Two Tales, Translated out of Ariosto: The one in dispraise of Men, the other in disgrace of Women.  
With certain other Italian Stanzes and Proverbs.  
By R. T. Gentleman.  
Cascan le Rose, et restan poi le spin,  
Non iudicate nulla inanzi il fine.  
Printed at London by Valentine Sims dwelling on Adling hill at the sign of the white Swan. 1597.   

The Printer to the courteous and Gentlemen Readers.  
GEntlemen, these two Tales translated out of ARIOSTO, and the other Stanzies following, were not done by this Translator, to compare (as it were) with master harrington's verses (for he acknowledgeth himself every way his inferior) but for his own private exercise, and at the earnest entreaty of some gentlemen his friends, all which he did in the year 1592. he being then in Italy: Yet the rather is he content they should come abroad, because that by the harshness of the one, you may perceive the sweetness of the other. And thus not doubting of your wont courtesies, I commit myself, and them to your favourable constructions, and so bid you farewell.   

THE FIRST TALE:  Cant. 43. Stanza 11. beginning thus: 
Quadratus so lasciasti una citta vicina,  

NOt far from hence you left a city nigh,  
'Bout which a crystal river clear doth run,  
Into whose stream the surging Po doth high  
And fountains head doth from Benaco come  
This city founded was (when cruelly  
Thebes was destroyed) built by Agenor's son)  
There was I borne of ancient gentle blood,  
But poor in wealth, in living and in good.   

If Fortune at my birth had little care,  
To make me rich in heaps of glittering gold,  
Nature that fault supplied with beauty rare,  
That fairer than myself none could behold,  
Both maids and married wives goodwill me bare,  
When I was young, their hearts for love were cold,  
For I was courteous, and still showed the same,  
(Although for one to praise himself 'tis shame.)   

(By chance) within this city did abide,  
A reverend Sire, whose learning did surmount  
Beyond all credit far, who when he died,  
His years a hundred twenty eight did count,  
From company he kept himself still wide,  
Till in his latter age he left his wont,  
For being in love, through gifts (such was his lot,)  
He of a matron fair, a maid begot.   

And to provide the daughter should not be  
Like to the mother, who for greedy gain,  
Did sell that gem (sans price) her chastity,  
Worth fair more gold than doth in world remain,  
From place where was resort, he (here) did high.  
Where finding this alone and desert plain,  
This rich and sumptuous Palace passing fair,  
He devils forced to make b'inchantment rare.   

By women old and chaste, his daughter dear  
He caused in this for to be nourished,  
Where never man she once could see, or hear  
To speak (whilst she was young) was suffered,  
And that she might of Ladies without peer,  
Examples take, of such as banished  
All lawless love, he made for her delight.  
Such to be carude, and drawn in colours right.   

Not only such as by their virtues rare,  
Adorned have the world in times that's past,  
Whose glorious fame old histories declare,  
And make them live whilst heaven and earth shall last,  
But such to come, who Italy most fair  
Shall make through their behaviour sweet and chaste  
He caused their pictures lively drawn to be,  
As are these Eight you in this fountain see.   

At last, when he his daughter judged ripe,  
To join with man in nuptial married bed,  
Whether my good luck 'twas, or me to spite,  
I chosen was fore others, her to wed,  
These spacious fields about the walls in sight,  
With fishponds, champain grounds where beasts are bred  
(Which twenty miles in compass bout do wind,)  
He for his daughter's dowry me assigned.   

Fair was she, and so lovely qualified,  
As I desire could not, or covet more  
For cunning stitch where needle, colours hide,  
The witty Pallas she might go before,  
Her touch on lute, and song did well describe,  
In heaven, and not on earth that she was boar,  
And so to the liberal Arts she had given her mind,  
She little came her father's skill behind.   

With wisdom great, with beauty (daunting blame)  
(Which would have made to love a senseless stone)  
Was joined such love, and sweetness to the same  
As makes my heart (to think thereon,) to groan,  
No joy nor pleasure did she feel, but pain,  
Unless she went, and was with me alone,  
Thus long we lived sans jar or jealous gruch,  
At last, through folly mine we had too much.   

When I five years had lived a married man,  
My father in law did leave this world of woe,  
And then to spring my sorrows first began,  
Which yet I feel, and how the same I'll show,  
Whilst on my wife Love breathed with chastest fan  
Fresh love for me, which caused me love her so,  
A noble Dame of this our City here,  
Enamoured mightily of me did appear.   

She of enchantments and of witch's craft,  
Did know as much as any sorceress,  
The day as night, the night she day by Art,  
And sun moovelesse could make, the earth still fresh  
As May, yet never could she move my heart,  
To heal her amorous wound remediless,  
With plaster such as well I could not give,  
Unless I should my wife unjustly grieve.   

And though she courteous was and lovely more,  
And though I knew she loved me as herself,  
Although she offered gifts and promised store,  
And laid before me baits of 'ticing pelf,  
Yet not one jot of my good will therefore  
She ere could get from me by amorous stealth,  
To know my wife to me was constant true,  
My heart and fancy to her wholly drew.   

