❧ STRANGE, Lamentable, and Tragical Histories.  
TRANSLATED OUT OF French into English, by R. S. *  
ANNO. 1577. †  
¶ IMPRINTED at London, in Fleetstreet, beneath the Conduit, at the Sign of S. john Evangelist, by Hugh jackson.   

¶ To the right Worshipful, Master Henry Vernon of Stoke, in the county of Salop, & Master john Vernon of Sudbury, in the county of Derby, Esquyers. T. N. wisheth long life, continual health, and prosperous felicity, etc.  
BEing already by true trial in others sufficiently taught, and by mutual conference in myself thoroughly persuaded of the singular courtesy, and favourable lenity lodging within you, I was the bolder (Right Worshipful) at this present, to prefix your names in the forehead of this little book, in token of that entire good will, which (by an inviolable vow) I bear to your people, in respect of your rare virtues, and the great desire I have to gratify your surpassing curtesyes, if my ability might stretch any way, to counterpoise the weight of my inward affection. And for as much as Nature hath linked you together so straightly and firmly, with the infringible chain of Consanguinity, kindred, and agreement of manners: I deemed it an offence equal almost with sacrilege, for so small a matter as this, to separate and dissever you. Beseeching your Worships to make no other construction, or interpretation of my meaning, than my simplicity pretendeth, and by your friendly acceptance hereof, to countenance the travail of him, who is not now to answer for himself: which request I make the more earnestly for him, for that in such a case, a man may with more face of honesty, sue and entreat for his friend, then for himself. Of which your accustomed favours, as I nothing stand in doubt: So do I heartily beseech God, to prospero, protect, and direct you in all your rightful attempts, and Godly enterprises, and after many years here Worshipfully spent, to make you coheir with his Son Christ, in his glorious Hierarchy.  
At Butley this xxx of October. 1577. Yours most bound. T. N.   

¶ T. N. to the courteous, friendly, and indifferent Reader.  
AS the Books be many, and the devices sundry, which now a days in great swarms are sent abroad, and published: so likewise, pregnant are the wits, and ripe are the judgements of a great number, which busily bestow their travails, and learnedly lend the practises of their pens to display, decipher, and offer out to the gazing view of the world, the store of their cunning, and the gallauntnesse of their inventions: Some tend to good, and Godly purposes: some to vain and tryfeling fantasies: some conduce to the advancement of virtue & commendation of the well deserving: some to the suppressing, debelling, beating down, and subduing of vice, with a detestation of the loathsome life of the wicked, and the ruinous end of their pestiferous dealings. And Tom (she more pity) serve altogether to nourish wantonness, and maintain lascivious lusts. But howsoever they deal herein, well I wots, that they either do, or else aught, and should every one according to his ability, to further and promote virtue, and by all convenient means to rehate loose life, & to bring vice into contempt among all men: the very practice whereof, bringeth detestation, and the end whereof breedeth confusion. And because no way seemeth so ready to exhort, animate, advise, and encourage to well doing, neither any course so direct to dehort, terrify, abash, and discourage from evil doing, and especially them of the younger sort (wherein is most danger, and who yet stand tottering and balauncing in the scales of advisement, uncertain which way to wend, or what path to trace) from the ordinary pursuit of their wilful affections and inordinate appetites, then by the Examples of others, that have trodden the way afore, whose success they may apply to their own direction: therefore have many good Authors, both old and new, peculyarlye entitled their works by the name and title of Examples, Methodically couched in plain Histories: wherein be lively patterns set down & expressed, testifying what gains is gained by voluptuous life, and what guerdon ensueth sensual appetite: wherein as in a Table, is forcibly delineated, how some for virtue, have risen to honour, fame, dignity, and renown, and some for vice have been thrown down, and buried in the pit of dishonour, shame, reproach, and eternal infamy. So that the worthy advancement of the one, may be a sharp spur to stir up to goodness, and the loathsome beastliness of the other, a bridle to rain our appetites from these inconveniences, wherein we see them to have been for their demerytes, condignly plunged, to y● open overthrows of their present estates, and obloquious stain to all their posterity. For certainly the view and consideration of the accidents that have driven others (for notorious enormities committed, and loose life lewdly lead,) upon the rueful rocks, and sandy shelves of lamentale loss, and doleful decay, is in my opinion a good document for us to beware of semblable folly, & to keep ourselves within the prescript bounds of modest behaviour. To this end histories and Pamphlets, as well of the good success of well doers, as of the ill haps of the wicked, do generally tend● and purposely serve, and are alike expedient, so that they be simply interpreted, and rightly applied. In the number of which well meaning writers, I dare to unroll the writer, and translator of these present histories, & Tragical troubles, out of French, into this our English tongue, meaning not hereby to open any more windows, to unstaid youth, whereby to egg them to spend their golden time, in perusing peevish, paltering, and poisonous Pamphlets, and so to corrupt their unsettled dispositions, but by modest and seasonable advertisements, to reclaim their fond fickle fantasies, and to quallifye their untemperate and heady humours. For the bringing of which matter to better pass, the penner hereof, thought himself to have taken a good and direct course, by interlacing pleasure with profit, and by reducing the ground of his conceived meaning, into a meet Method of historical occurrence. And for that it is none of the lest part of mercy, to father the Fatherless, and protect the poor Orphan, from the greedy jaws of ravenous rakers, I have here restored to him his due, and set forth his travail even as he left it, without any injury either to his person, or any jot gelding his honest and painful endeavours: for I account it no good dealing, that any man should thrust his lieth into an others Harvest, or like Aesop's Crow to usurp and jest abroad, decked with the Feathers of other beautifuller Birds: or to have such a tickling itch, or rather scab of vaynegloryous fame, to arrogate that to himself, which an other man's toil hath enterprised and brought to pass. Beseeching thee gentle Reader to accept well in worth this pretty Pamplet, little (I confess) in bulk, but fraught with such matter, as may, if thou will't, yield thee good & wholesome instruction: which as it now perchance lacketh not here and there his imperfections, so (had God lent to the Author longer life) would have been better polished, & as void of faults and escapes in the printing, as his mind was free from justly giving occasion of offence to any. Which courtesy, if (accordingly) there appear to remain within thee, then (doubtless) is his pains fully rewarded, and my expectation sufficiently satisfied.  
Farewell.   

¶ CERTAIN STRANGE and Lamentable Tragical Histories.  

