THE EIGHT NOVELL

 

       WHEREBY ALL MEN MAY PLAINELY UNDERSTAND, THAT LOYALTY

      FAITHFULLY KEPT TO THE PRINCE (WHAT PERILS SOEVER DOE ENSUE)

      DOTH YET NEVERTHELESSE RENOWNE A MAN, AND BRING HIM TO FARRE

                             GREATER HONOUR

 

  The Count D'Angiers being falsly accused, was banished out of

France, and left his two children in England in divers places.

Returning afterward (unknowne) thorow Scotland, hee found them

advanced unto great dignitie. Then, repayring in the habite of a

Servitour, into the King of France his Armie, and his innocencie

made publiquely knowne, hee was reseated in his former honourable

degree.

 

  The Ladies sighed verie often, hearing the variety of wofull

miseries happening to Alathiella: but who knoweth, what occasion

mooved them to those sighes? Perhappes there were some among them, who

rather sighed they could not be so often maried as she was, rather

then for any other compassion they had of her disasters. But leaving

that to their owne construction, they smiled merrily at the last

speeches of Pamphilus: and the Queene perceyving the Novell to be

ended, shee fixed her eye upon Madame Eliza, as signifying thereby,

that she was next to succeed in order; which shee joyfully

embracing, spake as followeth. The field is very large and spacious,

wherein all this day we have walked, and there is not any one here

so wearied with running the former races, but nimbly would adventure

on as many more, so copious are the alterations of Fortune, in sad

repetition of her wonderfull changes: and among the infinity of her

various courses, I must make addition of another, which I trust,

will no way discontent you.

  When the Romaine Empire was translated from the French to the

Germaines, mighty dissentions grew betweene both the Nations,

insomuch, that it drew a dismall and a lingering warre. In which

respect, as well for the safety of his owne Kingdome, as to annoy

and disturbe his enemies; the King of France and one of his sonnes,

having congregated the forces of their owne Dominions, as also of

their friends and confederates, they resolved manfully to encounter

their enemies. But before they would adventure any rash proceeding,

they held it as the cheefest part of policy and royall providence, not

to leave the State without a Chiefe or Governour. And having had

good experience of Gualtier, Count D'Angiers, to be a wise and

worthy Lord, singularly expert in military discipline and faithfull in

all affaires of the Kingdome (yet fitter for ease and pleasure, then

laborious toyle and travalle:) he was elected Lieutenant Governour

in their sted, over the whole kingdom of France, and then they went on

in their enterprize.

  Now began the Count to execute the office committed to his trust, by

orderly proceeding, and with great discretion, yet not entering into

any businesse, without consent of the Queene and her faire daughter in

Law: who although they were left under his care and custodie, yet

(notwithstanding) he honoured them as his superiours, and as the

dignity of their quality required. Here you are to observe, concerning

Count Gualtier himselfe, that he was a most compleate person, aged

litle above forty yeeres, as affable and singularly conditioned, as

any Nobleman possibly could be, nor did those times affoord a

Gentleman, that equalled him in all respects. It fortuned, that the

King and his sonne being busy in the aforenamed war, the wife and Lady

of Count Gualtier died in the mean while, leaving him onely a sonne

and a daughter very yong, and of tender yeeres, which made his owne

home the lesse welcom to him, having lost his deere Love, and second

selfe.

  Heereupon, he resorted to the Court of the said Ladies the more

frequently, often conferring with them, about the waighty affaires

of the Kingdome: in which time of so serious interparlance, the

Kings sonnes wife, threw many affectionate regards upon him, convaying

such conspiring passions to her heart (in regard of his person and

vertues) that her love exceeded all capacity of governement. Her

desires out-stepping al compasse of modesty, or the dignity of her

Princely condition, throwes off all regard of civill and sober

thoughts, and guides her into a Labyrinth of wanton imaginations. For,

she regards not now the eminency of his high Authority, his gravity of

yeares, and those parts that are the true conducts to honour: but

lookes upon her owne loose and lascivious appetite, her young,

gallant, and over-ready yeelding nature, comparing them with his

want of a wife, and likely hope thereby of her sooner prevailing;

supposing, that nothing could be her hindrance, but onely bashfull

shamefastnesse, which she rather chose utterly to forsake and set

aside, then to faile of her hot enflarned affection, and therefore she

would needs be the discoverer of her owne disgrace.

  Upon a day, being alone by her selfe, and the time seeming

suteable to her intention: shee sent for the Count, under colour of

some other important conference with him. The Count D'Aongiers,

whose thoughts were quite contrary to hers: immediately went to her,

where they both sitting downe together on a beds side in her

Chamber, according as formerly shee had plotted her purpose; twice hee

demaunded of her, upon what occasion she had thus sent for him. She

sitting a long while silent, as if she had no answere to make him,

pressed by the violence of her amorous passions, a Vermillion tincture

leaping up into her face, yet shame enforcing teares from her eyes,

with words broken and halfe confused, at last she began to deliver her

minde in this manner.