The hope, the firm belief, sure certainty,  
I held of my dear Spouses loyalness,  
Would me have made the beauty to deny  
Of Leda's daughter, and her daintiness,  
Or th'other proffers which on Ida high,  
Had Paris by the angry Goddesses,  
Yet were not my repulses of such strength,  
That I could rid my hands of her at length.   

One day as forth, this witch of Pallas mine,  
Melissa found me, (so each did her call)  
And to discourse with me had space and time,  
She found the means to turn my sweet to gall,  
That faith I had still of my wife so kind,  
Through jealousy she caused from heart to fall,  
Beginning thus: She praised mine intent,  
Faithful to be where faithfulness was meant.   

But say thou canst not, faithful is thy Wive,  
Less first (quoth she) of her thou trial make,  
Put case the loyalst wench she be alive,  
If fallen she hath not, yet she fall may take,  
Then if thou ne'er her from thy side deprive,  
Nor other man than thee, sees sleep, or wake,  
How hast thou this fool hardiness to say?  
She constant is like to the Laurel Bay.   

Do but absent thyself awhile from home▪  
Through city and through country give thou out,  
That thou art parted, and leave her alone  
And licence Lovers come with revel rout,  
If she by luring gifts or piteous moan  
Make not strange grafts within thy brain to sprout,  
And seek to hide the same, having done amiss,  
Then mayst thou rightly say, she honest is.   

With such strange speech, and to the same much leek  
Th'enchantress (subtle) eggs me onward still,  
That I to know my Lady's faith will seek  
By proof to see, hap to me good or ill,  
Suppose (quoth I) the nuptial bands she break,  
Which I cannot believe, believe nor will,  
How may I afterward myself assure,  
If praise, or shame she merits to endure?   

Melissa answered; I'll bestow on thee  
A Cup to drink in, of rare Virtue strange,  
(Morgana's work) that brother hers might see,  
How oft from faith Genevora did range,  
Who a wife hath chaste, drink in't may frank & free,  
But, he cannot, if she be given to change:  
For when he thinks the wine to drink therein,  
It spills and spurts in bosom straight of him.   

Before thou part, I will the same thou prove,  
And without shedding drop, thou drink it shall,  
For I do know thy wife's yet true in love,  
As soon thou this effect see plainly shall;  
But if at thy return thy heart thee move  
Trial to make, I doubt what will befall,  
For if not shedding in bosom drink thou can,  
Then I'll count thee the happiest married man.   

This proffer (with the Cup) she doth bestow  
On me, I do accept and put in ure  
The proof, and find (as I desired) to know  
My loving Mate, chaste to me, constant, pure  
Melissa saith, a little from her go,  
A month or two to stay from home endure:  
Then turn again and try, if in this Cup,  
Thou without spilling, canst the wine drink up.   

To me it seemed a death, to go my way,  
Not that I doubted of her faith so much,  
As, cause a day, I could not form her stay,  
No not an hour, my love to her was such,  
I'll make thee find the truth of this, did say  
Melissa, if thou wilt by other touch,  
Change shalt thou speech and wotdes for this intent,  
And (like another) fore her thyself present.   

Hark how. The Po a city doth defend,  
Which stands here by with fierce and threatening Horn  
Whose jurisdiction doth from hence extend  
To the place where Sea his ebb and flow doth turn,  
For ancientness it yields▪ but doth contend  
With others, richness such doth it adorn.  
The Trojans Offspring there, first plot did lay,  
Which scaped from the scourge of Attila.   

In treasure rich, a lovely youthful Knight,  
This City bridle doth with lordly rain,  
Who after Falcon ran (which did alight  
One day by chance in palace thine) amain:  
Where he thy wife saw, who so at first sight  
Pleased him, as sign in heart doth still remain,  
And many shifts he used afterward  
To his desire to make her bow (too hard.)   

Yet her repulses sharp, so bitter were,  
That he his suit gave over as desperate,  
But yet her beauty, which Love drawn had there,  
Within his mind he held, and ne'er forgot.  
Melissa so me flattered, in mine ear,  
As I content was she should lay this plat:  
And me she changed (but how I know not I)  
Like him in speech, and favour suddenly.   

I had (before) unto my wife yfainde,  
That towards the Levant, I parted was to go:  
But in this youthful lover being changed,  
In gate, in voice, in habit, and in show,  
I with my Witch returned, who still remained  
With me, and took of Page the shape as tho,  
And gems of price had, which as we did feign,  
From th'Indians and the Eritreans came.   

I which did know each door of palace mine,  
Boldly entered, Melissa following me,  
And found my Woman then at such a time,  
As man nor maid I there with her could see,  
I show my grief, and then with cunning fine,  
(The Spurs of evil, if so she will agree)  
I offer Rubies, Diamonds, Emeralds, such  
As would have moved a mind more chaste by much.   

