannot count unto you, how many there have beene, who (against

the will of their Fathers) have made choice of their husbands; nor

them that have fled away with their lovers into strange Countries,

being first friends, before they were wives:

  nor of them who have sooner made testimonie of marriage by their

bellies, then those ceremonies due to matrimonie, or publication

thereof by the tongue; so that meere necessity and constraint, hath

forced the parents to yeeld consent: which hath not so happened to

Sophronia, for she was given to me by Gisippus discreetly, honestly,

and orderly.

  "Others also may say, that shee is married to him, to whom it

belonged not to marrie her. These complaints are foolish, and

womanish, proceeding from verie little, or no consideration at all. In

these daies of ours, Fortune makes no use of novell or inconsiderate

meanes, whereby to bring matters to their determined effect. Why

should it offend me, if a Cobler, rather than a Scholler, hath ended a

businesse of mine, either in private or publique, if the end be well

made? Well I may take order, if the Cobler bee indiscreet, that hee

meddle no more with any matters of mine, yet I ought, in courtesie, to

thanke him for that which hee did.

  "In like manner, if Gisippus hath married Sophronia well, it is

foolish and superfluous, to finde fault with the manner hee used in

her marriage. If you mislike his course in the case, beware of him

hereafter, yet thanke him because it is no worse. "Neverthelesse,

you are to understand, that I sought not by fraud or deceit, (but

onely by witte) any opportunitie, whereby any way to sullie the

honestie and cleere Nobilitie of your bloud, in the person of

Sophronia: for although in secret I made her my wife, yet I came not

as an enemie, to take her perforce, nor (like a ravisher) wronged

her virginitie, to blemish your no. titles, or despising your

alliance. But fervently, enflamed by her bright beauty, and incited

also by her unparalleld vertues, I shaped my course; knowing well

enough, that if I tooke the ordinarie way of wiving, by moving the

question to you, I should never winne your consent, as fearing, lest I

would take her with me to Rome, and so conveigh out of your sight, a

jewell by you so much esteemed, as she is.

  "For this, and no other reason, did I presume to use the secret

cunning which now is openly made knowne unto you: and Gisippus

disposed himselfe thereunto, which otherwise hee never determined to

have done, in contracting the marriage for me, and shee consenting

to me in his name.

  Moreover, albeit most earnestly I affected her, I sought to

procure your union, not like a lover, but as a true husband, nor would

I immodestly touch her, till first (as her selfe can testifie) with

the words becomming wedlocke, and the Ring also I espoused her,

demanding of her, if shee would accept mee as her husband, and shee

answered mee, with her full consent. Wherein, if it may seeme that

shee was deceived, I am not any way to be blamed, but she, for not

demanding, what, and who I was.

  This then is the great evill, the great offence, and the great

injurie committed by my friend Gisippus, and by mee as a Lover: that

Sophronia is secretly become the wife of Titus Quintus Fulvius. And

for this cause, like spies you watch him, threaten him daily, as if

you intended to teare him in pieces. What could you doe more, if hee

had given her to a man of the very vilest condition? to a villaine, to

a slave? What prisons? what fetters? Or what torments are sufficient

for this fact? But leaving these frivolous matters, let us come to

discourse of more moment, and better beseeming your attention.

  The time is come, that I may no longer continue heere, because

Publius my Father is dead, and I must needs returne to Rome, wherefore

being minded to take Sophronia thither with mee, I was the more

willing to acquaint you therewith, as also what else I have said,

which otherwise had still beene concealed from you. Nor can you but

take it in good part, if you be wise, and rest well contented with

what is done: considering, if I had any intention eyther to deceive,

or otherwise wrong you, I could have basely left her, and made a

scorne both of her and you, you not having any power to stay mee

heere. But the Gods will never permitte that any couragious Romane,

should ever conceive so vile and degenerate a thought.