  Honourable Lord, and my deerely respected Friend, being so wise a

man as you are, it is no difficult matter for you to know, what a

frayle condition is imposed both on men and women; yet (for divers

occasions) much more upon the one, then the other. Wherefore

desertfully, in the censure of a just and upright judge, a fault of

divers conditions (in respect of the person) ought not to bee censured

with one and the same punnishment. Beside, who will not say, that a

man or woman of poore and meane estate, having no other helpe for

maintainance, but laborious travaile of their bodies, should

worthily receive more sharpe reprehension, in yeelding to amorous

desires, or such passions as are incited by love; then a wealthy

Lady whose living relieth not on her pains or cares, neither wanteth

any thing that she can wish to have: I dare presume, that you your

selfe will allow this to be equall and just. In which respect, I am of

the minde, that the fore-named allegations, ought to serve as a

sufficient excuse, yea, and to the advantage of her who is so

possessed, if the passions of love should over-reach her: alwayes

provided, that shee can pleade in her owne defence, the choice of a

wise and vertuous friend, answerable to her owne condition and

quality, and no way to be taxt with a servile or vile election.

  These two speciall observations, allowable in my judgement, and

living now in mee, seizing on my youthfull blood and yeeres, have

found no mean inducement to love, in regard of my husbands far

distance from me, medling in the rude uncivill actions of warre,

when he should rather be at home in more sweet imployment. You see

Sir, that these Oratours advance themselves here in your presence,

to acquaint you with the extremity of my over-commanding agony: and if

the same power hath dominion in you, which your discretion

(questionlesse) cannot be voide of; then let me entreate such advice

from you, as may rather helpe, then hinder my hopes. Beleeve it then

for trueth Sir, that the long absence of my husband from me, the

solitary condition wherein I am left, il agreeing with the hot blood

running in my veines, and the temper of my earnest desires: have so

prevailed against my strongest resistances, that not onely so weake

a woman as I am, but any man of much more potent might, (living in

ease and idlenesse as I do) cannot withstand such continuall assaults,

having no other helpe then flesh and blood.

  Nor am I so ignorant, but publike knowledge of such an error in mee,

would be reputed a shrewd taxation of honesty: whereas (on the other

side) secret carriage, and heedfull managing such amorous affaires,

may passe for currant without any reproach. And let me tel you,

noble Count, that I repute love highly favourable to mee, by guiding

my judgement with such moderation, to make election of a wise, worthy,

and honorable friend, fit to enjoy the grace of a farre greater Lady

then I am, and the first letter of his name, is the Count D'Angiers.

For if error have not misled mine eye, as in love no Lady can be

easily deceived: for person, perfections, and all parts most to bee

commended in a man, the whole Realme of France containeth not your

equall. Observe beside, how forward Fortune sheweth her selfe to us

both in this case; you to bee destitute of a wife, as I am of an

husband; for I account him as dead to me, when he denies me the duties

belonging to a wife. Wherefore, in regard of the unfained affection

I beare you, and compassion which you ought to have of a Royall

Princesse, even almost sicke to death for your sake, I earnestly

entreat you, not to deny mee your loving society, but pittying my

youth and fiery affections (never to be quenched but by your

kindnesse) I may enjoy my hearts desire.

  As shee uttered these words, the teares streamed aboundantly downe

her faire cheekes, preventing her of any further speech: so that

dejecting her head into her bosome, overcome with the predominance

of her passions, she fell upon the Counts knee, whereas else shee

had falne uppon the ground. When he, like a loyall and most honourable

man, sharpely reprehended her fond and idle love: And when shee

would have embraced him about the necke to have kissed him; he

repulsed her roughly from him, protesting upon his honourable

reputation, that rather then hee would so wrong his Lord and

Maister, he would endure a thousand deaths.

  The Ladie seeing her desire disappointed, and her fond expectation

utterly frustrated: grew instantly forgetfull of her intemperate love,

and falling into extremity of rage, converted her former gentle and

loving speeches, into this harsh and ruder language. Villaine (quoth

she) shall the longing comforts of my life, be abridged by thy base

and scornefull deniall? Shall my destruction be wrought by thy most

currish unkindenesse, and all my hoped joyes be defeated in a

moment? Know Slave, that I did not so earnestly desire thy sweete

embracements before, but now as deadly I hate and despise them;

which either thy death or banishment shall deerely pay for. No

sooner had she thus spoken, but tearing her haire, and renting her

garments in peeces, she ranne about like a distracted Woman, crying

out alowd; Helpe, helpe, the Count D'Angiers will forcibly dishonour

mee, the lustfull Count will violate mine honour.