And tell her, this is but a trifle small,  
To such rare jewels, as afterward shall come,  
The opportunity she hath withal  
I show her, sith her husband is from home,  
Then (as she knew) I prayed to mind to call,  
How I to be her Lover still have shown:  
And that I loving her with love so chaste,  
Well worthy was of some reward at last.   

Much was she grieved at first these words to hear,  
Nor would she hear me speak, but blushed for shame,  
But seeing those costly gems, which shone more clear  
Than fire, her stubborn heart, straight meek became,  
And answered with a soft and fainting cheer,  
That, which to think on makes me dead remain,  
That if she were assured none might this know,  
She ready was this pleasure me to show.   

This speech to my heart as poisoned dart did come,  
Through which my soul (me thought) transfixed was:  
Through every joint a sudden cold did run,  
My speech remained twixt jaws, nor forth could pass:  
Melissa, who her Chantments had undone,  
Turned me into my proper shape and face,  
Imagine how she looked, when found by me,  
Herself she saw in so fowl fault to be.   

Both of us pale became, as death most like,  
Both of us speechless, with our eyes on ground,  
Scarce had my faltering tongue such force and might,  
Thus to cry out (grief so my heart did wound,)  
And wouldst thou then betray me (shameless wight?  
When who would buy mine honour) thou hadst found?  
To this no answer gave she me at all,  
But tears like orient pearls on cheeks let fall.   

Great was her shame, her collar more, not less,  
To see me 'gainst her work this strange disgrace,  
And so increased (as last) in headiness,  
As rage and deadly hate in her took place:  
Seeking to fly from me with speediness,  
And when the Sun had run his wont race,  
She to the river steals, where all the night  
In Barge she rows away with main and might.   

And in the morning doth herself present  
Before that Knight, who her long time had loved,  
Under whose habit false and shape I went,  
When witless 'gainst mine honour I her moved.  
judge you how welcome, she, and her intent  
Was, to him, who ne'er thought such joy t'have proved:  
Thence word she sent me (which as death doth gore)  
That ne'er she would be mine, nor love me more.   

Woe is me, from that day unto this, in joy  
She lives with him, and jesteth at my grief,  
And I (thanks to myself) in this annoy  
Do pine away, and no where find relief,  
Still grows it, and just 'tis, it me destroy,  
And little now remains my days to brief,  
Nor scarce I think, the first year had I liven,  
But that one thing to me hath comfort given.   

The comfort's this, that of so many men,  
Which here for ten years space y-lodged be,  
(For I this Cup do offer all of them)  
Not one (sans shedding) drink I yet could see,  
To see, (as mine,) so many, with like wem  
Upon their cheek, some comfort is to me,  
Thou only done, amongst so many haste  
Wisely, for to refuse so dangerous taste.   

My curious will, which made me search to know,  
(More than I ought) the manners of my Wife,  
Makes care and grief fresh in me still to grow,  
And forceth me to lead a hellish life.  
Of this Melissa glad herself did show,  
(But small it durde) being author of this strife,  
For I her hated so, for this my ill,  
That her In'er would see, and so do still.   

She taking this my hate impatient  
Whom she to love more than herself did feign,  
Where Lady of my heart incontinent,  
She thought in place of th'other to remain,  
Not for to have her grief so nigh, she went  
Heavy from hence, because of my disdain,  
And from this country wandered she so far,  
As after never news I heard of her.   

Thus said and ceased, the woeful Cavalier,  
Who lived in anguish to his latest day,  
Too late repenting that his lovely Fere  
Through folly his, he forced to go her way:  
A caveat good for jealous heads to bear  
In mind, lest for their pains they find like pay,  
To whom I wish such luck as had this Knight,  
And to their Wives like change for their delight.   
Sienna 28. di Lulio 1592.   

THE SECOND TALE  Cant. 43. Stanza 73. beginning thus: 
Gia so di questa.  
Terra, un Anselmo di famiglia degna.  

WIthin this city dwelled not long ago,  
One called Anselmo, of rich family,  
Who, Student like his youth did spend, to know,  
The Laws which Ulpian taught most curiously  
At last he sought a wife, which well might show  
His match, for birth, for fame and honesty:  
And one (by chance) not far from hence he found,  
The fairest Wench that ever trod on ground.   

With sweet behaviour, such a heavenly grace,  
As she did seem all Love and Amorousness,  
And for his state (perhaps) too lusty was,  
Whose years (good man) craved not such youthfulness:  
No sooner had he her, but he did pass  
For jealousy, that tongue cannot the same express,  
Not that she gave him cause so for to care,  
But, cause she was so witty and so fair.   

In this self City was a worthy Knight,  
Of ancient stock and honourable race,  
Who did descend from that same Lineage hight,  
Which sprung from out the jaws and Serpent's face,  
Whence Manto, with many a worthy wight  
That Mantua built, are comen in like case:  
This Cavalire Adonio had to name,  
Who fell enamoured of this dainty Dame.   