  Sophronia, by ordination of the Gods, by force of humane Lawes,

and by the laudable consent of my friend Gisippus, as also the

powerfull command of Love is mine. But you perchance, imagining your

selves to be wiser then the Gods, or any other men whatsoever; may

thinke ill of it, and more brutishly then beasts, condemne their

working in two kinds, which would be offensive to mee. The one is,

your detaining of Sophronia from mee, of whom you have no power, but

what pleaseth mee. The other, is your bitter threatnings against

Gisippus my deare friend, to whom you are in duty obliged. In both

which cases, how unreasonablie soever you carrie your selves, I intend

not at this time to presse any further. But rather let mee counsell

you like a friend, to cease your hatred and disdaine, and suffer

Sophronia to be delivered mee, that I may depart contentedly from

you as a kinsman, and (being absent) remaine your friend: assuring

you, that whether what is done shall please or displease you, if you

purpose to proceed any otherwise: I will take Gisippus along with me,,

and when I come to Rome, take such sure order, to fetch her hence, who

in justice is mine, even in meere despight of you all, and then you

shall feele by sound experience, how powerfull is the just indignation

of the wronged Romanes."

  When Titus had thus concluded his Oration, he arose with a sterne

and discontented countenance, and tooke Gisippus by the hand,

plainly declaring, that he made small account of all the rest that

were in the Temple; and shaking his head at them, rather menaced

then any other wise seemed to care for them.

  They which tarried, when they were gone, considering partly on the

reasons alleadged by Titus, and partly terrified by his latest

speeches; became induced, to like well of his alliance and amitie,

as (with common consent) they concluded: that it was much better to

accept Titus as their kinsman (seeing Gisippus had made manifest

refusall thereof) than to lose the kinred of the one, and procure

the hatred of the other. Wherefore they went to seeke Titus, and

said unto him, they were very well contented that Sophronia should bee

his Wife, hee their deare and loving kinsman, and Gisippus to

remaine their much respected friend. And embracing one another, making

a solemne feast, such as in the like cases is necessarilie required,

they departed from him, presently sending Sophronia to him, who making

a vertue of necessity, converted her love (in short time after) to

Titus, in as effectuall manner, as formerly shee had done to Gisippus,

and so was sent away with him to Rome, where she was received and

welcommed with very great honour.

  Gisippus remaining still at Athens, in small regard of eyther theirs

or his owne friends: not long after by meanes of sundry troublesome

Citizens; and partialities happening among the common people, was

banished from Athens, and hee, as also all his familie, condemned to

perpetuall exile: during which tempestuous time, Gisippus was become

not onely wretchedly poore, but wandred abroad as a common begger;

in which miserable condition he travelled to Rome, to try if Titus

would take any acknowledgement of him. Understanding that he was

living, and one most respected among the Romanes, as being a great

Commander and a Senator: he enquired for the place where hee dwelt,

and going to be neere about his house, stayed there so long, till

Titus came home, yet not daring to manifest himselfe, or speake a word

to him, in regard of his poore and miserable estate, but strove to

have him see him, to the end, that hee might acknowledge and call

him by his name; notwithstanding, Titus passed by him without either

speech, or looking on him: Which when Gisippus perceived, and making

full account, that (at the least) he would remember him, in regard

of former courtesies, done to him: confounded with griefe and

desperate thoughtes, hee departed thence, never meaning to see him any

more.

  Now, in regard it was night, he having eaten nothing all that day,

nor provided of one penny to buy him any food, wandred he knew not

whether, desiring rather to die than live; hee came at last to an

old ruinous part of the City, over-spred with briers and bushes, and

seldome resorted unto by any: where finding a hollow Cave or vault, he

entred into it, meaning there to weare away the comfortlesse night,

and laying himselfe downe on the hard ground, almost starke naked, and

without any warme garments, over-wearied with weeping, at last he fell

into a sleepe.

  It fortuned that two men, who had beene abroad the same night,

committing thefts and robberies together; somwhat very earlie in the

morning, came to the same Cave, intending there to share and divide

their booties, and difference happening betweene them about it, hee

that was the stronger person, slew there the other, and then went away

with the whole purchase.

  Gisippus having heard and seene the manner of this accident, was not

a little joyfull, because he had now found a way to death, without

laying any violent hand on himselfe; for life being very loathsome

to him, it was his only desire to die. Wherfore, he would not budge

from the place, but taried there so long, till the Sergeants and

Officers of justice (by information of him that did the deede) came

thither well attended, and furiously ledde Gisippus thence to prison.