  D'Angiers seeing this, and fearing more the malice of the

over-credulous Court, then either his owne Conscience, or any

dishonourable act by him committed, beleeving likewise, that her

slanderous accusation would be credited, above his true and

spotlesse innocency: closely he conveyed himselfe out of the Court,

making what hast he could, home to his owne house, which being too

weake for warranting his safety upon such pursuite as would be used

against him, without any further advice or counsell, he seated his two

children on horsebacke, himselfe also being but meanly mounted, thus

away thence he went to Calice.

  Upon the clamour and noise of the Lady, the Courtiers quickly

flocked thither; and, as lies soone winne beleefe in hasty opinions,

upon any silly or shallow surmise: so did her accusation passe for

currant, and the Counts advancement being envied by many, made his

honest carriage (in this case) the more suspected. In hast and madding

fury, they ran to the Counts houses, to arrest his person, and carry

him to prison: but when they could not finde him, they raced his

goodly buildings downe to the ground, and used all shamefull

violence to them. Now, as ill newes sildome wants a speedy

Messenger; so, in lesse space then you will imagine, the King and

Dolphin heard thereof in the Campe,-and were therewith so highly

offended, that the Count had a sodaine and severe condemnation, all

his progeny being sentenced with perpetuall exile, and promises of

great and bountifull rewards, to such as could bring his body alive or

dead.

  Thus the innocent Count, by his overhasty and sodaine flight, made

himselfe guilty of this foule imputation: and arriving at Callice with

his children, their poore and homely habites, hid them from being

knowne, and thence they crossed over into England, staying no where

untill hee came to London. Before he would enter into the City, he

gave divers good advertisements to his children, but especially two

precepts above all the rest. First, with patient soules to support the

poore condition, whereto Fortune (without any offence in him or

them) had thus dejected them. Next, that they should have most

heedfull care, at no time to disclose from whence they came, or

whose children they were, because it extended to the perill of their

lives. His Sonne, being named Lewes, and now about nine yeares old,

his Daughter called Violenta, and aged seaven yeares, did both observe

their fathers direction, as afterward it did sufficiently appeare. And

because they might live in the safer securitie, hee thought it for the

best to change their names, calling his Sonne Perotto, and his

Daughter Gianetta, for thus they might best escape unknowne.

  Being entred into the City, and in the poore estate of beggars, they

craved every bodies mercy and almes. It came to passe, that standing

one morning at the Cathedrall Church doore, a great Lady of England

being then wife to the Lord high Marshal, comming forth of the Church,

espied the Count and his children there begging. Of him she demanded

what Countrey-man he was? and whether those children were his owne, or

no? The Count replyed, that he was borne in Piccardy, and for an

unhappy fact committed by his eldest Sonne (a stripling of more

hopefull expectation, then proved) hee was enforced, with those his

two other children, to forsake his country. The Lady being by nature

very pittifull, looking advisedly on the young Girle beganne to grow

in good liking of her; because (indeede) she was amiable, gentle,

and beautifull, whereupon shee saide. Honest man, thy daughter hath

a pleasing countenance, and (perhaps) her inward disposition may

proove answerable to her outward good parts: if therefore thou canst

bee content to leave her with me, I will give her entertainment, and

upon her dutifull carriage and behaviour, if she live to such yeares

as may require it, I will have her honestly bestowne in marriage. This

motion was very pleasing to the Count, who readily declared his

willing consent thereto, and with the teares trickling downe his

cheekes, in thankfull maner he delivered his pretty daughter to the

Lady.

  She being thus happily bestowne, he minded to tarry no longer in

London; but, in his wonted begging manner, travailing thorough the

Country with his sonne Perotto, at length he came into Wales: but

not without much weary paine and travell, being never used before,

to journey so far on foot. There dwelt another Lord, in office of

Marshalship to the King of England, whose power extended over those

parts: a man of very great authority, keeping a most noble and

bountifull house, which they termed the President of Wales his

Court; whereto the Count and his Son oftentimes resorted, as finding

there good releefe and comfort. On a day, one of the Presidents

sons, accompanied with divers other Gentlemens children, were

performing certaine youthfull sports, and pastimes, as running,

leaping, and such like, wherein Perotto presumed to make one among

them, excelling all the rest in such commendable manner, as none of

them came any thing nere him. Divers times the President had taken

notice thereof, and was so well pleased with the Lads behaviour,

that he enquired of whence he was? Answere was made, that he was a

poore mans Son, that every day came for an almes to his gate.