And for to gain her love, in princelike wise,  
Without all reason he began to spend  
In rich Attire, in Feasts, in strange Devise,  
Or what to make him famous more did tend:  
Tiberius th'emperor gold, could scarce suffice,  
For charges such● although 'twas without end,  
So (as I guess) scarce passed were two year,  
But that consumed both land and living were.   

His house which was before frequented so,  
With troops of feigned friends both night and day,  
All desolate remained, when once the show  
Of Pheasant, Quail, and Partridge did decay,  
And he which captain of the crew did go  
Before, behind the door as now doth stay:  
And seeing himself, by spending thus o'erthrown,  
He thought to go where ne'er he should be known.   

With this intent one morning early, he  
Without leave taking, leaves his nature home,  
And with salt tears and sighs most heavily,  
Along the cities moated wall doth room,  
Nor can he Lady his, from memory  
Let slip, (a cause of second grief and moan)  
When, lo, from greatest ill, a sudden chance  
To greatest good, (unlookte for) him doth vance.   

He seethe a country Clown with cudgel great,  
Belaboring in the field a bush amain,  
Wherewith he stays, and why he so doth beat  
That uncouth place, demandeth of the Swain,  
Who answers, that within that hedgy Set,  
An old and huge Snake did there remain,  
So great and long, as near he saw before  
In all his life, nor thought he see should more.   

Affirming, thence he would not wend his way,  
Before that he had found and killed her there,  
Adonio, when he heard him so to say,  
No longer patiently those words could hear,  
For unto Snakes a favour bore he ay,  
And for their Arms, his House the same did bear  
In memory, his Predecessors came,  
Of Serpent's teeth ysowne, by Cadmus slain.   

And so much with this peasant did and said,  
That ('gainst his will) he left that enterprise,  
So as the Snake slain was not, or more afraid,  
Nor hurt, or sought for more in any wise.  
Adonio (after) so his journey made,  
As none, nor him, nor his estate descries:  
And in great need, and grief of mind doth bear  
His country's absence almost seven whole year.   

Yet neither distance far, from city thence,  
Nor wretched life he did sustain through need,  
His wandering thoughts from ancient love could fence,  
Which still afresh within his heart doth breed,  
And him doth force again to his loving Wench  
To turn, his eyes on beauty hers to feed:  
With bushy beard, sick cheer, and ragged weed,  
His way from whence he came he takes with speed.   

Mean time, it happed our City had to send  
'Bout business great to the Pope, an Orater,  
Who on his Holiness should wait and tend,  
How long, none knew, this suit for to prefer,  
(The lots cast) 'tis the judges luck to wend,  
A dismal day for this Ambaslater,  
He feigns excuse, prays, gives, with promise more,  
To stay at home (but forced) he needs must go.   

Not unto him so cruel had it been,  
And he supported had with lesser grief,  
His bowels ripped forth for to have seen:  
And bloody heart, torn out, without relief,  
Through jealous fear with visage pale and lean,  
In absence his, his Wife he doubteth chief,  
Yet in best manner, with sweet words most trim,  
He prays her, she will true be unto him.   

Saying, a woman, neither Favour fair,  
Nobility, nor Fortunes worldly wealth  
Famous can make, and in truth nor care,  
If chaste in life she be not of herself,  
And that such Virtue, always triumph bare,  
Which being forced, yields not, for life or Pelf,  
Great proof whereof, whilst he should absent be,  
He said, he have should of her Chastity.   

With these and such like speeches to the same,  
He her persuades, that she would constant dure:  
For his departure she doth wail amain,  
And of her faith, she weeping doth him sure,  
Swearing, the Sun first darkened shall remain,  
Before she once will stain her Honour pure,  
And that she'll bide to die a thousand time,  
Than once be spotted with so foul a crime.   

Although he at her vows and promise sweet  
Some credit gave, and quiet was in show,  
Yet leave he did not, further for to seek  
(Cause for to have indeed to wail and woe)  
A friend he had, for cunning great, none leek,  
Of things to come, the certain to foreshow,  
Of Sorcery, Lots casting, Magic Art,  
All knew he, or of all, the greatest part.   

To him he goes, and prays him take the pain,  
By his rare skill, the truth to him to show,  
If that Argia (so his Wife had name)  
Should (whilst he broad were) honest be or no,  
Whereto he straight agreeing (entreated so)  
His Compass takes, the Poles he measures plain,  
Anselmo leaves him studying, and next day  
For answer of him, takes his ready way.   

Th'astronomer, not for to tell what might  
The Doctor gall, kept silence for a while,  
And sought excuse to hide it from his sight,  
But when he saw he was as one with Chile,  
To know his ill, he said, her faith once plight  
She break should, ere he gone was forth one mile,  
Not forced by Prayers, or Beauty in this case,  
But foully being corrupt by gain most base.   

joined to first fear and doubt he had as now,  
The threatenings of the angry Heavens above,  
How he did feel himself imagine thou,  
If such like chance hath happened thee in Love,  
Yet that which makes his heart to burst and bow,  
And most of all his galled mind doth move,  
Is for to know, o'ercome with Avarice,  
she'll sell her Honour at a worthless price.   