¶ A just Fact, but to cruel, of john Maria, Duke of milan, toward a Priest extreme covetous.  
IOhn Maria Vicont, son of john Galeas, unto whom the Emperor Ladisilaus gave the title and name of Duke of milan, was he that succeeding in the estate and dignity of Duke, made himself known and renowned, before all the Princes of his time: not in showing himself more virtuous than they, or in surpassing the good Fortune of that good Galeas his Father, who I think never committed any other notable evil, then that he left behind him a plague so great and dangerous as his son, the succession of whom, was no more fortunate for the Milinois, then was once the Roman Monarch of Marcus Aurelius, leaving for the inheritor of the Empire, that Butcher▪ and Sword player Commodus, a lively example of creweltye and mischief, and truly his Country might well have conjectured their Misfortune, in that john Maria was called to the Dignity of the Dukedom, after that all italy had seen the original of the Civil wars so often written of by the historians, which so much weakened the strength of italy, and abased the glory of those things which remained to them, as Relics escaped from the hands of so many barbarians and Strangers, that had foiled with their feet, the honour of that Godly province, for it was after that the Guelphs and Gibilines had throughly divided themselves, leaving no corner of italy, that was not Died with the blood of the poor Citizens, and was it not pitiful, to see the Nobillitye chased and wandering abroad, there being no creature that felt not this tempest, and which perceived not the vehemency of a division so furious, so that all nations of Europe, had their access to make their Rhodes into italy, and there to pill the Cities, and Fertile Fields, called into the country, either by the one or the other of the Factions.  
But this Duke was renowned for the most cruel and inhuman Tyrant, that ever was nourished in Christendom, and I believe that Bucyrus Phalaris, or that Thracian King which fostered his Horses with the bodies of the dead, did never surpass him in cruelty, and although his Predicessoures' had been Princes, very merciful, and gentle, and that by their modesty, they had attained to the place of such pre-eminence, yet this is he which forgetting the house whereof he came, did degenerate from the blood of his Ancestors, being despiteful, for that Fortune had been otherwise to him, than she had been towards that excellent john Galeas his Father, and to Valentyne that was Wife to the Duke of Orleans, she which was slain at Paris, by the Duke of Burgoyne his men, doth so accarnate himself, that he caused to be devoured in his presence, by Mastyfes brought up to that end, those which for the least occasion that he fantasyed in his mind, did displease him, having for the minister of his cruelty, and in stead of Provest Marshal, a Gentleman named, Squarce Gyrame, as courteous as his Lord, and who in the end was also paid with the same payment, as was his Master, being both together as cruelly slain, as unpitiful they had fleshed themselves upon the miserable people of milan, during the time then that this incorporate Devil rejoiceth himself, and showeth these tragical and detestable acts of his cruel life, this thing chanced which I am now about to describe unto you, to the end you may behold the two great and extreme vices, the one of Avarice in a Priest, and the other of the cruelty, of the Duke. john Maria riding one day through his City, as commonly he did, not only for to behold the faults of his subjects, but more to search out if any one dared complain of the detestable manners of his life, and the very haughty and tyrannical doings of his raygn, to the end he might seem to have some reason to torment him, that should complain without cause of his Lord, that as yet had given him no occasion: Thus as he made these journeys, he hard a far of, a great cry, and the voice of a woman complaining, who clapping her hands, did elevate her voice very high, thinking that GOD was deaf, and that he will not hear our necessities, without such a stir, to whom he sent one of his servants, to know the cause of a cry so fearful, who found it at thedore of a poor woman, whose husband was lately deceased, that thus complained, as well for the loss of her companion, as also for that she had not wherewith to bring him to the earth. Alas, saith the woman (half desperate) whether may the poor have their recourse? sith the very Church hath denied their duties to them, unto whom they be bound, to whom may I address myself? not having wherewith to satisfy, or glent the desire of my unsatiable Curate, that is neither content with the gayns which he hath, suffering this body without life, to remain without Sepulture, only for the heritage of all the goods which he hath left me in this world for my comfort, for if I will have him interred, of necessity I must cell all my movables, and afterwards not knowing how to relieve my Infants. Ah false Pastor, I beseech God to punish with some great persecution, both thee and them which are of like conditions, saying so, with cries, tears, sobs, and sighs, she pardoneth not her own cheeks and face, but scratcheth the one, she bepaynteth the others, striking herself upon the stomach, and showing divers other signs of a woman distraught, the Duke's man seeing her to show such fashions, addressed him towards her, saying: My friend, what wrong is this that is done to you, and wherefore show you so great dole? tell me, because I may make the report to my Lord, who hath sent me hither to know the matter, and assure yourself, if any one hath offended you, he will extend such justice, that you shall be content and satisfied, and the authors shall have whereof to take example, and withholden to do injury to the poor in such a Town as this, where the Lord will that justice be done to every one, without respect of estate.  
The woman who knew by his Lyverye, that he was one of the Duke's Servants, whose presence although it were not very agreeable unto her, in thinking that he came there but only to seek some pray, yet not fearing any worse adventure than her own, nor any Fortune more froward than the estate wherein she was, and also for that death to her would have been great solace, joying also that the office had talked unto her so gently, answereth him in this sort.  
Alas Sir, behold there the dead body of my Husband, which the Priest of this Parish hath refused to bury, for that I have not wherewith to satisfy him for his pain, and to content him for the Funerals. This is the occasion why I torment myself, not knowing how I may inter the dead Corpses, the only memory whereof, hath made me so full of sorrow and dole, and to show before your eyes this outrage. The Duke which this space attended to know the occasion of this cry, unto whom his man being returned, saith: My Lord, in this house before you, is a poor woman, environed with small Children, (whose Husband this morning being dead), hath desired the Priest to bury the body of the dead, but he unless she will pay the interrage, and the accustomed Funerals, hath utterly denied her to go about it, wherefore she maketh this noise, not having wherewith to do it, and furthermore, if she should cell her movables, she hath not wherewith then to bring up her small Infants.  
john Maria hearing him tell of a Fact so Vylonyous, and of a covetousness so detestable, began to laugh, whose laughter was a prognostication of the tears of some man. Then turning to them of his Train, he saith.  
Truly this master Curate is very uncharitable, and greatly given to his own profit, so to deny his help to them that require him, sith that it is his duty, and he is hired to do it. Therefore it is good that I show him the way, and exercise our charity in this, causing this body to be entombed, and then to extend our alms to this woman, that lamenteth as well for her own loss, as for that she beholdeth herself charged with Infants, and not knowing how to keep them, should not this be well done? sayeth he to his Gentlemen: Truly my Lord answereth one of the train, this act would be as greatly praised, as any good deed that you can do in this world, and especially for that your excellency in forgetting your Nobility, shall so much abase yourself, as to accompany the most poor to the earth, and to secure their widows, although they never did you any service: Let us go then (saith the Duke,) the Priest as it may be, will do his duty to this party, at my desire, wherefore I will give him such a Salary for his pains, as all his life after, he shall not have cause to complain: He saith this, thinking so well to chasten the Priest, that from thence forth he should make no more such refusals, commanding then, that he which had been first at the house of the widow, should go for the Curate to come talk with the Duke, for a matter of great importance. The master Chaplain which thought of nothing less, than the fault which he had done, and remembered not at all of the dead, the corpses of whom, remained without Sepulture, came suddenly to the Duke's presence, whom after the Duke had well beholden, and seeing him fat, gross in every point, and clothed in rich Apparel, was not abashed at all of the refusal that he had made to the poor woman, as well for his well liking, whereby he showed that one hour of pleasure, was an hundred times more agreeable unto him, than a thousand years of servitude, and that also to nourish such a belly, it was needful to have more gains, than rose of his cure, having his Visage more like the picture of some swollen Bacchus, then of one professing the study of divinity, finally this Priest did not vary at all from the most part of them, that at this day to the great damage of all Christendom, have entered into the Ministry, who think that they have done their duty, in making a feast or dinner to their equals, without remembering the rest of their office, neither to visit the poor, nor to secure them, according to the statutes, and ordinances of the holy Canons, ordained by the general and sacred counsels, but are become feeders of their own bellies, and dumb dogs, so that the only name of Priesthood aught to shadow them, and suffice as they imagine, without necessity to put their hand to the work, and to satisfy by effect, that for which they be called. Our Curate then bold and assured, presenteth himself to john Maria, saying: My Lord, it hath pleased your excellency to command me to come before you, may it also please you to show me the thing wherein you will employ me, in which I will obey you, as he that desireth nothing but to serve and please you. The wily and subtle Lord, seeing the feigned courtesy and pleasant words of the sir john, begun to laugh, and to mock him with his glory, and to detest his impudent avarice, answering him: I have sent for you to the end you should 'cause to be brought to the earth, that poor man which is one of your parishioners, & I will give you the reward and Salary that you merit, for it is neither just nor meet that such a man as you, should be employed without recompense. Pardon me my Lord saith the Priest, your only commandment death suffice, & your grace holdeth the place of all satisfaction: Well, well, sayeth the Duke, I accept all that you have said, and believe that you would do more for me then this, sith at this time I see you so pressed to do your duty in this affair, therefore go prepare yourself, for I will assist you at the obsequys, assuring you, that you shallbe recompensed before I departed, as I intent, and according to your deserts.  
Now the chaplain, which thought that he was already placed in the office of the Duke's Almoner, very pleasant and merry departeth towards his Church, where he setteth all things in order, and sendeth for a good company of Priests and others, which served ordinarily in the Churches, because he would with more greater pomp, and honour accompany the Corpses, for which the Duke had so desired him.  
But the miserable Priest saw not, that was the Train which Fortune had ordained for him, and how near the hour did approach, in which he must pay the arrearages of his afore passed life, and above all that great and vile sin of cruel Avarice, by an other cruelty the most strange that hath been heard of, and I am abashed, how he should be so far beside his wit, that seeing the fault which he had committed, & knowing the nature of his Lord, himself hearing him speak so doubtfully, and with words smelling more of his choler then gentleness, how he durst return and represent himself again before the furious face of his Prince: But what? he was so blinded with Avarice, and led withthe desire of Money, that every look seemed unto him courteous, and every word pleasant, sith the talk of gain and recompense marched therewith. 
A cruel custom of the Duke of milan.  The unhappy Priest had forgotten that the Duke for the least occasion that might be, caused to be dysmembered with his Dogs, men women, and children, without having regard either to Sex or Age, so unnatural and cruel wear his conditions. What? ought he to hope of more gentleness and humanity, than an infinite number of the Citizens of milan, the death of whom served for a pastime to the rage of this cruel Duke. What thought he to find him more religious towards him? then just to them whose innocency had made them unworthy of all punishment. Alas, although he had rendered Boloigna the great unto the Pope, and that he had humbled himself to the Apostolical seat very meekly, yet this was more for fear and imbecility, then for the affection that he had to religion, for it is unpossible that such a Barbarous and cruel Tyrant, should either honour or reverence God, or that he should acknowledge any thing that toucheth the respect of Religion, witness of this was once that Tyrant Denis of Sciscill, after that he mocked and rejoiced at the sacrilege & cruelty, making no conscience to pill and rob the Temples, for these contemners feign all gentleness and dissemble to have their minds full of all devotion and holiness: But you see by effect to what end tendeth their symplicity, and it is the honour and fear of God that pricketh and moveth them to some reverence, leaving this discourse, we will return again to our Priest, who caused to be carried the most fair and rich Cross of his Church, providing Clarks to carry the Corpses, and using such diligence, as if he had been the most rich Usurer of all the bankers of Lombardy, and not forgetting to cover him with the most rich covering of his Church.  
The Duke hearing the jangling and noise of the Bells, could not refrain from laughter, saying: By God Master Curate you show well the greedy appetite of you avarice, sith the dead carcases do so displease you without offence, I will give you such a reward as shall remain in memory here this hundred years: His men by these words perceived well that the Duke had devised somewhat against the Curate, & assured themselves seeing his countenance, which the Priest feared as much as death: But behold now the chaplain with his company, came and sung the Ambrosyan vigils, before the door of the dead, to whom the Duke was assistaunte, and heard with patience and good devotion, the Durge sung for the dead, which he beheld gladly then, for one that accompanied him, during this stir he gave commandment to the grave makers, that they should make the grave very deep and large, without telling why so, of whom he was obeyed, for that they knew the commander, who was well known in his Dukedom, more for fear, than love that any of his Subjects bore him, for that is very true which is commonly said, that men hate him deadly, whom they fear, the service being ended in the Church, there was great Funeral pomp showed in going to the Churchyard, to finish the Obsequys, that yet before the body was put into the earth, they song Psalms, and other Prayers, in such a case accustomed, where the Priest observed such a gravity and reverence in his Ceremonies, that he himself could scarce forbear the pleasure that he received of his well doing. But behold here the last act of the Tragedy, for as soon as all was finished, 
horrible wa●●●ease upon dead bodies.  and that the Priest had cast holy water upon the dead body, leaving the office to put him into the earth, to them that had the charge thereof, which began straight ways to fulfil the last ceremony of the burial, than the Duke calleth unto them, saying: That they must attend, for as yet all the Ceremonies of the Funeral were not perfit, for he would honour the dead with some thing otherwise, than they thought of, all men were astonied at this new act of the Duke, and moreover because he addresseth him towards the Priest, with his face inflamed with choler, and a voice representing his fury, saying: chaplain, if thy Avarice did not tender thee more infamous than the rest of thy hypocritical life, doth give the good renown, I should have some occasion to dissemble thy fault, if thou didst use it only to them, that have wherewith to satisfy thy appetite, and sustain their own household: But sith I perceive with mine eyes that thou art but a raveuing Wolf, which desirest the spoil of thy Flock, I will pay thee presently according to the merits of thy charity, which being spoken, he turneth him towards them that would have put the Corpse into the Grave, to whom he useth these, or like words: For as much as this Priest being alive, would not accompany the dead to the Grave, I will that quick and dead he shall hold him company unto the day of the great resurrection, therefore take and bind him with the Corpse, and put them both in togethers, to the end that the presence of the priest, being in this apparel that he is, may make them welcome among the Devils, when they must pass by the chambers of hell, all the world as I have said, were so astonied of the beastly manners and great cruelty of the Duke, that the grave makers obeying his commandment, took the Priest and bound him straightly face to face, & mouth against mouth, with the carcase of the dead, a cruelty truly extreme great & detestable, although that the vice of the Churchman was worthy of punishment, but not after this fashion, nor with death, as he punished his offence, what should one expect at his hand● that remembreth no other justice, then that he fantasyeth in wicked and tyrannical mind, and what reason should one look for of him, that detesteth all law, and remembereth no goodness at all, having no law, but his own will, nor other mercy then that which endeth with cruel Butchery, having no less pleasure than Caligula had to see slaughter, ruin, and effusion of blood: When the rest of the clergy see him entreat the priest of this sort, fearing that the fury of the Duke would pursue all the company in like order, they threw down the Cross, the sprinkle, & holy water tankard, and left the Tapers, to take their feet, & save them from the rage of the Tyrant, who seeing them run out of the Churchyard so afeard, and without order, could not hold himself from laughter, although on the other side, he heard the dolorous voice of the miserable Chaplain, that they were about to put quick into the earth. Alas my Lord (sayeth he) have compassion on me unhappy wight, that so humbly require you of pardon for my fault, and which promise never to offend you more, & to recompense the widow for the small pity I showed unto her. What art thou no more bold (sayeth john Maria, being so unpitiful) that thou art afeard of the shadows of them that float on the river of Death, and forgetfulness, take thou no care for the Widow, I have already better provided for her, than thou haste for thy affairs. Therefore calleth he to the others, that they should dispatch, that the good singer should not trouble him any more with his prayers, than all at once they began to say down the two bodies, to cover them with earth, when as the Priest cried. Alas my Lord, if you have no pity of the body, yet have compassion of the salvation of the soul, as much as is in your power, and suffer me not to dye, without confessing my faults, before some Minister of God, according to the institution of the church. Go, go, saith the Duke, thou hadst more need to appease the Porter of Hell with thy Orations, since thou canst not get a Priest at this present, they be all fled away from thee, seeing thee already converted into a nightspright, to afray Children in the Churchyard, and therefore thou shalt be put into the earth, with the absolution that thou haste, give him whom thou embracest, that may serve for the allegiance of the heap of all thy offences. With such railing, the inhumayn Prince caused the two bodies to be cast into the pit, with no less abashment of all men, then as a thing that they had never seen done before, which thought not that the Duke so unadvisedly, and of such a beastly manner would have put men to death, but his life was no less detestable, than the life of the Emperor Macryne, who used like manners, and punished more cruelly than he did, sith the Priest was priest and choked, as well by the smell of the dead body, as by the earth that was cast upon him, the grave being very deep, whereas the Emperor without pyttye, caused such as he had condemned, to be bound likewise to the dead carcases that putrefied the Air, not suffering them to be buried, but let them so remain till that either by faintness, or stench of the dead body, and the multitude of vermin, they cruelly departed out of this life. Nor more courteous was Maximiniam, who caused such as he hated to be thrust into the empty belly of an Ox, unto the head, where they ended their misery by the blood that ran out of the beast, but the barbarous time, doth excuse these Gallants that being paynim, and without knowledge of God, which are not so much to be marveled at, if they did their works according to the desire of the devil that was their guide, who is a murderer from the beginning, but a Christian Prince come of a good stock, brought up amongst men of learning, and dwelling in so civil a Country aught to make the case more strange, sith that the earth once cried vengeance to GOD upon Cain, for that he had violated the Bright of kindred, in slaying that just Abel his Brother, I believe that within a little time after, john Maria for so pernicious a crime, was slain by his own Citizens, and I think that in our time there be some that have made sacrifice of heads, & other members, & who like Diomedes have caused their Horses to eat the bodies of men. But I believe that God will not leave such cruelties unpunished, although for a while he attendeth and is patient in his doings, yet in the end he will 'cause them to feel the strength of his arm, and to feel the invytable ire of his just displeasure.  
Now to return to the matter, the Duke having accomplished these Tragical, and sorrowful Funerals, he dispatched suddenly one of his men to the house of the Priest, from whence he caused all his movables to be carried, and given to the poor widow, the wife of him that was dead, with whom the Priest was companion in the grave. This last sentence was as just, as the first was unjust, cruel, and horrible, sith it was good reason that he should be punished in his goods, that for avarice and desire of Money, had forgotten himself, and the duty requisite in a public man, such a one as is the pastor of a Church, be not offended, (you that bear the ecclesiastical Offices) of that which I have said, but take Example by the miserable end of one of your estate, thinking that the persecutions and the evil that God hath sent you, proceedeth of your ambition, avarice, ignorance, and whoredom, I tell you truly, I am sorry for that the adversary of the Church suppresseth the good men, & throweth down them that aught to be honoured, whereas the foolish, the slow bellies, the ignorant, & the whoremongers feel no such scourges, but God which is just, hath by these means called you to repentance, because you should acknowledge your faults, and live more Godly than the Abbot Guensaldo, 
The History of whom is already set forth excellently by Master Fenton.  and this miserable Miser, entreated so cruelly by the most detestable tyrant that ever was seen in Italy, since the Lombardes gave the name to that Land. (⸫)  
FINIS.   

