THE THIRD NOVELL

 

   DECLARING, THAT THE LEWD QUALITIES OF SOME PERSONS, OFTENTIMES

       MISGUIDE GOOD PEOPLE, INTO GREAT AND GREEVOUS ERRORS.

 

  Under colour of Confession, and of a most pure conscience, a faire

yong Gentlewoman, being amourously affected to an honest man,

induced a devoute and solemne religious Friar, to advise her in the

meanes (without his suspition or perceiving) how to enjoy the

benefit of her friend, and bring her desires to their full effect.

 

  When Madam Pampinea sate silent, and the Querries boldnesse equalled

with his crafty cunning, and great wisedom in the King had passed

amongst them with a generall applause; the Queene turning her selfe to

Madam Philomena, appointed her to follow next in order as the rest had

done before her: whereupon Philomena began after this maner.

  It is my purpose, to acquaint you with a notable mockerie, which was

performed (not in jest, but earnest) by a faire Gentlewoman, to a

grave and devoute Religious Friar, which will yeelde so much the

more pleasure and recreation, to every secular understander, if but

diligently he or she doe observe, how commonly those Religious persons

(at least the most part of them) like notorious fooles, are the

inventers of new courses and customes, as thinking themselves more

wise and skilful in all things then any other; yet prove to be of no

worth or validity, addicting the verie best of all their devices, to

expresse their owne vilenesse of mind, and fatten themselves in

their styes like to pampered Swine. And assure your selves worthy

Ladies, that I doe not tell this tale onely to follow the order

enjoyned me; but also to informe you that such Saint-like holy Sirs,

of whom we are too opinionate and credulous, may be, yea and are

(divers times) cunningly met withall, in theyr craftinesse, not

onely by men, but likewise some of our owne sexe, as shall make it

apparant to you.

  In our owne City (more full of craft and deceit, then love or

faithfull dealing) there lived not many yeeres since, a Gentlewoman of

good spirit, highly minded, endued with beauty and all commendable

qualities, as any other woman (by nature) could be. Her name, or any

others, concerned in this Novel, I meane not to make manifest,

albeit I know them, because some are yet living, and thereby may be

scindalized; and therefore it shall suffice to passe them over with

a smile. This Gentlewoman, seeing her selfe to be descended of very

great parentage, and (by chance) married to an Artezan, a Cloathyer or

Draper, that lived by the making and selling of cloth. Shee could

not (because he was a Tradesman) take downe the height of her minde;

conceiving, that no man of meane condition (how rich soever) was

worthy to enjoy a Gentlewoman in marriage. Observing moreover, that

with all his wealth and treasure, he understood nothing better, then

to open skeines of yarne, fill shuttles lay webbes in his Loomes, or

dispute with his Spinsters, about their businesse.

  Being thus over-swayed with her proud opinion, she would no longer

be embraced or regarded by him in any manner, saving only because

she could not refuse him, but would find some other for her better

satisfaction, who might seeme more worthy of her respect, then the

Draper her Husband did. Heereupon shee fell so deepe in love with a

verie honest man of our City also, and of indifferent yeeres, as

what day shee saw him not, shee could take no rest the night

ensuing. The man himselfe knew nothing hereof, and therefore was the

more carelesse: and she being curious, nice, yet wisely considerate,

durst not let him understand it, neither by any womans close

conveyed message, nor yet by Letters, as fearing the perils which

happen in such cases. But her eye observing his dayly walkes and

resorts, gave her notice of his often conversing with a religious

Friar, who albeit he was a fat and corpulent man, yet notwithstanding,

because he seemed to leade a sanctimonious life, and was reported to

be a most honest man, she perswaded her selfe, that he might be the

best meanes betweene her and her friend.

  Having considered with her selfe, what course was best to be

observed in this case; uppon a day apt and convenient, she went to the

Convent where he kept, and having caused him to be called, shee told

him, that if his leysure so served, very gladly would she be

confessed, and onely had made her choice of him. The holy man seeing

her to be a Gentlewoman (as indeed she was) willingly heard her; and

when she had confessed what she could, she had yet another matter to

acquaint him withall, and thereupon thus she began.