Now to prevent what possible might be,  
That into Errors such she might not fall,  
(For Want makes men the Altars oft we see,  
To rob, that they may live from needy Thrall,  
Such jewels and gold, as he had under key,  
(For he had mountains) to her gave he all,)  
Rents, Leases, Debts, Revenues of his land,  
And all he had he put into her hand.   

With leave (quoth he) not only thou this Wealth  
For thy expenses (as shall like thee) take,  
But as thou please, sell, spend this paltry Pelf,  
Waste, and consume, and havoc of all make,  
Nor other count I'll have (ere) of thyself  
So, as I leave thee, I may (loving Mate)  
Find thee the same, so, such I find thee may,  
Sell, House. Farm, livings, Lease, and all away.   

Besides, when he shall part, he her doth pray  
She would to the Country, to her Manor wend.  
And not within the noisome city stay,  
Where she might live more free from troubles penned:  
All this said he, because he thought not ay,  
Those country Swains who beasts and blows do tend,  
Can ere corrupt by subtle shifts most rife,  
The chaste desires of his beloved Wife.   

Mean while Argia doth with arms embrace,  
And hangs her fearful husband's neck about,  
And doth with pearly drops bedew that face,  
Which forth from eyes, as from a fountain sprout,  
It grieves her she is blamed in this case,  
As if already she had caused him doubt:  
And that from hence suspicion his unjust  
Did spring, because her Faith he did mistrust.   

Orelong it were, all here for to be penned,  
Which at his parting, said was by them both,  
At last (quoth he) mine Honour I commend  
To thee, and so doth wend his way, though loath:  
And surely then his life seemed for to end,  
When horse he turns, and riding from her goth,  
She him looks after, till he is out of sight,  
Sweet tears distilling from loves Limbeck bright.   

Mean while wretched Adonio pale and wan,  
And (as I said before) much changed to see,  
Towards country his, his journey took (poor man,)  
Hoping he should not known of any be:  
And by that Lake hard by the city came,  
Where he the Snake from country Boor did free,  
Who her besieging, in the hedge had penned,  
And meant to kill her, ere away he went.   

Arriving there, 'bout dawning of the day,  
(For yet the skies some stars clear shining bare)  
He saw to come in princely garments gay,  
Towards him alongst the shore a Lady fair,  
And though nor Man, nor Maid with her did stay,  
Her presence showed, she was Persnage rare,  
Who him accosts with sweet and gracious cheer,  
And after, him salutes, as you shall hear.   

Although (sir Knight) to you unknown I am,  
Yet I your Parent hight, much to you bound,  
For both of us from worthy Cadmus came,  
And to descend from that same line are found:  
The Fairy Manto am I (of whose name,  
Because to build this City, I in ground  
The first stone laid, it Mantua called is,  
As oft thoust heard, unless my marks I miss.)   

Of Fairies one am I, and of our fatal star,  
('Cause it imports us) to thee show I will:  
In such a time borne were we, as we are  
(Excepting death) subject to every ill,  
But (so) to be immortal worse is far,  
Then for to die, for (living (die we still,  
Since each of us, each seventh whole day is sure,  
From Fate, to Snake (changed so) that time to dure.   

To see ourselves closed in so foul a skin,  
And crawling creep, so loathsome is a sight,  
As to the world no uglier thing can seem,  
And curse we do the hour we first saw light.  
How I▪ beholding to thee much have been,  
(For I will show thee whence this comes aright:)  
Know then, that whilst in snaky shape we lurk,  
We are in danger of great harms and hurt.   

No living thing on earth is hated so,  
As Serpents are, and we which have their form,  
If we be spied, do suffer wrack and woe,  
Each one assailing us, with furious storm,  
If we some hole find not wherein to go:  
Our skins, with blows are all to beat and torn.  
And better a thousand times to die it were,  
Than maimed and lame, such plagues still for to bear.   

Much am I bound to thee; for on a time  
As thou didst pass along this pleasant Shade,  
From country Carl thou savedst this life of mine,  
Who in this place, me, dead for fear sore afraid,  
And haded not been for thee this heavy sign  
I borne had on my back, who load on laid,  
Or at the least had made me ' smembred lie,  
Though 'twas not in his power to make me die.   

For whilst we trail like Snakes our breasts on ground,  
The Planets, which unto us subject are  
At other times, now (contrary) are found,  
We wanting force, their power from us they bar:  
At other times, the Sun by us is bound  
Still for to stand, more dark than Darkness far,  
The earth to move, and turn in strangest guise,  
The Ice to flame, and fire to melt like Ice.   

Now am I come to thank thee for thy pain,  
And this good turn done me, to recompense,  
Ask what thou wilt, (nor asked shalt thou in vain)  
For now I am free from Viper's shape and sense,  
Thrice richer than thy father did remain  
I will thou be, before thou go from hence,  
Nor though thou wouldst, thou ere more shalt be poor  
But still, the more thou spendst, rich shalt be more.   