  The President being desirous to make the boy his, the Count (whose

dayly prayers were to the same purpose) frankly gave his Son to the

Nobleman: albeit naturall and fatherly affection, urged some

unwillingnesse to part so with him; yet necessity and discretion,

found it best for the benefit of them both. Being thus eased of care

for his Son and Daughter, and they (though in different places) yet

under good and worthy government; the Count would continue no longer

in England: but, as best hee could procure the meanes, passed over

into Ireland, and being arrived at a place called Stanford, became

servant to an Earle of that Country, a Gentleman professing Armes,

on whom he attended as a serving man, and lived a long while in that

estate very painfully.

  His daughter Violenta, clouded under the borrowed name of

Gianetta, dwelling with the Lady at London, grew so in yeares, beauty,

comelinesse of person, and was so gracefull in the favour of her

Lord and Lady, yea, of every one in the house beside, that it was

wonderfull to behold. Such as but observed her usuall carriage, and

what modesty shined clearely in her eyes, reputed her well worthy of

honourable preferment; in regard, the Lady that had received her of

her Father, not knowing of whence, or what shee was; but as himselfe

had made report, intended to match her in honourable marriage,

according as her vertues worthily deserved. But God, the just rewarder

of all good endeavours, knowing her to be noble by birth, and

(causelesse) to suffer for the sinnes of another; disposed otherwise

of her: and that so worthy a Virgin might be no mate for a man of

ill conditions, no doubt ordained what was to be done, according to

his owne good pleasure.

 The Noble Lady, with whom poore Gianetta dwelt, had but one onely

Sonne by her Husband, and he most deerely affected of them both, as

well in regard he was to be their heire, as also for his vertues and

commendable qualities, wherein he excelled many young Gentlemen.

Endued he was with heroycall valour, compleate in all perfections of

person, and his minde every way answerable to his outward behaviour,

exceeding Gianetta about sixe yeeres in age. Hee perceiving her to

be a faire and comely Maiden, grew to affect her so entirely, that all

things else he held contemptible, and nothing pleasing in his eye

but shee. Now, in regard her parentage was reputed poore, he kept

his love concealed from his Parents, not daring to desire her in

marriage: for loath he was to loose their favour, by disclosing the

vehemency of his afflictions, which proved a greater torment to him,

then if it had beene openly knowne.

  It came to passe, that love over-awed him in such sort, as he fell

into a violent sicknesse, and store of Physicions were sent for, to

save him from death, if possibly it might be. Their judgements

observing the course of his sicknesse, yet not reaching to the cause

of the disease, made a doubtfull question of his recovery; which was

so displeasing to his parents, that their griefe and sorrow grew

beyond measure. Many earnest entreaties they moved to him, to know the

occasion of his sickenesse, whereto he returned no other answere,

but heart-breaking sighes, and incessant teares, which drew him more

and more into weakenesse of body.

  It chanced on a day, a Physicion was brought unto him, being young

in yeeres, but well experienced in his practise: and as hee made

triall of his pulse, Gianetta (who by his Mothers command, attended on

him very diligently) upon some especiall occasion entred into the

Chamber, which when the young Gentleman perceived, and that shee

neither spake word, nor so much as looked towards him, his heart

grew great in amorous desire, and his pulse did beate beyond the

compasse of ordinary custome; whereof the Physicion made good

observation, to note how long that fit would continue. No sooner was

Gianetta gone forth of the Chamber, but the pulse immediately gave

over beating, which perswaded the Physicion, that some part of the

disease had now discovered it selfe apparantly.

  Within a while after, pretending to have some speech with

Gianetta, and holding the Gentleman still by the arme, the Physicion

caused her to be sent for; and immediately shee came. Upon her very

entrance into the Chamber, the pulse began to beate againe extreamely,

and when shee departed, it presently ceased. Now was he thorowly

perswaded, that he had found the true effect of his sicknesse, when

taking the Father and mother aside, thus he spake to them. If you be

desirous of your Sons health, it consisteth not either in Physicion or

physicke, but in the mercy of your faire Maide Gianetta; for

manifest signes have made it knowne to me, and he loveth the

Damosell very dearely: yet (for ought I can perceive, the Maide doth

not know it:) now if you have respect of his life, you know (in this

case) what is to be done. The Nobleman and his Wife hearing this,

became somewhat satisfied, because there remained a remedy to preserve

his life: but yet it was no meane griefe to them, if it should so

succeede, as they feared, namely, the marriage betweene this their

Sonne and Gianetta.