  Holy Father, it is no more then convenient that I should have

recourse to you, to be assisted by your helpe and counsell, in a

matter which I will impart unto you. I know, that you are not ignorant

of my parents and husband, of whom I am affected as deerely as his

life, for proofe whereof, there is not any thing that I can desire,

but immediately I have it of him, he being a most rich man, and may

very sufficiently affoord it. In regard whereof, I love him equally as

my selfe, and (setting aside my best endevours for him) I must tell

you one thing quite contrary to his liking and honour: no woman

could more worthily deserve death, then my selfe. Understand then

(good Father) that there is a man, whose name I know not, but he

seemeth to be honest, and of good worth; moreover (if I am not

deceived) he resorteth oftentimes to you, being faire and comely of

person, going alwayes in blacke garments of good price and value. This

man, imagining (perhaps) no such minde in mee, as truely there is;

hath often attempted mee, and never can I be at my doore, or window,

but hee is alwayes present in my sight, which is not a little

displeasing to me; he watcheth my walks, and much I mervaile, that

he is not now heere.

  Let me tell you holy Sir, that such behaviours doe many times lay

bad imputations upon very honest women, yet without any offence in

them. It hath often run in my mind, to let him have knowledge

thereof my min by my brethren: but afterward I considered, that men

(many times) deliver messages in such sort, as draw on very ungentle

answers, whereon grow words, and words beget actions. In which regard,

because no harme or scandall should ensue, I thought it best to be

silent; determining, to acquaint you rather therewith, then to any

other, as wel because you seem to be his friend, as also in regard

of your office, which priviledgeth you to correct such abuses, not

onely in friends, but also in strangers. Enow other women there are,

(more is the pitty) who perhaps are better disposed to such suites

then I am, and can both like and allow of such courting, otherwise

then I can doe; as being willing to embrace such offers, and (happily)

loath to yeeld deniall. Wherefore, most humbly I entreate you good

Father (even for our blessed Ladies sake) that you would give him a

friendly reprehension, and advise him to use such unmanly meanes no

more heereafter. With which words, she hung downe her bead in her

bosome, cunningly dissembling, as if shee wept, wiping her eyes with

her Handkerchife, when not a teare fel from them, but indeed were

dry enough.

  The holy Religious man, so soone as he heard her description of

the man, presently knew whom shee meant, and highly commending the

Gentlewoman for her good and vertuous seeming disposition, beleeved

faithfully all that shee had said: promising her, to order the

matter so well and discreetly, as shee should not any more bee

offended. And knowing her to be a woman of great wealth (after all

their usuall manner, when they cast forth their fishing nets for

gaine:) liberally he commeuned Almesdeeds, and dayly workes of

Charity, recounting to her beside his owne particular necessities.

Then, giving him two peeces of Gold, she said: I pray you (good

Father) to be mindfull of me, and if he chance to make any deniall,

tell him, that I spake it my selfe to you, and by the way of a sad

complaint her confession being ended, and penance easie enough

enjoyned her, she promised to make her parents bountifull

Benefactors to the Convent, and put more money into his hand, desiring

him in his Masses, to remember the soules of her deceased friends, and

so returned home to her house.

  Within a short while after her departure, the Gentleman, of whome

she made this counterfeit complaint, came thither, as was his usuall

manner, and having done his duty to the holy Father, they sate downe

together privately, falling out of one discourse into another. At

the length, the Friar (in very loving and friendly sort) mildly

reproved him for such amorous glaunces, and other pursuites, which (as

he thought) he dayly used to the Gentlewoman, according to her owne

speeches. The Gentleman mervalled greatly thereat, as one that had

never seene her, and very sildome passed by the way where shee

dwelt, which made him the bolder in his answeres; wherein the

Confessour interrupting him, saide. Never make such admiration at

the matter, neyther waste more words in deniall, because they cannot

serve thy turne; I tell thee plainely, I heard these words even from

her owne selfe, in a very sorowfull and sad complaint. And though

(perhaps) heereafter, thou canst very hardly refraine such follies;

yet let me tell thee so much of her (and under the seale of absolute

assurance) that she is the onely woman of the world, who to my

judgement, doth abhorre all such base behaviour. In regard therefore

of thine owne honour, as also not to vex and prejudice so vertuous a

Gentlewoman, I pray thee refraine such idlenesse henceforward, and

suffer her to live in peace.