  Being examined concerning this bloudy fact, he plainly confessed,

that hee himselfe had committed the murder, and afterward would not

depart from the Cave, but purposely stayed for apprehension, as

being truely toucht with compunction for so foule an offence: upon

which eremptorie confession, Marcus Varro being then Praetor, gave

sentence that he should be crucified on a Crosse, as it was the usuall

manner of death in those dayes. Titus chancing to come at the same

time into Praetorium, advisedly beholding the face of the condemned

man (as hee sate upon the bench) knew him to bee Gysippus, not a

little wondring at this strange accident, the povertie of his

estate, and what occasion should bring him thither, especially in

the questioning for his life, and before the Tribunall of justice.

  His soule earnestly thirsting, by all possible meanes to helpe and

defend him, and no other course could now be taken for safetie of

his life, but by accusing himselfe, to excuse and cleare the other

of the crime: hee stept from off the judgement bench, and crouding

through the throng to the Barre, called out to the Praetor in this

manner. Marcus Varro, recall thy sentence given on the condemned man

sent away, because hee is truely guiltlesse and innocent: With one

bloudie blow have I offended the Gods, by killing that wretched man,

whom the Serjeants found this morning slaine, wherefore Noble Praetor,

let no innocent mans bloud be shed for it, but onely mine that have

offended.

  Marcus Varro stood like a man confounded with admiration, being very

sorrie, for that which the whole assistants had both seene and

heard, yet hee could not (with honour) desist from what must needs

be done, but would performe the Lawes severe injunction. And sending

for condemned Gisippus backe againe, in the presence of Titus, thus he

spake to him. How becamest thou so madly incensed, as (without any

torment inflicted on thee) to confesse an offence by thee never

committed? Art thou wearie of thy life? Thou chargest thy selfe

falsly, to be the person who this last night murdered the man in the

Cave, and there is another that voluntarily also doth confesse his

guiltinesse.

  Gisippus lifting up his eyes, and perceiving it was Titus, conceived

immediately, that he had done this onely for his deliverance, as one

that remembred him sufficiently, and would not be ungratefull for

former kindnesses received. Wherefore, the teares flowing abundantly

down his cheekes, he said to the Judge Varro, it was none but I that

murdered the man, wherefore, I commiserate the case of this Noble

Gentleman Titus, who speakes now too late for the safety of my life.

Titus on the other side, said. Noble Praetor, this man (as thou seest)

is a stranger heere, and was found without any weapon, fast asleepe by

the dead body: thou mayst then easily perceive, that meerely the

miserable condition wherein he is, hath made him desperate, and he

would make mine offence the occasion of his death. Absolve him, and

send me to the Crosse, for none but I have deserved to die for this

fact.

  Varro was amazed, to observe with what earnest instance each of them

strove to excuse the other, which halfe perswaded him in his soule,

that they were both guiltlesse. And as he was starting-up, with full

intent to acquaint them: a yong man, who had stood there all this

while, and observed the hard pleading on either side; he crowded

into the Barre, being named Publius Ambustus, a fellow of lewd life,

and utterly out of hopes, as being debauched in all his fortunes,

and knowne among the Romaines to be a notorious theefe, who verily had

committed the murder. Well knew his conscience, that none of them were

guilty of the crime, wherewith each so wilfully charged himselfe:

being therefore truely toucht with remorse, he stept before Marcus

Varro, saying.

  Honourable Praetor, mine owne horrid and abominable actions, have

induced me thus to intrude my selfe, for clearing the strict

contention betweene these two persons. And questionlesse, some God

or greater power, hath tormented my wretched soule, and so

compunctually solicited me, as I cannot chuse, but make open

confession of my sinne. Here therefore, I doe apparantly publish, that

neither of these men is guilty of the offence, wherewith so wilfully

each chargeth himselfe. I am the villaine, who this morning murdered

the man in the Cave, one of no greater honesty then my selfe, and

seeing this poore man lie there sleeping, while we were dividing the

stolne booties betweene us; I slew my Companyon, because I would be

the sole possessor. As for Noble Lord Titus, he had no reason thus

to accuse himselfe, because [he] is a man of no such base quality: let

them both then be delivered, and inflict the sentence of death on me.