  The Physicion being gone, and they repairing to their sicke Sonne,

the Mother began with him in this manner. Sonne, I was alwayes

perswaded, that thou wouldest not conceale any secret from me, or

the least part of thy desires; especially, when without enjoying them,

thou must remaine in the danger of death. Full well art thou

assured, or in reason oughtest to be, that there is not any thing

for thy contentment, be it of what quality soever, but it should

have beene provided for thee, and in as ample manner as for mine

owne selfe. But though thou hast wandred so farre from duty, and

hazarded both thy life and ours, it commeth so to passe, that Heaven

hath beene more mercifull to thee, then thou wouldest be to thy selfe,

or us. And to prevent thy dying of this disease, a dreame this night

hath acquainted me with the principall occasion of thy sickenesse,

to wit extraordinary affection to a young Maiden, in some such place

as thou hast seene her. I tell thee Sonne, it is a matter of no

disgrace to love, and why shouldst thou shame to manifest as much,

it being so apt and convenient for thy youth? For if I were perswaded,

that thou couldst not love, I should make the lesse esteeme of thee.

Therefore deare Sonne, be not dismayed, but freely discover thine

affections. Expell those disastrous drouping thoughts, that have

indangered thy life by this long lingering sicknesse. And let thy

soule be faithfully assured, that thou canst not require any thing

to be done, remaining within the compasse of my power, but I will

performe it; for I love thee as dearely as mine owne life. Set

therefore aside this nice conceit of shame and feare, revealing the

truth boldly to me, if I may stead thee in thy love; resolving thy

selfe unfaignedly, that if my care stretch not to compasse thy

content, account me for the most cruell Mother living, and utterly

unworthy of such a Sonne.

  The young Gentleman having heard these protestations made by his

Mother, was not a little ashamed of his owne follie; but

recollecting his better thoughts together, and knowing in his soule,

that no one could better further his hopes, then shee; forgetting

all his former feare, he returned her this answere; Madam, and my

dearely affected Mother, nothing hath more occasioned my loves so

strict concealement, but an especiall errour, which I finde by daily

proofe in many, who being growne to yeeres of grave discretion, doe

never remember, that they themselves have bin yong. But because herein

I find you to be both discreet and wise, I will not onely affirme what

you have seen in me to be true, but also will confesse, to whom it is:

upon condition, that the effect of your promise may follow it,

according to the power remaining in you, whereby you onely may

secure my life.

  His Mother, desirous to bee resolved, whether his confession would

agree with the Physitians words, or no, and reserving another

intention to her selfe: bad him feare nothing, but freely discover his

whole desire, and forthwith she doubted not to effect it. Then

Madame (quoth hee) the matchlesse beauty, and commendable qualities of

your Maid Gianetta, to whom (as yet) I have made no motion, to

commisserate this my languishing extremity, nor acquainted any

living creature with my love: the concealing of these afflictions to

myselfe, hath brought mee to this desperate condition: and if some

meane bee not wrought, according to your constant promise, for the

full enjoying of my longing desires, assure your selfe (most Noble

Mother) that the date of my life is very short. The Lady well knowing,

that the time now rather required kindest comfort, then any severe

or sharpe reprehension, smiling on him, said: Alas deere sonne, wast

thou sicke for this? Be of good cheare, and when thy strength is

better restored, then referre the matter to me. The young Gentleman,

being put in good hope by his Mothers promise, began (in short time)

to shew apparant signes of well-forwarded amendment, to the Mothers

great joy and comfort, disposing her selfe dayly to proove, how in

honor she might keepe promise with her sonne.

  Within a short while after, calling Gianetta privately to her, in

gentle manner, and by the way of pleasant discourse, she demanded of

hir, whither she was provided of a Lover, or no. Gianetta, being never

acquainted with any such questions, a scarlet Dye covering all her

modest countenance, thus replyed. Madam, I have no neede of any Lover,

and very unseemely were it, for so poore a Damosell as I am, to have

so much as a thought of Lovers, being banished from my friends and

kinsfolke, and remaining in service as I do.

  If you have none (answered the Ladie) wee will bestow one on you,

which shall content your minde, and bring you to a more pleasing kinde

of life; because it is farre unfit, that so faire a Maid as you

are., should remaine destitute of a Lover. Madam, said Gianetta,

considering with my selfe, that since you received me of my poore

Father, you have used me rather like your daughter, then a servant; it

becommeth mee to doe as pleaseth you. Notwithstanding, I trust (in the

regard of mine owne good and honour) never to use any complaint in

such a case: but if you please to bestow a husband on me, I purpose to

love and honor him onely, and not any other. For, of all the

inheritance left me by my progenitors, nothing remaineth to me but

honourable honesty, and that shall be my Legacie so long as I live.