  The Gentleman being a little wiser then his ghostly Father,

perceived immediately, the notable pollicy of the Woman. Whereupon,

making somewhat bashfull appearance of any error already committed, he

said; He would afterward be better advised. So departing from the

Friar, hee went on directly, to passe by the house where the

Gentlewoman dwelt, and shee stood alwayes ready on her watch, at a

little Window, to observe when he would walke that way. And seeing him

comming, shee shewed her selfe so joyfull and gracious to him, as he

easily understood, whereto the substance of the holy Fathers chiding

tended. And from that time forward, he used dayly though in covert

manner (to the no litle liking of the Gentlewoman and himselfe) to

make his passage thorough that street, under colour of some

important occasions there concerning him.

  Soone after, it being plainely discerned on either side, that the

one was as well contented with these walkes, as the other could be:

she desired to enflame him a little further, by a more liberall

illustration of her affection towards him, when time and place

affoorded convenient opportunity. To the holy Father againe she

went, (for she had beene too long from shrift) and kneeling downe at

his feete, intended to begin her confession in teares; which the Friar

perceiving, sorrowfully demanded of her; what accident had happened?

Holy Father (quoth shee) no novell accident, only your wicked and

ungracious friend, by whom (since I was heere with you, yea, no longer

agoe then yesterday) I have been so wronged, as I verily beleeve

that he was borne to bee my mortall enemy, and to make me do

somthing to my utter disgrace for ever; and whereby I shall not dare

to be seene any more of you my deare Father. How is this? answered the

Friar, hath he not refrained from afflicting you so abusively?

  Pausing a while, and breathing foorth many a dissembled sighe,

thus shee replyed. No truely, holy Father, there is no likelyhood of

his abstaining; for since I made my complaint to you, he belike taking

it in evil part, to bee contraried in his wanton humours, hath

(meerely in despight) walked seaven times in a day by my doore,

whereas formerly he never used it above once or twice. And well were

it (good Father) if he could be contented with those walkes, and

gazing glances which hee dartes at me: but growne he is so bolde and

shamelesse, that even yesterday, (as I tolde you) hee sent a woman

to me, one of his Pandoraes, as it appeared, and as if I had wanted

either Purses or Girdies, hee sent me by her, a Purse and a Girdle.

Whereat I grew so greevously offended, as had it not bene for my due

respect and feare of God, and next the sacred reverence I beare to you

my ghostly Father, doubtlesse I had done some wicked deede.

Neverthelesse, happily I withstood it, and wil neither say or do any

thing in this case, till first I have made it knowne to you.

  Then I called to minde, that having redelivered the Purse and Girdle

to his shee-Messenger, which brought them with lookes sufficient to

declare my discontentment: I called her backe againe, fearing least

she would keep them to her selfe, and make him beleeve that I had

received them (as I have heard such kinde of women use to do

sometimes) and in anger I snatcht them from her, and have brought them

you, to the end, that you may give him them againe; and tell him, I

have no need of any such things, thankes be to heaven and my

husband, as no woman can be better stored then I am. Wherefore good

Father, purposely am I now come to you, to let him know, that if he

will not abstaine from thus molesting me, I will disclose it to my

Husband, Father, and Brethren, whatsoever befall. For I had rather

he should receive the injury, then I to be causelessly blamed for him;

wherein good Father tell me, if I dooe not well. With many

counterfet sobbes, sighes, and teares these words were delivered;

and drawing foorth from under her gowne, a very faire and rich

purse, as also a Girdle of great worth, she threw them into the Friars

lappe.