¶ A Gentleman Myllinois being amorous at the very end of his age, for the extreme jealousy of his Concubine, was cause of the death of his Son and of himself, and lastly of the unhappy end of the Harlot, which was cause of all.  
AT the time when the french armies were discovered throughout Italy, for the Conquest of milan, causing all the state of the Venetians to tremble▪ when Lewis the seventh had brought his affairs in such readiness, that he pitched his Camp even in the sight of their next City, breaking down their walls, and overthrowing with the force of his Canons their Towers of defence, that Venus' never felt any greater, or more mightier force.  
The Venetians not knowing how, or by what means to quiet their bonds, and to appease the displeasure of a King, justly incensed against their infidelity and arrogancy, about that time (I say) there was a Gentleman Milinois, which for the troubles coming, doth convey himself to a Castle, that he had before Monse, as likewise did the most part of them that could not brook the changing of their Lord, or who (as it might be) were not able to endure the insolency, and cruelty of the French Soldiers.  
This Gentleman of whom I entreat, was a Wyddower, to whom there was remaining only two children, the one of the Age of seven or eight years, the other approaching near to the age of twenty, the old man seeing himself without a wife, although he had almost passed the age of threescore years, neither having regard to his Age, nor to his approaching death, doth become amorous of a girl, the Daughter of a Messenger, both fair and well favoured, of whom he had his pleasure, by the means of the only Father of the Girl, which sold her unto him.  
This is a mark very certain, to bewail any man, which we see in his age to become a Father, whose youth hath given him no sign thereof, yet this is most detestable that Chrystyans bear the iniquity of Fathers and Mothers, so impudent and evil, as to cell, prostytute, and corrupt their own Daughters, and commonly the Magistrates of our time will see nothing, the Kings shut their eyes, they that fain themselves to be most holy of all the rest, take some Golden gift to hear the Chastity sold ●or bargained sums, and there is not one amongst them all, which punisheth this merchandise of bodies, washed by the blood of him, that through the price of his life hath redeemed us out of the hands of him, which held us in bondage, wherefore the Gentiles and Infidels of time paste, do exceed and vanquish us in justice and politic doings, more right than ours, that they have thereby attained the glory of punishing faults which we behold, endure, and approve, and as executors thereof, do glory and praise them. Unhappy surely is the world, where vice beres the name of justice, and Iniquity is praised as a virtue, infortunate is the place where such favour is showed to the wicked, that their infamy is sustained, and approved by the most mighty. But the wicked do not remember at all, that GOD is in Heaven, regarding and beholding the deeds of men, for to do justice one day, by the strength of his hand, and the invytable force of his scourges, by which (without excepting of people) he indifferently doth punish both the fault of the offender, and of him that faileth to execute the authority, and the sword that God hath put into his hands. But now to return to our former matter, this very libidinous and wanton old man, keeping this Girl at bed and board in his Castle, lying ordinarily with her, and chafeth the cold & unhappy flesh of the vile Mountain Satire, that seeketh to continue that which nature doth deny him, and assayeth to overcome his own force. The elder son seeing the dishonesty of his father, was sad beyond all measure, using nevertheless such a modesty and virtuous dissimulation, because he would not make sorrowful his father, that he showed a better countenance to the Palyarde, than he could well, whom he hated to the death, as well for that she was such a one, as for that he knew she would be the ruin and shortening of the life of the unhappy old man, and also for that he see her so fond and unshamefast, that one might easily judge by her, she would not refuse the entertaining of another Captain, which might furnish her somewhat better, for the old man doth serve only for the increasing and provocation of her sensuality, without power at any time to content the immoderate wantonness, that burned within her mind, and therefore she thinketh to practise a combat more lusty and of better hope, which she did, because the old man was not able to suffice her: Ah insatiable desires, and depth not to be filled, that is the wantonness of an harlot, what detestable evils have chanced by these loves, to them that without all shame, have put all their glory and pleasure in the delights and flatteries of the world, only Samson, Solomon, and Hercules may give sure testimony. Now this girl as we said before, feeling the dimissing of the forces of her lover, doth deliberate to pursue another prey, therefore she impudently casts her looks on the son of the Gentleman, and in becoming Amorous, she purposeth, if it be possible, to make him the lieutenant, and aid of his Father, and this she doth not for any courtesy that was hide under the Haggard and rustic nature, and bringing up of the rude country, but for that she see the young man fair, well proportioned of his members, and for that she judgeth him apt to perform the Chase, in which his father was able to give but simple attempts, suddenly she seizeth from her enterprise, as do the young Lovers, not expert or able enough to detain their prey, by and by again, she goeth about to show him all friendship, and familiarity that she could, and often times she seeketh him, finding him at his book, where she showeth evidently the desires that cause her to pursue him. But the good child, never thought of such a wickedness, as well to be chaste of his nature, as for the fear of God, and offending of his father, and for that as yet, he had never been kindled with love, nor taken in the trap of worldly follies: But the Concubine perceiving that she travailed in vain, thinking to make him understand her desires by signs, doth deliberate, (as soon as occasion should be offered) to manifest it unto him by word, which she did one day, his Father being go to see one of his neighbours, and before she would assault the young man, she doth instruct in that mischief a Chambermaid her cozen, to the end that when her persuasions should fail, the other might supply her want, as soon as these eloquent jeayes had prepared themselves, they went to seek the Gentleman, whom they found recreating himself in the midst of a great Chamber, the fair Forest Nymph, assisted with the keeper of her bed, began to say unto him. I know not sir what to think of you, or to make of your doings, which loved and desired of any, do not account it your part to recompense them with like affections, which desire your acquaintance, I think surely that you are not so cold, that your heart is not to be attached with any amorous passion, nor I esteem you so froward that if any fair dame of what state soever she were, would give you power to command, you would be able to abandon and refuse her. To what purpose say you this? answereth ho, have you seen in me any sign of rudeness or discourtesy towards any woman that lives? I swear unto you that if unwittingly I have committed this fault, for a fault requires but amendss. She which thought to have holy gained, and to embrace him already within her arms, began to weep very tenderly, in saying: Alas sir, I know one that would think her the most happy woman that lives, if you would amend the wrong which you have done her, in not making account of the signs by which she hath assayed to 'cause you to understand her grief. I know not a woman under heaven, (sayeth he) of whom I have had such acquaintance, to know any sign that should show me her privy affection: And would you have her despair of that (sayeth she) which she seethe also mistaken, you not willing to see any thing in so plain a thing, and not to perceive at all whereunto things are offered so openly to the senses of him that is so unsensible, that he can not comprehend the means and devices of the passionate, and which tasteth not the viands purposed to be discovered.  
I understand not this talk (sayeth he) if you express it not otherwise.  
This is, then sayeth the Chambermaid that my Cousin is so amorous of you, that if you have not pity of her, she is in danger to end her life miserably. Amorous of me, sayeth the chaste young man, is it possible that a daughter of her age, should be so unshamefast and impudent, as to solocite the son, after she hath been deflowered by the father. Avaunt you strumpets, love such as you be, and go excercise your tromperyes with the Devils, that may furbisse you according to the heats that so molest you, you show well the place of your birth, which was never otherwise then infamous and beastly, for who is so foolish to think that an evil tree of itself can bring forth good or delicious fruit▪ Thinkest thou infamous creature, and vile Pallyarde, that I will be so wicked, as so unshamefastly to violate the bed of my Lord and Father, how unlawful and common soever she be? Not, not, I have I thank God the Heaven before mine eyes, toward the which when I address my sight, I behold one God, which doth visit the iniquities of the wicked, and payeth to every one according to his justice and demerytes, I have regard to the reverence that I own to my father, for else long agone I would have sent thee towards thy father, which was the Butcher, and the infamous Minister of thy chastity, get thee away then from hence, and talk no more to me of this, else I assure thee, I shall 'cause my Father to know it, to the end that he shall hold no longer in his company, an infection so courageous as thou, which art like to be the overthrow and ruin of all his house: Having said so, the good young man almost beside himself, and greatly abashed, departeth out of the Chamber, leaving the two Flatterers as much ashamed and abashed, as he was angry for their impudent request. Now this wanton Concubine loseth not her stomach, but day by day she importunately sueth unto him by her Cousin: But he remaineth firm in his opinion, and although he had no desire to report it to his Father, yet he threateneth them so well, that they feared he would do as he said, and therefore they addressed such a treason, as you shall hear.  
The detestable Palyarde beholding herself so often refused, beginneth by little and little, to convert the love that she bore to this young Gentleman, into a fury and deadly hate, and this enraged enemy increased, and took such deep root in her heart, that she with the Chambermaid her Cousin, doth devise the utter ruin of him, that had so foolishly despised her, so they consult togethers, she should complain to the Father, that his son would with force have violated, and taken his pleasure upon her, which being thus concluded between these two abominable Furies, was shortly executed. For a certain time after, as soon as the old man was go to see his lands, lying thereabouts, these unhappy women seeing him return, even than began to change their visage, not ceasing to weep, sigh, and lament, without any will to depart out of the chamber. The infortunate Gentleman arrived, came into the Chamber of his Minion, whom he found all be wept, accompanied with her counsellor, who for her part showed well that it was for some great matter that they were so sorrowful. He which loved this evil woman more than himself, willing to know what this ment, prayeth her to comfort herself, and embraceth her so gently, that the false Crocodile, as constrained to do so, began to weep more bitterly than before, declaring a long Fable that might serve to give some colour to her accusation, in the end she saith. O would God my Lord that death had taken me away the hour before ye went hence, for I would not by any means have been the occasion of that evil which I see prepared, in accounting to you the truth of that which you so much desire to know, but what will it avail to dissemble that which in the end will manifest itself? I am (unfortunate woman) the meekly of every one, & despised of all, for that I am the pleasure of your age, but is not this enough if he do not assay to convert this simple sin into a vice incestuous & execrable? this is your elder son, my Lord; that forgetting the honour which he oweth to your age, to the reverence whereof he is bond by the power which you have over him, hath oftentimes required me of love, within this three months, but what shall I say more. Alas saith she, weeping bitterly, he hath spun a fair web, for this morning as soon as you were in the fields, the Rybawde, pardon me sir if so I call him, came hither with such a fury, that I feared he would have put me to death, but he pursued upon me a thing more noisome than Death, so that as he was in striving to force me, and had done it, my forces so failed to defend myself, if this girl had not come by chance, the presence of whom caused him to forsake his enterprise.  
The old man hearing such pitiful news, remained so troubled and astonied, that for a good time he spoke never a word, then breaking his silence, he saith: And is this possible that he whom I have more dearly loved then mine own life, hath so much mistaken his gentleness, that he would dishonour the love of his father. Ah infortunate child, and I a father greatly to be lamented, sith I am tormented by mine own blood, of whom I thought to have had some greater joy▪ then he held his tongue and sat down, casting his looks here & there, with such countenance that a man might judge the grief of his mind to be more excessive than his strength was able to suffer, yet saith he to the Rybawde, I pray thee my friend, tell me the verity of this fact, to the end I shall not do any thing that may hereafter 'cause me to late to repent. Ah poor and caitiff woman that I am, sayeth the shameless Pallyard, I see well that if this trumpery of your son, had not been discovered by me, but that by some other it had come to your knowledge, you would have done such justice, that men should have taken example by me in time to come, and now sith I have showed myself so faithful towards you, you doubt of my faith, and esteem my words for boards and mockeries, inquire you sir of this Girl which hath seen all the mystery, and then do with me as you shall think good, for I know not well how to live any longer here, where men give such sinister entertainment to them which serve them faithfully. The old man examyneth the chambermaid, who played her part better than her Mistress, and and incenseth the Father so sharply against the son, that he purposeth to punish him so grievously, as the like hath never been heard of, ravished then in this extasye of anger, he speaketh a thousand follies, and was changed into such a choler, by the empoisoning of the dangerous venom jealousy, as one distraught and frantic, and remained in the chamber a great space rulling his eyes in whiteness, grinding his teeth, and saying the dogs paternoster, enraged against him, of whom he thought he had received such an unworthy outrage, which during the time that this tempest boiled within the stomach of his jeleous father, like as some say there is a tempest upon the Tyrenea mountains, all the canicular days, and also in the deepness of that Sicilian Ethne: arrived in the house in an unhappy time, for the torment turned wholly upon him, the drops whereof did reverberate upon the infortunate father, who coming into the place where he was, the vapours cause of the outrage of this unhappy fortune, do provoke him against his son, who was talking with an honest Lady, that lodged within the Castle. The jeleous and enraged old man fretting with anger, as one pressed and overcome with choler, no less than a Bull, compelled through famine or desire of company, seeing the young man, entered into such a frenzy, that without speaking what he would do, he put his hand to his sword, coming toward his son, he saith: Ah infamous traitor, is it I that must seek the means to address thy ribaldry? By God this shall be the last instant of thy life. The poor infant hearing the furious menace of his Father, not knowing whereof the occasion of his anger proceeded, saith unto him: And wherefore sir are you so out of your modesty? or what is y● that I have done against you? sith you are so extreme rigorous against me, that to my knowledge, have never offended you. The insenced old man, become more inflamed by the answer of the child, saying to him: Ah infamous child, canst thou talk so bravely to me for the purgation of thy wickedness, thou shalt know by & by what I will do, & to what end the just anger, that I have conceived against thy impudence and temerity doth tend? saying so, he rusheth upon the poor infant, that moved not, who seeing the bloody sword of his father to be drawn out of the sheath, that in steed of thrusting him through, doth prepare him a more sudden death, for he was upon a little plank, that answereth to two lodges, which had no bar at the entering, to stay one by, or to serve for the assurance of the way, not remembering for fear of the blow, the perilous place where he stood, he fallen immediately from high to the ground, and his evil fortune was so great, that the first part which touched the earth, doth bear sufficient witness being broken in pieces, & shedding his blood upon the ground, his head being stroke against a stone sharp in the end, & fastened in the earth, so with his strength at the same instant, he foregoeth both his soul and his warm blood, which runneth out both at his nose & mouth, the not only cruel father, but enemy of all humanity, not content to see his son humble himself, & to debase him before his face, thinking that the child had fallen by his own will into the ditch, saith: Thou hast well lopen, for I swear before God, that thou shalt dye in the pain, out of which thou shalt not escape my hands this day. Alas what pity is it of a man, after he hath wandered out of the limits of reason? Saul once envious against David, full of the spirit of intelligence, had no reason in performing the pursuit of one more just than himself. And by profane writings, who did move Euristius to torment that subduer of Monsters Hercules? but only wilful malice & inveterate envy: truly where the sin is not very evident, right would that mercy should be preferred before justice, & it is more praise for any Magistrate, who following the divine clemency, to pardon things not very evident, & not so cruelly to excercise the sword of vengeance & rigorous punishment, for it cannot be otherwise, then that he which excerciseth himself in cruelty, shall feel such a torment in his mind, that in the end will 'cause him to despair of his health, or else to such a sharp repentance, that the very prick of that opinion, will not cease for the most part, without accompanying a man to his burial, so it chanced in this tyrannyous old man, who having descended the steps, to see the recovery of him that was altogether unsencyble, he beheld a spectacle before him, that caused him to forget his affection, that he bore to the unfortunate, who had addressed his body thither, he seeing then the mischance of his son, lying in such poor order, his head burst in pieces, his body dispearced, and yet stirring, was moved with such dolour, that he began to forget his jealousy and to feel such a remorse in his entrails, that caused him to detest his fortune, for that he had been so blinded in his concupiscence. Alas, sayeth he, unhappy Father, darest thou show thyself among any good men, that hast put to death such and so honest a child, for the appetite of so impudent a Pallyarde: Ah my son pardon me this offence, for I assure thee that I will make such a solemn amendss, that thou shalt have whereof to content thee, and they which survive an occasion to vituperate my fury, and sith this my heart (sayeth he, striking his breast) most unhappily hath received the pernicious venom of false persuasion, whereof thou hast felt the bitterness, it shall abide the penitence, and thou my body, shalt serve for the gift and last sacrifice proceeding from me, for the apeasing of the shadow of my son, towards whom I will send my spirits, to require him of pardon, in the obscure fields of death, and to whom I will sacrifice my wicked, infamous, and unhappy life, which my son being dead, shall be more weary unto me, than that dark voyage, or any other thing that may disquiet me at all, having said so, weeping sorrowfully, he embraceth the body of his son, and beholding his sword, he sayeth. But go to then, sith his soul is departed, and his destiny hath taken him away, murder him that hath executed murder, in the person of him, whom he aught to love most. These words ended, moved with a dyvilish despair, stamping like a Lion, and pricked forward I know not of what Fury, as a wild Boar whetting his Tusks, after he is hurt by some mischance, turning the mischief upon himself, in falling on the point of the sword, which passeth through the centre of the heart, he tombleth upon the corpses of his son, yet warm and stirring, and so shedding the common blood of them two, he rendereth up his soul to him, to whom he had so long vowed it, by his wicked and impure life. What heart is there that having read this, or in making rehearsal, but would bewail the chance and misfortune of this desperate old man, who truly had been excusable in his fury, if the devil had not taken away his senses, and forced him by the inormitye of his vice, and by the greatness of his sins, to destroy his own soul. These be examples that be set forth for our instruction, to the end that the peril of an other should induce us to beseech God that he would deliver us from the spirit of obstinacy, and awake us out of that dream, which doth blind our senses, in following the flattering desires of our concupiscence, for otherwise it were great pity to behold the faults which we commit every hour. This unhappy man blinded in his sin, forsaking God, neither acknowledged his justice, nor his mercy, experimenteth also the fruits of his infidelity, wickedness, & obstinacy, leaving behind him, the memory of his deeds, as well for the advertisement of all men, as for the imitation, & deterring, not only of the aged, but of all ages, to avoid the plagues and devilishness of whoredom, which do bewytch and take away the senses of men, the end whereof is death, and punishment in the infernal lake. The news hereof were disperse incontinent throughout all the house, so that the rybawd which had addressed this devise, having herded and seen the whole, moved by her own offence, & the witness which her mind did bear of her sin, fearing she should have justice, if she did not immytate the illustrious fact of her detestable lover, so that all afraid, she runneth to a pit, into which she leapeth headlong, and wherein she was miserably drowned, a death truly, although it was furious, yet to good for the punishment of the detestable malice of a woman, so wicked as she was, which merited to have all the pains togethers, that ever were invented by men, for the scourge of evil livers. Then there was word sent to Milan to the Magistrate, to inform him, who having in examination the chamber maid, that was the aider of the desperate Palyard, made her to confess all the fact, wherefore she was hanged, and her body given to be meat to the fowls of the air, and no less was done to the carcases of the two lovers, which against all right both divine and human, had violently come to their end, and as for the young man, he was buried with such pomp, as his virtue did well deserve, & was bewailed of all estates, for the modesty that did appear in him, by which he hath seemed to imitate the Scipions and Fabions, who once living with such temperance, have caused their glorious names to remain even to this day. So always the death of the well liver is fortunate, for besides that he passeth to the life, which hath no end, and goeth to enjoy the holy and Godly company of the blessed souls, he doth glorify his memory, by the knowledge that the posterity have of his virtue, which is so graven and imprinted in the hearts of their children, that neither Death nor time hath power to deface it. Upon the Tomb of this young example of chastity, some good Poet of that time made this Epitaph, which ensueth, to show that such as he was, aught to be praised with such Eglogs, and not any of them which have defiled their lives with a thousand mischiefs.  