  These wordes, were of a quite contrary complexion, to those which

the Lady expected from her, and for effecting the promise made unto

hir Sonne: howbeit (like a wise and noble Ladie) much she inwardly

commended the maids answers, and said unto her. But tell me

Gianetta, what if my Lord the King (who is a gallant youthfull Prince,

and you so bright a beautie as you are) should take pleasure in your

love, would ye denie him? Sodainly the Maide returned this answer:

Madame, the King perhaps might enforce me, but with my free consent,

hee shall never have any thing of me that is not honest. Nor did the

Lady dislike her Maides courage and resolution, but breaking of all

her further conference, intended shortly to put her project in proofe,

saying to her son, that when he was fully recovered, he should have

private accesse to Gianetta, whom shee doubted not but would be

tractable enough to him; for she helde it no meane blemish to her

honour, to moove the Maide any more in the matter, but let him

compasse it as he could.

  Farre from the yong Gentlemans humour was this answer of his Mother,

because he aimed not at any dishonourable end: true, faithfull, and

honest love was the sole scope of his intention, foule and loathsome

lust he utterly defied; whereupon he fell into sickenesse againe,

rather more violently then before. Which the Lady perceiving, revealed

her whole intent to Gianetta, and finding her constancie beyond common

comparison, acquainted her Lord with all she had done, and both

consented (though much against their mindes) to let him enjoy her in

honourable marriage: accounting it better, for preservation of their

onely sons life, to match him farre inferiour to his degree, then by

denying h desire, to let him pine and dye for her love.

  After great consultation with Kindred and Friends, the match was

agreed upon, to the no little joy of Gianetta, who devoutly returned

infinite thankes to heaven, for so mercifully respecting her

dejected poore estate, after the bitter passage of so many miseries,

and never tearming her selfe any otherwise, but the daughter of a

poore Piccard. Soone was the yong Gentleman recovered and married,

no man alive so well contented as he, and setting downe an absolute

determination, to lead a loving life with his Gianetta.

  Let us now convert our lookes to Wales, to Perotto; being lefte

there with the other Lord Marshall, who was the President of that

Countrey. On hee grew in yeeres, choisely respected by his Lord,

because hee was most comely of person, and forward to all valiant

attempts: so that in Tourneyes, joustes, and other actions of Armes,

his like was not to bee found in all the Island, being named onely

Perotto the valiant Piccard, and so was he famed farre and neere. As

God had not forgotten his Sister, so in mercy he became as mindefull

of him; for, a contagious mortalitie hapning in the Country, the

greater part of the people perished thereby, the rest flying thence

into other partes of the Land, whereby the whole Province became

dispeopled and desolate.

  In the time of this plague and dreadful visitation, the Lord

President, his Lady, Sonnes, Daughters, Brothers, Nephewes, and

Kindred dyed, none remaining alive, but one onely Daughter

marriageable, a few of the houshold servants, beside Perotto, whom

(after the sickenesse was more mildly asswaged) with counsell and

consent of the Countrey people, the young Lady accepted to be her

husband, because hee was a man so worthy and valiant; and of all the

inheritance left by her deceased Father, she made him Lord, and sole

commander. Within no long while after, the King of England

understanding that his President of Wales was dead, and Fame liberally

relating the vertues, valour, and good parts of Perotto the Piccard,

hee created him President thereof, and to supply the place of his

deceased Lord. These faire fortunes, within the compasse of so short a

time, fell to the two innocent children of the Count D'Angiers after

they were left by him as lost and forlorne.

  Eighteene yeeres were now fully overpast, since the Count

D'Angiers fled from Paris, having suffered (in miserable sort) many

hard and lamentable adversities; and seeing himselfe now to be

growne aged, hee was desirous to leave Ireland, and to know (if hee

might) what was become of both his Children. Heereupon, perceiving his

wonted forme to be so altered, that such as formerly had conversed

most with him, could now not take any knowledge of him, and feeling

his body (through long labour and exercise endured in service) more

lustie then in his idle youthfull yeeres, especially when he left

the Court of France, hee purposed to proceede in his determination.

Being verie poore and simple in apparrel, he departed from the Irish

Earle his Master, with whom he had continued long in service, to no

advantage or advancement, and crossing over into England, travayled to

the place in Wales, where he left Perotto, and where he found him to

be Lord Marshall and President of the country, lusty and in good

health, a man of goodly feature, and most honorably respected and

reverenced of the people.

  Well may you imagine, that this was no small comfort to the poore

aged Countes heart, yet would he not make himselfe knowne to him, or

any other about him, but referred his joy to a further enlarging and

diminishing, by sight of the other limbe of his life, his deerely

affected daughter Gianetta, denying rest to his bodie in any place,

until such time as he came to London. Making there secret enquiry

concerning the Ladie with whom hee had left his daughter; hee

understoode, that a young Gentlewoman, named Gianetta, was married

to that Ladies onely Son, which made a second addition of joy to his

soule, accounting all his passed adversities of no valew, both his

children being living, and in so high honour.