And for because I know thou'rt still in love,  
Where first thou wast (nor change canst thy desire)  
A way I'll show thee forty best behove,  
How thou mayst to thy wished will aspire,  
I will forthwith this counsel mine thou prove,  
(For jealous Husband is from home, not by her)  
Thou to the Country (where she bides) shalt wend,  
And I to help thee, will on thee attend.   

And therewithal she 'gan most cunningly,  
To teach him how himself he should present  
Fore Lady his, how her to tempt and try,  
What Weeds to wear to further his intent,  
And doth bethink what shape most fittingly  
She take should for herself, for this attempt,  
For but the term, whilst she lived as a Snake,  
She might what form she pleased upon her take.   

In habit of a pover Pelegrine,  
She him doth change which begs from door to door  
Herself into a little Dog so small and fine,  
As Nature ne'er had made the like before,  
With curled hair, white like to the Armeline,  
For making strange, but strange for tricks much more:  
Thus metamorphosed both, they take their way,  
Towards Argia's house, where she did stay.   

And first amongst her Plowmen and her Hinds,  
Before he would into her Manor go.  
His oaten pipe, with cunning great he winds;  
At sound whereof, the Dog to Dance doth show:  
This noise and news Argia straightway finds,  
And she would see if it were true or no,  
And caused the beggar come into their court,  
As was the Doctor's Destiny and S●rt.   

And there Adonio doth his Dog command,  
(Who dancing many Galliardes) him obeys,  
Both Ours, and Foreign he doth understand,  
With tricks, the Measures just, he keeps always,  
In brief he knows so well in turn of hand  
To do what he is bid, whilst tother plays,  
That whoso seethe him, in love's with him so,  
As not from thence his eyes lets willing go.   

The Lady at this same doth much admire,  
And longs to have this pretty Puppy small,  
And by her Nurse, for price doth it require,  
(As she doth think) she might have sped withal.  
If I, quoth he, more wealth had, than desire  
Can in the greedy minds of Women fall,  
Sufficient valour were it not, nor boot,  
No not to buy my little Dog his foot.   

And for to show he nought but truth had told,  
He took the Nurse into a corner by,  
And willed his Dog one piece of purest gold  
To give to her, in sign of Courtesy:  
He shaked his hair, the coin she did behold,  
Adonio willed her take it presently,  
Saying, Now tell me, thinkest thou any prize,  
Able to buy my Dog in worthy wise?   

Whatso I will, the same I never miss,  
Nor ere with empty hands I turn from him:  
And ever when he shakes his hair, it is,  
Or Ring, or Pearl, or Garments rich and trim,  
Yet tell thy Dame, at her commandment 'tis,  
But not for gold, though I in gold might swim:  
But if I lie with her one Night she will,  
The Dog is hers, to have and hold it still.   

So said, a precious gem new shaked on ground  
He gives the Nurse, her Mistress to present,  
Who thinks a better bargain she hath found,  
Than if a hundred Ducats her were sent:  
She turns th'ambassage she delivers round,  
And her persuades, hat she would be content  
To take the Dog: and taking so the same,  
At such a price, not lose she doth, but gain.   

At first Argia fair unwilling seems,  
Partly, because her faith she would not break,  
Partly, because she such reports still deems  
Most false, which she the crafty Nurse heard speak,  
Who her persuades, her will from thence she weens,  
Saying, so great a Good, Chance, seld doth reak,  
Which caused her point another day when she,  
The Dog such wonders work, alone might see.   

This second Audience, which Adonio got,  
The judges ruin wrought, and utter fall,  
His Dog discharged such double golden shot,  
Such chains of pearl, gems, precious stones withal,  
As vanquished heart did yield to th'assault so hot,  
And sooner was the Breach made in this wall,  
When she did know, this Knight her lover was,  
Which for her sake from country long did pass.   

The counsel still (her Proxy) to her gave,  
The prayers of her Lover there in place,  
The gain she saw by this which she should have,  
The wretched Doctor's absence in like case,  
The hope that none for this would her deprave,  
Each thought most chaste from breast away did chase:  
As she the Dog doth take, which to requite,  
She yields herself a prey to his delight.   

Adonio of his lovely Lass long time  
Did reap the dulcet Sweet, to whom the Fate  
So great good would, as she herself did been  
Ay for to stay with her in self same state:  
The Sun by order now had passed each sign,  
Before the judge had leave to part: though late▪  
At last he turns, but yet suspecting sore,  
What the Astronomer foretold before.   

He being come to the City, straight doth go,  
Unto the house of this his friend, and prays  
He of his Wife, the truth to him would show,  
If (yet) she false or true unto him stays,  
The Site he of the Poles doth figure tho,  
And to each Planet gives his Place straightways,  
And after answered, that most true it was,  
That what he first feared, was now come to pass.   

That through great gifts cotrupted was his Wife,  
By one whom she did love and honour chief:  
This to the Doctor's heart, went like a knife,  
Or far by odds, so pricking was his grief,  
Yet for to know the certainty more rife,  
(Although too much before, he did belief)  
To the Nurse he goes, and taketh her apart,  
And for to know the same, doth use great Art.   