Love and jealousy, the Virtue and the vice,  
This young and tender lamb have caused:  
A father's wrath unjustly for to feel,  
By outward show of malice false deceived.  
And eke who was by foolish raging ire,  
And cruel dangerous vice, of wilfulness procured:  
Whose soul to Heaven, and body to the grave,  
To Heaven and earth are now by death assured.  
Thus hath he changed his life, and is not dead,  
But liveth with God rejoicing in his glory:  
That caused him the haughty Skies t'assend,  
And happy to have before him, of virtue the memory.  
Thus being dead, he liveth without sorrow or grief,  
Therefore thou that passest by, thy tears refrain:  
If envy do not 'cause thee to bewail the joy,  
And happy state wherein the dead remain.   
¶ Such is the end commonly of them that loving virtue, avoid the contrary, sith the vicious can have no greater heart breach, then to see one that will not be infected with their unperfection. Mark wherefore all writings are so full of deceits, addressed by the wicked against the good, but to the end the virtuous should know on whom to repose themselves, which is the good God that will not suffer any of his to perrishe, although for a certain time he seemeth to have forgotten them, whereon the contrary part, the wicked do prospero and flourish as they desire, until the Lord weary of their wickedness, doth so overthrow their doings that they which tofore appeared haughty, proud, and stately, is converted into derision, and despised, or else so well weakened, that the very tracts scarcely appear.  
FINIS.   

¶ A Mahometan slave, revengeth the death of his Lord, upon his son that was the Homecyde, and rendered the principality, (being choose of the people) to him, to whom by right of Lineage, and succession it did appertain.  
ABout the year of our salvation 1494. After that Christopher Colombe, with the navy of the catholic King, Ferdinand, son of john Arragon, did dicover the West Islands, not before discovered, that can be found remembered by the writing of any History, either ancient, or new, Lewis Bartheny Bolognois, as he himself recoumpteth in the ij. Book of his Navigations, in coasting by this country, for that he would have knowledge of the natural things, the manner of the living of those strange nations, and also to get some profit in passing by Ethiope, he arrested in an isle, the Capital town whereof is called, Orme, not distant from the form Land, above twelve miles, where he beheld this pitiful History ensuing, of an execrable son, and of his cruelty against his aged father, and upon his brethren, yet in their infancy in this city. Then a little before the said Bartheny came thither, the Soulden there, was a Lord of the sect of Mahomet, a man very virtuous and gentle for a Moore and Infidel, almost an hundred years old, he besides that he was rich in Gold and pearls, sith in that quarter there were found the most exquysyth and fair Pearls that one should see, esteemeth his age happy, to see himself the Father of a leaven sons, all lawfully begotten, the youngest whereof, had better fortune by murder, then good chance, as you may see by this which followeth, for the elder contrary to the rest, was crafty, subtle, and malicious, & the most dissembling Palyard that was in all the country, who studied with himself divers times how to become imperious over his brethren, after the decease of his father. But the soldan had two bondmen that were of that Land, of that rich & famous Monarch of the Indyans, that men call Prester jean, these two Indian slaves were so well affectioned to the doings of their Lord, that he had made them as rich, as any of his Vassals, and they had so well got the good will of the people by their native bounty, & excellent virtue, that every one doth adorate and praise them as much, or more as the Prince himself, thus they going about to do good to all men, & to displease none, made no report to the Prince, of that which afterwards was cause of the ruin of some of his subjects, these two by their prudence did keep silent the doings of their ambitious young Lord, not for that the Galland did thereby loose the desire, to do that afterwards, which one would not think nor believe, toward his father, notwithstanding the good entreatment that the old man showed him, for the nature of the wicked is so perverse, that the more a man assayeth to obtain his good will, the more he addresseth his mischief, and whetteth his teeth in murder, and envious for the exploit of his wickedness, because his heart is so venomous, and full of poison, that he cannot endure from executing the thing that is contrary to virtue, by the dangerous infection of his vices, as very well appeareth in this ambitious and cruel tyrant, which could not endure or attend, till Nature had finished that, whereof she had begone to approach, and already to attain the end, he purposeth not only tyrannyouslye to usurp the domynyons of his father, but to execute the most detestable act upon him, that a man can either think or imagine, that is, to murder them of whom he had his life, and to fill his hands with the innocent blood of his brethren, and for the beginning of this Tragedy, he causeth to be imprisoned under the title of good faith, his Father, his Mother, and his brethren, except the youngest, by the aid and succours of some of the house, as good as he himself, for truly the boldness of the wicked is vanished, as soon as it is excogite, if it want companions to attain the end of his imperfection.  
Absalon had never addressed his force against that Mirror of patience, David his father, without the counsel of Achitofell, and without the aid of murmurers, that abused the patient clemency of the King. But O good God, what enorm and strange Tragedies have every one seen in the Empire of the East, that is stained with the blood of Fathers, shed by the Children, and of the light of the children, obscured by the hands of their own mothers? And in our memory the only desire of raygn, hath caused that at this day, the cruelty of the Vicont Myllinois, should be had in memory, to declare how many ways the ambitious do disguise themselves, to come to the end of their desires, that I am constrained to say, that our age is so wicked, and so void of pity, that a man shall find children that fear not to put to death their fathers by venom, thinking to cover their wickedness and grievous fault, by the means they be not bound by any law ordained for Paracydes, against whom neither Moses' the first, and great law maker, nor Solon would establish any law, or make ordinances, assuring themselves, that it were unpossible that the child could be so unnatural, as to stain his hands with the blood of him, of whose substance he hath had his beginning. But to return to our matter, this wicked son being possessed of all them of this blood, that he thought could impeach the execution of that which he had taken in hand, he caused their eyes to be plucked out of their head, 
A monstruous and most cruel 〈◊〉.  without exception of father, Mother, or kindred, O barbarous act, & very worthy of the place & country, that engendereth & bringeth forth nothing but monsters, he which see the light by that means of an other, stoppeth the way to enjoy the same received goodness, to him by whom he had enjoyed his. This galland then, not content with this wicked fact, extendeth further to accumilate, vice upon iniquity, and more & more to set forward their ruin that were almost at an end, for in the chamber where the poor old man the soldan his father, accompanied with his wife, did bewail his misfortune, & torment himself for his blindness, the wicked and enraged dog doth thither conduct his ix blinded brethren, that by their evil fortuno▪ the might more grieve the old man, and entering with them, he saith: Make hardly good cheer togethers, for I will go to prepare that whereof you shall taste, the father hearing this incorporate devil to speak, saith unto him: Ah Wolf most cruel, and insatiable of the blood of thy friends, what? hast not thou done villainy enough to the most unhappy old man in this world, without making him so to lament, and to leave such a memory of thy wickedness before the eyes of men▪ finish murderer, execute thy cruelty, & fulfil the felony of thy heart, go tyrannyously enjoy the goods of that house, of which I had made thee (without putting thee to this pain) the peaceable possessor, but I hope this shall not be without the great confusion, and chastisement of thy detestable life, for God is a just judge, that will never leave unpunished a treason so great, and a crime so pernicious. As soon as the father had finished his words, a man could not have hard the noise of thunder in the chamber, so excessive was the cry of the poor infants, for to perceive themselves in such misery, and to hear the just complaint of their good Lord & father the soldan, who did comfort their evil as well as he could, and as well as his own misfortune would permit him. But the murderer willing to see an end of his wickedness begun, (not to gratify him which had desired him) but fearing as long as his father was in life, 
The wicked tyrants, always in fear, & full of suspicion.  the people would rise against him, and go about to slay him, or else would chase him out of the isle, as he which could not, or might not reign without the executing of an act so abominable, & therefore I say at the same hour, he causeth to be brought a great quantity of wood & faggots, into the Chamber of the infortunate blind folks, and commanded, that they should be set on fire, addressing him to the p●●yentes, he sayeth: To the end you may more clearly see to find the way into the country, whether I will sand you, I have prepared this light, which may conduct you in steed of a guide, and as for me (saith he) laughing it shallbe a cleansing of my sins hitherto committed, in making a sacrifice so clean, and fair an Oblation as I will make of you: Having said so, he caused the fire to be put to their miserable bodies, which in the same instant, were converted into Ashes, and he delivered from the care to have any man as he thought, that might impeach his government. But the Tyrant remembreth not at all, 
God the revenger of all wrong and iniquity.  that the reward of the wicked, is always peased in the equal Balance of God's justice, and that they which hope to avoid the rigour of punishment by their own forces, do fully experiment the vengeance of the Lord for their own wickedness, as afterwards this detestable bloudsheader did evidently perceive the evetable fury and just anger of the Almighty for his wickedness, whose future fortune caused him to forget to murder in his former slaughter, the two Indian slaves, and his younger brother, which knowing the miserable end of all his blood, faileth not to convey himself into the Mosque, a place so sacred amongst them, that they think it Religion to forbear to violate them that retire thither, to conserve their life, and to defend them from the severe rigour of the law, in which place then of their devotions was this poor child, and young Prince remaining, as the future Revenger of this tyranny, crying with a high voice, and without intermission: O good Lord, good Lord, beholdest thou not at all, how my Brother hath changed himself into a devil, the Father of all wickedness, and hath taken upon him the manners of the enemy of all humanity? Alas wilt thou suffer the blood of my Parents and brethren to be shed innocently and that the son shall remain without vengeance▪ Hath not the flame and the smoke stopped and taken away the voice of them that required thee of justice, for the grievousness of their torments? Behold, O mighty God, and visit the sinful life of this Tyrant, who dispysing thee, hath deprived them of life, by whom thou gavest him his own in this world; and surely the just colour of the young Prince, against the furies of his Brother, had no less taken away his senses, than was once the child wanting his speech, or the son of the Lydian Croesus, beholding his father in danger of death, during the sack of the Town, by the great army, and souldyars of the Monarch of the Meads. But the measure of the iniquities of this Parricide, was not yet come to the fullness and end, which during these things, made the people to understand the death of the murdered, pronouncing moreover, that if they went about to refuse to obey him, he known well how to proceed to compel them. The people seeing him well accompanied, and that he was wholly seized of all the fortresses, craftily and wittingly, submitted themselves willingly to his obedience. O Beast of many heads, thou showest well that in the foul fantasy of such a multitude, reason, equity, or prudence, can have no place, and surely the continual waves that 'cause the Seas to ebb and flow, have not so many motions and troubles, as the counsel and opinion of a multitude hath deliberations, for there needs but the interposition of one day, and the rest of one night, to overthrow all that hath been afore concluded, and all the choice of opinions will be cast to the ground, by the blast of a simple sedition, and folly of the people, the counsel of whom are more governed by temerity, & sudden motion, then by reason and sage foresight of that which may come after, neither the constrained obedience of this multitude, nor the force of his Souldyors, that were wholly weary of his proud and cruel Tyranny, nor yet the inexpugnable strength of his fortresses could impeach that which the divine providence had ordained for the punishment of the facts of this wicked creature, who loved better to reign one Month alone, than a long time after the decease of his father reverenced of the people, beloved and served of his brethren, and not punishable by the justice of men, beholding nor feeling his mind guilty before GOD, by the conscience of his own misdeeds. Mark how he himself made the Net wherein he was entangled, and whetteth the knife whereon he miserably ended his life. You have heard how the two Indian slaves were returned into their own houses, after that the fury of this Afrycan Nero, had shed forth his poison, and that his brother lived with the Priests of their law, bewailing continually both his Parents and his misfortune to see himself so weak and unfavoured, that he could not revenge the death of them, that being dead, caused his sorrowful life, and the absence of whom, made him so unprofitable in all things, and so unhappy in all his devices.  