  Octavius Caesar, to whom tydings was brought of this rare

accident, commanding them al three to be brought before him; would

needs understand the whole History, in every particular as all had

happened, which was substantially related to him. Whereupon,

Octavius pleased them all three: the two noble friendes, because

they were innocent, and the third, for openly revealing the very

truth.

  Titus tooke home with him his friend Gisippus, and after he had

sharpely reproved him for his distrust, and cold credence of his

friendship: he brought him to Sophronia, who welcomed him as lovingly,

as if he had bin her naturall borne brother, bemoaning his hard and

disastrous fortune, and taking especiall care, to convert all passed

distresses, into as happy and comfortable a change, fitting him with

garments and attendants, beseeming his degree both in Nobility and

vertue. Titus, out of his honourable bounty, imparted halfe his

lands and rich possessions to him, and afterward gave him in marriage,

his owne Sister, a most beautifull Lady, named Fulvia, saying to him

beside. My deare friend Gisippus, it remaineth now in thine owne

election, whether thou wilt live here still with me, or returne

backe to Athens, with all the wealth which I have bestowed on thee.

But Gisippus, being one way constrayned, by the sentence of banishment

from his native City, and then againe, in regard of the constant love,

which he bare to so true and thankefull friend as Titus was: concluded

to live there as a loyall Roman, where he with his Fulvia, and Titus

with his faire Sophronia, lived long after together in one and the

same house, augmenting daily (if possible it might be) their amity

beyond all other equalizing.

  A most sacred thing therefore is (ordiall amity, worthy not onely of

singuler reverence, but also to be honoured with eternall

commendation, as being the onely wise Mother of all magnificence and

honesty, the Sister of Charity and Gratitude, the enemy to hatred

and avarice, and which is alwayes ready (without attending to be

requested) to extend all vertuous actions to others, which she would

have done to her selfe. Her rare and divine effects, in these contrary

times of ours, are not to be found between two such persons, which

is a mighty fault, and greatly checketh the miserable covetousnesse of

men, who respecting nothing but onely their particular benefit; have

banished true Amity, to the utmost confines of the whole earth, and

sent her into perpetuall exile.

  What love, what wealth, or affinity of kindred, could have made

Gisippus feele (even in the intyrest part of his soule) the fervent

compassion, the teares, the sighes of Titus, and with such efficacy as

plainely appeared: to make him consent, that his faire elected Spouse,

by him so dearely esteemed, should become the wife of his Companion,

but onely the precious league of Amity?

  What Lawes, what threatnings, what feares, could cause the yong

armes of Gisippus to abstaine embraces, betaking himselfe to

solitary walkes, and obscure places, when in his owne bedde, he

might have enjoyed so matchlesse a beauty (who perhaps desired it so

much as himselfe) but onely the gracious title of Amity? What

greatnesse, what merits or precedence, could cause Gisippus not to

care, for the losse of his kindred, those of Sophronia, yea, of

Sophronia her selfe, not respecting the dishonest murmurings of base

minded people, their vile and contemptible language, scornes and

mockeries, and all to content and satisfie a friend, but onely

Divine Amity?

  Come now likewise to the other side. What occasions could compell

Noble Titus, so promptly and deliberatly, to procure his owne death,

to rescue his friend from the crosse, and inflict the pain and shame

upon himselfe, pretending not [to] see or know Gisippus at all, had it

not bin wrought by powerfull Amity? What cause else could make Titus

so liberall, in dividing (with such willingnesse) the larger part of

his patrimony to Gisippus, when Fortune had dispossest him of his

owne, but onely heaven-borne Amity? What else could have procured

Titus, without any further dilation, feare or suspition, to give his

Sister Fulvia in marriage to Gisippus, when he saw him reduced to such

extreame poverty, disgrace and misery, but onely infinite Amity? To

what end doe men care then, to covet and procure great multitudes of

kinred, store of brethren, numbers of children, and to encrease

(with their owne monyes) plenty of servants: when by the least losse

and dammage happening, they forget all duty to Father, Brother, or

Master? Amity and true friendship is of a quite contrary nature,

satisfying (in that sacred bond) the obligation due to all degrees,

both of parentage, and all alliences else.