  He verily beleeving all this false report, being troubled in his

minde thereat beyond measure, tooke the Gentlewoman by the hand,

saying: Daughter, if thou be offended at these impudent follies,

assuredly I cannot blame thee, nor will any wiseman reproove thee

for it; and I commend thee for following my counsell. But let me alone

for schooling of my Gentleman, ill hath he kept his promise made to

me; wherefore, in regard of his former offence, as also this other

so lately committed, I hope to set him in such heate, as shall make

him leave off from further injurying thee. Suffer not thy selfe to

be conquerd by choller, in disclosing this to thy kindred or

husband, because too much harme may ensue thereon. But feare not any

wrong to thy selfe; for I am a true witnesse of thine honesty and

vertue.

  Now began she to seeme better comforted, and forbearing to play on

this string any longer, as well knowing the covetousnes of him and his

equals, she said: Holy Father, some few nights past, me thought in

my sleepe, that divers spirits of my kindred appeared to me in a

vision, who me thought were in very great pains, and desired nothing

els but Almes; especially my Godmother, who seemed to be afflicted

with such extrem poverty, that it was most Pittifull to behold. And

I am halfe perswaded, that her torments are the greater, seeing me

troubled with such an enemy to goodnesse. Wherefore (good Father) to

deliver her soule and the others out of those fearfull flames, among

your infinite other devout prayers, I would have you to say the

forty Masses of S. Gregory, as a means for their happy deliverance,

and so she put ten ducates into his hand. Which the holy man accepted

thankfully, and with good words, as also many singular examples,

confirmed her bountifull devotion: and when he had given her his

benediction, home she departed.

  After that the Gentlewoman was gone, hee sent for his friend whom

she so much seemed to be troubled withall; and when he was come, hee

beholding his Holy Father to looke discontentedly, thought, that now

he should heare some newes from his Mistresse, and therefore

expected what he would say. The Friar, falling into the course of

his former reprehensions, but yet in more rough and impatient

minner, sharpely checkt him for his immodest behaviour towards the

Gentlewoman, in sending her the Purse and Girdle. The Gentleman, who

as yet could not guesse whereto his speeches tended; somewhat coldly

and temperately, denied the sending of such tokens to her, to the

end that he would not bee utterly discredited with the good man, if so

bee the Gentlewoman had shewne him any such things. But then the

Frier, waxing much more angry, sternly said. Bad man as thou art,

how canst thou deny a manifest truth? See sir, these are none of

your amorous tokens? No, I am sure you doe not know them, nor ever saw

them till now.

  The Gentleman, seeming as if he were much ashamed, saide. Truely

Father I do know them, and confesse that I have done ill, and very

greatly offended: but now I will sweare unto you, seeing I

understand how firmely she is affected, that you shall never heare any

more complaint of me. Such were his vowes and protestations, as in the

end the ghostly Father gave him both the Purse and Girdle: then

after he had preached, and severely conjured him, never more to vexe

her with any gifts at all, and he binding himselfe thereto by a

solemne promise, he gave him license to depart. Now grew the Gentleman

very jocond, being so surely certifyed of his Mistresses love, and

by tokens of such worthy esteeme; wherefore no sooner was he gone from

the Frier, but he went into such a secret place, where he could let

her behold at her Window, what precious tokens he had received from

her, whereof she was extraordinarily joyfull, because her devices grew

still better and better; nothing now wanting, but her husbands

absence, upon some journey from the City, for the full effecting of

her desire.

  Within a few dayes after, such an occasion hapned, as her husband of

necessity must journey to Geneway; and no sooner was he mounted on

horsebacke, taking leave of her and all his friends: but she, being

sure he was gone, went in all hast to her Ghostly Father; and, after a

few faigned outward shewes, thus she spake. I must now plainely tell

you, holy Father, that I can no longer endure this wicked friend of

yours; but because I promised you the other day, that I would not do

any thing, before I had your counsell therein, I am now come to tell

you, the just reason of my anger, and full purpose to avoid all

further mollestation.