The Tyrant then as it might be, or as it is more true, weary of his life, could no longer avoid that which the heavens had ordained for the just punishment of his unjustice, and demerytes, deliberating now with himself, to take away the light from the eyes of the two aged Indian slaves, which he could not commodyously do, as well for the reverence that the Soldiers bore to this linked couple, as for that he knew they were well beloved, and cherished of the people, wherefore he purposeth a new treason, to bring his desire to pass, without any slander, and without incurring the evil will of the people, and of his great army, that is, in practising the one to be the murderer of his companion, and afterwards to punish the murderer according to the law, & his deserts, therefore he causeth the more ancient of them, named Mahometh, to be called unto him, who being come to the presence of the soldan, says unto him: It hath pleased your noble majesty, my Lord, to 'cause me to be commanded to come before you, to whom I am obedient, being here ready to employ myself to any just act, wherein it shall please you to use my diligence and loyalty, which I have so well showed, & with such integrity, during the life of the former soldan your Lord and father (whom the great prophet Mahometh feedeth this day with delicious Viands in Heaven) that there is no man which can reproach me in any thing that may in any wise de●grate my name. That is the only cause, sayeth the Tyrant, wherefore I have caused thee to come before me, assuring myself, that thou will't be no less at my commandment, than thou hast been obedient to the pleasure and will of my predecessor, I will that thou ●i●erstande further, that if thou shall serve me faithfully, in that wherein I will employ thee, thou shalt not repent thee of the deed, for besides the pleasure I shall receive of thy service and endeavour, thou shalt obtain a Prince so much thy friend, as thou canst or wouldst desire. My Lord, saith the slave, not for any hope of riches, being so terrestyall a thing, so vain, and of so small durance, I will go about to attempt any thing, neither to see myself exalted to honours and dignities, (sith this is the Chair wherein men are most daungeroasly placed) but you shall behold me ready prepared to execute all your honest devices, only for the reverence I own you, as to my Lord and Prince, which I trust will not command any thing, that without staining mine honour, and blemishing of my conscience I cannot execute. Then the slave thought that the Tyrant would have given him in charge, to have fetched the young Prince out of the Mosque, to the end, to 'cause him feel his cruelty, which the good man would not have done for fear of death, nor to have been Emperor of all Africa, as he afterwards showeth by effect. Be as it may be (saith the cruel soldan) it is that I would have thee put to death Cain, for so was the other Slave called, sith he hath done me such a displeasure, that if I see not his death, my spirit cannot live in rest, or contentment.  
Ah my Lord, sayeth Mahometh, command me any other thing if it please you, for my heart will not suffer me to see his death, much less to kill him, whom I love as mine own life, and with whom I have been brought up even from my birth, if he hath done any fault against you Lordship, let him be accused publicly, according to the custom of the country, to the end he may receive punishment, according to his deserts. The soldan (dissembling his despite and choler) answereth him very courteously: I am glad that I have such a servant in my power as thou art, & I thank thee for thy good advertisement thou hast given me, concerning my duty to justice: Moreover, think that all this that I have said unto thee, is to no other end but to assay thy constancy, and make a proof of thy fydelitye, thou mayest therefore depart when thou shalt think it good, and hereafter I will unploye thee in some better thing, and of greater importance. The slave which knew the venom of the Serpent, and how deadly it was, failed not after he was retired, to guard himself from the bushments and treasons of the Tyrant, persuading himself that he would assay that against him, wherein he had failed against his companion, and in that his opinion deceived him not, for as soon as he was departed from the presence of the soldan, the Tyrant enraged and invenimed, sent to seek Cayme that other slave, unto whom he useth like words, as to the first, & persuadeth him so well, that the wicked Moor sweareth unto him to kill his companion, in what sort he could. Behold whereunto the execrable malice of men doth extend, that through the appetite of a pernicious Tyrant, the one friend hath conjured against the life of him, that a little before, had refused to make him to loose his own. But always the wicked (what fraud so ever he doth excogitate) falls into the pit, that he hath prepared against him, that doubteth nothing of his treason, and corrupted heart.  
This venerable slave, then having the commandment of the soldan, he departeth, m●●●ding to murder Mahometh, to gratify his Lord, who moved by the covetousness of that which the Suborner doth promise him, & by the obedience which the subject oweth to his soveraygn, & without thinking what is the nature of the tyrant, who pleased with discords, searcheth nothing but to imbrue himself with the blood of his Citizens, and who in the end excerciseth his cruelty upon them, that have been the ministers of his misdeeds.  
Cayme then without feeling any remorse of Conscience, that might have withdrawn him from his purpose, came towards Mahometh his Companion, who had not so little advisement, but in his heart he perceived the matter, & began to doubt of that, which was true, and he held himself more assured, when as he beheld the murderer more nearly, which by the colour of his visage, gave sufficient appearance of an act not common, that he would commit for all the passions and motions of the spirit I know not how, by some natural means ar● evidently known, either by the face, voice, or exterior gestures, for the face is the port of the heart, manifesting the will and secret desires, that one would assay to keep secret, therefore Mahometh adressing himself towards him, saith: Ah false murderer, and disloyal traitor, what▪ wilt thou go about to execute that, which the Tyrant hath wickedly commanded thee, and thou haste lightly agreed unto▪ now I will take such revenge of thy Corpses, as I have been required tofore, that men a long time hereafter shall speak of it through all these islands. Cayme that known the humour of his companion, addresseth himself towards him, as well for that he known him to be a valiant and hardy souldyor, as for that he would not avow any matter against him, he casts himself at his feet rendering into his hands his sword, praying him to pardon this fault, that he had attempted, more for fear that the tyrant would have slain him, then for any desire of hurt or evil will that he bore to Mahometh, who answereth him. Whereof thy fault proceedeth I am not ignorant, but thou couldst not by any thing have better showed or more euide●ly manifested thy dissoyaltye, which if it had taken such deep root in my spirit, as thou hast received, and taken it▪ into thy perjured heart, thou mayest assure thyself, that long agone thou haddest been dead, the Tyrant satisfied, and I without a companion, and as it might have been without life, sith this Tyrant in pursuing the death of the one, desireth the total ruin of us both togethers, but it hath pleaseth God that no treason should enter into the mind of Mahometh, and that he should finish the course of his age without revenging the death of his Lord, and likewise the wrong that without his deserts, hath been purposed against him, therefore Cain go toward the soldan, and tell him that thou hast executed that which he commanded thee, and for the rest let me alone, for I will provide such a remedy, that in time to come, the life of the virtuous shall be in more assurance, than now they be in peril under the tyrannical government of this devil, whom by God's help, I will punish for his wickedness, and revenge (with a privy injury) the wrong that he hath done to all the inhabitants of this isle.  
Cayme having escaped from such a danger, promiseth him to do all, that it should please him to give charge, to execute, which was to his great prejudice, for after that he had told the Tyrant how he had bathed his sword in the blood of Mahometh his companion: The Tyrant full of ease, and contentment began to show himself very familiar, then coming cheerfully to embrace him, his coming was no more joyful to the poor slave, than was that of joab to the two Princes of the great Hebrew Armies, Abner, and A●asa, sith he holding his left arm embraced and infolden about his neck, taketh into his other a short Dagger, wherewith he stobbeth the poor slave so far into the side, that he tombleth stark dead, at the feet of the false and traitorous Lord. This is the happy end of the wicked, that cannot at all escape the strength of God's hand, either by the ministry of men, or by the cruelty of wild beasts, and sometimes by things without life or senses, prepared nevertheless for the exploit of such punishment, as once the tree was the ●●ourge of Ab●a●on, whereon he was hanged by the horsemen, and slain by the hands of joab. But now the soldan thinking to rejoice himself for the death of the two slaves, whom he so much feared, not having well put up his gleve, and returned to his seat: Behold Mahometh very well accompanied, and armed at appoints, cometh in, at whose arrival, the most part of the Souldyors began to be in a fury, the others laying a way the right of arms rendered them to his mercy, but he which sought the chief, made no stay or great account of them: Thus entering into the chamber, where he beheld the stretched Corpse of Cayme, and where yet was the Emperor, with a small company, who seeing Mahometh, although he was surprised with fear seeing him in such array, yet making a virtue of necessity, coming to encounter with him, saith: Ah Villain, son of a Villain, art thou yet living? Yea (saith Mahometh) I live in despite of thy Menaces, and false intentions, ready to sand thee to all the devils, to serve for their prey, trusting in God that he will give me strength to revenge upon thee (most disloyal of all disloyals) the death of thy innocent parents, of whom thou haste been the inhuman bloodshedder. In saying these words, & putting their hands to their▪ weapons, they joined togethers, and although the soldan defended himself always very bravely, yet the slave, a man very strong, brave, hardy, and always brought up in wars, and who for his good deed had the aid and favour of the God of that Coast, acquyteth himself so well, in less than an how 〈◊〉 at the Tyrant was able no longer to support the strength of the blows of Mahometh, but in the end, began to decline toward the earth, the slave by little and little become victorious setting his shield upon his throat, to make him to yield himself, which being done, he causeth him to be straightly bond, and delivered unto the people, who suddenly rent him into a hundred thousand pieces, so that he was not esteemed to be the child of a good mother, that had not done some injury to the car cases of the miserable tyrant. O just judgement of God, he that tofore never thought himself enough worshipped of his subjects, is now slain by their seditions hands, to the end that every one should evidently perceive, that goods unjustly got, always give the salary of their unjustice to the greedy desyrer, the vyolater of right, and of all religion. After the death of the soldan, they made diligent inquisition of the complicis, and executors of his cruel murders, who being accused and convict, were rygorously punished, according to their laws and ordinances. The people perceiving themselves so bond to Mahometh, for that he had been the deliverer of all their Country, and the punisher of such an offence, which they dissembled by constraint, gave unto him the government of the isle, and would absolutely have invested him in the signory. But the sage old man knowing very well both the inconstancy of fortune, and the undurable good will of a multitude, and not ignorant also, that he which under the title of good faith, occupieth the goods of another, cannot choose otherwise, then engender the ruin of his successors, and commonly give cause of his infamy and total dishonour, therefore having set the affairs of the isle in good order, he causeth upon a day, all the estates of the country to be called in counsel, before whom he made this Oration.  
There is none of you my good Lords which are ignorant, 
The Oration of Mahometh.  that I was born in this your Island, and much less of the blood and race of them which aught to reign over the people, I have been brought up, and nourished as a slave in the Court of the former soldan, father of this wicked parracyde, of whom, and upon whom, you have taken condign vengeance for his wickedness, I beseech you refer all that which I have done, or yet shall do, to the honour and obedience of the virtuous deceased Lord, and to the memory of those goods, which I have received of him, and also to establish and pacify the Signory, to the youngest son of him, who as you know is fugitive in the Mosque, sith the day that his brother the Tyrant, made the horrible slaughter of them of his blood, I therefore am of this mind, if you also shall think it good, that the succession, he being of the right line, should be by you rendered unto him, for I have not at all purposed to usurp any Land from the son of him, to whose name during my life, I have born such honour, as the servant to his master, and the Vassal and subject to his Lord. Therefore I resign and remit into your hands the supremidence, which of your good wills you have given me, both over you, and over the Lands of my Lord, and your Prince, unto whom by your means, I may serve to give counsel in all his affairs, by which if he will govern himself, I will assure you, that you shall understand you have only changed a man, and not a virtuous and gentle Prince, always thanking you, for the amity and good affection which you have born me, which if God give me life, I hope to satisfy, by all kind of humanity and duty of a good friend, and as an obedient servant of your commonalty.  
The people abashed of the virtue and continency of the good old man, who forsaking the honours unto which their election had called him, loving better to live a private life, then to enjoy a whole country, without having just title of possession, do easily accord to the counsel and sage opinion of Mahometh: So the young Prince was fetched from the Temple, and placed in the seat of his father, with this condition, that he should have always the old man for assystaunte and counsellor, and by whose hands should pass all the affairs of importance, that might chance within the isle.  
Behold a notable and rare example of two great extremities in the virtue of one man, the assurance and Magnaminitye to revenge a public injury, upon one that of himself was public, if by his vice he had not made himself more abject, than the least of the common and popular multitude, and the modesty conjoined with great reason and foresight, to despise that, wherefore almost all men at these days do take and address, for what occasion soever it be, the bloody battles, profayning the sanctitude of religion, perverting the order of judgements, redusing and rendering all things into wind, and adnychylating the charity that every one oweth to his Neighbour, for with a huge heap of sins & curses they a●tayn their Lordships, and within a while they forget the effusion of blood of the good citizens, & not appeasing the incursions that in the end they overthrow themselves, as is the flower by the heat of the Son, in his full force, and as was lately seen in the tyrannous rule of the Myllinois of our time, and once in the raygn of the Persians' and Greeks, the Monarchy of whom, was like a flame, that vanisheth away quickly, as did their domynyons, after their establishment.  
FINIS.   