  Having found her dwelling, and (like a kinde Father) being earnestly

desirous to see her; he dayly resorted nere to the house, where Sir

Roger Mandevile (for so was Gianettaes husband named) chauncing to see

him, being moved to compassion, because he was both poore and aged:

commaunded one of his men, to take him into the house, and to give him

some foode for Gods sake, which (accordingly) the servant performed.

Gianetta had divers children by her husband, the eldest being but

eight yeeres of age, yet all of them so faire and comely as could

be. As the old Count sate eating his meate in the Hall, the children

came all about him, embracing, hugging, and making much of him, even

as if Nature had truly instructed them, that this was their aged

(though poor) Grandfather, and hee as lovingly receiving these kilde

relations from them, wisely and silently kept all to himselfe, with

sighes, teares, and joyes intermixed together. Insomuch that the

children would not part from him though their Tutor and Master

called them often, which being tolde to their Mother, shee came foorth

of the neere adjoyning Parlour, and threatned to beate them, if they

would not doe what their Maister commanded them.

  Then the Children began to cry, saying; that they would tarrie

stil by the good olde man, because he loved them better then their

Master did; whereat both the Lady and the Count began to smile. The

Count, a poore Begger, and not as Father to so great a Lady, arose,

and did her humble reverence, because she was now a Noble Woman,

conceyving wonderfull joy in his soule, to see her so faire and goodly

a creature: yet could she take no knowledge of him, Age, want, and

misery had so mightily altered him; his head all white, his beard

without any comly forme, his Garments so poore, and his face so

wrinkled, leane and meager, that he seemed rather some Carter, then

a Count. And Gianetta perceiving that when her Children were fetcht

away, they returned againe to the olde man, and would not leave him,

she desired their Maister to let them alone.

 While thus the Children continued making much of the good olde man,

Lord Andrew Mandevile, Father to Sir Roger, came into the Hall, as

being so willed to doe by the Childrens Schoolemaster. He being a

hastie-minded man, and one that ever-despised Gianetta before, but

much more since her marriage to his sonne, angerly said; Let them

alone with a mischeefe, and so befall them, their best company ought

to bee with beggers, for so they are bred and borne by the Mothers

side: and therefore it is no mervaile, if like will to like, a beggers

brats to keepe company with beggers. The Count hearing these

contemptible wordes, was not a little greeved thereat; and although

his courage was greater then his poore condition would permit him to

expresse; yet, clouding all injuries with noble patience, hanging

downe his head, and shedding many a salt teare, endured this reproach,

as hee had done many, both before and after.

  But honourable Sir Roger, perceiving what delight his Children tooke

in the poore mans company; albeit he was offended at his Fathers harsh

words, by holding his wife in such base respect: yet favoured the

poore Count so much the more, and seeing him weepe, did greatly

compassionate his case, saying to the poore man, that if he would

accept of his service, he willingly would entertaine him. Whereto

the Count replyed, that very gladly he would embrace his kinde

offer: but he was capeable of no other service, save onely to be an

horsekeeper, wherein he had imployed the most part of his time.

Heereupon, more for pleasure and pitty then any necessity of his

service, he was appointed to the keeping of an Horse, which was

onely for his Daughters saddle, and daily after he had done his

diligence about the Horse, he did nothing else but play with the

children. While Fortune pleased thus to dally with the poore Count

D'Angiers, and his children, it came to passe, that the King of France

(after divers leagues of truces passed betweene him and the Germaines)

died, and next after him, his Son the Dolphin was crowned King, and it

was his wife that wrongfully caused the Counts banishment. After

expiration of the last league with the Germains, the warres began to

grow much more fierce and sharpe, and the King of England, (upon

request made to him by his new brother of France) sent him very

honourable supplies of his people, under the conduct of Perotto, his

lately elected President of Wales, and Sir Roger Mandevile, Son to his

other Lord high Marshall; with whom also the poore Count went, and

continued a long while in the Campe as a common Souldier, where yet

like a valiant Gentleman (as indeed he was no lesse) both in advice

and actions; he accomplished many more notable matters, then was

expected to come from him.

  It so fell out, that in the continuance of this warre, the Queene of

France fell into a grievous sicknesse, and perceiving her selfe to

be at the point of death, shee became very penitently sorrowfull for

all her sinnes, earnestly desiring that shee might be confessed by the

Archbishop of Roane, who was reputed to be an holy and vercuous man.

In the repetition of her other offences; she revealed what great wrong

she had done to the Count D'Angiers, resting not so satisfied, with

disclosing the whole matter to him alone; but also confessed the

same before many other worthy persons, and of great honour, entreating

them to worke so with the King, that (if the Count were yet living, or

any of his Children) they might be restored to their former honour

againe.