  Your friend cannot terme him, but (questionlesse) a very divell of

hell: this morning, before the breake of day, having heard (but how, I

know not) that my husband was ridden to Geneway: got over the wall

into my Garden, and climbing up a tree which standeth close before

my Chamber window, when I was fast asleepe, opened the Casement, and

would have entred in at the window. But, by great good fortune, I

awaked, and made shew of an open outcry: but that he entreated me,

both for Gods sake and yours, to pardon him this error, and never

after he would presume any more to offend me. When he saw, that (for

your sake) I was silent, he closed fast the window againe, departed as

he came, and since I never saw him, or heard any tidings of him. Now

Judge you, holy Father, whether these be honest courses or no, and

to be endured by any civill Gentlewoman; neither would I so

patiently have suffered this, but onely in my dutifull reverence to

you.

  The Ghostly Father hearing this, became the sorrowfullest man in the

world, not knowing how to make her any answere, but only demanded of

her divers times, whether she knew him so perfectly, that she did

not mistake him for some other? Quoth she, I would I did not know

him from any other. Alas deere daughter (replied the Frier) what can

more be sayd in this case, but that it was over-much boldnesse, and

very ill done, and thou shewedst thy selfe a worthy wise woman, in

sending him away so mercifully, as thou didst. Once more I would

entreat thee (deere and vertuous daughter) seeing grace hath

hitherto kept thee from dishonor, and twice already thou hast credited

my counsell, let me now advise thee this last time. Spare speech, or

complaining to any other of thy friends, and leave-it to me, to try if

I can overcome this unchained divell, whom I tooke to be a much more

holy man. If I can recall him from this sensuall appetite, I shall

account my labour well employed; but if I cannot do it, henceforward

(with my blessed benediction) I give thee leave to do, even what thy

heart will best tutor thee to. You see Sir (said shee) what manner

of man he is, yet would I not have you troubled or disobeyed, only I

desire to live without disturbance, which worke (I beseech you) as

best you may: for I promise you, good Father, never to solicite you

more uppon this occasion: And so, in a pretended rage, she returned

backe from the ghostly Father.

  Scarsely was she gone forth of the Church, but in commeth the man

that had (supposedly) so much transgressed; and the Fryer taking him

aside, gave him the most injurious words that could be used to a

man, calling him disloyall, perjured, and a traitor. He who had

formerly twice perceived, how high the holy mans anger mounted, did

nothing but expect what he would say; and, like a man extreamly

perplexed, strove how to get it from him, saying; Holy Father, how

come you to be so heinously offended? What have I done to incense

you so strangely? Heare me dishonest wretch answered the Frier, listen

what I shall say unto thee. Thou answerest me, as if it were a yeare

or two past, since so foule abuses were by thee committed, and they

almost quite out of thy remembrance. But tell me wicked man; where

wast thou this morning, before breake of the day? Wheresoever I was,

replyed the Gentleman, mee thinkes the tidings come very quickly to

you. It is true, said the Frier, they are speedily come to me

indeed, and upon urgent necessity.

  After a little curbing in of his wrath, somewhat in a milder

straine, thus he proceeded. Because the Gentlewomans husband is

journeyed to Geneway, proves this a ladder to your hope, that to

embrace her in your armes, you must climbe over the Garden wall,

like a treacherous robber in the night season, mount up a tree

before her Chamber window, open the Casement, as hoping to compasse

that by importunity, which her spotlesse chastity will never permit.

There is nothing in the world, that she can hate more then you, and

possibly yet you will love her whether [she] will or no. Many

demonstrations her selfe hath made to you, how retrograde you are to

any good conceit of her, and my loving admonishments might have had

better successe in you, then as yet they shew of outward apparance.

But one thing I must tell you, her silent sufferance of your

injuries all this while, hath not bin in any respect of you, but at my

earnest entreaties, and for my sake. But now she w be patient no

longer, and I have given her free license, if ever heereafter you

offer to attempt her any more, to make her complaint before her

Brethren, which will redound to your no meane danger.

  The Gentleman, having wisely collected his Love-lesson out of the

Holy Fathers angry words, pacified the good old man so well as he

could with very solemne promises and protestations, that he should

heare no more) any misbehaviour of his. And being gone from him,

followed the instructions given in her complaint, by climbing over the

Garden Wall, ascending the Tree, and entering at the Casement,

standing ready open to welcome him. Thus the Friers simplicity,

wrought on by her most ingenious subtiltie, made way to obtaine both

their longing desires.