¶ The Marquis of Ferraria, without having regard to fatherly love, caused his own Son to be beheaded, for that he was found in Adultery with his fair Mother in law, who likewise lost her head in Prison, by his commandment.  
IN the life of Philip Vicont Duke of milan, son of john Galeas, he that so often made wars against the Florentynes, and their Line, then reigning in France, Charles the seventh, that good King, which chased the English men out of Normandye, the most excellent and mighty Prince, Nicholas of East, the third Marquis of Ferraria (he that for his singular wisdom had been sent so often as Arbitrator, to determine the controversies, that chanced amongst the Princes of Italy) made war against his own Cousin, called Azzo of East, which with the aid of the Venetians, Florentines, and Bolongnoys (although he were a bastard) did cheese the said Azzo, lawful and just successor of the Marquisdom, out of Italy, & constrained him to end his days in exile, in the isle of Candy, anciently called Created, & he because Ferraria was obedient unto him, as unto an unjust usurper, doth govern them so politicly and train the people so gently, that never any of his predecessors lived more quietly, he being confirmed in his estate, espouseth in his first marriage, the daughter of the Lord Francis of Cararya (after the Lord of Padue) by whom he had one son, which at his christening, was called Hugnes, the beauty & phisnomy of whom did promise' some future dexterity & excellency in him, this is he of whom I intent most to entreat, as chief cause of the description of this history, he was surnamed by the pleasure and will of the Father, the County of Rovigo, and kept with such care, diligence, & study of them that had the charge over him, as did appertain to the Child of such a Lord as be, which commanded over Ferraria. Certain days after the birth of this young Prince, the Marchioves his mother departed this life, to the great grief of her husband, which loved her no less, than his own self▪ & to the displeasure of all his subjects that wholly had tried such courtesy, gentlnesse, & liberality to be in her, as whose like memory hath not left engraven in the hearts of the posterity, this young Prince as he grows in years, giveth such testimony of his future virtue, & wisdom, that a man should find a few Lords of such a raxe in all Italy, that did excel him (so much are they in fault that suffer themselves to be overcome) if that fortune had not given him such a foil, as the process of his years did forbidden it in him, which had given such a beginning to his honour. But what if the affections of men do ebb and flow, and never continued in one state, as the unquiet moving of the sea, it is no otherwise of the judgements and ordinances of God, whereof there is not one left undone, without coming to the end, ordained by the presence of him, for the end of the county could not be evil, as every one thought, by the conjecture of the virtue of his young years, but behold the end.  
This Marquis Nicholas being very young & lusty, after the death of his wife, deliberating with himself not to marry again beginning so well, as he that had the evil will of none of his neighbours▪ to take his ease, and to pass his time in such delights, that every night he changeth his pasture, and continuing his wantonness, doth his endeavour so well, that the troop of his Bastards were not inferior in number to them▪ that were begotten by the old Priam of Troy, a little before the Greeks did besiege it, and to the end that the history shall not want any thing, which should serve for the success of that I will se● forth, touching the misfortune of the county of 〈◊〉, the son of Nicolas. There was remaining to the said Marques no other child to succeed him lawfully begotten, but Lionel the elder of the B●●cards, after whom was that famous and renowned Lord Borze, the son of a Damsel Senoyis, of the house of Tolomey. This Borze for his virtue, and for that he had done some service to the Roman church, was created and erected in the Dukedom of Ferraria, by Paul the second of that name, Bishop of Room, then reigning in France Lewis the eleventh, and Frederick of Austryge, holding the imperial Crown, by whom afterwards the said Borze, was proclaimed and made Duke of Rege, and Modena.  
But returning to our purpose, the Marquis having now long time lived without a lawful wife, was desired, as it might be, of some of his subjects, to persuade himself to ●emarrye, who practiseth so well, that he taketh to Wife, the Daughter of the Lord Charles Maletest, which because he was puissant & of great Lands, might command over many Cities and Villages of the Marches, and Romans, who had the name to be one of the most brave and sage Captains amongst all them that profess the Art of war in Italy in his tyme. A little after the Marquis, who although his wife were very beautiful, young, e●elye of seventeen or eighteen year old, left not to haunt light women abroad, that it was thought he had taken a wife, more to satisfy his friends, or to cover his wanton and effeminate will, then for to chasten himself, and to increase and multiply his race, which was the cause that God for his punishment sent such a slander into his house, worthy surely to be noted, as well as it is strange & possible, if the memory thereof were not fresh, it would seem after incredible, for the patience of God is such, that he attendeth the conversion of the sinner, but seeing him indurate in his wickedness, doth punish him so sharply, that the generations ensuing, do behold the sharpness of the punishment, and mark wherefore that good Christ, second to none in patience, doth so diligently set forth examples, to show that there shallbe no sin left unpunished in the presence of the Lord, for what greater ruin can come to the house of any Prince, than the dishonour of him, or his? What greater sorrow, than to see the shedding of his own blood? and it is always the justice of GOD, to practise that upon them, which continue their disobedience, accumylate evil upon evil, and provoke the Lord by their wickedness, as did this Marquis, the wife of whom, seeing herself so despised, as she that presumed overmuch of her beauty, could not so greatly command her constancy, nor so well moderate her affections, but that she did complain her to a Damsel, whom she had brought with her forth of her country, and whom she trusted very well, who being one day in the chamber of her mistress, seeing that in secret she was sad beyond measure, & that daily she waxeth worse & worse, was so bold to say these, or like words unto her. Madame, I beseech you think it not strange, if the desire that I have to do you service, do make me so bold to demand of you the cause of so sudden change that I perceive in you, which had wont to be the only solace, of the anguishes & sorrows of my Lord your father, by your plesantness, if perchance there happened unto him any grief, & now you do nothing but sorrow, sigh, & complain: I beseech you Madam, if ever I have done any thing in your service, that meriteth recompense, to do me this pleasure, & honour, to tell me the occasion of your disquietness, to the end that if this power that is in me, may do any thing for your contentment, I will employ it with the life that I have vowed so long time, to be obedient to your commandments. Alas my friend, saith the Marchiones, I am ashamed, being such a one as I am, so to torment myself, beholding me so contemned of my Lord the marquis: I assure thee, that if the hope of some allegiance did not comfort me, thou shouldst behold what sacrifice. I would make of my life to the cruelties of him, that hath made more account of one of these common & despised women, then of me that am his wife, & not inferior in beauty to any of them. What Madam? answereth the Damsel, have you no other cause to disquiet yourself, than the foolish love of my Lord the Marquis, truly this is a very small occasion, & a cause more than frivolous to vex yourself, lay away all this from you, & assay to live joyfully with them that love & esteem you, attending till time shall coal his ardent desires, & 'cause him change his affection, take good heed that he have no cause of miscontentment, for to quite him of his passions, apprehensions, & unseemly companies, in the mean time, joy you only of the which is yours, not using such folly as to slain your honour, by unlawful acquaintance with any other then of him, which is given you for Lord & Espouse, with shortening of your life for such a foolish mistrust, proceeding of that evil▪ jealousy. O God (saith the Marchyones, all bedewed with tears) how true is that, which every one speaketh in a common Proverb: the whole can easily give council to them that be sick: Ah my friend, if you felt the disquietues that will not suffer me to take any rest in my mind, & the cause of the bitterness that doth bereave me of my senses, I am assured that having pity of me, thou wouldst council me of an other sort, or else help to execute that, which should serve for the entire solace and contentment of my spirit: the Marquis hath led this life a long time, and it is unpossible that he should change, but by death, or extreme age, and in the mean time I pass my time in vain, accompanied without comforts, that procures me to overpass the night with tears in steed of rest, and the day against my will, I am merry to content him, that shows me no pleasure, not not that which he ought by the sacred rights of those bands which have conjoined us together, would God death had taken away my life in the Cradle, to the end that not remaining unto this present, I should not have felt of what force is the despite of an honest Lady, being deceived by her husband: Alas, how happy are they of base condition, that may without great conscience inaculate their blood, that doth redound but to the shame of a few: Ah honour and Nobility, how tyrannously do you bridle the Ladies, that how much the preferment is before men, the estate of all should not be alike, to the end, that the people should not shadow our brightness, more than the re●own of the common sort of men and women, which die with the memory of their deeds, that are buried in the same tomb with their bodies, or if the Laws did as well punish the disloyalty of the husband as the simple women, that by a natural vice, are sometimes forced to forget themselves, even till they be overcome by the appetites of the flesh, how joyfully would I revenge myself of the injury which that perjured and unloving husband hath done to me? because that every couple should equally receive the pain and punishment according to their demerits. But after the Laws were made, they were tyrants over us, the inquyetors of our rest, and the common Ennymyes of o●● perfection, who did authorize them without the side, help, or consent, of any of us: After that she exclaymeth, as one half enraged, saying with a voice that declared the vehemency of her torment, and the mutation of her mind. But sith I must dye a thousand times, if so be I let this pa●se without punishment, I would he well known it, that I intent not to live with such grief and sorrow, as he hath given me 'cause a good time, and then let chance what may, for this is a torment great enough, as I believe, to abide such a Tyranny, and to feel the puissant pricks of love, the better whereof is no less to be wished, than death, having said so, the Marchiones holdeth her tongue, attending the answer of the Damsel, who having a long time bethought herself, answereth in this sort: Madam, as yet I never had experience of what might the force of love is, and by that means I have never felt what is the disdain and sorrow of them, that perceive themselves deceived of him, of whom she ought to be the entire and only beloved, yet I believe nevertheless, that the passion both of the one and the other is so great and unmeasurable, that the surplusage of the alterations that trouble & grieve the spirit, are nothing in respect of this inexplicable distress. The argument of this, I take of you Madam, the Constaucye of whom is so troubled, by the outrage and fury of jealousy, that heretofore hath ●●uer given suspicion of change, or miscontentment of heart: But O God, I behold and perceive the imbecility of human minds, & how well they are disquieted of divers & unlawful desires, which take rest no more in the stomach & thoughts▪ then the sea Sands, instate with a whirl wind, in an extreme hot day. Ah Madam, where is the great Chastity that made you once renowned before all the Ladies of Italy? I beseech you assay to contain yourself in that honest reputation wherein hitherto you have lived, to the great content of your Parents & friends. What? if reason have so little force in you, that you deliberate to follow the vice of wantonness, and to search another for the accomplishment of your desires, than the Marquis your husband, by all means do the thing so secretly, that the house whereof you are come, receive no dishonour, and yourself merit infamy & grievous punishment. The Marchiones answereth nothing to the sage admonition of the wise Damsel, beginning to think with herself, not by what means she might withdraw her husband from the disordered & wanton life that he led, but rather how she might revenge herself, and with whom she might give him the counterchange, in punishing him by the same fault. But reason doth not extend herself to this end, that sin and virtue should be placed alike, for virtue is the superlative above her, contrary, which is put under her as a subject, for the instruction of any that knows not what is vice, let him take heed it fall not out other wise, that if any be forgetful of his honesty and void of good manners, we by his example, launch not forth and let slip the bridles of our hearts after vice, as after some rare and precious thing, and always this is so well practised at this day, that men esteem Vice but by the sight of them that do it by example. Doth or may this come before the place of Equity and right? and merit no reprehension, of this you may well assure yourself, by the foul deliberation of this wilful Pryuces, which doth suffer herself to be so blinded by her naughty and vuruelye appetites, that do pervert the common order and right of nature, which the laws hath constitute amongst men for the reu●rence of blood, people, and civil honesty: becometh extreme amorous of him, whose wanton toys, ought more to fear her, than the memory of Death himself. I have declared before that the Marquis had one only Son by his first wife, a goodly Gentleman in perfection, and which during these furies of his fair mother, was attained to the age of eighteen or twenty years, it was he of whom the second Phedrya become amorous, but this was not he that deserves to be put in the virtuous Role of Hypolytus, the son of the Amazon, in resisting the amorous folly and incest of the Marchyones, happy was that Greek heir, for he died by the injust displeasure of his father, which was no shame to him at all, having jest, in that which the other did, that hath given sure testimony of his love to virtue and modesty, but the other hath made his vice and naughty will known to his own Father, as you may easily perceive in the reading of this History, now this young Prince seeing himself entertained very familyarly by his mother in law, that took no pleasure, but in the contemplation of the beauty and good grace of the county, did never think that such disloyalty could lodge in the heart of his father's wife, & therefore he deviseth to requite it her, but with such reverence as the Child oweth to the mother, which she taketh not for any denial, having a desire of a more straight familiarity with him, which the more she desireth, the more she is inflamed in her former flames of love, and doing her diligence so well, by her own self, because that the young man, for that he as yet had not practised love, knew not how to take heed to her countenances, signs, wanton looks, sighs, and vuperfyte words, that to one more subtil, might easily have discovered her passion, she forgetting and despising both her honour and life, (if the county had made the report thereof to his father) doth deliberate to discover unto him her affections, for, (saying to herself) how shall I cure my alleged evil, if I keep it secret from him, of whom I intend my safety, is this the way: to devise the occasion of famillyer curtesyes, that I do unto him, truly his tender youth doth deny him to see so well, and to know the most difficult humour, which were enough for a man that perceiveth the devices of the mind, well if he were so subtle and expert as to perceive it, yet his shamefastness intermingled with fear, would let him to attempt that, which I desire so much, and (as it may be, he will not refuse me) therefore I will be the first that shall expel this fear and bashfulness that so impeach my joy, sith it is I that have felt the amorous flames, and suffered the pricks of the sharp Arrows of Cupid, I hope that although the enterprise be great and dangerous, he will not refuse me, and that if my great beauty cannot move him, if my ardent and fine embracements cannot kindle the fire in his heart, nor my love in his Breast, yet I know well by what Chase and Nets▪ I must take him, than chance what may, if I die for it, I will 'cause him to understand by mine own mouth, (sith embassage is perilous in a matter of such consequence as this is) that which I suffer for him, also I will desire him to remedy my passion, otherwise I have already excogitate the means to provide for my unhappy and desperate life, having found out this plot in her mind, the iucestious and vile woman searching with herself, by what means to execute it▪ Fortune was so favourable, that the fame time Philip Vycont Duke of milan, sent to fetch the Marquis Nicholas, for certain affairs of great importance, for dispatch whereof, he must remain certain days at milan, wherefore the Marquis of Ferrarin, having addressed his Train, taketh his journey towards the Duke, of whom he was the Ally, and greatly beloved, which was no displeasure to the Marchiones his wife, for it came very fit, that her husband being absent, she might practise with the unwary county, for the accomplishment of her concupiscence, & for to procure him in time to come, to pay the arrearages of the absent Marquis, by her devise, that were payable, & for that certain days after the departure of the Marquis, the fair Fool being after dinner in her chamber, fantasying the means to perform the plot of her desires, taketh a Lute in hand that she causeth to sound so sweetly, and with such cunning, that the Damsel her secretary, was as one having her ears depending of the strings of the instrument, during which the Marchyones made her voice agree with the sound, singing this that ensueth.  