  It was not long after, but the Queene left this life, and was most

royally enterred, when her confession being disclosed to the King,

after much sorrow for so injuriously wronging a man of so great valour

and honour: Proclamation was made throughout the Campe, and in many

other parts of France beside, that whosoever could produce the Count

D'Angiers, or any of his Children, should richly be rewarded for

each one of them; in regard he was innocent of the foule imputation,

by the Queenes owne confession, and for his wrongfull exile so long,

he should be exalted to his former honour with farre greater

favours, which the King franckely would bestow upon him. When the

Count (who walked up and downe in the habite of a common servitor)

heard this Proclamation, forth-with hee went to his Master Sir Roger

Mandevile, requesting his speedy repaire to Lord Perotto, that being

both assembled together, he would acquaint them with a serious matter,

concerning the late Proclamation published by the King. Being by

themselves alone in the Tent, the Count spake in this manner to

Perotto. Sir, S. Roger Mandevile here, your equall competitor in

this military service, is the husband to your naturall sister,

having as yet never received any dowry with her, but her inherent

unblemishable vertue and honor. Now because she may not stil remain

destitute of a competent Dowry: I desire that Sir Roger, and none

other, may enjoy the royall reward promised by the King. You Lord

Perotto, whose true name is Lewes, manifest your selfe to be nobly

borne, and Sonne to the wrongfull banished Count D'Angiers: avouch

moreover, that Violenta, shadowed under the borrowed name of Gianetta,

is your owne Sister; and deliver me up as your Father, the long exiled

Count D'Angiers. Perotto hearing this, beheld him more advisedly,

and began to know him: then, the tears flowing abundantly from his

eyes, he fell at his feete, and often embracing him, saide: My deere

and noble Father! a thousand times more deerely welcome to your

Sonne Lewes.

  Sir Roger Mandevile, hearing first what the Count had saide, and

seeing what Perotto afterward performed; became surprized with such

extraordinary joy and admiration, that he knew not how to carry

himselfe in this case. Neverthelesse, giving credite to his words, and

being somewhat ashamed, that he had not used the Count in more

respective manner, and remembring beside, the unkinde language of

his furious Father to him: he kneeled downe, humbly craving pardon,

both for his Fathers rudenes and his owne, which was courteously

granted by the Count, embracing him lovingly in his armes.

  When they had a while discoursed their severall fortunes, sometime

in teares, and then againe in joy; Perotto and Sir Roger, would have

the Count to be garmented in better manner, but in no wise he would

suffer it; for it was his onely desire, that Sir Roger should bee

assured of the promised reward, by presenting him in the Kings

presence, and in the homely habit which he did weare, to touch him

with the more sensible shame, for his rash beleefe, and injurious

proceeding. Then Sir Roger Mandevile, guiding the Count by the hand,

and Perotto following after, came before the King, offering to present

the Count and his children, if the reward promised in the Proclamation

might be performed. The King immediately commanded, that a reward of

inestimable valew should be produced; desiring Sir Roger upon the

sight thereof, to make good his offer, for forthwith presenting the

Count and his children. Which hee made no longer delay of, but turning

himselfe about, delivered the aged Count, by the title of his servant,

and presenting Perotto next, saide. Sir, heere I deliver you the

Father and his Son, his Daughter who is my wife, cannot so

conveniently be here now, but shortly, by the permission of heaven,

your Majesty shall have a sight of her.

  When the King heard this, stedfastly he looked on the Count; and,

notwithstanding his wonderfull alteration, both from his wonted

feature and forme: yet, after he had very seriously viewed him, he

knew him perfectly; and the teares trickling downe his cheekes

partly with remorsefull shame, and joy also for his so happy recovery,

he tooke up the Count from kneeling, kissing, and embracing him very

kindely, welcomming Perotto in the selfe same manner. Immediately also

he gave commaund, that the Count should be restored to his honors,

apparell, servants, horses, and furniture, answerable to his high

estate and calling, which was as speedily performed. Moreover, the Kin

greatly honoured Sir Roger Mandevile, desiring to be made acquainted

with all their passed fortunes.

  When Sir Roger had received the royall reward, for thus surrendering

the Count and his Sonne, the Count calling him to him, saide. Take

that Princely remuneration of my soveraigne Lord and King, and

commending me to your unkinde Father, tell him that your Children

are no beggars brats, neither basely borne by their Mothers side.

Sir Roger returning home with his bountifull reward, soone after

brought his Wife and Mother to Paris, and so did Perotto his Wife

where in great joy and triumph, they continued with while with the

noble Count; who had all his goods and honours restored to him, in

farre greater measure then ever they were before: his Sonnes in Law

returning home with their Wives into England, left the Count with

the King at Paris, where he spent the rest of his dayes in great

honour and felicity.