Like Bloodhound skilled, he winds about the Bush,  
Now here, now there, to find this cunning Trace,  
But (all in vain,) for all at first was hush,  
Although great Art he used in this Case:  
For, she as one that knew (at deadly push)  
To help, denied each thing with brazen Face:  
And (as a crafty Quean) one Month or more,  
She held him in suspense, yet doubting sore.   

But, had he known what grief the truth would bring,  
Most sweet had seemed to him, thus, so to doubt:  
When he in vain saw, that not any thing,  
From Nurse by Prayers or Gifts, he could bolt out,  
He thought to touch another kind of String,  
And with great Cunning went the same about:  
Watching to see, if they would fall at jar,  
For where as Women be, is strife and war.   

And as he looked for, so did hap the same:  
For at first Breach, which twixt them did arise,  
The Beldame (without seeking) to him came,  
And, all she knew, bewrayed in spiteful wise:  
Which when he heard, Grief (so) his heart did pain,  
As scarce to tell, no Tongue can well devise.  
For little wanted he through Passions sad,  
That he became not then stark staring mad.   

In th'end, o'ercome with rage, he doth dispose  
To kill himself, (but first) his Wife to slay,  
And that one bloody Sword from both should lose,  
From him his Grief, from her, the Shame away:  
Incensed with Fury thus, he forthwith goes  
To the City, and self mind in him doth stay;  
Thence, One he trusts, to his Manor he doth will  
To go, and what he bids, doth charge fulfil.   

The Charge is this; That to his Wife he tell  
From him, to come from Country speedily,  
For he an Ague hath so sharp and sell,  
As if she haste not, (ere she comes,) he'll die,  
So as if she will show to love him well,  
She come with him, without more Company:  
She will come lie knows, and then in midst of way,  
Her Throat he bids him cut, without delay,   

The Servant, to his Mistress, out of hand,  
(As he was wiled,) doth tell his errand strait:  
Away she comes, as th'husband did command,  
And takes with her her Dog, (that friendly Fate)  
Who made her (fore) this Danger t'understand,  
Yet bade her go, not doubting her Estate:  
For she (foreseeing the same) provided had  
To help her, when she should be ill besteaded.   

Out of right way, the Servant now was gone,  
By divers uncouth Paths not used at all,  
chancing a River for to light upon,  
Which in this Flood, from Th'apennine doth fall,  
Where was a Wood, on which no Sun had shun:  
From Village wide, and far from cities Wall:  
This secret Place, (for his Intent most fit)  
He thought, what he was wild, for to commit.   

He draws his Sword, and his Authority  
To his Mistress, (from his Lord) he telleth plain,  
And therefore wills her, God and World to cry  
Mercy, before she dieth, for sinful Shame,  
I know not how, she vanished suddenly:  
But when he thought her, there for to have slain,  
No more he saw her, though he sought all day,  
So as a Fool he came, he went away.   

Back to the judge returns he much ashamed,  
Astonished and amazed with fearful cheer,  
And doth r'account this Accident so framed;  
Anselmo, what to think well of this gear  
Knoweth not, nor that the Manto Fate remained  
At Service of his Wife, he ne'er did hear:  
For when to him, the Nurse the rest revealed,  
This only (why I know not) she concealed.   

He knows not what to do; for of the spite  
He's not revenged, nor lessened is his Woe:  
What first a Straw was, (now) a Beame's in sight,  
So heavy lieth it at his Heart below:  
The Fault few knew, he now hath made so bright,  
As shrewd he doubts, each one the same will know,  
The first Escape might be hid▪ The second, hard,  
And each where would be published afterward.   

Too well he knew, that since he had bewrayed  
His cruel mind, when her, he would have killed,  
(Because to turn again she was afraid)  
She to some parsonage great herself would yield,  
Who her would keep, whilst he a Scorn is made,  
And only (to his Shame) by Th'other's held:  
Perhaps (who knows) with such one, she may 'gree,  
As may both Ruffian and Adnlterer be.   

In haste therefore he sends, this to prevent,  
By Posts, and Letters, for to find her out:  
Who (here and there) demanding for her went,  
Through all the cities Lombardie about:  
Himself (in th'end) doth go for this intent,  
Leaving no Place, that is not sought by Scout:  
But (all in vain) which makes him much to muse,  
Where she should bide, he never could have news.   

At last, the Man, to whom in trust he passed  
To kill his Wife, (which Drift the Fate did mar)  
He caused to bring him to that place in haste,  
Where she escaped, to see if she were there:  
Might be, she kept in hedge, whilst day did last.  
And to some house, when Night was, did repair:  
This thought he; So his Man him guides, where he,  
In stead of Wood, a Palace strange doth see.   

Mean time Argia fair, had made the Fate  
A Palace, (framed of Alabaster rich  
By strange Enchantment) suddenly to make,  
All Gold it seemed, and fairer than NONESYCH▪  
None can of it describe the pompous State:  
Fair was't without, richer within by much,  
That, of my Lords (which you last night to pass  
For Cost did think) to this a Cottage was.   