O Cupid thou; which dost in haughty Skies,  
Among the great, and divine Gods sojourn:  
And eke that present art with terren wights,  
To 'cause their hearts, with lovers laws to bourn.   

To thee O God, whose Bow and golden Shaft,  
Doth wound both Gods and men alike:  
And causest every one, ●o yield themselves to thee,  
And subjects to become, for all Diana's spite.   

To th●e●l make, and swear my fixed vow,  
If I by help of thee, my wished joys attain:  
Then must I only praise thy mighty Bow,  
And subject will to thee, for evermore remain.   
THe Song ended, she beginneth to search her thoughts more deeply than before, and showeth well by her countenance that thy● was no other thing, than the common passion that she imagined, that so troubled her thoughts and exter your countenance, in the end vanquished with the extreme desire of her pleasure, she commandeth the Damsel whom she so greatly trusted, to go cause the County Hugeness alone to come unto her, for a matter of great importance, & which should very well content him, to whom the Damsel obeys, not without great suspicion of that, which came to pass, for it was she alone that perceived the wanton looks and sighs, sent forth by her Mistress, when she was amazed to behold the county, before whom when the Damsel was come, she sayeth unto him: Sir, my Lady desires you to come talk a little with her, for a thing that appertaineth to you, whom you shall find in her chamber attending with good devotion, as I believe, to communicate unto you, a thing that hitherto hath not been known, devised, or perused by you. The Prince taking no regard to the words of the Messenger, but guided by his mishap, goeth to the Chamber of the Marchiones: During this, the Damsel that went to seek the county, knowing well that the enormity of the case that she imagined, doth withhold her to go again to her Mistress, because she would not impeach the joy of her, whose life she had seen led with so much sorrow, retyreth into a wardrobe, where she (presaging the misfortune of the fair couple) being confounded with tears, in the end agrevaded with sorrow, and set upon by slumbering, through weariness fallen on sleep. Then the County being entered into the Chamber of his fair mother, she coming towards him, to receive him very courteously, taketh him by the hand, and causeth him to sit down by her. But when it came to the point, that the fair Lady would have addressed her train, her heart begins to leap within her belly, her senses do deny to fulfil the office of the exteryoure members, for her tongue was mute, her eyes deject, and her visage changed into such a Vermillyon, that she would have abashed the van-courier of the Son, and surely this change was caused of two contraries, that is to wit, love, and shame, the one would have her show forth her grief, the other direct contrary, by natural will and inclination, but in the end, the more unperfect and less puissant in the good cause, become victorious, for the Lady, after she had sighed a good space, with out speaking any word, weary of her undiscreet silence, as she thought it, in the end breaking her silence, with a look which was sufficient to enter into the depth of his heart, (such was her cunning to move him to compassion) having her voice trembling, and evil assured, for the continuance of that which she felt in her mind, and sustaining divers affections that moved her spirit, she took the young Prince delicately by the fair hand, saying unto him: My Lord, if I had not many occasions to address my lamentations, and just complaints, you may believe, if it please you, that I am not so unshamfaste, as to deceive your ears, and by mine own means to manifest before you a thing, that although as it may be, you shall think it very strange, yet it doth touch you so near, that for the love which I bear you, that are more dear unto me than you think, I cannot, nor am able to keep it from you, for in so doing, I should wilfully betray you, & should do both against my conscience, and the duty of her towards you, that holdeth the place wherein I am, I know you are not ignorant of the life that the Marquis your Father hath led, since the death of her of good memory, your Lady and mother, and what troop of Bastards every one seethe at this day in your house, which if God do not otherwise provide, shall use no less inhumanity one day towards you, than your father did once towards his Cousin, the lawful inheritor of this country, whom he expulsed, & sent in exile into Candy, for I see as well the small account they make of you, as of me, which have wished a hundred tunes that I had never come into this country, not only for the griefs that I have felt, but also for that I foresee the mischiefs that are prepared for you, if you do not wisely prevent them, I neither do nor would have you think, that I counsel you to fill your hands with the blood & life of him, of whom you had your beginning, but I would have you understand, that I give you this advise, that you open the eye of your intendment, to foresee to what end these things may turn, and as for me, there is nothing in my power, wherewith I will fail to secure you, sith it is even you, to say the truth (says she) embracing & kissing him, my dear friend, whom I love & esteem more than any man that lives, which if it please you▪ I will 'cause you know by experience. O would to God that the hour of my alyans had succeeded after my mind, truly no other should have enjoyed the daughter of the Lord Maletest, than the County Hugnes, for when my Lord & Father did entreat with me for the marriage of the Lord of Ferraria, it was you whom he talked with me of, & not the Marquis, God pardon the folly of him, that so foully deceived me, sith the union of us two had been far better denysed, than with your Father, the age equal, & the confyrmity of manners that might have conjoined us with a perpetual band, which now am bond against my will to him that despiseth me, & who it is that loveth & cherisheth the mother's of them that one day, as it may chance, shall deprive you both of your honour & life, then think my Lord what sorrow it should be to me, in that I had lost the means to be perpetually yours, and consider what should be my life to come, (loving you as I do) if I should see the ruin, and destruction of your estate. Alas, God is my witness, with what anguish I open these my secrets unto you, for the desire that I have, that you might be wholly mine, as I am yours, is so engrafted in my heart, that only death must make the separation, in saying so she kisseth and imbraseth him of an other fashion, than a chaste woman doth embrace her Parents and familiars, and then she returneth to her former purposes, saying: Therefore my Lord and greatly beloved friend, be not you the occasion of the death of her that seeketh to increase your honour, and thereby doth tender herself of a most unhappy, the fortunates Lady that lives at this day, have pity of her which so liberally and prodigally offereth herself unto you, but if cruelty have more place in you, than the prayers I make unto you, and the singular love that I bear you, kill, kill, I say (my Lord) this miserable Lady, the which if you refuse, shall not cease to execute that upon herself, whereof you made the refusal, which will be the occasion both of your dishonour, and the loss of the best and most loyal lover, that yo● had in this world.  
The County no less abashed of the words, then of the wanton embracings of his fair mother, was so far beside himself, that without answering, or having power to depart from her, remained no less immovable, then was once the wife of Lot, turned into a pillar, and Rock of Salt. The Marchyones who was excellent fair, young, tender, and delicate, and whose looks were so fine and gracious, that I believe, if the most wilful and abstinent of the Philosophers of former time, had felt the temptation of an object so fair and celestial, they would have quite left, forsaken, and forgotten, the contemplation of natural causes, to have given themselves to execute the very effects of nature. I think also if the Daughter of Minos, had been of like beauty, good graces, attempts and intysementes, as was this Lady, I doubt not at al. But that her Hypolite, although he were froward or lunetyque, would have enjoyed and cherished her, and left Diana, to have sown his seeds in the Garden of her, that with such instance required him of mercy. This fair Temptaresse, then seeing her lover in such alterations, and so surprised with shamefastness, also because he had not shown any semblance of displeasure, with any thing she had done, she purposeth to pass further, and to strike whiles the Iron was whote, to the end that the young Prince, during his divers thoughts, should not measure with reason the greatness of his misdeeds, & the abomination of the sin which he committed against his father, in using the person of her, in whom the blood of his had been mingled. Likewise, because he should not discover the great peril & danger, wherinto he cast himself headlong, in taking the unhapy counsel of the wanton counsellor. Therefore she cast her arm over the neck of the Prince, kissing & embracing him in such sort, that at the last, the poor County yielded to the assault, who being once enticed by her unseemly pronocations, & wicked doings, not only fulfilled the which she s on aughtily desired, but was so inflamed with that rage, & empoisoned with the venom, that love had spread over the coraly●e cheeks of this new Phedra, that beginning to set apart the duty that he owes to 〈◊〉 father, and to the honour of the Nuptial bed, the violating whereof, hath ever brought with it the ruin & dishonour of the violaters, he was so far estranged from his former modesty, that he kisseth the mouth, lips, ●yes, as also the white & delicate neck of the Marchyones, then passing further, he extendeth his hand over her two round Dugs, that by their equal and like quantity, cause two little hills elevate a little above the stomach of the fair Lady, at the entry of which, there breatheth a wind that makes th●●n finely▪ rise and fall, according to the passions that move within the centre of her heart, he then beholding his licence to touch any place of his pleasant enemy, putteth his hand to the place most desired, and in which lovers seek to obtain the mercy of love, & then feeling her ●elly that was round, hard, and more white than the top of the A●lpes, after that the winter had whited the with frost, she then shrinking away from him, perceiving that she had overcome him so finely, shutteth her eyes, feigning a pleasant and no great displeasure, that did well declare her desires, saith v●to him: Alas my dear friend that cause my death, o that you would quench this fire that consumeth my life, and whereof I am sure you feel the quick sparks, at which word●s, the prince was so chafed in his Harneys, that without using his former reverences, he taketh that part in Music, which he never tofore had cried, and found the accords so sweet, and so correspondent to his pleasures, he purposeth to continued them if in case it should seem good to his mistress, which was not so unpleasant, but that having found the beginning so well done, by the measure and freedom of him, she easily gave her consent. Mark and behold here the second Act of the Tragedy, that thou mayst see, if the joys and pleasures of men may be pertual, & if it be not more a do for the Nobles to keep secret their follies, then for the mean sort to manifest them, and surely they are a great deal sooner espied in the chief of the common weal, then in the members that are more weak, and of less puissance, for where the head is troubled, it is unpossible that the members should not feel some apprehension of their mishap and sorrow. This is the cause why men entreat always of Princes, and make so small account of the doings of the pleban sort, the memory of whom vanisheth away so soons as the wind. But for that these two could not well devise all things themselves, without having a third person, they intend to impart their affairs to the Damsel, that was sent to seek the County, and which doubted of that, which they had done togethers. To her then, after the County was departed the Chamber, enamoured and inflamed of his loving mother, the Marchyones, address her with a countenance more gay, then accustomed, saying: My dear friend, you have seen in what ease I have passed my time hitherto, and the small joy I received during the presence of the Marquis, but GOD hath so provided that he is absent for certain days, to the end that I should make provision for the time to come: of that which I stand in need of, and by this his absence, might get myself that goodness which should end all my evils, I have choose me such a lover as nature cannot shape a more perfect, either in beauty, liberality, courtesy, or worthiness, and so noble, that he is the second in goodness to Nobility herself, which I impart unto you, for that I have known you hitherto both wise and faithful, to keep my secrets in such sort, as they ought to be, also you are she that hath herded the communycations of my former affections, and the simple objections, for the apprehending of my love, reason would also, I should manifest unto you, to what end all this tendeth, and that which followeth, trusting only in your virtue, and honest discretion, that you will keep secret this fact, as the people whom it toucheth do deserve, and as the good and affectionate amity, which I have born you requireth. And as she would have continued her purpose, the Damsel impatient to be solicited, sayeth unto her: Would that God, Madam, had cut of the thread of my years, when I first set my foot in this unhappy house, for by that means, I should have avoided two evils, whereunto my misfortune doth throw me headlong, without which I might otherwise have lived, for (all his Daughters whose I am) it shall be a great dishonesty, to use a service so unseemly, both for my age, and estate, and which shall fall out in the end, considering the abomination of the fact, that I think, that I must see an offence that will 'cause the total ruin both of you and him, for whom you address this foolish and naughty devised advise, not for that I am she, which intend to defanie you, for death shall be more agreeable unto me, as God shall receive me, then to see an accident so prejudicial, both to your age and honour. But alas, the judgements of GOD are so right and so equal in the Balance of his justice, that there is nothing done there in vain, I know, and GOD seethe, saith ●he (fetching a sigh from the bottom of her har●) with what anguish I lamesse this, that the county is he (O GOD the only remembrance makes me blush in witness) which is the Lieutenant of the bed ● and the incestyous ●●●yuall of his own Father, it is he that for your sake, bringeth vengeance upon himself, and which thinking to remedy you● griefs, hath composed a medicine so bitter, that the only smell will 'cause such an horror, that he will curse the hour a hindered times▪ wherein he began that, which as I perceive, he hath executed. Alas, would God that I were a false D●●ynatresse in this? But as for you, Madam, hold you assured of my faith, by which I swear unto you, that what torment soever shall happen, whether it be sorrow or death, how ignominious soever it be, shall not force me to say any thing that may denigrate the honour of my Mistress, conserved hitherto with so great & good reputation. Moreover Madam, employ me in what it shall please you, for sith the thing is done; the counsel thereof, is already taken, & you shall see by experience & effect, how I am minded to do you service, in that it shall please you to employ me. Ah my dear friend, them saith the Marchyones, how your words have pierced my heart▪ whereby I know you have told me the truth, but what? the force of love is so great & vehement, that I cannot tell how to withdraw myself now from it, that I think my destiny hath done it for my contentment, & also because amongst all the human passions, this is it that hath the preference, that cannot be avoided with any force or study, that one bestows, & therefore I desire you to talk no more of this misfortune unto me, for we will use such providence, that the most clear sighted shall not know what to think, only instruct you y● County of that he hath to do, & of the hours at which he may commodiously come unto my chamber, it is now in your hands my friend, that you may end both my life & honour, and that yet hold the good or evil Fortune of the county, in your power. Thus there passed certain Months, that the two ●oners rejoiced together, without any of the Coortyers suspecting any thing, of so detestable a felony, and execrable abomination, who although they beheld the courtesies that the Marchiones showed to the County, & whom she then entertained very familliarlye: But they thought that she did it to please the Marquis, to the end that he should not think she hated the children of his first wife, and also for that as I said before, the County was so honest and courteous, that he ravished the heart of every one towards him, which did yet confirm the opinion of the Gentlemen, that this amity of the Lady, towards the young Prince, was extended only for the sole virtue & gentle nurture of the county. But Fortune that cannot forget her Nobility, and the heavens angry for an act so infamous, and an injury so detestably committed, both against God, and against the Father and husband of both the offenders, stirred up a more wily and subtle discoverer of secret faults, which is Time, who did the office of a good Servant, after that by the very foolishness of the two lovers, their folly was made evident, they governing themselves so undiscreetly togethers, and with so small respect of people, time, and place, that in the end blinded in their pleasure, and glutted in their ease, they thought that Time would always have been so favourable, as she had been almost the space of two years. Now let alone the Marquis of Ferraria, that doubted nothing of the great dishonour that his son did unto him, and of the false connaye of his wife, which sent him unto Cornovall without a Boate. It chanced that a yeoman of the chamber of the miserable County, began to suspect something of that which passed betwixt the two infortunate ●onglinges, for he see ordinarily that as soon as the Marquis was go any night into the Town, to visit some of his concubines, the county failed not to go all alone out of his Chamber, which was the cause that he assured him of his doubt, and therefore purposing to seek out the truth (behold the just judgements of God) which seeing the malice that men have to commit evil and detestable sins, often times giveth speech to young Infants, or wisdom unto Beasts, to publish it. For this cause he beginneth to spy all the deeds, countenances, acts, and words of the Prince: and the enterprise of the gallant succeeded so well, that after he had be thought of it, being in a Wardrobe adjoining to the Chamber of the Marchyones, mark the dyuyn● permission. The sin being come to the ripenesss of his abhominatyon, he espied by chance a small hole in the brickwall, which was just over against the Bed, wherein she lay ordinarily, by this Crevyse then, the clear eyed spy, hoped to see that, which so long time he had desired and imagined, and as he see the enemy of nature before him, he makes a thousand signs of the crosses▪ with such an abashment, that then he would not believe, that which he see evidently with his eyes, in the end beholding the thing more merely, and perceiving that he was not deceived at all, he sayeth very softly to himself, and by God it shall not be long, before I will also make the Marquis to understand it, to the end, he may punish the one of his foul temerity, and the other of her great wantonness, & lascivious incontynencye, now he attending opportunity to 'cause the Marquis to view this pittyous and v●ruely Spectacle, behold it chanced two or three days after, the infortunate Prince, not doubting the treason, which the yeoman of his chamber did commit, that so soon as he see his father go into the stable to view his Horses, even than he went into the chamber of the Lady, to continued the way begun, within the bed of his Lord & father, but his Argus which slept not at all, following him by little and little, and having seen him enter the lists, returns towards the father, to show him that, which so long time he had desired, & to make him judge of the unfortunate Lovers. This Traitor (although his fact hath some aparence of justice) arrived before the Marquis, says unto him, all abashed & astonished for that he had seen: My Lord, if time did suffer me to show and declare one of the most wicked facts that ever chanced in Italy, I should 'cause you to marvel, and (as it might be) by resyting so strange a thing, I should make your cheeks to blush, and enrage your heart, so abominable is the case, but because I would not make you lose that discourse, may it please your noble Lordship to come alone, whether I will conduct you, & where you shall see with your eyes, that which I cannot commodyously recite unto you in order. The Marquis which was a man of a good courage, & desirous to know rare & strange things, went with the guide even to the place, where he see the act played, that afterward was the death of the chief people in the Tragedy, then saith the spy unto the Marquis, I beseech you my Lord, to contemplate a little through this crevice, what life they lead in your absence, that sith you are present, the disloyalty of them that be most 〈◊〉 unto you, is so evidently shown. The good Marquis had no sooner looked through the 〈◊〉 than he spied his son interlased & ●●foldē about the neck of the Marchiones, and the wantontoyes of the Lady towards the County, the Father of whom was so constant, that he attended to what end these imbrasementes and toys would come, but when he saw the Game would redound to his disadvantage, and to the perpetual infamy of his hose, with great pain he observed himself from being overcome with rage, and that he had not broken open the door of the Chamber, upon the Camp, where were these couple of infortunate Lovers, to have caused them to dye upon the very fact, always the passion of his mind, was so penetrable, that he could not by a good space remove from thence, but remained there wholly troubled and confused in tears, running down along his beard, that now beginneth to wax white, in the end, evaporating the order of his heart, he began to say.  
Alas, unhappy old man, that I now shall be, that notwithstanding the flower of thine Age, art dishonoured by thine own blood, and the substance of thine entrails, what is it the only son (amongst them that be lawful) which hath unlawfully abused thy Spouse? shall I be both the witness, Party, and judge in this cause? and in executing of this judgement, that I must needs do both by law and just displeasure, I shall put to death two people, that I love best in this world: Not, not the amity of Marriage shall end here, towards her, that hath put out the light of my honour, and hath blotted the reputation common to us both, and the charity of the father towards the son, shall loose his force in me, sith the child in usurping the Bed of the Father, hath given conjecture of his will, to take away the life of him, of whom he had his own, and of whom he hath stained the honour. What if once a Roman Captain, hath punished, as it might be, to severely his son? in that he had surpassed his commandment, touching a certain expedition in deeds of Arms, whereof although he had gloriously attained the wished end of his desires, then what shall I do, beholding myself so vyly betrayed? and so evil dishonoured by him, which ought to be the revenger of the crime, whereof my eyes have seen the execution, I beseech God that pitty may not move my heart to pardon him of this fault, or to dissemble this great and extreme hartebreache, that living, causeth my death, and so revenging a private injury, I shall punish the most abominable sin, that a man can think. Then for the quietness of my mind, and example of justice to the posterity, my son shall dye with the unshamefast love, which was cause of all this, and by which means I shall departed from my only lawful begotten son, and from my honour, which is more dear than children, riches, or life. The sorrowful and enraged father with this deliberation, seeking to execute his devise, his son departed into the base Court of the Castle, without thinking of the peril, or ruin, that his misfortune did prepare for him, and their bands the Ball with the Gentlemen of his age, where was greater company of people to see the play, than were there of long time before, for I think, that some conjecture of the future Spectacle had brought thither this rout, to the end that with more shame, the County and his incestyous Lover should be imprisoned. Also these be the Menaces, wherewith God threateneth the wicked, that their privy sins committed in the obscurity of the night, shall be one day punished openly, and to the sight of all the people, during this then, that the unfortunate Prince (more brave and joyful then accustomed) did continue his play, behold there comes the keeper of the Castle, with a good troop of Archers, well appointed, he in the presence and hearing of every one, addressing him to the county, sayeth unto him: O Prince it is now full time that you make ready yourself to come before other than these be, where you must answer to the conjurations, Fellonyes, conspiracies, & facts, against the person of my Lord the Marquis, your Father, by whose commandment, saith he, putting his hand to his collar, I make and constitute you his Prisoner, I am sorry for your misfortune, & more sorrowful that it should be I that must keep you in prison, always trust in your great simplicity, & likewise, if it please you, excuse that which I do, being constrained by him, which hath power both over me, and you: O extreme force, and rigour of the conscience, which moveste so lively the hearts of them, that feel themselves guilty of any fault, that the blast of every wind that blows, & by the wagging of every leaf that they see move, they think they behold before their eyes a torment, and a continual punishment, that will never suffer them to take any rest, whereof comes the great grief, and the small assurance that they have of themselves, which are so troubled by the very interyour judgement of their own spirit, that they give sure witness of that thing, which (as it might have chanced) otherwise had been in doubt, so the poor county seeing himself summoned to go espouse and defile another bed, then that wherein heretofore he had received so much contentment, failed not then to think of the accrosing of his evils, and the small hope that he might or could have to be delivered, therefore half attached with despair, he sayeth unto the Provest. Go forward Captain, whether it shall seem good unto you, for of long time I have attended no other entreaty of him, then that which I now see prepared for me. Not, not, my Lord, saith the Provest, have a good heart, God is able to aid you, & puissant to make every one to know the right of your cause, also my Lord the Marquis will do nothing against you, without the counsel of the most wise and learned men of his house, which ought to 'cause you to hope of some better hap, than you think of, & then he conducteth the Prince into the great Tower of the Castle, which standeth just against the port Delyon. And during this time, there were some go in like sort, and by like commandment to seek the Marchyones, as they had done the county, who then was amongst her Gentlewomen, playing this song, as the Prognostication of her misfortune, and the Prophecy of the common Burial, that united after their death, the executed body both of her, and the county.  