For, not alone the halls were costly dight,  
And Chambers with rich Hang fashioned new,  
But Sellars and the Stables had the like,  
And furnished with such Stuff you might them view:  
Such Plate, and so much, as count could no Wighr.  
All sorts of precious Stone of sundry hue▪  
The Cups and Platters were meat for to hold:  
And with our end, the Clothes of Silk and Gold.   

Now as I said before, it chanced to be  
The judges luck, to come there in mean space,  
Where, then, he not so much did think to see  
As Cottage poor, but shadowing woody Place;  
And at this Chance so mused and marveled he  
He knew not where he was, in such a case,  
He knew not if he slept, or waken were,  
Or if his Brain did swim with double beer.   

He spieth an Ethiope, standing at the door,  
In shape deformed, so ugly, as in mind,  
So bad a Good-face, he ne'er saw before,  
Nor possible his match so foul to find,  
Than Esope thousand times deformed more,  
His Looks, enough to make One (sudden) blind,  
Besmeerde, begreasde, Tom Tarrarag in Attire,  
Nor yet the half I tell of this sweet Squire.   

Anselmo seeing him (seeing none other Man,  
Of whom he might demand whose House it is)  
Asks him, if he this doubt resolve him can,  
Who answereth, Yea, And Lord am I of This,  
The judge thinks surely, as he there doth stand,  
The Moor doth mock him, and that 'tis not his,  
But with great Oaths the Negro swears most plain,  
His is this Palace, and All in the same.   

And offers him to see it, if he like,  
To enter, and a view thereof to take,  
Requesting him, if aught him there delight,  
To use it for himself or his friend's sake:  
The judge his Horse gives to his Man, this Sight  
To see, and bold of Curtsy this doth make:  
And being showed halls, Galleries, Chambers such,  
He marketh every Room with marvel much.   

The Form and Site, the curious Building wrought,  
He wonders at, and Golden Treasures rare,  
And often saith, the worlds whole Wealth is nought,  
In Price to Palace this so rich and fair:  
The loathsome Moor, who long these words had sought  
Straight said, And yet at Worth they valued are,  
Though Gold nor Silver thou for this canst pay,  
Yet, what doth cost thee less, give me thou may.   

And therewithal, doth make to him Request,  
As did Adonio to his Wife before:  
For which Demand the judge thinks him a Beast,  
And Bedlam like to have of wit small store,  
Nor (though repulsed oft) to leave doth rest,  
But with so apt persuasions eggs him sore,  
His Palace for requital offering still,  
That he at last yields to his shameless will.   

Argia stood (though hid) yet nigh enough,  
Who when she saw him in this Error fall,  
Leapt forth straight crying, This is goodly stuff,  
That I a Doctor find held sage of All,  
To do such Sin, and with so foul a Chuff,  
judge if him (shamed and grieved) she did not gall:  
He rather wished he sunk had been in ground,  
Than she with this vile Act, him should have found.   

His Wife more for his Shame, and her Excuse,  
Gins to thunder Scolds Shot, mightily,  
Saying, to plague thee what way might I choose?  
For what thoust done with such a Beast as he,  
If I (o'ercome to do sweet Nature's use)  
By lovers prayers, thou thoughtst to murder me,  
Who fair and lovely was, and gave me such  
A present, as thy House excels by much:   

If I one Death deserved in thy mind,  
Know, thou to have a hundred worthy art,  
And though myself so strong I here do find,  
As I might make thee to repent from heart,  
Yet will I not to thee be so unkind,  
Nor aught Revenge, but this, seek for my part,  
Set the Goose giblets, 'gainst the Hare his foot,  
Forgive me, as I thee, from hearty root.   

Let's live in peace for ever and a day,  
Remembering never more these Follies past,  
That I of thee, nor thou of me, ne'er may  
Through malice of these 'scapes in teeth be cast.  
This liked well her Husband every way,  
Who to agreement this, was not the last:  
So to their House in peace they turned again,  
And (ever after) loving did remain.   

Epilogue.  
THus by the wisdom of this Lovely Wife,  
All former faults (soon) quite forgotten be,  
I doubt me (nowadays) few such are rife,  
Which would unto the same so willing gree,  
And chiefly when their Husband's sin in life  
Against sweet BEAUTIES HEIRS so monstrously,  
But marvel none, the Doctor's Horns were blind,  
Where he should go before, he went behind.   

lenvoy.  
ANd you (fair Lady) who have heard this Tale,  
Vouchsafe to think I am that Loving Knight,  
The judge your Husband, though he doth not fail  
As th'other did, yet fails his Vow once plight,  
Not Goods for you, but Life I'll spend and All,  
To joy once more the favour of your Sight,  
I cannot give a Golden Dog as he,  
And yet (perhaps) what shall more pleasing be.   
Dixi R. T. In Napoli agli 27. di Marzo. 1593.