THe man by council of the Gods,  
In this low earth that's placed:  
Hath not so many joyful days,  
But one mishap hath them defaced.   

And unto whom hath not Fortune assigned,  
For every joy, a hundredth griefs to taste:  
Why should I then myself so sore annoyed?  
And shed so many tears, day and night in waste.   

The Pleasure which my nourishment doth give,  
And cake my weary troubled mind doth case:  
That only joy which should my life sustain,  
Is fled away to shorten now my days.   

Alas (O God) alas, what means this chance?  
That of mine end so sure a sign to be:  
As cake a token plain of grief for to ensue,  
Of much unrest and great mischance to me.   

What must I see of him the cruel death,  
By whom my perfectness doth come:  
O God, O God, that all things dost behold,  
Thy holy will for evermore be done.   

And cause thou me unperfect wight,  
To see thy glorious throne in highest Sky:  
Sith every one alike by death shall end,  
And highest State on earth, that lives, must dye.   
AS soon as the poor Lady achieved the end, the Marshal of the Household using the same embassage to her, as before to the Prince, carried her Prisoner unto another tower, a good space from that, wherein the Prince was enclosed.  
The Marquis during this stir, beholding all the world astonied, to see a thing of so much marvel, and a Spectacle so cruel, as the imprisonment of his son, that should one day suceeede him, and of his wife, whom he had so dearly loved, because men should not account his fact unlawful, or cruel Tyranny, he procured silence to be commanded, and before a great company of his Barons, and household Gentlemen, with a grave Majesty, that exteryously gave evident token of his interyour grief: After he had spent an infinite number of tears, accompanied with sorrowful sighs, he began to say: What one amongst you all, my good and loving friends, can well brook that, which is lately done by me, both upon my Son, and upon the Marchyoves, for that you know not the true occasion, and by that means, you esteem me an unkind husband, and a Father severe and cruel, against all right and reason, and would it might please God that your plaints were lawful, and that I had done wrong in this, truly than my dear friends, I should have no occasion to make you partakers of my heaviness, nor of the shedding of those tears that you see run down along the face of him, that without them, cannot express unto you, the just cause of his dole, and also the great reason of his so sudden cruelty, (if it ought not to be named equity) that never heretofore hath showed any effect of his malice, towards any man that lives, if first he have not given him the occasion, for it is no less praise worthy in a Prince, to govern his people with gentleness, equity, and clemency, then to punish the seditious, and disquyetors of the peace, because that such patience showed to one, should not be the common ruin of all the whole people. This is it, whereunto he ought to extend all his force, no less to chasten the temerritye of the foolish, then to recompense the fidelity of them, which hath served him faithfully, showing all the office of obedience towards their Lords. What if the law do enjoin this duty in the Vassal and subject▪ towards the natural and liege Lord, nature conjoined with the law, do constrain and more straightly bind the infants, which own to their Parent's honour, obedience, piety, & all good succours, not only of that which is exterior, but also of the interyour itself, which is the good will and perfect amity, by which the heart of the Son aught to be united with the pleasure and will of the Father. But O immortal God, what Father would be so piteous and merciful, that seeing the Knife of his son upon his own throat, and could stay him, would suffer him to deprive him of life? But what? life ought to be equal to honour, for the achieving and attaining whereof, all the noble and gentle minds have once despyced, and yet do despise their lives? Alas my friends, the complaint which I make before you, is against my son & wife, the forgetfulness of whom, is extended even unto the defacing of mine honour, wherein both I, and my predecessors have passed our age, I will bring you no other witness then mine own eyes, that have seen one of the most abominable and wicked facts that a man can think, it is that which I cannot speak, without an unmeasurable grief, and without hanging my countenance, for the shame he hath done me. That is, the County Hugnes hath defiled the nuptial bed of the Marquis of Ferrarya, his Father, and the sovereign Lord of you all, it is he that hath polluted the house, that is counted in the reign of the most noble in all Europe, this is he that incestyously hath violated the secrets and prurities, the entrance whereof, were lawfully permitted to none, but me alone. To whom shall I complain? and who shall revenge me of this injury? Alas, my heart breaketh, my senses fail me, and my forces are weakened, only there remains a desire to do justice, not that it might be condign to the abomination of the fault, but that I might thereby take away this blot from my stock, and moderate a little the grief that pricks me, and which yet serveth for the repentance of them that have offended the Majesty divine so grievously, that their doings have given cause to them that come after, to blaze abroad the folly of their youth, and in saying so, his speech failed him, and overcome with sorrow, and the unpacience of his choler, he founded in the arms of his Gentlemen, who carried him into his chamber, greatly abashed of the wickedness of the two offenders, which they believed, as well for the reverences of him that did witness to have seen it, as for the remembrances of the impudent looks, and lascivious toys of the Marchiones, towards the county, that made them think it was she that made the pit, wherein both she and the county were entrapped, as soon as the Marquis was come to himself, there was no man so bold that dared say any word unto him, but depending wholly of the will of their Lord, were of that advise, that the process should be quickly dispatched, and that justice should be done to the two Patientes, as well for their comforts, as to give some contentment to a Father rightly duspleased against his son, and as a husband deadly hating the Palyardyse of his wife, towards whom he sent one of his Counsellors, with two good Father Friars, men well liked of the people, both for their life and learning, the one to carry the heavy and sorrowful news of his death, and the others to move him to repentance of his sins, and to pray to God to have mercy on his soul. As soon as they were come before the young Prince, who seeing the Counsellor, and hearing the sentence of his death, he began to say, weeping very tenderly. Ah unhappy flesh, and filthy desires, it is for thy pleasures that I must dye this day. O unhappy wretch that I am, not for that I die, but because I am the procurer of his choler, & cause of his dole, & for that I have set such trouble in his house, as shall not so well, & so soon be forgotten as I would wish. Alas my Lord & father, pardon this detestable offence of him that hath used himself otherwise toward you, than the child aught towards the father, I confess I am the most miserable, that ever was born of a mother, & the most detestable that the Sun shineth on this day. Alas good Lord, suffer not my soul to be punished, serving for the pasture of that vile serpent & devouring Lion, that doth nothing but go about to deceive and invyron us, & 'cause us to fall into his lake. O Lord have mercy, have mercy on me, & suffer not the blood of thy son to be shed in vain for me. Alas I must dye, not for the confessing of the faith, and glorifying of thy name before men, but for my own wickedness, & the multitude of my demerits, that which next after the great wickedness committed against thy divine majesty, doth grieve me most, is the sorrow of him that doth, and will redound to my mischief & dishonour. But O my God, I beseech thee to comfort him, & give me strength patiently to abide this infamous & cruel punishment, that I see even ready before my eyes. The Counsellor seeing the repentance of the Prince, moved with compassion, begun to weep, & departed out of the prison, went to make report thereof to the Marquis, who answered him, it is not now time to become a good Christian, sith he cannot escape the just vengeance of God, by the minister of his human justice, and I beseech God that he will pardon his sins, & receive him amongst the number of his elect: saying so, left of, not able to bear the sorrow which did grieve him, for the remembrance of the approaching death of his son, wherefore it was ordained that they should be quickly dispatched, one in the sight of the other, and this was done, for that the Marquis would hear no admonition, for he herded the sentence was extended as well upon the county, as upon her, that had made no suit for her life, because she see they had condemned the county, then in the end seeing she had done the fault, she appointeth with herself to receive death, in as good part as she could, which was given to every of them in their tower, within a minute of an hour, not without an infinite number of tears shed and besprent, as well by the Marquis, which could not dissemble his affection, as by all them of his house, that universally loved the fair couple of infortunate Lovers, the virtue of whom, this ulot except, could well have no comparison, but a little leaven, as sayeth the Apostle, doth easily raise, season and sour a great piece of dough: likewise, a vice so slanderous, doth obfuscate all the brightness of the former virtues, and impoysoneth the good savour of all the forpassed life.  
These two Patients being executed, whilst men were preparing of rich and accustomable Funerals, they were brought into the base Court of the Pallas, to the end all the world should see and behold the cause of their death, that yet renewed the tears and complaints of men, as well for the one as for the other, bewailing the one for his worthiness, the other for her courtesy, and them both for their great beauty, and youth, wherein they were, for as yet, the more aged of them, had not attained the age of two and twenty years.  
After this the Marquis caused to be prepared a rich and sumptuous furniture for their funerals, and with such pomp as their greatness did require, their bodies were brought to be buried in the covent of Saint Frances, and there was erected a Tomb to be the common bed of the bodies of them, whose hearts had been surely conjoined togethers, when they were alive, so these two miserable creatures had a small ease, for the enduring of so great a punishment, and for all the contentment and satisfaction of their desires, they had this only good, that by one kind of death, they both should end, and have their bones enjoy one Sepulcure together. Here it is good to be advised, how and with what counsels men aught to foresee things, and their accurrenses, before they be executed, here may you gather also what is the nature and condition of sin, which once engrafted in the hearts of men, spreadeth his roots so broad, that by great pain it cannot be exterped, but by the dissolution and death of the subject, whereby they are chief cause of their own ruin. A good example certainly for the youth of this age, which without advisement of the dangers that the flesh & the Prince of this world do prepare for them, to their great shame, use private company with them, that be of their kindred, without advisement that the most sage have once failed in these doings, and have perpetrated the things that are unworthy to be thought, and punishable only by death in them that commit them.  
FINIS.    

❧ IMPRINTED AT London in Fleetstreet, beneath the Conduit, at the Sign of S. john Evangelist, by Hugh jackson.  
Anno. 1577.